Ariella slowly drifted back to consciousness, delicious thoughts of the dungeon she had just ‘visited’ and her spanking experiences turning over in her mind. Shallara never hurt her; Ariella preferred to think of it as heavy stimulation. She always came out of a spanking feeling aroused and alive and with a closer bond than ever to Shallara.

Sometimes the spanking were pure pleasure; she loved those most intimate ones, draped across Shallara’s knee on the warm leather couch in front of the fire. Shallara would caress her bottom between strokes, playing her fingernails around the patterns that the hand smacks left. The arousal would grow slowly and surely, and as the spanking progressed, she would often feel Shallara’s massaging hands probing between her moist thighs. And it always ended in long cuddles, creamy liqueurs and a feeling of love and well being.

On other occasions, Shallara would play the domme; sometimes a teacher, sometimes an assertive matron…or whatever the mood drove her to try. The role play excited them both, and the sexual excitement came as much from the play as the punishments that Shallara laid on. She found it humiliating and arousing to be bent over, sometimes over a chair, sometimes with hands on her knees, and made to offer her bottom in such an unconditional way. She could sense her private parts on display, open and vulnerable, and aware that she was unable to hide the swelling and dampness that always occurred. There was that ever present element of arousal, the stickiness between her thighs, the dewiness on her lips, and that feeling that her breasts were on fire and wanting to burst out from their skin.

Although playful and exuberant, Shallara hated to hurt her. There were times when Shallara thought she had over-played a stroke, and Ariella loved the compassion and attention that would follow: gentle massaging of a soothing cream into the offending welt, kisses and apologies. She often joked afterward that Shallara was really too soft, kind and compassionate to really be her domme.

So it was with surprise, that as Ariella tuned in more closely to the voices in the entrance hall, she heard Shallara saying: “I thought you weren’t meant to come back, Tim ? What are you doing here? “.

“May I come in please? I have to speak to you. ”

Shallara felt less than pleased. She had just been leading Ariella down into a wonderful trance, and this interruption was really unwelcome. Seeing who was now standing there, Shallara felt acid.

Tim stepped through the door and had a flashback to his thoughts when he had last entered the apartment. When he had last stepped through this door, he had challenged himself to get Shallara in bed within two weeks. He had left impotent and with an invisible restraint around his crotch. That target now seemed very remote, and in fact was at the back of his mind. It was his sexual freedom he wanted. Tim remembered the padded trestle he had seen in the sitting area on his last visit, and his mind had been churning over the possibilities. Maybe, just maybe, she would accept his offer?

He half expected that she would respond mockingly; more likely that she would reject his suggestion out of hand. In fact he was a bit stunned at what did come back to him: “Tim, are you sure you are prepared to be spanked? Do you know how much that hurts? Actually….I don’t think you are man enough to take it from me!”.

There was a low murmur from someone with a male voice. Ariella could only pick up the trailing words: “……but if I do, then it is all over? I get my libido back? I don’t need to get yours or Mrs Stern’s permission anymore?”.

“Agreed, Tim. But the right hand ring stays on. You are never going to abuse women again…”

The voices trailed off as she heard Shallara take the man into a spare room that led off the entrance lobby. Ariella got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour herself a Baileys. It was creamy and sweet, just right for her mood. The fire flickered in the hearth reminding her of the dungeon dream she had just had. She sat and waited for Shallara to rejoin her, her lips caressing the glass’s rim, savoring the drops of nectar that seemed to trickle down the edges. Her tongue darting in occasionally to lick at the creamy contents. As she waited Enya played on, and her existence had merely seemed to drift from a sleeping dream to a waking dream.

Ariella turned to the doorway as she heard Shallara enter. Shallara’s fingers came up to her lips, indicating her to remain silent. Then she was gone. A few moments later, Shallara came back through the door leading a man by the elbow. He was naked; Ariella wanted to giggle as she caught sight of his semi erect member which seemed to point the way ahead. A red silk cloth was wound around his eyes in a blindfold, and his breathing seemed heavy. Well built, not too much flab – Ariella’s mind did somersaults as she tried to figure out what was going on. Shallara’s fingers remained on her own lips, urging her to remain silent.

Reaching the center of the room, Shallara stopped, and whispered in the man’s ear. He stood erect, hands at his sides, his mouth deadpan. Shallara moved quickly over to the padded trestle in the corner, and brought it back to the center of the room, placing in front of the blindfolded man.

“Bend over this trestle Tim…..are you sure you really want to go through with this?”. The man reached forward, feeling for where the trestle was and then bent forward. “Grip the front legs, Tom…..spread your legs as wide as they go…make them touch the back legs…there you go!”

Ariella could sense the sexual tension. The semi-flaccid member had sprung upright, and seemed to be stabbing at the underside of the padded trestle. Shallara glided back to the wall unit in the corner of the room. In the one hand she had a whippy little cane they had purchased once at an adult shop. It stung like crazy and left angry red wheals; in the other, her favorite little strap. About two inches wide, eighteen inches long, it ended in two tails. In skilled hands, it was versatile – it could sting, it could bruise, it could burnish, it could bite! She seemed to be breathing deeply; a look had entered her eyes that Ariella had never seen. She paced around the bent and blindfolded man, rubbing his back lightly, caressing his buttocks.

Time stood still. The bent over man shifted uncomfortably. Shallara looked around, and cast one of her impish smiles Ariella’s way. Suddenly she was gone. When she came back into the room, she was carrying the wooden spoon and a baking tray. The silence prevailed, and she barely acknowledged Ariella’s presence. Shallara bent down gracefully, her knees together, and placed the baking tray directly beneath the man’s hanging head.

She stood in front of him, and gently took hold of handful of his hair, pulling his head up. “Open your mouth, Tim…”. A measured pause as she played out the drama. Even sitting 5 feet away, her feet curled up under her, Ariella could start to smell the musty scents wafting off these these two players. “It’s a bite stick, Tim…..now close your teeth around it. …..You have to grip it tightly Tim. If you drop it ……you will walk out of this room, and never see me again. And don’t…do not, under any circumstance, leave go of the trestle legs in front of you! Do you understand Tim ? This is going to hurt you. Hurt you more than you have ever experienced! You are going to wish that you had never asked me to do this to you! But you have, and you know what?” “Shallara’s voice seemed to get huskier with each sentence. It was as if she was battling to control herself. “ I am going to enjoy it. It excites me Tim. I know how you feel about women, and on behalf of each of those ladies out there who you have ever put down, I am gong to whip your scraggly butt with a cane. I am gong to watch you jiggle it Tim. And I am going to get off on it!”

