Continues from here.
(Present day)
The footsteps stop and he feels her legs brush against him
as She bends over him and releases his wrists from the cuffs. Gently, She pulls
him to his feet and leads him down the passage into what he assumes is the
living room. After a short walk, She stops, leaving him standing with his arms
at his sides, his excitement indicated by his member in the most obvious
manner.
“I’ve got a few things to attend for now so you’re going to
have to warm yourself up for me”, She says breaking the silence. Suddenly he
feels the silky sensation of lubricant dripping onto his erect member. He
almost gasps as her hand gently spreads it up and down the shaft, covering it
thoroughly.
“This is how this works: you’re going to play with yourself
for me”, She explains, “and the computer will beep to give you the speed at
which you are to stroke. You may not cum under any circumstances but you may
stop for 30 counts if you are on the edge. You will not say anything and you
will continue with this as until I command you to stop. Nod if you understand?”
His nod of confirmation is shortly followed by a slow bleep
at which point he begins to stroke as instructed. The tempo is relatively slow
at around 60 beats per minute – slower than his usual self-pleasuring speed.
Although he is already highly aroused, it takes a while for his arousal to
build further, partially due to the slow pace and perhaps a bit of nerves. As
it gradually builds, he instinctively reclines his head back in response to the
pleasure.
Then the pace slows to about half the original speed and he
is subjected to even more excruciating strokes. This maintains his arousal
without taking him over the edge. He hears her shift in a chair at the dining
room table but hardly notices as he concentrates on stroking at the stipulated
pace. There is a sound of shuffling of papers and a pen writing… then the pace
suddenly increases back to something closer to the original. His arousal starts
to build again at which point the pace increases even more. He feels himself getting
close and then removes his hands, counting to thirty.
This process continues for what feel like hours – faster…
slower… even slower… suddenly faster… stop to gain composure… start again… each
variation in tempo bringing its own flavour of torment – the faster tempos with
the fear of going over the edge and the inevitable requirement to stop or the
slow, excruciating strokes that do nothing other than prolong the agony.
Finally, the beeping stops and his sigh of relief is
palpable. His sight is suddenly restored as the blindfold is pulled from around
his head.
“You can stop now”, She says, “Go and clean yourself up and
once you’ve done that, report back to the lounge on all fours in front of the
sofa.”
He heads over to the guest bathroom where he wipes off the
sticky mixture of lubricant and precum that has collected from the preceding
activities. He then makes his way over to the sofa where She is sitting and
falls onto his hands and knees in front of Her. She lifts Her legs up onto his
back and shuffles a few times, making Herself comfortable on Her human
footstool. He then feels Her legs shift as she reaches over to the coffee
table, picking up a glass of wine. She resumes watching the remainder of a sitcom
while sipping Her wine. He is forced to remain motionless staring at the floor,
unable to think of much other than the throbbing appendage between his legs.
The remainder of the evening turns into a relaxed service
regime – he does the dishes, gives Her a foot massage and performs a few other
chores. Once he had fulfilled Her requirements, he was promptly informed that She
was finished with him for the night and that he should put on his clothes, go
home and away further instructions. She issues him a further reminder that Her
ownership of his member has commenced and as a result, he is not to touch
himself at all until hearing otherwise.
Continues here.
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