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Femdom Follies

12

As Syndi had explained to Austin, "You aren't supposed to be my boyfriend, you're a submissive. If I want you to spend all your waking hours outside of work kneeling in the corner, naked, that's what you're going to do."

Not to mention of course that Austin had been chaste, locked in his Tube for nearly four months. Syndi seemed to have forgotten about him! Such a beautiful girl, too. She knew how to dress—her breasts were constantly almost spilling out of whatever dress she was in, and watching her bend over in her short-shorts almost drove Austin mad.

In the old days, pre-Kelwin, Austin was allowed to spend hours massaging Syndi's perfect body, rubbing cocoa butter all over her full breasts, and her curving buttocks....running his fingers up and down her long legs. What a joy.

It wasn't as if she let him out of his cock lock-up all that often even then—in fact, after a long massage, when he was especially horny, Syndi reveled in Austin's discomfort in the evil device, rubbing her foot against the cruel metal Tube, laughing as Austin gaped at her long legs, legs he'd shaved and massaged...

Syndi was a Yoga instructor and had taught Austin to contort his body to the point that he could suck his own cock, and she and her girlfriends had really enjoyed watching him do this! His autofellatio stunts had made him the toast of the femdom neighborhood.

And, Syndi was cruel in such a delicious way. She'd take Austin to a crowded mall, and then decide that he'd pissed her off. And then the public punishment would come.

Austin recalled one of the more upsetting times. They'd gone to the Galleria, and he didn't want to look at a rather vivid purple shirt she was interested in him buying.

"I don't want to try that on, Syndi. It looks faggy." Austin had said to her, trying earnestly to reason with his young, sexy companion.

Syndi had whispered in Austin's ear. "You'll try it on, or I'll take your pants down right here and punish you in front of the entire store, all these ladies, how about that?"

Austin had made the horrible mistake of arguing with her, and literally (she was in much better shape than he was) Syndi had kneed Austin in the balls, and then unzipped his pants and yanked them down, along with the pink panties she made him wear (she'd thrown out his boxers the day she moved in) and then she'd pulled out her thick leather School Strap!

It had been quite an image, Syndi bringing the strop down again and again on his tortured, bare buttocks, the ladies in the store screaming and pointing (They didn't become aroused and amused like the witnesses to public punishment in the erotica novels)

And then the Security people had shown up, and Syndi had skipped out of there, leaving Austin kneeling, pants around his ankles, looking very foolish. Fortunately the police hadn't arrived, and the Security people just escorted him outside and banned him from the Galleria for life!

When Austin had gotten home, Syndi had been laughing, but then she'd tied his hands and removed the Tube and stroked his penis lovingly, telling Austin that she bet that the next time she wanted him to try a shirt on, it wouldn't be a lot of fuss from him, would it?

****************************

That night, Austin argued with me, and I got so pissed off, that I went and got

the frying pan from the kitchen, and came back, ordering him to grab his ankles.

Thirty times the pan hit Austin's butt until he screamed with agony.

"Now are you going to shut up?" I asked sweetly, watching the tears roll down

his face. Jesus any man who had testicles would've taken the pan away from me

after the first swipe, after all, I'm 105 pounds and Austin is co-captain of our

local Rugby team...

Yes, but he took the swats grabbing his ankles, and then just

curled up and wept like a baby!

After this Austin sobbed in my arms and I patted his back and asked him if he

was going to try and be a better boy...it took great control to keep from

laughing my ass off!

On Monday, I called an old boyfriend of mine while Austin was staring at me in

the kitchen. I used my foot to rub his crotch and he gasped and panted as I

flirted heavily with my college sweetie...you should've seen the expression on

Austin's face!

By Tuesday he was ravenous...when he got home from work, I was wearing a lace

teddy and high heels, and I kept rubbing up against him, and he moaned in pain,

I guess the CB was a bit too tight.

I got him to make me dinner and then

afterwards I told Austin to strip naked and bring me some clothesline, which I

used to bind his hands and feet, propping him on the couch next to me.

Then I unlocked his chastity device and began tentatively stroking his cock,

which was almost instantly swollen and purple. "Does baby want to cum?" I asked

in a soft voice, rubbing my cleavage against Austin's chest.

I toyed with the glans or cockhead of his penis, and ran a long red nail down

the vein pulsing from his bulging erection. I tickled and tormented the vein a

bit, flicking it now and then, and giggling as poor Austin gasped.

