Waifish Model on Page Fifty-three
by Couture
email: couture_writes@hotmail.com
(TG, MM, MC)
Please do not read if under 18 years of age or
offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.
(c) 2003 Couture
***********
When we got back home, the honeymoon was over. He
even told me so. He had come home from work and by
the look in his eyes, he was furious.
"Okay little girl," he said, walking toward me, a
looped leather belt swinging menacingly from his hand.
"The honeymoon is over. And haven't I been good to
you? Haven't I explained what a good little wifie
should do? How she should act? How she should dress?
And now I come home, after a hard day's work and you
weren't even waiting at the door for me and where's my
dinner?"
"I'm sorry Sweetie. I lost track of time and dinner
is almost ready." I said, backing away, and then
making a run for it as he kept coming.
I can see why the Chinese used to bind their women's
feet. I could have probably given him a run for his
money, but not in heels. He caught me easily, dragged
me to the sofa, and gave my ass a beating with the
belt. I struggled at first, but he kept whipping me
until I hung limply in his lap, gasping for breath,
tears rolling down my eyes.
"Get your self cleaned up," he said. "You look like
shit."
I freshened up in the bathroom, and dried my tears.
Afterwards, I served him dinner as if nothing in the
world had ever happened. We ate and watched TV like a
normal couple, then went to bed. The belt on the
nightstand caught me eyes. He must have seen my
stare.
"Yeah, bitch, and there it will stay until you learn
to start acting right," he said. "Think of it as a
reminder."
God he was a monster - a fiend - a black ogre. He
pulled the sheet back, displaying his semi-erect cock.
"You wanna ride, huh? Does wifie want a good fuck
tonight?"
"no," I whispered. I looked down at my painted
toenails, the memory of my earlier whipping still
fresh in my mind.
"Too bad," he said. "Oh well, there's other ways you
can take care of your husband's needs, so come on up
here and perform your wifely duties."
I obeyed. Like a robot, I performed the deed exactly
as he had instructed weeks ago. I even swallowed his
vile seed and cleaned his cock, before putting it back
in his shorts. Afterwards, he snuggled up behind me
and went to sleep. I was tired and not long in
following.
*************
I hated that belt. It stayed there on the nightstand
. . . a reminder of what would happen with any little
mistake or disobedience. After being whipped every
night or two for a solid week, I couldn't sit. It
even hurt to stand. There was always something I
would mess up. And with the knowledge of what would
happen when I did make a mistake, it made me even more
likely to do something wrong.
I was so careful. Everything was perfect and then . .
.and then while I was dusting, I knocked the lamp off
the table and broke it. To make matters worse, I
cried and my makeup ran. Two whippings. Phil was due
home at any moment. What was I going to do?
And then it hit me. Maybe I was going about this the
wrong way. I was still thinking like a man trapped in
a woman's body, but what would a woman do in my
situation? Maybe leave? Maybe. . .
I went to the bathroom and wiped the smeared makeup
from my face. I hurriedly put it back on. I did a
horrible job, but I hoped it wouldn't matter. Then, I
put on a pair of stockings, followed by the shortest,
tiniest mini-skirt in the closet and the highest heels
I could find.
I heard his car pull up. Shit, I hadn't even started
dinner. I hurried to the front door, looked out the
peephole and waited for Phil. When he approached, I
opened the door and put on my best June Cleaver act.
"Hi honey, how was your day?" I beamed.
"It was okay, and yours?" he asked, hugging me.
Okay, it was now or never. "I had the most horrible
day." I kissed him - even slipped him a little tongue
and nibbled his lower lip, doing my best to hide my
revulsion. "I was such a clumsy clumsy girl. I broke
the lamp and then I started crying. . ." It was so
humiliating. I prayed it would work.
As I was talking, I noticed Phil wasn't looking at me,
but at the breast peeking out from my unbuttoned
shirt. He opened the shirt the rest of the way and
casually rolled my nipple between his fingers. Right
there with the front door opened behind him.
"And then I was late making dinner because I had to
fix my makeup." I stamped my foot and pouted. I
could feel my nipples responding to his touch. The
sensation was so far the only good thing that had
happened to me since this all began. "You're not mad,
are you?"
"Maybe not." Phil said, as he slipped the shirt from
my shoulders and then pushed me down to my knees.
