|
About me
Sessions
News
My Gallery
TV maids
Contact me
Artwork
Souvenirs
Stories
Interview
Links
Main |
When Nick went to his inbox he
had a surprise waiting or him: an invitation from Katya to join a new Yahoo
group - "Boys and Men". In the photo section of the group he found a folder
marked "Panty-boys" and in it was his picture. Although the shot was of his
crotch area, and there was no way of anyone recognising his identity from
it, it was still a shock for Nick to see himself displayed so nakedly to the
world. He was dressed in a pair of Katya's knickers, his penis (which Julia
had shrivelled with ice-cubes just before the picture was taken) making a discreet bulge in the front. The
picture was captioned: "Little Nicky".
There were similar shots of eleven other
panty-boys, making up what Katya referred to in the site as "Her Devoted
Disciples". There was another folder captioned simply: "Men". In it were
four more crotch shots. These were of undeniably well-endowed dicks, each
one proudly erect and grasped proprietarily by a small female hand. Though
the owner of the hand was out of shot it was obviously Katya. These, Katya
had nicknamed "The Four Horse Men".
After his first shocking meeting with Katya and Julia they had promised Nick
that he could come back and play with them - or maybe they had actually
said, "come back and we will play with you…" But they hadn't told him when
it would be. He would be contacted when the time came. In the meantime he
should check his inbox frequently and "be good".
They had their stable of stallions and circus of little helpers and these
would be rotated so everyone could get a fair crack. Gold stars could be
earned, and would be suitably rewarded. But if someone failed to deliver the
goods they would be easily and instantly replaced…
Nick had done the maths and quickly found that the situation wasn't quite
what he had been hoping for. If there were twelve "Devoted Disciples" and
Julia and Katya entertained a new one each week it would be nearly three
months between sessions. His heart sank. Even though he had had no sexual
contact with either of them (nor even seen them naked) he had been burning
to return for more - whatever more might mean. He was to find out much
sooner than he imagined.
On Monday Nick was summoned for a Friday night rendezvous. He was told to
present himself with cleanly shaven balls and wearing Katya's freshly
laundered knickers. He could masturbate as often as he wanted, but he was
forbidden to ejaculate between now and then. He was on his honour. But he
should have no doubt that they would be able to tell if he were lying or not
when they looked into his eyes. He didn't doubt it. In the meantime he was
required to write them another story. Or a confessional - the choice was
his. His pen rose instantly, ready for his Mistresses' service…
The Devoted Disciples' stories were archived on the "Boys and Men" site. It
was strange reading his competitors' work - for that's what it seemed like.
Rivals for Her attention. The Four Horse Men didn't seem to have contributed
anything. Or maybe their contribution came in a different form. He wondered
about it. Nick couldn't imagine that Katya was only interested in the size
of their willies.
From the start everything about her had been geared towards imagination as
the primary tool of sexual expression. The Horse Men, whatever else they
clearly had going for them, must also have that spark of sexual imagination
that Katya so obviously valued. It was quite a thought - that they had both.
Whereas he and the rest of the Panty-boys had…? Malleability? Was that it?
Their submissiveness was all that mattered?
Nick was determined to shine. To show in his story that he was better than
the rest of the circus. The story he wrote was about knowledge and power. It
was about a woman who discovers the real-life identity of a man with whom
she has been having regular cybersex. She finds out where he works and
follows him.
When he goes for a drink, she's there watching him. To begin with she says
nothing. He can feel her presence, but since he has no idea that she knows
his identity, he has no reason to suspect that the woman in the bar is the
same woman to whom he has confessed his darkest secrets online. They have
exchanged Yahoo Messages but have never spoken so there isn't even the
chance that he might recognise her voice. In fact, during their sessions he
has sometimes wondered if she were actually a woman at all - as they say, on
the Internet you could be anyone, even a dog…
But she is a woman, and an attractive one at that. Dark hair, clear bright
eyes, classic English features. Not at all the type of woman who would have
the sort of dark, devilish fantasies they shared online…
Because he is shy, he seldom approaches women he hasn't been introduced to.