"What's wrong, honey? Don't you like the chastity belt?" I smiled and gave

Austin a deep kiss, playing tonsil hockey as only I could. "But your wee-wee

misses Momma, huh? Too much lockdown time?"

Austin looked at me, trying to maintain his dignity. "Irene, I just...I want

chastity, and I fantasize about it, but this is way too much. Couldn't you just

let it go?"

I let go of his dick. "You mean like this?" I snorted as he looked like he was

dying.

"No-no please give me a hand job, then....I want to cum!"

"No, you can't cum and I want you to stop nagging me."

I returned my fingers to

his bulging rod, and rubbed it faster and faster until poor Austin was begging

and panting, and then suddenly pulled my hand away.

And then he called me a bitch, and I went out and got the frying pan again, and

threw him on his stomach over the coffee table and gave him thirty more! By the

end of this exercise, my arm was feeling a little numb, and of course Austin was

a mess.

I locked Austin back up in his CB, and sent him to sleep on the basement floor,

not even letting him lick my twat.

On Wednesday he was silent, and on Thursday,

finally, I unlocked his chastity device, but not until after he'd surprised me

with a cute pair of earrings and some flowers and candy. He was terribly

apologetic.

"Go on, jerk off in front of me," I smiled.

"I know you want to."

I was fully

dressed in a leather jacket and tight black lycra top and miniskirt. Austin

dropped to his knees and jacked his dick until he spewed on the floor, and then

wiped it up with a Kleenex.

"Now what do you want to do with this silly thing?" I asked Austin, swinging the

chastity belt in front of him.

"We can forget the whole thing if you want, and

you can go back to wanking every day, it's up to you...but watching your

appalling behavior with all the tantrums, and me having to discipline with the

frying pan has really made me not want to fuck you at the end of the month!"

Austin hung his head, and said, with red face "I want to be locked up again for a

week...and for you to give me even heavier punishments if I nag you to cum.

This was the hottest experience I've ever had, Irene."

Well damn!

WHAT A PARTY!

Cleary Thibodeau walked through Fanchon's party quite gingerly, led naked by the balls as he was by Olene, who was resplendent in a little black cocktail dress. Cleary's hands were cuffed behind his back, and Olene was tugging his cock and balls not too gently.

True, Cleary was not the only naked male at this party of Fanchon's but seventy percent of the people here were clothed...he longed for a tux like the other guys.

Cleary looked with disgust at a particularly beautiful "woman" standing in a crowd of attentive men.

Who is Claudia kidding? Cleary thought bitterly.

Claudia, who had once been his younger brother Cyrus. Unfortunately, Cleary and Cyrus had been raised by a psychotic governess who had fucked their minds...so they were both submissive males now!

Cleary had tried therapy, but it just hadn't worked...he only could respond sexually as a slave boy...

At least Cleary wasn't as far gone as Cy, who'd actually let his balls be cut off, and was now a transgender...or actually a real woman. Sort of. "Claudia" could never have children, of course.

Olene turned and smiled at Cleary now, watching the battle in his brain. He just really hated bringing his true self out at a party like this.

Olene had short, spiky black hair and very pale white skin, her boobs pushed the little cocktail dress out...what a cleavage!

Cleary remembered when he'd met Olene, he'd been her mentor in a commercial real estate exchange.

Olene had been all pliant and taking the good natured jabs that he gave her about female incompetence...and then he'd noticed her necklace ...from the PainCafe.

Because, of course, he was staring at her INCREDIBLE tits, nearly spilling out of her conservative black jacket. She couldn't hide them!

"What a-a curious piece of jewelry" Cleary had begun.

"Is that a tiny gold whip on the end of your chain?"

Of course he knew what it was! Cleary had been sneaking to the PainCafe's Dungeonopolis gift shop since he was in high school...he could describe the jewelry inventory by heart!

Olene had flushed.

"Um, Mr. Thibodeau, it's a--it is a little whip. An-an old boyfriend gave it to me, I hope you don't think it's too inappropriate."

As Cleary was building the shopping center that Olene was hired to sell, she didn't want to put him off. "I won't wear it if it would upset you or other clients, of course."

And then Cleary had made his mistake. Or not a mistake...oh Jesus. "My first wife was the Dungeonopolis purchasing agent years ago, Imogene? She--um, was very fond of that necklace!"