Shit, old man Gruthers was across the street watching
us. Leering at my exposed breasts. "Ah sweetie- old
man Gruthers is watching," I hissed.
"Let him watch." Phil unzipped his pants and unwound
his rapidly swelling cock.
God how my ass ached, but I knew I had to do it if I
was going to avoid the belt, and then it would ache
even more. With one hand, I attempted to preserve my
modesty, and with the other I braced myself against
Phil's thigh, while I licked the bulbous purple head
of his cock.
"Do it right," Phil said in a voice that brooked no
compromise. "You know how I like it."
I knew how he liked it, but I didn't like doing it out
there in the open like we were. Not where anyone
could walk by and see. I took a quick peak. Mr.
Gruthers, the old bastard was fondling his cock
through his pants and grinning stupidly. I was forced
to bare my small breasts to him when I cupped Phil's
balls with my left hand. With my right, I held his
cock against his belly, while I licked and sucked him
from the bottom of his hairy balls to the tip of his
thick black cock.
Then, I started sucking him in earnest. I knew well
enough how to do it. I had received enough blowjobs
in the past and by now, given Phil quite a few myself.
I rolled his balls in my palm, jacking his cock in a
twisting motion, all the while; I bobbed my head up
and down. The bracelets on my wrists jangled as I
worked, serving as a loud ringing reminder of what a
slut I had become.
"Fuck!" Phil gasped. "I'm getting ready to cum slut.
Open up." He pulled out and grabbed his cock from my
grasp, jerking himself off, while I held my mouth
open. I hated it when he did that. It was bad enough
when he just came in my mouth. But when he pulled
out, it not only ended up in my mouth, but all over my
face. And that is exactly what he did.
Afterwards, I dutifully cleaned his prick and put it
back in his pants. I know Mr. Gruthers got a good
look at me with my face covered in semen. I shuddered
to think of what must have been going through his bald
wrinkled head.
I went to wipe my face clean.
"No, leave it," Phil said. "I think you look cute
like that."
Yeah, cute. A cute slut. A cute cum slut.
Other than the strange feeling of drying cum on my
face, the evening was pretty normal. No spanking or
punishment had been given. An outsider would have
seen a husband and wife. However, I knew the truth.
I had once been a man and turned into Phil's wife.
Less of a wife and more of a sex slave to the black
bastard.
That evening I gave myself an enema before bed. I
suspected that we might have sex, and I shuddered as I
remembered the last time back in Vegas when I had to
clean him afterwards. No, I wouldn't let that happen
again if I could help it. After that, I put on some
lingerie, and a couple of sprays of perfume. I knew
that the belt was still on the nightstand, though he
had made no mention of punishment.
"Looking good," Phil said from the bed. "That pussy
getting lonely?"
No, my pussy wasn't lonely. My ass just didn't want
to be whipped. And to be honest, I only needed to cum
and to hell with the rest of it. But the only way I
was allowed release was when he was in me . . . in my
ass. He was an evil fuck, a bastard beyond compare.
I hated him, yet I climbed into bed, gave him his
required kiss on the cheek and turned my back to him
without a word.
He snuggled up behind me. I could feel his cock
in the valley of my arse. It grew hard and soon he was
humping against me. My body betrayed me and I soon
found myself moving back against him.
"That pussy *is* getting lonely, ain't it?"
"Yes." I admitted.
"Then tell me. Tell me what Chrissie wants."
I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see my face.
"Chrissie needs your fat cock in her pussy daddy.
Chrissie needs a good fucking."
"Turn over. I want to fuck you like a dog," he said.
"I'm gonna work you hard tonight."
It hurt. I wondered if I would ever get used to his
huge prick. In Vegas, I was allowed to masturbate,
which seemed to take the edge off. This time, he held
my hands behind my back while he took me. The
lubrication I put in my ass in the bathroom helped at
first, but it eventually started burning painfully,
making me forget the aching from my earlier whippings.
I needed him finish, and finish quickly, so I spread
my legs and arched my back.
"Give it to me Daddy," I groaned, in hopes of speeding
his release. "Ah. Ouch. Fuck me with your fat cock-
fill me with your cum. Ugh. Ugh. Drown me in it.
Just hurry. Ugh. Ouch."
"Do it now," he said, letting go of my arms. "I'm
close. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Oh God, gonna
give it all to you."