Ariella watched her closely. Her excitement was evident; it was lust, and for the first time, she saw the latent sadistic streak in her Domme. Until now it had always been about control, and power with some sensuality and rough play thrown in. But this time it was something different. This man had brought the animal out in her, and she was hot. Ariella found her own feelings starting to build. She desperately wanted to play with herself, but she knew she had to keep absolutely still, to keep undetected.

Ariella stepped back and watched. The head seemed to droop, but the stick stayed grasped in his mouth. “You did say no more than six, didn’t you Tim ?”. The nod was almost imperceptible. “So if we aim for around 5..or maybe just a touch more, that works for you?”. Shallara picked up the cane from the coffee table. She held it lightly in her fingers, almost like a violinist gripping her bow. Her red painted nails seemed to be set off against the ash white cane. And with a slight flick of her wrist, she sent it searing across the man’s bottom. The man yelped and jerked his bottom in. But the bite-stick stayed gripped between his teeth.

Shallara paced around him, He could not see her, but her presence was obvious. She was breathing deeply, and flicking the cane rhythmically. The next three strokes were delivered in quick succession. It was as if a thick red crayon had been used to draw a line of pain, joining his two bottom cheeks. His hands stoically grasped the front legs, but he seemed to be doing a dance with his pelvis. He looked silly as he waved his bottom around, trying desperately to find some relief. His penis flopped around under the trestle, any vestiges of an erection long gone.

He jerked as her fingers traced the lines. The welts stood out from his skin, white in the center, a multi-colored red on either side. She massaged his bottom gently, and lent forward to whisper in his ear, “Hurts’ doesn’t it ? mmmm…..I like that. It excites me to see you like this, Tim. I am all hot…and it is you who has done it.” Her body heat had seemed to release the scent of her perfume. Chanel No 5 flooded his senses. The warmth from the fire; this closeness of this vibrant and spunky woman. The blood flooded back into his penis. “…and we are still within the limit Tim. I have only given you 4 strokes…should we carry on? Don’t forget the bite stick, Tim !…and don’t leave hold of the legs of the trestle. I will tell you when we you can leave go.”

Shallara took up her position again. Like that violin lead, her balance slightly back on her right leg, the cane at the ready….then that delicate flick of the write again. She played the proffered bottom like a musical instrument. The crack as the whippy rod met his tensed buttocks. She watched it vibrate against the trestle. The cheeks vibrating open and closed in desperate attempt to find some relief. But at last he settled. “Don’t drop it, big boy” she whispered huskily, “we’re still under six……”. The pause hung in the air….”if I give you another half, I am still within the limit, aren’t I ? Just nod, your had, don’t say anything. Or…you can walk away right now?”

They waited for his response. At last it came…..a slight nod. The wooden spoon trembled in his mouth. “The reward will be worth it, Timmy, don’t drop it…how bad can half a stroke really be? Think about what we discussed, Tim…picture it in your mind. And if you agree, push your bottom out. Offer yourself to me Tim.”

As if by magic, the cane seemed to have been replaced in Shallara’s hand by the strap. She sensuously dragged it through her left hand, fingering the supple leather, twisting the tongues backwards and forwards. Without warning, she raised it and brought it crashing down across the left check of the upturned bottom. The strap’s tongues snaked in-between the tender thigh flesh, kissing the highly sensitive skin. Exquisite agony as the one tongue licked at the top of his scrotum. The other caressed the perineum with a scorching flash.

Time stood still for Ariella. But it could only have been a fraction of a second later that Tim groaned uncontrollably, and ejaculated the bite-stick from his mouth, the spoon clattered down onto the baking tray at his feet. He writhed in a climax of pain, pounding his hips into the padded trestle. His penis jabbed backwards and forwards uncontrollably. His hands shot around to clasp and caress his backside. Slowly he stood up.

“You dropped it !”, Shallara accused him. “It was only half a stroke…I didn’t even touch your right cheek!”

Tim tore off the red silk blindfold and spun around. His eyes found Ariella’s and a flush of red streaked up into his cheeks. “What the …who is this? ..what is she doing here ? You …!”.

“You dropped it Tim…you lost the bet”, Shallara reiterated. “Better go and get dressed and be on your way like a good boy.” Ariella watched silently as Shallara escorted him out. As he exited the front door, she saw Shallara hand him something. “Perhaps I will see you again Timmy, once you have taken in the lessons on this CD. I would suggest listening twice a day, as soon as you wake up and before you go to bed. And Timmy, cold cream will do wonders for your welts!”.

