AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“An interesting study this one, Doctor. First came across him years ago during a project in Thailand. As you can see there is ingrained a curious enjoyment of certain proclivities. Impressive degree of arousal wouldn’t you say?”
The pleasant voice, firm, no nonsense.
“Yes, fascinating Denise. And what do you have planned for him?”
A male voice! Naked, gagged and bound, I am being displayed and discussed like a laboratory animal!
“Suffers from ejaculatory incompetence. Probably germinating in youth, it appears something triggered a relapse. And a severe one.”
“Yes, the prostate is obviously in need of some sort of manipulation. A rather randy cad, as they’d say on the street.”
There is laughter
with the off color remark. Then, I smell alcohol. Someone who has been imbibing is most proximate. Then I feel a finger swab the underside of my apparently still erect penis. There is obviously abundant fluid oozing, thus precipitating the comments. But whose finger? Am I being handled by a male?
I squirm in protest and squeal into my gag. My futile attempts to foment bring more laughter.
“Thorough restraint for this brute and I can see why,” the male voice observes with an irritatingly mocking tone. “Do you think he can hear us?”
“No. I have him in sensory dep for now. Mae Lee is well trained to care for him. Maybe on Sunday I’ll sit down and have a little talk with him, but until then he can stew in his thoughts. You know the routine Doctor, first the mind must be made receptive...”
So, either the masking sound has been inadvertently interrupted, or Miss Denise wants me to hear the casual conversation without the knowledge of the visitor. And she referred to him as ‘Doctor’. What kind of doctor?
My thoughts are diverted by pressure in my anus. My insertion is inflating. I lurch in response and hear more laughter.
“What is that? What are you doing to augment such a enlivened reaction?” the male voice inquires.
“A little anal probe, Doctor. I’m inflating it. You know where the male gender likes to experience certain sensations. And the fact that a woman is at the controlling end helps stimulate certain propensities.”
“Fascinating. So he cannot move. Cannot see or hear...”
“And he feels the effect of my hand deep within. Keep in mind Doctor, that with the four point restraint, the flow of endorphins and the limited movement slowly diminishes the sense of touch,” Miss Denise interjects. “So the sensation of my simple squeeze is very much exaggerated.”
“Yes, of course. So he’s deprived of almost all input and completely dependent on you. Your whim. Your grace. And to feel your control there must frustrate with such zest.”
The man pauses, seemingly in thought.
“So simple offerings of water? Temporary release?”
“Unfortunately necessary and most welcomed. As you are aware, ejaculatory incompetence is all about control. He has none. I have all. Though this is already quite apparent to him, the excessive time strapped down will assist in emphasizing the point. When I deem him ready, mentally pining for utter control, he’ll be eager to ejaculate like a volcano.”More laughter and again a finger, owner unknown, annoyingly diddles my erection. Then, as Miss Denise resumes speaking, the hissing sound returns and I am snatched from the real world, the portal to reality closed.
Do my visitors leave? I do not know. But the smell of Miss Denise’s fine perfume disperses and I begin to wriggle about with the building agony. Knowing that in time, my endorphins will slowly counter the suffering brings a degree of resolution, but also knowing that Mae Lee will thereafter release and reset the pain clock brings disconsolation.
And then Miss Denise’s words are replayed. I am to be restrained until Sunday! And it’s only Friday evening, unless of course Saturday morning has already arrived.
The smell of perfume and alcohol give credence to my assumption that there was a social gathering in Miss Denise’s sixth floor apartment. And to entertain the guests? A tour of Miss Denise’s laboratory and introduction to her latest case.
Then I recall the doors with other names. What’s happening there? How will those patients be displayed?
I wrench about as my leg muscles call for the natural movement they are denied. I cry out into my gag wondering where I am in the cycle. Is urination next? When will the muscles calm?
There is the short term challenge and the long term. Enduring until the next release, enduring until Miss Denise decides it is time to talk.
I calm myself with more thoughts of childhood, though encounters with Sue and Kate in the teen years were mostly not becalming.
Yet, thoughts of the games played unreel and a tinge of frustration returns as I recall my various stashes, accumulations of racy pictures, one by one being pillaged and replaced with innocuous home making magazines. Both sister and stepsister had wry senses of humor, so judging who was taking the time to hunt down my stuff and replace it with material preferred by girls was not easily determinable. Eventually it all disappeared. New stuff, purloined from the school library, perhaps on occasion purchased at a newspaper store, was snuck home in my backpack. But that too was quickly looted.
Masturbation without the stimulus became futile. I required the catalyst of graphic motivation in order to become aroused to the point of climax.