I didn't need to be told twice. I masturbated as
quickly as I was able. I wasn't even allowed to jerk
it. I had to rub it beneath my fingers like a woman
rubbed her clit. In the end, it didn't matter. I
came massively, and with each spasm, my ass clenched
against his twitching cock, his cum cooling the
irritated lining of my insides.
I slipped into sleep easily for the first time since
we had been back . . . even though I was in the wet
spot.
*************
That's pretty much how it went for the rest of the
year. It was tough at times, and while Phil treated
me better and didn't whip me with the belt anymore, he
would still warm my bottom and make me cry with his
hand. One of the hardest things was that I had no one
to talk to during my ordeal. When neighbors came over
to visit, Phil ordered me to do humiliating things,
like flirt with the men right in front of their wives.
And if I didn't do it, didn't make both the men and
the women think that I was the biggest slut in the
neighborhood, then Phil would jump in my mind, take
control and make me go so far as to place my hand on
their cock and give them a squeeze or a stroke.
To avoid this fate, I would flirt voluntarily. A wink
- a flash of panties - a seductive lick on whatever I
was eating, it was usually enough to satisfy Phil. It
was also enough to make the men try to get me alone
and get into my panties from that moment forward. It
was also enough to make me the neighborhood leper as
far as the wives were concerned. The worse part?
Even though I slept with no one but Phil, everyone
condidered me the neighborhood slut.
And Phil, the evil bastard, loved every moment of my
humiliation. One of his favorite things was for me
give him a blowjob while his friends were in the room
or to fuck me in the restroom of a crowded restaurant.
It was horrible.
Really, I don't know how I managed. The only thing
that kept me sane was the knowledge that I only had to
do it for a year. There was also the fact that even
though he controlled my physically, my mind was still
my own.
A year - all three hundred and sixty five days of it,
is a long time, but it finally passed. I was even
especially nice yesterday and went out of my way to
put Phil in a good mood. The house was spotless and I
had even given him as much sex as he could stand. I
did it even though he hadn't let me cum in quite
some time. Yes, that was one of the things that had
been difficult. At the start, I was allowed to
masturbate for a few moments right before he was about
to climax. But as time passed, this started to
change. At first, he told me that when the sex was
especially good, I could cum. Well, I watched porn
movies and read articles . . . the sex was as good
good. As good as I could make it. I did things for him
that no woman had done for me. Yet, still my own
release was delayed. First for a few days, then every
week or so. I tried harder and harder to please him,
yet still he allowed me to cum less and less.
It was now a year since this all started and my last
orgasm was three weeks ago. I was horny, agitated,
yet I was thankfully relieved that my ordeal would
finally be over.
When Phil came home from work, my bags were packed and
by the door, and the house was spotless.
"You ready to go, huh?" he asked.
"Yes, daddy." I wondered if I still had to call him
daddy now that it was over- now that I was leaving the
evil bastard once and for all. Well, better safe than
sorry I decided. "Can you help me take my bags to the
car?"
"Nope," he said. "Call a cab. I'm done with you."
He sat down in his recliner and turned on the TV. I
could feel my blood pressure rising. I had been his
slave, a virtual prisoner in his house for a year and
he didn't even have the decency to give me a ride.
Well, fuck him! I called the cab company and they
said they would have someone over in ten minutes or
so.
Still, there was one problem that remained, but I had
a good idea on how I could solve it.
I went to the refrigerator got out a beer. I was
wearing a thin white half T-shirt that was very tight,
a likewise small and tight pair of low-cut shorts, and
heels. I know, you think that maybe it was my idea,
but I assure you it was not. The only clothes I had
were what Phil had bought me, and what I was wearing
was about as casual and as modest as anything in my
closet. Anyway, it made it really easy to carry out
my plan. I touched the cold beer bottle to my bare
midriff. It didn't take long before my nipples were
poking out through my thin cotton T-shirt.
I returned to the living room. "I thought you might
like a beer," I said, handing it to him.
He took the beer and set it on the end table. His
eyes roamed up and down my body, especially my chest.
"What do you want?"
Shit, he was going to make this hard for me. "Look, I
was wondering if. . ." I batted my eyelashes and bit
my lip. I was using every trick at my disposal.