So she approaches him. She is nervous but conceals it. She has secret
knowledge and that is power. She asks him to join her; and then quickly,
before he has the chance to offer, chides him about why he hasn't bought her
a drink. He blushes and stumbles over his words. It's clear that she is
joking and that he has understood the joke, but there is, nonetheless, a
Mistress and slave dynamic there to be harnessed if she wants to. And she
does. She smiles inside. This is going to be so much easier than she could
have believed. Once it gets going it's like pushing a sledge down a snowy
hill. Whoosh…
Before the night is out she has prised him open. The things she tells him
that she can "sense" about him (things she knows very well from their
Messenger sessions) spin his head. "You don't need to say anything. Just nod
if what I say is true. And I know already that it is. You've been staring at
my shoes and dreaming of kissing my toes. I thought so. And, getting right
down to the nitty-gritty, I'd say that you were a compulsive masturbator.
Yes. It's written all over your face. Your pink, blushing face! And let's
see… you're too shy to go into sex shops so you find your pornography on the
Internet. Before I spoke to you, you were eyeing up my bottom, too. Don't
deny it. So the pornography you look at is of women sitting on men's faces.
That's what you dream of when you're wanking that little dick of yours. A
stunning, unattainable woman raising her skirt and plonking her perfect
bottom down on your face, your nose trapped in the crack of her arse while
you pull on that little willy. And it is very little, isn't it?"
He coloured further with acute embarrassment. She waited. He nodded his
head. "Of course it is. That's why you're scared of women. You can't get it
up on a first date. Don't lie to me. It's obvious. But you've no trouble on
your own. Or in a chat room. Or having phone sex. But that's all right. You
see, there's really no problem. What you need is the right type of woman.
One who will take charge."
She tells him that the reason she can read him like book is because he is a
classic conflicted submissive. And the reason it's so obvious to her is
because she is a Dominatrix. She can see it in his eyes as he tries to hold
her gaze - and cannot. She could even see it in his body language from
across the bar before she summoned him over. Now that he's up close she can
scent submission on him as a vixen can scent her quarry.
He is transfixed. Her power is incredible. And when she hands him the parcel
that she has kept hidden in her bag until now, she knows that he will take
it; he will go into the men's toilet and come out wearing what is inside it.
A CB3000. A male chastity device. And he will hand over the keys to her. A
woman he has known for all of two hours. Otherwise she will turn and simply
walk out of his life forever. One chance. Take it or leave. He takes it.
When he walks back out of the loo there is nothing to indicate that his life
has changed irreversibly - though it has. She holds out her hand and he
gives her the key. She fastens it to a chain around her neck. And that's the
first time that he notices the other keys dangling there. "My collection",
she says simply. The bar is busy enough that she can surreptitiously slip a
hand to his crotch and feel the hard, unfleshy bulge of the chastity device.
"Gottcha," she thinks to herself. But aloud she smiles and says,
"Goodnight". "Wait a minute!" He wants to know when he gets the key back.
"When and if I decide." "But I don't know your name, or where you live! I
haven't even got a number!" "That's alright. I know your name and where you
live. That's all that matters. I'll be in touch when the mood takes me. In
the meantime you'll just have to trust me. Enjoy the memory of tonight. I'm
sure you'll think about it often! "
He emailed the story off to Katya, hoping it would make the princess smile.
Whether it did or not was hard to say, because the next email he got from
her made no mention of his story. The email arrived on Friday morning - the
morning of the day when they were due to meet. It said: "change in schedule
– someone else is filling your slot. You will come next Friday at 8.00. Same
rules apply. Shave your balls and wear my freshly laundered knickers.
Wanking is permitted, but no ejaculations until then. Be good! Katya."
Continued in part 3...
|
