A Gift From James Read online

  A male’s erection is like a barometer. And James’ manhood continued to forecast excitement despite my heightened level of control and the increasing applications of pain and humiliation.

  And his receptivity to sensory deprivation was wonderfully amusing. Over time, I think he’ll find himself encountering longer and longer periods under the hood. On one occasion I left him bound and naked in my apartment and left to work out at the gym. He never realized I was gone for over an hour and that my subsequent strong fragrance and wet skin resulted from a vigorous workout, not from the arousal of observing his helpless naked form.

  There was, however, a level of pleasure in sitting back with a cold drink and watching him squirm his buttocks against the special butt plug I inserted. I always found it interesting how few males understand their own organs. That the prostate begs for the attention afforded by a firm controlling female, yet the rectum resists, futilely in James’ case since I’ve worked him well open over the weeks.

  Well, James will learn more about his own male promiscuity. The trip to Canada has already been scheduled. I called his boss and told him I was planning a surprise vacation for James. The boss acknowledged he needed time off and graciously arranged to accommodate James’ absence.

  Meanwhile, I visited my self-storage locker. The steel handcuffs were too uncomfortable for truly long-term sensory deprivation and my dildo harness beckoned.

  I always purchased quality paraphernalia and sure enough when I opened my locker the collection of sturdy fur lined wrist and ankle cuffs was as good as the day I purchased them. And the harness still fit, somewhat tightly, but I attributed the snugness to my extensive exercise program and the resulting thickened layers of muscle.

  “Oh, James,” I thought, “what a trip you’re going to have.”

  Lastly I grabbed my medical bag. I had never told James that my bachelors’ degree was in psychiatric nursing. A suitable entree for my Ph.D. in psychology, working nights in a loony bin imbued me with much background concerning long term bondage. Some patients I had to restrain for days...

  James

  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

  Even with the static noise, I could hear my heart pounding. Here I lay naked and tightly bound and D was showing me to a guest. Damn my reaction, I thought, penis standing like a telephone pole before D’s male friend. And my reaction to her aroma couldn’t be helped. I so much enjoyed bringing her pleasure with my tongue and it had been two weeks without relief. I envisioned some tall handsome guy, clucking his tongue, suggesting as I squirmed in my bonds that D needed real male companionship.

  The thoughts enraged me and I let my mind wander in order to settle down.

  It was apparent that the vasectomy subject had to be addressed. The message was clear. A ‘no’ would mean an end to our relationship. I couldn’t let that happen. Being with D, even with her kinky habits, initially had punctuated my week, but now punctuated my life.

  Delaying the decision would evidently result in a level of sexual frustration approaching torture, judging from my current status. D was dressed for dinner, so I knew I would lie helplessly for at least a couple of hours. But then what? Last week I was dismissed without gratification. Would D do that again? She may just be satiated by whomever it was laughing into the microphone. Mr. Dinnerdate. Again I pictured a well built, dark haired gigolo with his hands working their way under D’s dress. And no panties to hinder his efforts!

  Okay, James, settle yourself.

  A ‘yes’ means a pleasant trip to a winter wonderland. D’s doctor friend must be quite experienced if she is willing to perform the operation at a health spa. And I have read where it’s a rather simple operation considering it’s intended as a gift...

  I don’t remember much after that. I believe I fell asleep despite my throbbing erection. I think, but I’m not sure, that pre-ejaculatory fluid was flowing down my swollen shaft.

  Was that D’s voice? Was she back? I called out but I could barely hear my own voice. No feedback through the headphones. D must have turned off the microphone leaving me to the static noise, which drowned out everything.

  I returned to sleep and again heard D’s voice. It was far away, as if calling me from a distance. I could not fully understand what she was saying. My frustration mounted. My nose itched and without the ability to scratch it drew my attention to D’s fragrance which I could still smell.

  Again I slept. Then awoke. I completely lost track of time with my day dreaming and my naps.

  I amused myself with a vision of D’s beautiful naked form and found that if I clenched my buttocks it caused my butt plug to move and pressure my prostate. This in turn produced a most tantalizing stimulation, which further engorged my erection. I was certain my fluid was flowing abundantly. Then I found that if I concentrated I could waggle my sizable erection. At least it felt like it was waggling.

  I found it curious that, when completely immobilized, the ability to make such a small motion would be so importantly amusing. D secured me tighter than ever before. The cuffs were comfortable but incredibly strong. Where did she learn to secure someone so tightly?...and so quickly?

  I could not move my head. That was a first. The hood had eyelets in a couple of places. D must have hooked my hood to the headboard. How devious! The headphones made it clumsy to turn my head in the last bondage session, but now I couldn’t move at all. Not an inch!

  D

  Robert was such a gentlemen. The type of man mothers want their daughters to marry. Yes, I could take him home to mom, settle down and then, but for mind blowing vanilla sex, be bored for the rest of my life.

  Robert was not submissive. Far from it. But he was well equipped and even a Dominant girl needs a good stiff penis on occasion. Even if it means assuming the dreaded missionary position.