He walked away furious and uptight. His backside hurt like crazy and the area between his legs where the strap had caught, stung remorselessly. But even worse, he felt humiliated and double-crossed. He was just about to drop the CD, but the writing caught his attention. If this was the way into her pants, maybe he had better listen. On it, there were two lines: “Hypnosis: The joys of submission” and “Red Silk by Lady Julia”. Maybe…..maybe….

~~~~~~~

Shallara: Taken Over the Edge by a Short Stroke is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

(continued from part two)

Caller ID is a modern marvel. It lets you know which calls you can ignore…and which ones are very important…

“Hello…”

“Hello Matthew.”

“Susan. Hi.” For some strange reason, I am very excited to hear her on the line. Strange reason? Actually there was nothing strange about it at all…

“Are you busy?”

“Not for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I have some good news. The movers came this morning and delivered my furniture and quite a few boxes…”

“That IS good news.” Isn’t it?

“And so I was wondering if you would like to help me this afternoon…moving a few things…”

“I’d love to…”

“Good. So I’ll expect you, say, in about an hour…”

“I’ll be there…”

“Excellent! I really appreciate how helpful you are, Matthew.”

“I…well, it’s my pleasure…”

“I like to hear that too. See you soon.”

And with that, Susan was gone. Leaving me feeling…well, very excited. I get to help Her again. That’s a good thing. Isn’t it? It feels good, so it must be good. Right? What I didn’t think about is why. Why does she have such an effect on me?

I arrived at Susan’s house within an hour. What I didn’t notice was that there was a few extra cars parked on the street near her house. What I did notice was the mountain of moving boxes piled in the garage as well as furniture. This was going to be fun… Susan met me at the door wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater. It (her sweater, that is) looked very soft and cozy. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing glasses…giving her the effect of a School teacher on her day off.

“Come in, Matthew. I’m so glad you came.”

“How could I refuse?” How COULD I refuse??

“You can’t.” (Susan is teasing me here, I think, isn’t she?) “But anyhow, I really appreciate how helpful you’ve been. I know I keep saying that, but I really do.”

“And I keep saying, ‘It’s my pleasure”…because, well, it is…” It is. I feel good helping and being helpful to her… And I feel happy knowing that I am pleasing her. Which is important. Isn’t it?

“Well, let’s get you changed so we can get started.” Susan led me down the hallway to the smaller room I had painted a few days earlier. I noticed the doors of all the other rooms were closed

“Changed? But I…” We went in the room and Susan closed the door behind us.

“Yes. I think that while you are here helping you should be wearing a uniform. Have you forgotten already?”

“A superhero. how could I forget?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid you won’t be my superhero today. Here, put this on.” Susan opened the closet and pulled out a green unitard on a hanger. She stood there and watched as I stripped naked and put the unitard on just like she had shown me before. It should be an odd thing for a guy to just take off all his clothes in front of a woman he didn’t really know all that well. And slip into a Lycra unitard. Shouldn’t it? But I did it. Because Susan wanted me to. So that makes it all right…right? When I had it on, I turned so she could do up the zipper. She ran the zipper up my back and the unitard tightened around me…especially tight in some places…

“And now for the padlock. Matthew?” A question. She’s asking me if it’s okay for her to lock the zipper of my unitard. Locking me in it. Is it okay? What if I say no? What do I want? Do I really have a choice?

“Yes.”

For such a tiny padlock the ‘click’ seemed especially loud. “Thank you, Matthew.” Susan was thanking me…for what? For agreeing? For letting her put me in this position? “For putting your trust in me.” Susan must be a mind reader. “Now, just one more thing.” Susan turned me so I was facing her. “I think it would be easier if you were down on your knees for this.” Susan put her hands on my shoulders and gently pressed down until I was on my knees before her. She then produced a bit of Lycra fabric that matched my unitard. it was a…

“Now for the hood. I’m just going to slip this on you, then we can get the others…”

“Others?” There are others?

“You didn’t expect to move all that furniture by yourself, did you Matthew?”

“But…others…I thought…” I thought I was Susan’s superhero. Her ONLY superhero. There can’t be others! There just can’t. And if there were others, they would see me like this…I can’t let other guys see me like this Can I?

“You thought what?”

“That I was…the only…there can’t be others…”

“This isn’t about you, Matthew. I think you’re being very selfish.” Susan was disappointed. Disappointed in me.

“But…I…we…I thought we…”

“Have an exclusive relationship? I’m not your Wife, Matthew. Or your girlfriend. Or your lover. I’m not yours at all. Am I?” Yes, very disappointed.

“No.” But I thought…I’m her superhero…I am. Me.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you here, Matthew? Here. Now. With me.”

“Because-to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because–because I want to.” I like doing things for her. I like to make her happy…

“You chose to be here. To be helpful to me. because you want to.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t force you to be here. You’re here because you choose to be here…why? Because you want to please me, and make me happy. Is that right, Matthew?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you are pleasing me now?”

“I’m sorry.” I’m stupid and selfish…Susan’s displeasure is like a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I feel bad…physically bad…sick…that I am displeasing Susan so much.

“You are here today to give me your service. That’s one of your “S” words, Matthew. It pleases you to give me your service, you said so yourself. And it pleases me to accept your service. THAT is the basis of our relationship. Whether it progresses beyond that depends on our choices…”

“Choices?”

“Yes, Matthew. Remember, you are here by choice. You may leave any time. Just say the word, and I’ll unlock your unitard, you can change and go. It’s up to you. And it is MY choice when you will be invited over to be ‘helpful’. OR EVEN IF YOU WILL BE INVITED. And it will be MY choice to take our relationship beyond what it is now. I had hopes for you, Matthew; from the moment I saw you wandering aimlessly around the mall, I thought that you might be the kind of man I am looking for. And so far, you have been doing very well. Until now, that is…”

What? ‘The kind of man I am looking for?’ Me? What kind? What do I have to do? How can I get Susan to want me? She did want me, right? Until now…

“How…what do I do to…fix this…?”

“It’s very simple, Matthew. You just have to choose.”

“I want…I want to stay.”

“Good. And I choose to accept your service– for today. Now, as I was trying to explain, this Lycra hood will cover your face so that you will be anonymous. The others are dressed the same. The identity of the others is none of your business, and yours isn’t to them. It is not important who you are. It is only important what you are here to do.” Susan drew the Lycra cloth down over my head. “Now stand up and let’s look.” I stood up and we looked in the mirror on the closet door. I could see surprisingly well through the fabric of the hood; I was looking at someone that was no longer me. My features were obscured–I was now just an anonymous male in green Lycra from head to toe. It was very strange…but…also exciting too…!