Phil stood up and pulled me into his embrace, kissing
me forcefully. His strong arms wrapped around my
body, while his hands groped my rear. I could feel
his erection pressing against my stomach. God I was
so horny it wasn't even funny. When he broke the
kiss, I had to make a special effort to continue. "I
was wondering if you would give me a little money for
the cab, baby?"
"No," he said curtly, as he grabbed my roughly, turned
me around, and pushed me against the front window.
"But you can earn it."
He began to strip me. First my small T-shirt, and
then my tight hip-hugging shorts. I kept hold of the
front so he could pull them down in the back enough to
enter me.
"Wait - my. . ." I was under strict orders never to
expose my cock to anyone. . .and that included Phil.
However, with the window in front of me, Phil behind,
and shorts too tight to fit my hand inside, there was
little I could do.
"You better keep it covered, Chrissie" he warned
menacingly. "You better keep it covered *real* goddamn
good."
"Yes, daddy." I managed to move my penis to the
front of my shorts and hid it behind my hand. It
wasn't hard to do because it was embarrassingly small
after the hormone treatments and the effects of the
ring that kept me from getting an erection. I heard
his zipper fall and then the blinds were raised; I was
exposed to anyone who cared to look. One final
humiliation I had to endure.
He spread my cheeks and spit on my rear passage. His
stubby finger massaged it in. He took my waist in his
hands possessively. I knew what was next.
"Oh I'm gonna miss this tight little pussy," he said,
and then pushed into me. It hurt a little at first,
but I quickly became accustomed to it. A lot had
changed in a year's time. He pumped me a few minutes
and then . . . to my surprise . . . he stopped.
A five dollar fell from my shoulder to the floor.
"I'd say that's about all this is worth."
Bastard! He wanted to humiliate me thoroughly. He
was going to make me *earn* it. Well, earn it I
would, anything to get away from him. I squeezed his
prick internally and began to move beneath him. "You
want to make me earn it?" I asked. "What do you want
me to do? Want me to act like a slut? Your white
nympho slut?" I fucked him faster. It was no longer
pretend. I was so horny I could scream and palming my
cock as I was, the stimulation was the most I had been
allowed in a month. "You want to spank me daddy?
Huh? Have I been a bad girl?"
He spanked my ass hard. I could still feel the sting.
"That's it. Spank my ass. Spank it," I moaned. The
blows fell faster. "Tell me daddy, how much is this
worth?"
Several more bills fell to the floor. Then the
spanking resumed. I had no clue how money lay at my
feet. I only knew that I was getting close. Close to
coming. Closer to paying for my cab ride with every
moment.
"I want more. Give it to me hard. Pinch my nipples.
Spank my ass." Shit, my legs were trembling. My toes
were tingling. I was getting so close. I closed my
eyes and waited for my climax to overtake me.
But, before it happened, I felt a tugging at my wrist.
My hand was still covering my crotch, but I couldn't
stimulate myself. I struggled against it, but it was
no use. He was so much stronger. "Not yet," he said.
"We need to talk first."
"Please," I begged pushing back against him. Phil
laughed and motioned out the window. The cab was
outside. The driver was thoroughly engrossed in the
show.
"Where you gonna go Chrissie?" Phil asked. He started
moving back and forth slowly inside of me.
It was so hard to think. I had it all worked out just
minutes ago, but it seemed so cloudy now. Mostly all
I could think about was the cock pulsing in my ass.
"I'm going to stay with my parents and then try to get
my old life back again."
"How do you think they are gonna feel when a cutie
like you shows up on their doorstep, huh?" Phil's
fingers roamed my body, tugged at my nipples, and ran
through my hair. "You know, the paper said you stole
a bunch of money from work, burned down your house and
then fled the country."
"I didn't steal anything!" and then I remembered the
extra money. He must have stolen it while he had
control of my body. It all started falling into
place.
"I helped you out there," he said. "I wanted a good
job done with your surgery and it was more expensive
getting it done at the last minute like that."
I was so mad I could die. He tricked me! He had
strung me out all along, with no intention of letting
me go.
His grip on my wrist relaxed, I was touching myself
again. He moved my hand around in a small circle.
"So what you gonna do?" he asked.
God, so hard to think. "I don't know." His cock was
really plowing me. His pelvis spanked my ass, while
his balls slapped against my hand.
"Stay here with me," Phil grunted. "Another year.
Ugh. Fuck. Same rules."