  But on this Friday night, I’ve added some spice. With two drinks and some wine I’ve convinced Robert to return to my apartment, even though the sight of a naked, well-bound, and shaved James is not his cup of tea. But I know every man is willing to try something once. So upon returning I find myself moving the living couch to where I can lie down, turn my head to the side and watch James through the open bedroom door. Then I can look down and see Robert’s fully erect eight inches prepare to enter my love pouch. What a glorious evening! James is still discovering his prostate and even in the dim bedroom lights I can see him squirm and self manipulate his frustrated erection by way of the nasty butt plug. And unbeknownst to James he’s amusing both himself and me with that waggling pink rod.

  Yes. James will be ready for me in the morning. But for now I’ll just watch him struggle in his bonds, waggle his cute little erection and enjoy the impassioned, firm strokes of a real man.

  James

  What is the difference between a dream and a hallucination? Without sight, sound and the ability to move I cannot determine if I am awake. I believe I can still detect the fragrance of D’s fine femininity, but that may be part of the hallucination. I don’t recall ever smelling something in a dream. And, yes, I can smell D. Is she nearby? Or am I hallucinating?

  My thoughts ramble uncontrollably. Sometimes I wonder about the time. But then convince myself that the time of day or night does not matter. It is the time relative to when D decides to release me that is pertinent. So, do I have an hour left? Two hours? Three hours?

  But then I realize...even if I could determine the remaining time in bondage it would not mean anything. I had no way of keeping track. So if I concluded now that I had two hours remaining, I would just fall asleep again and lose track. So time didn’t matter after all.

  Then there is the question of the voice. It is D’s voice...if there is indeed a voice. But it is possible there is no voice. Which means it is not D. Except if I’m hallucinating. Then it would be a hallucination of D’s voice.

  And if it is D’s voice, what is it saying? I resolve to remain breathlessly still next time I hear it, or think I hear it. That way I can hear what it is telling me, if indeed there is a voice.

  My circular analysis is interrupted by an urge I had not considered. My bladder is full. With my swollen penis, controlling any inadvertent flow is not a problem. But the fullness begins to occupy my thoughts. At some point I will need to empty myself, I realize. And I have to wait for D to return...or the unthinkable alternative...wet her sheets.

  I find it interesting that once the situation becomes apparent, I can not put it out of my mind. What should I do? D will be very upset to return to a messy bed.

  D

  Well, all good things must end. Robert took me three times, the dear boy. And with James displaying himself I nearly fainted from my own orgasms. Quite a scene being penetrated by one phallus while watching another that’s completely under my control. Heady stuff.

  But alas, I was tired. I made coffee for Robert and he asked me about James. He was hinting at something so I suggested he stay for a while longer. Maybe he was not as vanilla as I thought.

  James

  Yes. It is definitely D’s voice.

  This time her stentorian voice comes through with clarity as the endless hours of static suddenly disappear.

  “Wake up time, big boy.”

  I am so relieved. I think tears of gratitude form. But with the hood covering my eyes and with my hands restrained I cannot determine with certainty.

  D toys with my erection. When she gently frigs it with two fingers, her action confirms that I have indeed remained erect for the entire ordeal.

  “You’ll need to relieve yourself, James. I’ll get a bowl.”

  My bladder is bursting and but for my erection holding back the urge, I probably would have emptied myself long before. The torment of not knowing how long I had to hold back is indescribable.

  But a bowl? I speak and suggest that it is easier to release my wrists and ankles and a quick trip to the bathroom would be more timely.

  “No, James. We’re not done.”

  With her brief reply comes a vicious swat to the tip of my erection. D must have swung her hand from well
above. I yelp and feel my manly pride shrink with surprising suddenness. Then I feel the bowl between my thighs and the gentle grasp of her fingers as she guides the flaccid penis tip over the edge.

  “Try to be quick, James. It’s late and I want to go to bed.”

  I am both heartened and humiliated. Heartened to learn that D will be joining me in bed. Humiliated in being required to relieve myself at her behest and with her directing my penis into the bowl.

  Nothing happens.

  “Relax and let the flow begin, James. Be good. Fill the bowl for me.”

  Her voice changes from one of aggravated haste to being smooth and firm. The tone and soothing patter are similar to that which she has used to encourage my climax. My bladder really is full and with her comforting remarks and gentle prodding I began to urinate. It would be much easier just to release me, I think. But D seems to enjoy her control, despite professing to be tired.

  “All males are just little boys. Their true nature is always trying to manifest itself.”

  Is D talking to me?

  Urinating while lying on a bed is a challenge. After all, from childhood one is trained not to wet the bed. But I succeed in emptying myself and D dutifully shakes the last drop and carefully wipes the remnants of excretion from my penis tip. She does this with such alacrity that more questions arise concerning her prior experiences.

  “I’d like to get that vasectomy. Your present...”

  It just blurts out, a complete non sequitur in the middle of her removal of the bowl. But I want so much to please her and it is the only thing I can think of to say.

  “Yes, James. I know. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  I hear the bowl empty and the toilet flush. Then the closet door opens, closes and a chain rattles.

  “New rules, James. Whenever you’re here I want you restrained, leashed or caged. I have these proclivities. I’m sure you’ll learn to humor me. There’ll be rewards for you.”

  She moves to my side as she speaks and I feel her fingers in the area of my neck. I instinctively lick her hand, signaling my needs.