“For the rest of the day, you are no longer Matthew. You are now simply a man giving me his service. I will be calling you by the color of your unitard, ‘green’. The others will be ‘blue’ and ‘red’. And I think, for today, that I would like you to address me as ‘Mistress’. Okay?”

“I think so.”

“You THINK so? I THINK you can CHOOSE a better answer than that, ‘green’.”

“Oh. Yes…ah…Mistress…” I think Susan…Mistress…is angry with me. I’ve gone from her disappointment to displeasure and now anger. And the afternoon has just begun. I don’t like it. I make a mental vow from now on to always stay on Susan’s good side. As soon as I can find out what side that is. But I think it’s better to say as little as possible for now…before I get into even more trouble.

“Let’s go.” Susan…Mistress led me back out into the hallway. She opened the doors to two of the other rooms and led the others; ‘red’ and ‘blue’ out into the hallway.

“Now, the three of you will be helping me move my furniture into the house today. Naturally I will be telling you what goes where and how I want things handled. Some of the pieces will require you to work together. I expect you all to follow instructions and cooperate with each other. But, please don’t chat amongst yourselves- you are here to work, not to make friends. I would prefer that the three of you know as little as possible about each other. Who you are is none of each others business. Only I know who each of you are, and that’s how I want it to stay. Will you do this for me?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Three voices said in unison. I’m pretty sure one of them was mine. But really, I had absolutely no desire to get to know ‘red’ or ‘blue’. I don’t even want to look at them. I don’t want to share Susan…Mistress with anyone else. I’m her superhero. Me. But…I want…I need to make her happy. I choose to. And I’ll show her that she should choose me. I’ll work hard and do whatever she wants. Because it’s important to please her. And to make her happy. That’s right, isn’t it? I think it is.

Mistress led us out of the house and across the front yard towards the garage. I was glad that Susan…Mistress told us to wear our sneakers with our unitards. It could be pretty tricky moving the furniture in just our stocking feet. It just goes to show how thoughtful she is.

“What if someone sees us?” A voice said. One of the others…

“That’s not important, is it?” Mistress Susan reassured us. “Even if someone did see you, they wouldn’t be able to tell who you are, could they? So there is nothing to worry about.” That makes a lot of sense. If anyone did happen by and saw us, all they would see is three males working. Being helpful. So what if we are wearing these unitards? It is what Susan…Mistress…Mistress Susan wants us to wear. They are our uniforms that help us give Mistress our service. When we wear them we are no longer selfish individuals; we are simply males here to give her our service. Our identities are protected…our identities are…gone. Our hoods…our masks shield our identities and take away our individuality. Our features are gone. Our faces…our names…gone…no longer important… What is important?

I was Matthew…I am…

I am ‘green’. I am here to give her my service. That is what is important.

The rest of the afternoon was given in service. Mistress directed us and we moved her furniture. It did not take very long, we worked hard and we worked together to get her house filled with her furniture. Tables, chairs, lamps, sofas. All of it. We worked quickly without any extraneous chatter or joking around. Because she wanted it that way. It is important to do what she wants. Because it is important to please her and make her happy…

Finally we were finished and we assembled in the living room. “Thank you all for your help today. I really appreciate it. My house feels so much better to me now that it has my furniture in it. I am very proud of you all, and all your hard work. I know there are still all those boxes with the rest of my belongings. That will have to wait for another time. I hope I can count on you all to help me…” Mistress was happy. She was proud of me. Of us. We basked in her praise and knowing that I…we had pleased her, my unitard got very tight… It is important to please Mistress. It feels good to make her happy.

“Of course, Mistress.” Who said that? One of us? Or all of us?

“Excellent! You are all so very helpful. Again, I really appreciate all you have done for me. Thank you all very much.”

“Thank You, Mistress.”

“It’s my…our pleasure…”

“Anytime you need us…”

“Please follow me…” Mistress lead us back down the hallway. She stopped in front of the smaller spare room. “‘Green’, please wait for me in here.” I walked into the room and Mistress closed the door behind me. I was now alone. Alone to wait. There was now furniture in the room but it seemed appropriate to wait kneeling on a small rug facing the door. Yes. That is how I should wait. Wait for Mistress. Wait for Susan. Wait for Susan…Mistress to come and…what? That is not important. When she comes she will tell me. She wants me to wait. So I will wait. That is what’s important. Because pleasing her is important.

Hours pass…or is it just minutes? Days? I can’t tell. But it is not important. I am waiting. Waiting for her. Because she asked me to. Because she wants me to. Because I choose to. Finally I feel her presence outside the door. It’s Her!! The door opens and she enters the room.. Susan…Mistress…Mistress Susan. Susan Mistress. It feels so good that she is finally here. It feels so good to see her. The sunshine of her smile warms me. “Thank you so much for waiting.” The melody of her voice caresses me like a warm blanket. The sight of her, her Womanliness excites me and I ache and throb for her…

“Thank you so much for your service today, ‘green’. You worked very hard and was very helpful.”

“It is my pleasure to give you my service. Mistress.”

“Yes I can see that. Your unitard shows me just how much you enjoy serving. That is one of the reasons why I want you to wear it. So that the relationship between your service to me and your pleasure will be on display. There is no way for you to be able to hide it. And I must say…I enjoy having that effect on you. And the others…” Mistress was standing over me now. She bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead. I felt the warmth of the kiss pass through my mask and spread all throughout my body. “Good job today, ‘green’. You have certainly earned your reward…” A reward. From Mistress. From Susan. From Mistress Susan. A reward for my service. My service is my pleasure. My reward…My reward will be my pleasure… She will… Mistress will grant me pleasure… If I ached for her before, it is nothing compared to how I ache now.

“But… I need to talk to Matthew…” Susan pulled the hood from my head. “Hello, Matthew”. Without my mask the lights seemed bright and harsh. And cold.

“Oh…Ah…Susan…?”

“Yes, Susan. Welcome back.”

“I…uh…”

“‘Green’ was very good today. He made me happy. He earned a reward. But you, on the other hand…”

“I’m sorry. I was selfish…I…”