And then Cleary had seen Olene's eyes go from appreciative to sort of contemptuous...not in a nasty way, just like she was a camp counselor, and this was a brat she had to deal with...and she could be nice, or she could be nasty.

"Oh my God, you're Weary Cleary...when I was nineteen, Imogene led the seminar at the PainCafe Ballroom on Female Led Relationships!

My girlfriends and I were like, God, she's so sexy for someone who's kinda old, what was she, thirty-eight?

And she really--we loved it when she told us about how the alarm went off in the morning and shocked your nipples and genitals and you screamed from your doggie bed until she was ready to wake up?

And then she'd hit the Snooze button, and then it would shock you again ten minutes later?"

They'd had quite a talk...

Cleary explained that he'd divorced Imogene when he'd gotten "therapy" but then his second and third wives, normal, non-S/M types had just not done it for him...

And so he was now quite single, and occasionally dated dominant women he met at the PainCafe, or at the Tawse Club in the next state.

"And no one is holding your chastity keys?" Olene had said, smiling. "You poor man."

"How-how did you know I was into chastity?" Cleary asked, puzzled. It was true, of course...he was a compulsive masturbator, and it had been a while since the device had been on.

But how did she know?

They'd gone to dinner that night, and Cleary had hinted that she should invite him up when they pulled up to her apartment, but Olene had demurred.

But she'd kissed him deeply on the mouth, and Cleary had felt her little hand unzipping his pants, and pulling out his hard cock. Massaging it expertly, Olene had whispered in Cleary's ear.

"I remember Imogene telling us--this was like, eleven years ago, 'cause I was nineteen then, and I'm thirty now--that she had to keep your sorry ass locked up in a belt

ALL the time, because otherwise when you guys went to dinner at some girls house, you'd sneak off to her bathroom and pull your pants down and sniff panties while you jerked off in a strange woman's bedroom...

Imogene said that she had to lock you up and let you cum about once every thirty days...and when you were bad, about once every NINETY...'cause you're a total loser perv, right?"

Cleary had looked briefly away from Olene's heaving cleavage, where the little whip-necklace rested to where her bright red nails were rubbing and toying with his stiff cock...he gasped as she rubbed and stroked it, feeling the little metal circle that was embedded in his glans.

"So this is your piercing...you moved on from chastity belts, huh, Cleary? Some smart girl put you in a Prince Albert piercing...but you're running around loose, playing with your dingie..someone has to do something about that."

Olene had jerked Cleary's dick faster, and plunged her tongue down his throat, and then pulled out one of her nipples for Cleary to suck, and suck he did, quite greedily.

And then, just as he was about to cum, she SLAPPED him. HARD. "Do you have the key to your piercing, asswipe?" Olene had asked severely. "Give it to me NOW." She pulled her hand away. "Or, never see me again, outside of a business relationship."

Luckily, or unluckily, Cleary DID have the keys to his piercing.

And he handed them to her wordlessly. She apparently knew a great deal about piercings, because she made him pull his pants completely down in the car, so they were around his ankles near the gas pedal and the brake,.

Miss Olene had pushed back his dick, connected the links, and locked on the tiny padlock quite briskly.

"Okay, I can't see you for about a month." Olene had then said, as she dropped the keys to Cleary's belt in her purse.

"Except of course for work-related stuff. But I hope to have dinner with you thirty days from now, when we'll talk."

TALK?

The difference between chastity fantasy and chastity reality has always been painful for the submissive male, and of course poor Cleary had been on a great little diet of dommes, hookers (for he liked vanilla sex a bit) and pornography.

Sure, jerking off five to ten times a day while eating Viagra, and all of a sudden, he had to distractedly play with his piercing, which had not been locked in over a year...and he got hornier and hornier...

And Olene was a woman of her word...no dates for thirty days!

There had been numerous chaste lunches, and Cleary kept trying to bring up the subject of the key, and the locked rings. Because of course now he couldn't masturbate at ALL.

On one chaste lunch, Cleary had mumbled something about how it wasn't hygienic for him to wear the piercing without cleaning it, and how he should be unlocked.

Amazingly, Olene had asked the waiter to use the private employee bathroom, and to borrow some Witch Hazel, and she doused his poor dick with the alcohol as soon as they got in there.

Olene unlocked the piercing, rubbed it vigorously (and painfully) with the rubbing alcohol, and then locked him up again...

Yes and then KICKED HIM IN THE BALLS for trying to "manipulate" her...what a girl!

