“Thank you,” I mutter again and again as I stave the rush from each freed limb.
The procedure is the same as in the Bangkok cell. Miss Denise has indeed replicated not only the chair but the intense and overwhelming agony and sense of complete helplessness that can be inured with the thorough bondage.
The momentary freeing brings the flood of agony four times. And then, returned to the tight four point restraint, the clock is reset. Yes, the muscles will cramp anew forcing my system to return to hibernation where at some point in time, not known to me, and certainly never as a result of my beseeching, Miss Mae Lee will decide to again open the flood gates. The straps will be removed, one at a time, and I will suffer again.
The bondage is evilly effective. After all, I am torturing myself. Miss Mae Lee does not lift a finger to touch me, other than the kneading of a muscle. The pain is caused by my own system. I am not whipped, flogged, beaten, kicked, punched, stretched, burned or in any way the recipient of her physical mistreatment. No, she merely provides what I most desire... release... and then enjoys the reaction as my body tortures my mind with a deluge of agonizing distress.
It’s so wicked!
“Thank you,” I most meekly utter again as I hear the froufrou of the velcro and the last strap is returned.
I feel a hand gently pat my testicles. An ear is caressed. Such are symbolic messages of ‘you’re welcome’, but ones of feminine dominion. With the simplest of gestures, she so succinctly reminds of my vulnerability, my need for her presence, for her care.
The door closes and I wonder if I am still erect. With the anal insertion continuously pressuring my prostate and the strange condition of ejaculatory incompetence, it seems that my penis has a mind of its own.
Chapter Ten
“I see you’re enjoying your memories.”
Deep in my thoughts, I had not heard the door open. Yes, the body’s natural opiates have surged to counteract the building pain, mentally placing me in another world. A fog lifts with the firm but soothing voice of Miss Denise finally returning. It is typical that she senses what is going through my mind.
“The party was more stimulating than I thought it would be, and the champagne was abundant and pleasingly dry. So I stayed. I knew you would wait.”
Her own jocularity brings soft laughter. It is of trifling concern that I have been kept bound and naked awaiting her return. So insouciant, so regal, such confidence. She has sipped champagne while I have endured Hell.
A finger touches the tip of my penis. It is indeed erect. Miss Mae Lee has kept me well watered and I have not filled the basin for her in a while. Thus a full bladder has induced its firmness. And it is obvious the way the digit slides away that my prostatic fluid continues to ooze. “You’ve been kept quite chaste, Bobby. The male gland shows its neglect. Is it by your choice? Or perhaps under someone’s tutelage? Now that it is time for our chat, perhaps that’s a good starting point.”
Though hooded, I picture that beautiful face... the blue eyes seem to pierce when she asks questions and through the hood I can feel her penetrating gaze in prompting me to speak.
“You were quite ardent in following me through the streets of New York. And remember, you called me. So you must have something to say.”
There is the sound of a hiss and I feel the anal insertion swell. She reacts with laughter as I moan. She so much enjoys the control and the notion that something deep within, abrading that unique male gland, is under her power. With her taunting words and manipulating hand, she touches my mind, body, and my very soul.
“Though it’s almost Saturday, I have no where to go and you certainly aren’t going anywhere. Your broad question of ‘Why?’ will not be answered, Bobby. Not by me. In your mind there should be many such ‘whys’ and in answering all, certain confidentiality agreements would be breeched.
“You were eventually released. And I hazard to guess certain untoward behavior was appropriately modified. Is that the problem, Bobby? Your quest? Is the chastity so exasperating that you would willingly come here and submit to me? Once again place yourself under my power?”
I squirm in my bonds. Such penetrating words. Yes, the inability to ejaculate has greatly modified my behavior.
“Let me give you some clues, Bobby.”
“A few years ago, certain government agencies felt it was in the best interests of the United States and some lesser developed countries to better understand the nature of vacationing foreigners. And a certain psychologist, noted for her research in deviant sexual behavior, was engaged to experiment and gather information. And this information was very sensitive to all parties and needed to be kept secret. And by mutual agreement it was and will be.
“And the desire to maintain confidences are such that pesky court filings will not only be thwarted but lead to nasty deeds of vengeance from those desiring secrecy.”
“So... let me suggest that after reviewing your file, I am very much attuned to your peccadilloes. Such is my area of expertise. But your quest for answers will not open doors with impunity, Bobby. Of that I assure you. You will pay a price for your persistence.”
In demonstrating her earnestness, with another apparent squeeze of her hand there is another hiss and more prostatic pressure. In inflating the deep insertion, the woman knows exactly what I can physically take. And mentally?
I groan with the heightened discomfort.
“May I speak Miss Denise?”
My sheepish words are meek. I hate myself for being so accepting of the degradation.
“Yes.”
“May I look at you?”