“You disappointed me earlier, Matthew. I don’t like that.”

“I’ll do anything. Whatever you want…”

“Yes you will. But that’s not the point. You will already do whatever I want. I think you need to be punished.”

“Punished?”

“Yes. I think you need to really recognize that your behavior was wrong. And that you should accept responsibility for it.”

Susan looked down on me, an expectant look on her face. I had to respond somehow. I had to make things right. I had to choose my words carefully. I had to choose…to choose…

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. I was acting very selfishly. I put my own pleasure ahead of my service to you. I do not deserve any reward. I deserve punishment instead.”

“So you choose punishment instead of reward, Matthew?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good choice, Matthew. I am glad you chose to accept your responsibility. I will give you your punishment.”

“Thank you.”

“Now I will be sending you home soon. I was going to give you all a few days rest before starting on the moving boxes. But I want you here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning ready to work. Okay?

“Yes, Mis…Susan…Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. That is not your punishment.” Susan reached down and grabbed me by my erection. After all that I was still throbbing and aching for her… “When you get home you will think about me, won’t you?”

“Ah, gurgle…”

“This is ‘off limits’, understand? You are not to touch. Not until I give you my permission. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” I croaked.

“Good.” I heard/felt a click at the back of my neck, and a rush of cool air and release of tension down my back. “Please get dressed and go.” Susan left the room, leaving me alone. I got dressed, walked out of the room and outside. I did not see Susan. Or anyone else. Susan did not walk me to my car. She did not see me off with a kiss and a squeeze of my…yet it felt as if…felt as if she was still holding me…still holding me tightly in her grasp….

I drove home very carefully…

I didn’t get much sleep that night….

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

The next morning saw me on Susan’s doorstep at eight o’ clock. Susan let me in. She was wearing her pink terrycloth robe. With all the furniture the atmosphere in her house seemed different. The echoes were muted, there were things where there should be, like a real kitchen table and chairs. If felt..right.

“Good morning, Matthew. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Uh yes. I’m…ready. Ready to help.”

“Good. And how was your evening? Did you follow my instructions?”

“I…yes…didn’t get much sleep…”

“Oh? That’s too bad. Well I suppose that was to be expected. Tell me, just what were my instructions?”

“Oh, ah…that I was not to touch…touch myself, until you give me permission.”

“Yes. That’s right. Do you think that was enough punishment?”

Oh boy. Somehow I sense that this is a question to which there is no good answer. “I…uh…no?”

“So you choose a further punishment for your behavior yesterday?”

“I…yes. Yes I do.” I think this is a safe choice. I hope.

“Very well. But it will have to wait. I have an appointment this morning. I need to get dressed.”

“Ah. Yes. I think…I think I need to get changed as well…”

“That’s right, Matthew.” Susan flashed me a smile. I was very grateful for it. Maybe, maybe I can win her approval back. If I make the right choices…

I glanced at the kitchen table. “Let me just take care of those dishes for you…”

That brought another smile from Susan. “Very thoughtful, Matthew. But not until after you get changed, okay?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.”

“Please go to the guest bedroom. You’ll find your uniform for today. Get yourself changed and I’ll meet you back here in the kitchen.”

Off I went, down the hall to the guest bedroom. The room I painted…it seems long ago now. Now the room had furniture. I opened the closet and there on a hanger, waiting for me was yet another unitard. This one was black and had a large “S” printed on the chest. Already ready. I took off my pants and shirt and hung them in the closet. Socks and underwear went on a shelf. I slipped into the unitard, my uniform. My uniform to become Susan’s superhero. My uniform for serving Susan. Unlike the unitards Susan had me wear before, this one had two zippers, the regular one and one in the crotch. That would be…that will be convenient. I hope. But I still had to deal with the main zipper, the one that goes up my back. At least that’s what it’s supposed to do. I have to find some way to get it zipped. To be dressed for Susan. So she will be proud of me. But..How? The answer was hanging in the closet. What if…What if I took a clothes hanger, and hooked the zipper tab–and used the hanger as a handle to pull the zipper up? That should work. It has to work…and amazingly enough, it did work! Of course it took some struggle, some twisting and turning, but I managed to do it. Susan will be happy. Happy with me. Now I was changed. Dressed in my unitard. Changed into Susan’s superhero. No longer just Matthew. No longer… But there was something else…something missing. I noticed, on top of the dresser, there was something. Actually two somethings. Small somethings. Padlocks. Susan would want me to…She would want me to…choose. I looked at the padlocks, they were identical. They were both open, but there were no keys. The keys must be with Susan. She would be holding them. The keys will be safe. I picked up one of the padlocks. It should be, it should be easy to just…behind my neck…work the shank through the zipper pull and the ring…and close the padlock. It should be easy. It should be. I just have to choose. Just choose. Choose.

“Click!” That was loud. Now the zipper was locked. I didn’t have the key to unlock it. I was locked in my unitard until Susan lets me out. I am changed. I chose. To be helpful to Susan. Because that’s what she wants. And it’s important to please her and make her happy. Isn’t that…isn’t that…right? I think it is. I picked up the second padlock and took it with me to the kitchen. Just in case Susan wants it…

Back in the kitchen I was very helpful and washed the dishes from Susan’s breakfast. Then I dried them. Then I put them away. If I had stopped to think about it, I probably should have been very self-conscious. Wearing a unitard. A locked unitard. And doing manual labor for a woman that I still didn’t know very well. Here in her house. Making myself vulnerable to her. Allowing her…allowing her to put me in situations where I am giving up control. And putting her in control. Was this what I wanted when I offered to carry her bags that day in the mall? But…I chose this, didn’t I? That’s what Susan would say. She did not force me, did she?

In fact, I didn’t think about those things. At least consciously. What I was thinking about is pleasing Susan and making her happy. Being her superhero. And, in fact, I was feeling increasingly comfortable wearing a unitard and being locked in it, for her. Because wearing it shows that I am here to help and give her my service. And it is what she wants. And I want to please her. And…and…and… Choices. Choose. Surrender. I did that…didn’t I? Have I already gone too far, or…not far enough?

The muffled click of heels told me that Susan was approaching. Suddenly I realized that any doubts I had would not be able to stand up to her presence. Once I saw her or even heard her voice my need would overwhelm everything else. She knows that. She MUST know that. I can’t resist her. I don’t even want to. I choose not to.

