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It became evident on the following Friday afternoon that a decision concerning my vasectomy needed to be made.
D called my office and suggested I leave a little early and come right to her place. Her tone of voice was luridly suggestive and after being sent home sans relief from the week before, she knew I needed attention. I knew she needed an affirmative answer on the procedure and the trip. And it was fair. Some women are perfectly willing to use a condom. D was an exception and I should appreciate that, I reasoned to myself.
What did a little snip to some small ducts really mean? And she did consider it a gift.
At 34, the notion of having the patter of little feet running throughout a well-mortgaged house was becoming less and less attractive. And marriage was a long way off. Steamy sex with D was one thing. Pledging a lifetime of devotion was another, not to mention the day to day drudgery of raising a family.
So on the drive to D’s apartment, my decision was almost made.
Upon arrival, she looked marvelous as always. Something about her intelligence enhanced her natural beauty. Never with a glitzy show girl smile, D displayed a ‘come hither’ look that made men ogle. And it blossomed with maturity. Whereas the teenaged cheerleaders of our youth suffered with the menace of the years, time seemed to enhance D’s persona. On each occasion when our paths crossed, I had the insatiable urge to genuflect and kiss her hand and, had she been wearing a crown, perhaps her feet.
“Special plans tonight, James. Let’s get settled.”
She nodded toward the bedroom, which I immediately approached with glee. Like a pubescent boy my mind could not help wondering if, after an extra week without sex, I would come with twice the load of sperm, or better, twice the degree of pleasure.
I stripped as instructed and it was only when I was completely naked that I noticed D was not removing any garments. Also, it was then that I awkwardly noticed she was dressed for a social occasion, not in her normal professional office attire that I usually encountered on our early evening rendezvous.
She noticed my concern.
“Yes, James. I’m going out. But I think you’ll still be here when I return.”
Another confident smile flourished with her forceful prognostication. She held in her hands strange strips of leather with thick fur attached.
“Supine position please. Make yourself comfortable.”
Spoken as a command, I found my reaction to be inexplicable. I quickly obeyed!
Within minutes D cuffed wrists and ankles, tugged the latex hood over my head and set the headphones over my ears. All this I had encountered before, but the speed and craft with which I was secured, blinded and deafened was frighteningly efficient. No longer did she appear as a coy lover experimenting with kinky wares. Instead she moved deftly and professionally and when finished, I found myself completely immobile with strong cords making me part of the bed frame.
The familiar static noise filled the headphones. D merely had to brush her finger against the underside of my frenulum and I felt my erection spring to life. This left my testicles as the only impediment to my anus and when I felt them gently lifted in the palm of her hand I knew what was coming, my butt plug.
It was shocking how large it felt yet how easily it slid into my backside. Then the voice activated microphone briefly cut off the noise and transmitted the sound of a sardonic laugh. It was not D’s voice and it was not female!
Completing the stuffing of my backside, D released my scrotum, affectionately patted my penis and also laughed into the microphone.
“I’ll be back later. Robert and I are going to dinner. You think about that gift and how you can better be of service to me. This may help focus your mind.”
I felt her fingers on my lips and nose. They were wet. When I inhaled, the strong, familiar feminine fragrance of D’s sex filled my nostrils. She had obviously reached under her skimpy cocktail dress and retrieved a good sampling of her essence. Panties had evidently been deemed superfluous for her evening date. I flushed with jealousy, but my penis reacted differently. I felt it obsequiously waggle in reaction to the tantalizing scent and heard the male voice laugh again.
“Be a good boy.”
And she left.
D
Robert was usually my Saturday night date. Since I intended to spend much time with James over the weekend it was a better scheduling to tie down James and spend some social time with Robert, leaving Saturday free. Better scheduling and an incredibly arousing scene. Displaying the well-bound and naked James to Robert was quite the turn on. And if James had any idea of his excitedly flushed color and how his penis reacted so obediently to my taunts, he would understand how beautifully he was falling into his future role.
Robert was quite amused. He’s not submissive but seemed curious concerning the interaction with James. Other than some voyeuristic tendencies, Robert is a normal but well endowed male. With my week chock filled with counseling disgusting, wealthy and self-centered depressives, I need a few hours with someone as vanilla and even-tempered as Robert. Nothing serious, just some amusing conversation and incredibly satisfying sex with Robert skillfully using every one of his eight inches.
After all, whereas bringing James under my control is most entertaining, in a way it adds to an already busy week another night of plying my psychological craft. Robert is a welcome change. And with James, Robert played his role perfectly. His laugh can be most disconcerting, and James seemed to react accordingly.
So while I have a nice dinner, James will sink into a deep revelry and within a couple hours my tape-recorded voice will begin. A very soft recording, barely perceptible to the ear except to someone in extreme sensory deprivation, will give James guidance. A set of subliminal messages I spent much time scripting with the assistance of obscure texts on interrogation techniques from the KGB archives. The CIA doesn’t publish theirs.
James will becom
e mental putty. Then I will begin to mold and his gift will be mine...
James
