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I feel myself rise, first my right side then my left. I rise more. The floor is no longer beneath me. I am suspended in mid air my weight borne by my back resting on the plank.
The last dowel is pressed against my upper lip and nostrils. Again a rope is threaded through and drawn beneath me to connect to my toes. Mae Lee tightens to once again place me in a hogtie, though this time I am supine.
“You stay. You fall, you feel pain.”
She taps my testicles in emphasizing her point and I truly endeavor to remain motionless in balancing on the plank. I have no idea how far above the floor she has raised me. And her hand strokes my penis. The shaft is most firm, seeming to salute her power. I can imagine the sight. With feet bent underneath and the nose dowel forcing back my head, my spine painfully curves thrusting forth my hips and thus my erect penis. And I know from Mae Lee’s hand strokes that its stiffness is unsurpassed.
And so I endure another session of obedience, learning to keep my knees well parted yet balancing for Mae Lee on the plank.
For how long?
There is a tap, tap, tap on my balls. I am reminded of Mae Lee’s close supervision as I struggle to keep myself balanced. And something about the position of my spine, perhaps the humiliating exposure, seems to enhance my tumescence. I feel like I am all penis, a human sculpture of the engorged male appendage mounted on a pedestal of insignificant flesh.
My knees begin to tip downward and in panicking, I pull with my abdominal muscles and overcorrect. My head falls instead and I cry out not knowing what is beneath and how far above the floor I have been positioned. I cringe, expecting to feel an agonizing thump. Instead, the back of my head painlessly greets the padded floor. Mae Lee has positioned me only some two feet in the air, just enough to hold my feet and calves in the bent position.
Strong hands cradle the back of my head and pull up to perch me once again on the plank. Then comes the whippy cane as short yet crisp strokes remind me of my task... to be obedient. With more taps she sets afire my scrotal sac.
“Knees apart. You be good, I take the hood.”
I am offered a reward. Without the hood I can gaze upon Mae Lee’s powerful and nearly naked feminine form. It is a treat. The process begins again and I endeavor to remain on the plank.
Chapter Thirty
Is it Sunday?
Most gratefully, Mae Lee has removed my gag and the hissing sound has been terminated. I sit in wait for something. I know not what. Hopefully, it is time to speak with Miss Denise and end the dark and silent isolation.
In being returned to the chair, I am guessing that I have been held for well over twenty four hours, though I have no way of determining with certainty. I have been well watered but have not eaten. Other than the brief encounters with Miss Denise and her male companion, I have not interacted with my benefactress, the woman who suggested there was a cure.
I hear the door open. The smell of food wafts. Bacon. Coffee, richly brewed.
“Thought we’d have breakfast together,” the firm and pleasant voice of Miss Denise proposes.
A hand grips my penis and strokes. It can only be that of Mae Lee. There is a hiss and I feel the anal insertion swell. It is apparent that Miss Denise wants me erect and I know my organ springs to life for her. I hear a chair move and then clothing brushes about my knees. I picture Miss Denise sitting most proximate in her white terry cloth robe.
“Don’t move.”
A tray is propped on my lap. The underside is warmed by what I imagine to be a hearty breakfast. The edge touches the glans of my standing manhood.
I hear the door close, Mae Lee evidently exiting. Then I feel the bare feet of Miss Denise come to rest atop mine as she shifts in her chair. Her naked flesh abrading mine! Though it is merely the soles of her feet, the sensation is divine. The many hours of deprivation have made any human contact mentally elating.
“A little bacon? You may speak.”
“Yes.”
“Is that a proper way to ask? You must be famished.”
“Ask me nicely.”
“May I please have some food, Miss Denise?”
“That’s better, Bobby. Manners. Always remember your manners.”
“Tongue.”
I open my mouth and extend my tongue. Fingers gently press bacon onto the tip. It is a small offering, yet I feel its warmth and draw it in to savor.”
“Been doing any thinking?” Miss Denise inquires as I chew.