“Oh good, you’re all dressed! Let me see!” I had made Susan happy. I stood still as Susan circled me and looked me over. “Mmmm.” She tugged on the padlock at the back of my neck. “Nice and secure. Thank you, Matthew.”

“I, uh, well…” I related how I figured out how to do up my zipper. And as for the padlock… “…it seemed like the thing to do..”

“Yes. That’s good. That was a good choice, Matthew.”

“I…Uh…Thank you.”

“I had this unitard made up especially for you.”

“Uh. Yeah. “S”. S for superhero.”

“Mmmm. Yes. But also “S” for service.”

“That too.” Of course. I should have seen that…

“And I can see you like wearing it…!” Susan laughed.

“Ah…Uh…” “S” for saluting.

“I’m sure you noticed, that this one has a zipper in the crotch. So you’ll be able to use the bathroom without needing to take the unitard off or even needing me to unlock it. That would come in handy, say if you were wearing it for a long period of time.”

“Ah, yes…very…practical…” Call me crazy, but somehow I think Susan will have no trouble finding ways to keep me in this unitard for long periods of time. But that’s okay, isn’t it?

“Why don’t you give me a demonstration?”

“What…? Unzip it…here?”

“Yes, Matthew. Right here. Right now, please.” There was definitely a warning in Susan’s voice…

“I, Uh…” I was feeling very embarrassed. Of course Susan has seen me…all of me…but… What choice did I have, really? So I unzipped the crotch zipper and…

“Well, you certainly ARE very excited to be here helping me. Thank you, Matthew.”

“I…uh…well…” Make that extremely embarrassed.

“Now, I have something else I would like you to wear for me while you’re here today…if you don’t mind…”

“Yes, of course. I’d be glad to…” Another hood?

“I haven’t told you what it is yet. Have you already made your choice?”

“I…oh…” Uh-Oh…

It finally sunk in that Susan had with her a small notepad and a velvet pouch. She opened the pouch and spread the contents on the kitchen table. Clear plastic rings of various sizes…some plastic pins and another piece of clear plastic that had holes in it and was shaped like a tube but also not vaguely shaped like an…oh… I’ve seen these…on the Internet…!

“I’m sure you know what this is…”

“I…well, I’ve seen…on the Internet…”

“I’m not surprised. It seems to be quite a common fantasy among men like you…”

“I…oh…uh…” Huh? Men like…like me? But…but I… Wait. This means Susan wants me to… “You want me to…wear…this…uh?”

“Chastity Device. It’s a CB-3000. And, yes, I would appreciate it if you would wear it for me today…”

“I…um…” I can choose. I could say no. I could leave. I could just end this and go home. I could… But of course I can’t. “I’ll…I’ll do it…”

“Wonderful, Matthew! Thank you very much. I think this will be a good learning experience. For you.”

“Learning…experience…?”

“Yes. Think about our discussion yesterday. Why do YOU think I would like you to wear this chastity device?”

“To…in order to…” Why? I thought about what we discussed yesterday. My behavior. Punishment? Pleasure? Then a thought hit me. “To remind me. To remind me not to be selfish. Not to put my personal pleasure ahead of giving you my service…”

“Yes, Matthew. That’s it exactly! You have admitted to me how much you enjoy being helpful. How your service gives you pleasure. And, because of your unitard, that is something you cannot hide. And you have admitted how selfish that pleasure has made you. So by wearing this chastity device you will be reminded to focus on your service and not on your own pleasure. And by choosing to agree to wear it will show me that you understand what is important. I think that makes sense, don’t you?”

“It…that…I think…that makes sense…” It seems to make sense. But I thought…I thought a guy would have to wear one of those things so he wouldn’t be able to cheat. Of if he already did cheat. Or if he… But when you think about it, I guess it IS kind of like I am cheating. It’s like I have been using Susan for my own pleasure. And that is wrong. Thinking of myself, my own pleasure when I should be thinking about being helpful. Because being helpful and making Susan happy is what’s important. Isn’t that right?

“Good. I’m glad you agree, Matthew. Now let’s try it on, and I’ll give you your assignment for today. Then I have to get to my appointment.”

“Uh…yes. okay.”

Susan went to the freezer and pulled out one of those flexible cold packs that you might use on an injury and handed it to me. “Here, this ought to reduce the ’swelling’.” It was all too effective. “Now this ring will go behind your testicles, and the tube part…and the pin…” Susan next handed me the various parts and luckily enough I was able to get them assembled on me without too much difficulty. Luckily I was pretty numb at this point. Yes. How lucky for me…!

“I see you brought that second padlock with you. That was a good choice, Matthew.” Yes. How extremely lucky for me. “I’m sure you must have guessed that the two padlocks are part of a set. I only need one key to unlock either or both of them. Isn’t that convenient?”

“Oh, yes. Very…convenient.” How lucky can one guy get?

“So, we just need to put the second padlock through the hole on the pin there and then…Matthew?”

“Ah…” Another choice. I have a choice, don’t I? Or do I? It seems that Susan is leading me down a one-way street and there are no U-turns allowed. But…I’m not, I’m not really unhappy that this is happening am I? I mean, I shouldn’t…be letting her do this to me, should I? I should be…I should be…a man? And yet…deep down I know that this, this is…this is what I want. Helping Susan. Pleasing her and making her happy. That is what is important. That is…MY pleasure.

“Yes.”

“Click!”

“Thank you, Matthew. For putting your trust in me, again.”

I couldn’t say anything. But I felt, I felt the enormity of the situation. It hit me suddenly like a weight pressing on my shoulders. Or, to be more precise, a weight pulling downward between my legs. I was suddenly VERY aware of my penis and the situation it was now in. It had shrugged off the cold and was now trying to force it’s way out of it’s plastic prison. Naturally to no avail. I felt it squeezed in it’s confinement, closed in on all sides as if…as if it was being held tightly in Susan’s hand. In her inescapable grasp.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” Susan then kissed me on the cheek. “Oh! My lipstick. let me…” She moved to wipe it off, then her thumb hesitated. “On second thought, I think I’ll just leave it…” I felt the heat from her kiss linger on my cheek. Her lipstick…

“Ah!” My penis…so accustomed to ’saluting’ for Susan was finding it difficult to adapt to it’s new surroundings.

“Oh, does it hurt?” I sense Susan is not all that concerned…

“Uh, its…It’s okay…I’ll manage…”

“Good. But perhaps it’s best if you put it away for now. Though I must admit it does look cute– all snugly secured in there.”

“Ah…” That’s not…not helping. I zipped up the unitard’s crotch. Perhaps ‘things’ will calm down…

“Now, Matthew…” Thankfully Susan changed the subject. She flipped through some pages on her notepad. “What I want today is for you to go through the moving boxes in the garage. When I packed them I marked them according to what’s inside. You will be looking for all the ones marked with the number ‘nine’. There should be…there should be nine of them. Nine boxes of ‘nine’. Bring them in and put them in that room that will be my office. Okay? Now I’ve got to get to my appointment. But I’ll be back in a few hours…”