"Please don't," I begged. I was still his- still
trapped - not only in this female body, but stuck
having homosexual sex for another year. The thought
was unbearable. And one thing stuck in my mind. I
felt I had to get some sort of compromise. I couldn't
let him have his way again. "At least let me cum.
Let me cum-ahhh-whenever I want."
"You cum when I say." He fucked me even harder. It
was starting to hurt, yet it still felt good, so
goddamn good. "I'm training you. Ahh! Training you
like a bitch. Training you to cum from me fucking
you. Just from fucking your tight little pussy.
Soon, that's gonna be the only way you can cum. Soon,
it will be the only way you *want* to cum."
"No!" I groaned.
"Yes!" He grabbed me by my hair and pushed me against
the windowpane. He pounded me brutally. "I've been
training you for so much and you don't even know it.
Ha-ha. Training you to get off on getting me off.
Training you to get off on showing off that hot little
body. Look out the window. That cabbie is watching
you right now. Watching you getting fucked and
imagining fucking you himself. Training you to get
off from turning men on. And you are getting off,
aren't you Chrissie? Come on, you love it, admit it."
"No." Wearing the clothes I wore and being forced to
perform sexual act with Phil while others watched
humiliated me to the core. Everyone thought I was a
slut, but I wasn't. I had only had sex with Phil.
And everyone thought I was some sort of sexy
exhibitionist. I wasn't that either. I was forced to
wear those tight revealing clothes, my one thought was
to make sure my bulge wasn't showing. Everyone
thought I was *that* sort of woman, but the thing was,
I wasn't any sort of woman. I wasn't even *a* woman.
But, dear God, I was the sort of woman that had always
turned me on as a man. A woman who would do anything,
yet only did it for her man. I was my own fantasy,
and yes, Phil was right, it turned me on. Every time
I looked in a mirror or saw myself through other's
eyes, it made me want to fuck myself. Lord, what was
happening to me? I needed a break. I needed time to
think.
"Admit it," Phil demanded.
"Ugh-Oh God, ugh-you're right," I admitted, tears
flowed from my eyes.
"I know I'm right," he said. "Just look at you. You
can't be a man. You never were. Go on. Tell me what
you are."
He was right. There was no way that anyone could look
at me and see me for anything else than. . . "A
woman."
"No, not a woman. Not with those tight narrow little
hips. Not with those perky little titties. No,
bitch. You a girl. You only a girl. Go on, say it."
"Ugh-ugh-I'm-a-girl."
That's right bitch," he said, kicking my legs further
apart. "You my Boo girl. And what am I?"
I couldn't say it. Wouldn't.
He let my hand go. "Go on. You can play with your
clittie this time, but soon, ahh soon you gonna cum
from just this alone, my fat cock in your tight little
cunt. Oh yeah bitch, I think I'm gonna train you to
cum on command. To cum when I say. Any time any
place. Go on Boo, diddle it. You know you want to."
Oh God, he was right. I wanted to. I needed to. I
rubbed my clittie, circling it with my fingers. Oh, I
was so close. My ass was on fire.
"You'll stay with me for two years," he said,
increasing my term. "Same deal."
"Please," I begged. "Just let me cum."
"You'll do it like I say," he said. "Same deal. You
wanna try for three?"
I couldn't even imagine what I would be like after two
years. I didn't even recognize myself after one.
"Okay." I was defeated, the battle had been lost long
ago.
"I'm gonna cum soon. You better hurry up," he said,
stroking me faster, banging me against the window.
"Tell me what I want to hear and I'll let you rub it
the way you want."
"Oh please!"
"What's my name?" he said, hammering me so hard, I
could hardly keep my balance.
"Daddy," I groaned.
"That's right bitch," he grunted. "Who's your daddy?"
"You are! Oh fuck! You are. . . "
"Fuck I'm gonna nut," he said. "If you're gonna do it
bitch, you better do it quick."
I didn't need to be told twice. "Wait for me," I
begged. "Oh fuck, wait for me."
"Ten-nine-eight-seven," he counted down.
My hand was a blur. The timber had been dry for so
long and it didn't take long for the flame rise up and
consume me. When he hit one, in a blaze of passion it
happened. "Oh god-oh god," I moaned. I was coming.
Oh it was too much. I came like never before.
"Oh yeah, just like that. Soon you'll be doing that
whenever I say," I remembered Phil saying. After that
I blacked out with his cock still pulsing inside of
me.