Then they had their first "date"...he'd been sending her flowers and little gifts, and she was appreciative...Olene, what a girl!

Finally she let him come up to her little apartment, and, after having Cleary do her cleaning, laundry, and ironing. she'd unlocked his chastity piercing and bound Cleary's hands behind his head...and then she'd brought out this vile thing...

Six foot long strands of barbed wire wrapped at the end with hockey tape! "I call this my Booster.

Don't be a bitch, Cleary" Olene had said cheerily.

"I know you can take it!" Cleary had left Olene's apartment four hours later--she'd alternately teased his dick, rubbing her boobs against it, and stroking him to near-orgasm, and whipping him with The Booster. All over his cock, balls, inner thighs...and then his shoulders, back and buttocks...

And then she'd stripped off her little frock and she'd allowed Cleary to kiss her entire, beautiful body...

Yes, the pale white full breasts, and her perfectly flat stomach, and the V shaped pubic hair...he'd licked her to five orgasms, and then attempted to stick "it" in...and she'd grabbed his balls, twisted them, and kicked him off the bed!

Then she'd locked Cleary up again and sent him home, sans orgasm.

They'd actually been dating now for six weeks, and he still hadn't cum. He thought she'd appreciate Fanchon's BDSM party, but he'd been absolutely horrified when she'd said "Great, you can go naked!"

She didn't even KNOW Fanchon, but when Cleary had intimated that the event would be clothing optional...she'd opted for his nudity!

Now, Cleary just followed his lovely new girlfriend, hands cuffed behind his back, balls being yanked...she was so beautiful!

Would she humiliate him further? He knew she had The Booster in her handbag!

WHAT OF OTHER GUESTS?

"Morse...come here.

Honest to God, you gotta see it, there's a freakin' naked dude on the bathroom floor."

Ratface O'Rourke gestured towards the bathroom door.

"Morse you MUST see this, it's insane. He asked me if he could drink my pee. Do you have a camera on your cell phone? We should get a shot of him for the Rotten dot com website or something."

With an appellation like Emerson Hastings III,

Rat's buddy should have felt aristocratic, but his first name had been bastardized to "Morse" by the kids on the street years before...though not as derivative as Grandpa' who'd been called "Sonny" or Dad, Emerson Junior ("E. J.").

However, Morse was no aristocrat, just a hard working Buttermilk State U. teaching assistant, who'd been invited by one of his Adult Education students, gorgeous Fanchon Nemirow, to an honest to goodness adult party. An ADULT party.

Morse had already been goggling at topless women with mouse trapped nipples serving cucumber cups filled with creamed Dolcelatte on trays cuffed to their wrists...

There was Timothy Pickford from their seminar, being whipped with a cane by a large black man...

Timothy, who was a pompous fuck, apparently had known Fanchon from Pervert-World here, and had encouraged her to take classes...

It was interesting watching Tim finally getting a little pain, as he could be a horrific ass at school!

"Notice he's not going on about his articles in Lingua Franca now, dude" Rat had said earlier, as they'd watched Tim's vigorous flogging.

But a naked guy who wanted to be peed on? Morse followed Rat to the lavatory, and son of a bitch, there he was...a middle aged dude on the floor, with his wrists cuffed to his balls.

How horrible it must be, thought Morse to have to be bent over like that, not being able to keep your hands away from your nuts.

"Hello boys, I'm Alfred Nemirow, Fanchon's husband.

I can service you by taking your urine or"--the naked guy shuddered--"other waste orally, as the toilet is not in use now, and I also can provide fellatio.

I am slave Alfred, and I am here to be of service." The man said this somewhat mechanically, as if he knew he had to mouth it, but wanted to get it over with, as if he were a telemarketer with limited job skills.

"Really, I can use the toilet" Morse said.

"Is it seriously stopped up? Is there a plunger?" But the man shook his head and pointed to his open mouth. This is so random, Morse thought, but when in Rome...

Morse unzipped his fly and took out his dick, and aimed carefully for Alfred's mouth, and peed, and he had to give it to the old guy--he caught it all, except one or two drops.

"Oh dear." Alf said after Morse zipped up.

"I lost a few drops. That means you have to punish me with this dog-whip." He pointed to a short leather flogger-thing in the corner. "I'll just bend over the bathtub here."

Morse was a little nauseated by this, and wanted to back off, but Rat picked up the whip.

12
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