“Absolutely. I’ll…I’ll get right on it.” Of course I will. What else was I going to do? I should have thought of something better to say. But it was kind of hard to think right now. My situation has me…completely off balance. Or more accurately, the situation that Susan has me in. If I didn’t know better…I’d say that Susan is doing this on purpose. Wait. Of course Susan IS doing this on purpose! And it’s working…

Susan left. I set off for the garage to start my task for the day. Halfway out the door I realized that there was a possibility that someone…who happened to be passing by…and happened to look down the driveway at just the right time and at just the right angle, just might possibly see me. See a man wearing a black Lycra unitard with a large “S” on his chest and an odd CB-3000 shaped bulge in his… Uh oh. I ran as fast as I could. Which was not all that fast because something was weighing me down. Something between my legs. Something that I am wearing for Susan. Because she wants me to. Because… Great. Now I’m REALLY aware of it…!

Moving boxes. Each one has a number written on it. 1, 3, 8, 4, 6…There’s a nine. There’s… They’re not together. The boxes are totally random. I’m going to have to go through the whole pile to find all the ‘nines’. I’m going to have to…be helpful. “Ah! this thing is…tight…”

If that wasn’t punishment, I don’t want to know what is. It took me hours. Moving all the boxes around to find all the ‘nine’ boxes. All nine of them. Carrying them one by one from the garage to the house. While avoiding being seen. At least I hope no one saw me. And each time I brought a box into her house I would have to pass by at least one mirror. And I would see in my refection, my situation. The unitard I am wearing for her. The padlock. The CB-3000. And…and the mark of her lipstick on my cheek. It must be my imagination but it seems to be getting darker, more visible. Shouldn’t it be fading? What is happening to me? Shouldn’t I be… Shouldn’t I be having second thoughts? Or even third thoughts? What is important? Susan is important. Doing this task for Susan…making her happy… That is what’s important. Isn’t that right? That’s what I think.

I heard some familiar music coming from Susan’s guest bedroom. My cellphone. Who could be calling me? I hesitated to answer it. What if, what if by talking on the phone someone could tell what I was wearing? What I am doing? What would they think? What if…? The number calling seemed unfamiliar. I answered anyway.

“Uh, hello?”

“Oh, good. Hello Matthew”

“Ah. Susan. Hello.” It’s Susan…!

“Are you busy?”

“Ah, yes. Actually I found all the boxes you wanted and I’m just about done bringing them in.”

“Very good! Gold star for you, My superhero!”

“Ah!…ow…” Sometimes I wish her praise didn’t affect me so much. Like when I’m wearing this…thing…on me…

“Oh, are you okay?”

“Uh, I’m fine…I’m okay…” You know I think Susan knows full well what would happen to me wearing this CB-3000…

“Listen, Matthew. I’ll be home soon. And I was thinking about lunch…”

“Well, I could…I’m sure I could make something….”

“Oh, really? That would be very good of you, Matthew. Very thoughtful.”

“It would be my…I’d be glad to.”

“I’ll certainly be looking forward to it. See you soon…”

“I’ll be here…” As If I’d be going anywhere? Like this?

Now, what to make for lunch? I’m a pretty good cook, if I DO say so myself, but…given the situation…MY situation, I think I should choose something simple. Like soup. That’s pretty easy. You just need to open a can. And of course heat it up. And cheese. On bread. In the toaster. I think I’ll call it a ‘grilled cheese sandwich’. I got to work. I was so busy being helpful that I didn’t even hear Susan arrive until she came through the door…”

“Hello, Matthew. Mmmm, something smells wonderful.”

“Oh, Susan. Thank you. It’s not much…”

“No, it looks great! I can’t wait to eat. It’s very nice to come home to find a nice meal waiting for me. Thank you, Matthew.”

“Oh, I …my pleasure…” I wish it was my pleasure, but right now my pleasure is…a little cramped…

“So, shall we eat here in the kitchen, or would you like to eat in the living room again?”

“I think…I’d like…the living room…”

“Hmmm, okay. You can put our lunch on that tray and bring it in, I’ll find something for us to drink.”

I brought the soup and sandwiches on a tray into the living room and put it on the table which was now next to Susan’s chair. I found the cushions I had sat on before and arranged them for me to sit on. So I could sit at Susan’s feet. Because that is where I choose to sit. Susan came in with some iced tea and sat down in her chair. I took my place on the cushions below her. She lifted her feet up and offered them to me. No words were necessary. I removed her shoes and placed them to the side. Susan lowered her stocking feet and rested them on my leg. I was once again serving as Susan’s footrest. It felt…right. She handed me a plate and we enjoyed our lunch…

“Mmmm. Delicious, Matthew.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s so nice to be able to sit here like this, have a meal and just relax and enjoy ourselves…”

“Yes…” Actually, while it was great to be sitting here with Susan like this, I wasn’t what you would call relaxed. Susan sank back in her chair and I could feel the tension drain out of her. And I could feel her silky stocking feet resting on my leg. So close. So close to the part of me that was certainly not relaxed, but was in fact, cramped and a bit uncomfortable. And it was taking what little willpower I had left not to look, not to stare at them…her stocking feet…my weakness…!

“So, Matthew, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding all the boxes…”

“No…not really…” Yes, I actually lied to Susan.

“The movers just piled them haphazardly. And I wanted them arranged so all the numbers were together.”

“Well, actually I…l figured that. So when I was finding all the ‘number nine’ boxes I arranged all the other boxes so their numbers were all together too. I thought that it would make things easier…for us later…”

“Really, Matthew?” Susan smiled. “That’s wonderful. That was very thoughtful of you. Thinking of your fellow helpers like that…”

“Well, yes, I…” I guess I was. Not so selfish after all…

“Good for you, Matthew. This was a positive ‘learning experience’ for you as I had hoped. I think you deserve a reward. I’d like to give you one, if you’ll accept it…”

“I…well, yes. Absolutely!” A reward, from Susan. Finally! How could I choose to refuse it?

“But, there is still the matter of your punishment. You remember, from this morning. I believe you asked for a further punishment for your behavior yesterday. Didn’t you?”

“Um…” Did I? But that was so long ago…Surely Susan would let this pass…? “Well, I guess I might have…”

“What WILL I do with you, My superhero…?”

Of course, I wanted to say, ‘anything you want’, but I said nothing as Susan sat there thinking… Finally she came to some sort of decision and stood up.

“Come…” Susan held out her hand to me. I took it and rose. Susan then led me by the hand over to the sofa and we sat down together. It felt unfamiliar yet nice sitting there with her holding hands, it was as if we were actually a couple. It struck me then that in the time we had known each other and with all that has happened, we had yet to be really intimate. Of course Susan has seen all there is of me to see, and had learned many of my secrets and my weakness. Yet there was one line we hadn’t crossed… Suddenly images popped into my head of Susan and I, in each others arms, making out like teenagers with our hands roaming and groping each other. It was powerful, primal and exciting. Perhaps a little too exciting…!