When I came to, Phil was untangling his sweaty body
from my own.
"Here, get dressed," he said, patting me on the ass.
I slid the back of my shorts back up and then pulled
on my shirt. I was in such a sexual daze, I forgot
rule number one. My hand darted forward to cover the
small bulge in my shorts.
"I'm gonna let it slide this time," Phil said. "But
you better damn sure have it tucked back in when you
go tell the cabby you don't need him anymore."
I darted for the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" he said.
"I've got to change," I said. There was no way I
could go out like this. The thin white shirt clung to
my sweaty body like a second skin. My small perky
nipples were visible through the now translucent
fabric. But the main reason was my shorts. They were
now soaked with cum at both my ass and my crotch.
"No," he said. "Tuck it and go out there just like
that. I want him to know what sort of girl I got."
My sexual numbness was fading fast and turning into
sheer fright and humiliation. God, would the cabbie
recognize the stain in the front or would he assume
that I had soiled them due to being 'wet'. I secured
my cock between the cheeks of my bottom, doing my best
to hide my cock from prying eyes. "Yes, daddy."
Phil handed me a ten dollar bill he picked up from the
money piled on the floor. "Give him this for his
trouble."
I nodded my head. My face burned with heat as I made
my way to the cab. God, why didn't I just grab the
money on the floor and make a run for it? The cabby
leered at me the whole way to his car, his eyes
fixated on my breasts and crotch. I thought about
getting in the car and seeing how far ten dollars
would take me. The thought didn't last long. It
wouldn't last long and there was no telling what the
cabby would do. A year ago, I would have felt
confident in protecting myself, but now, now, I felt
powerless and scared. I tried hand the cabby the
money and thanked him for waiting.
"You've tipped me plenty already," he said, and I
glanced over and saw the balled up tissues in the
passenger seat. Shit, the bastard had masturbated while
looking at me through the window!
"Glad to see you two make up." He gave me a
lecherous grin. Two of his teeth were missing. Hell,
even if I got in the car, the thought of what this
leering bastard would do to me sent a shiver down my
spine.
My thoughts of leaving faded even faster. I had hoped
he would leave and save me the embarrassment of him
seeing the rear of my cum-stained shorts, but instead
he waited and watched. I could feel his cold
penetrating stare as I turned and walked to the house.
Worse, I could feel myself getting turned on by my
continued humiliation and exhibition.
Two years! I couldn't even remember what David was
like anymore. When I thought of myself, I saw the
image of the waifish model from page fifty-three from
April's Vogue magazine, not the young virile man I
used to be. More and more my fantasies weren't of
women, but of men. Black men. Of Phil. Of a cabby
watching my ass swish as I fled quickly back to my
house in cum-stained shorts.
Phil said he was training me! Training me to cum like
a woman and exposing me like this was part of his
training too. Who knew what else his perverted
devious mind had in store. Oh God, what had I become
in only one year? What would I be in two? I rubbed
my thighs together, practically strutting back to the
house like some sort of street whore. David? David
was lost that day, and only Chrissie remained. Even
as I walked back in the house, I knew Phil would be
waiting, ready to continue with his sick sordid plan.
Two years. Just a year ago, I had been a man with an
attractive female lover. I had a successful job.
Then Phil took control of my mind and made me do
things . . . perverted thing I had never imagined.
Now, I had no job and I was the attractive female
lover. Christ, I even turned myself on when I looked
in the mirror. I was going to have to have iron will
and determination, just to remain Chrissie and not be
turned into the slutty sex starved exhibitionist Phil
had in mind. And the worst part, he wasn't even going
into my mind and forcing me . . .now I was a willing,
albeit reluctant participant. God, my mind that I
thought was safe, was slowly but surely changing,
changing the way Phil wanted it.
Phil moved into the doorway, a collar and leash in one
hand, a blindfold in the other. My stomach leapt in
fright. I looked back for the cab, my one chance to
escape, and it was pulling away. I wondered if old
man Gruthers was watching from across the street. A
collar, a leash and a blindfold. Training me? Oh
God, what did he have in mind? I could feel my face
warming; my nipples hardening; my trapped cock
struggling against the band of steel that encircled
it. My mind, my mind faltered against the cage that
Phil was building around it.
Two years was going to be a very long time.
The end
*******
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