“OW!…” Damn. This thing…

“Oops! Just think of it as a little reminder. So that you’ll remember what’s important…”

“Believe me. I do. I was…I was thinking about you…” I could feel Susan’s eyes on me, studying my face, looking for…looking for something…

“I’m glad you agreed to wear that CB-3000 for me today, Matthew. I really think it was good for you. And I really appreciate it.”

“I…It was…” Well I can’t really say it was ‘my pleasure’, can I?

“And I see you didn’t wipe my lipstick off your cheek…”

“I, uh…” How could I? After she marked me like that? I can still feel it…

“Let me give you another one. As your reward…” Susan pulled me closer. She was going to kiss me again. Her lips would be on me, maybe even on my lips…maybe even we would…

Susan left her mark on my other cheek. The hot sweetness of her kiss spread all over my body. I didn’t need a mirror to know that this lipstick mark would be as visible as the first…

“I…ah, ow…”

“My poor superhero…”

“It’s…okay, I’ll manage…”

“But I hate to see you suffer. Hmm. Suffer. ‘S’ ”

“Yeah.” Great. One of those ‘S’ words. But I can stand it for Susan. I can. If I choose to. Because I know what’s important. But…of course if Susan was truly concerned about my ’suffering’ she could easily end it if she chose to. And grant me pleasure. If she chose to. But..but that’s HER choice. For me, what’s important is making her happy. Even if…even if I have to suffer somewhat. Because my service to her comes before my pleasure. No, it IS my pleasure. That’s right. Isn’t it? Yes. I believe it is. That’s…that’s why I am…why I agreed to wear the CB-3000 locked on my penis. To remind me what is important. Service. ‘S’ Being Susan’s superhero…

“…Just one more task for today, Matthew…”

“Oh, yes…”

“I just need you to bring in the things from my car. Bring them in and put them on my desk. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of our lunch dishes.”

“But I can…”

“I know.”

And I knew better than to press the issue. I went out to Susan’s car. She had a new computer. With a new monitor, printer and all the accessories. I brought them in to her new office-slash-library room and put them on the desk.

“Would you…I’d be happy to set it up for you…”

“Very kind of you, Matthew. But I’ll take care of it. Besides, it’s about time you got going…”

“Ah…yes…” Again I knew better than to press the issue. Even though leaving Susan was not something I wanted to do. I still have some helpfulness left in me. I still… But, it’s not about me, is it…?

“Here.” Susan gave me a small velvet pouch. “Hold out your hand…” Susan then placed a tiny key in my palm. ‘My’ key…? “Go get yourself changed.”

So I did. I went down to the guest bedroom. And I changed. Back into just Matthew. It felt sad. Unlocking myself. Peeling of my unitard, my uniform. Even taking off the CB-3000. Why was it sad? How could I feel uncomfortable in my own clothes? What’s happening to me? What is important? I hung my unitard back in the closet and put the padlocks and the CB-3000 in its velvet pouch on top of the dresser. I miss them already.

Susan was already done unpacking her new computer. No doubt she will have it up and online very soon. “My company gives all us department heads computers to use at home. It’s the very latest. The young man from our IT department was quite helpful…”

“Very nice…” Yes, I’m sure he was. And I’m jealous. But…

“I can even do video conferencing at home with the built-in webcam.”

“Good…”

“Do you have a webcam, Matthew?”

“No. Ah, I don’t.”

“Well, the nice young man was thoughtful enough to give me some extra ones. Just in case…”

“Wow. Excellent….” I’m not surprised, am I? Susan does inspire us to be helpful. (Though I still wish I was the only one. But I’m trying…)

“And I’ll be able to check up on you when you’re at home. Maybe have a chat as well.”

“I…that would be nice…” It would, wouldn’t it? Having Susan checking up on me at home…

Susan walked me out to my car. I got in, put my new webcam on the passenger seat and rolled down the window.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me today, Matthew. I really appreciate all your help.”

“Thank you.”

Susan then leaned in and gave me another kiss on my cheek.

“When you get home…you’ll set up your new webcam. Okay?”

“Oh, ah, of course.”

“And don’t forget to wash your face!” That brought a giggle from Susan, and from me as well. Then she turned serious.

“And as for this…” The now familiar feeling of her hand on me. “I’ll let you know…”

I drove home very carefully.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Later that evening the telephone rang.

“Hello-”

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Susan. Hello.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not at all…”

“Good. I was hoping to try out the webcams. Sort of a test run.”

“Sure, let my just sign in…”

“Very good. See you soon!”

I got online and signed in. Soon I was connected and was looking at a picture of a familiar room. Suddenly the view shifted and turned and I was looking at Susan. I felt a warm tingly feeling just seeing her. Even though it had only been a few hours…

“Hello, Matthew. Can you see me okay?”

“Yes. Fine. You look…you look great!”

“Thank you. I can see you too.”

“Good…”

“Now let’s try…” The view shifted again. And suddenly I was looking at a foot. Then another. Silky stocking feet with sexy toenail polish. Susans feet! “How’s this? is it coming in clear?”

“Oh, goog. urgle.”

“What’s that?

“Oh, it’s fine…”

“Good I’m glad. I know how much you like to see them… And I noticed how you avoided looking at my feet during lunch. I thought you might enjoy seeing them now…”

“I…oh…yeah…”

“Now let’s check the resolution on your end. Stand up and take off your clothes.”

“Oh…I…”

“Now, please…”

“My. You ARE excited to see my stocking feet. Thank you, Matthew.”

“I…uh…”

“Now take your clothes and spread them out on the floor in front of you.”

“Okay…”

“And now I want you to kneel. Get on your knees. And tilt your webcam so I can see you…”

“I…okay…” What is Susan planning?…Is she…?

“Now look at my sexy stocking feet. See my toes wiggle. You like that don’t you?”

“Agg…!”

“Yes you do. You can’t resist. You don’t want to….”

“Ogg…!”

“Imagine my feet on you. Stroking you. Sliding all over. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Gah…!”

“Go ahead, Matthew. I give you my permission. Look at my feet and stroke…!”

“Ah gggg…”

If I had been capable of rational thought at that moment I would have been humiliated. Or at least I should have been. Right? But I was too far gone. I AM too far gone. Because there is only one thing that is important. And that is…

“Very good, Matthew…that’s it…now do it…do it for me… For me…!”

………….

When I regained my senses, I could hear Susan laughing. At me? Or, with me? Does it matter?

“Thank you, Matthew. That was quite a show. I really enjoyed it.”

“Oh. Ah….I’m not really sure what just happened. But I think I enjoyed it too.”

“Oh, you did.”

“Yes…”

“Now just one last thing…”

“Oh…?”

“You need to do some laundry…”

~~~~~~~

Are You Busy – Part 2b (or not 2b) is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)