A Gift From James

All part of the process.

I continued until I was exhausted. A vaginal orgasm came, then another and my arousal continued to excite James, the notion originating from hours of subliminal messaging tapes implanted in his subconscious. Overtime, ensuring my gratification would become his only desire.

Completely satiated, I decided to give James his treat.

With a final deep penetration and strong tug on his scrotum, I gave the command.

“Wouldn’t you like to come for me James?”

His untouched penis exploded.

I laughed. James turned crimson with his shame.

James

At last D allowed my orgasm. It felt oddly pleasurable despite the pain and humiliation. The eruption of sperm covered my stomach.

She rested, then detached the harness leaving the male end impaled in me. The female end was disconnected and she reached up and stuck the wet, odoriferous end into my mouth.

“One of your duties will be to clean my toys.”

She silently stepped to the bathroom. Despite my climax, I could not help watching her beautifully proportioned buttocks glide across the room. I felt a twinge in my penis, but was helpless. She had not released me and I continued to maintain the knee-chest position in deference to my nipples while holding D’s fragrance laden implement in my lips.

My long lost, forgotten encounters with Eve, having come back to memory in the static filled darkness, again came to mind. This time while I was fully conscious. D’s program produced interesting alterations in the mind.

While the water ran in the bathroom and D took a leisurely shower, a most meaningful encounter with Eve vividly came to life...

Eve and I were once again behind the garage. After that Saturday when she insisted that I expose myself, our meetings became more frequent than I desired. She did not successfully coerce me on every Saturday. Sometimes I arose early and escaped to a friend’s house. But it wasn’t lack of effort on her part, for on many Saturday mornings she greeted me at my back door and under threat of divulging my lewd conduct, directed me back to the hidden outdoor corridor.

On this memorable morning, she too arose early and caught me exiting the back door just as she had on the first occasion. Whenever she encountered me, I knew two things would happen. First, that she would stand with a look of determination and point to the garage. Second, that I would begin to tumefy as a result of her authoritative demeanor and with the thought of undergoing the humiliation.

The meetings occurred often enough so that it became a wordless ritual. I knew what she wanted. She knew that by the time the march to the back of the garage ended, I would be erect and ready to expose myself. Nothing needed to be said.

It was on the third or fourth ‘inspection’ that Eve again harped on the question, ‘how do you make it shrink?’

This time she insisted on learning, and over the months since I first masturbated, I had indeed become rather proficient in making it shrink. But knowing how and showing Eve were two very different things. Did I want to further complicate our peculiar relationship? Her hold over me was great, at least I thought so at that age. She was constantly threatening to tell. And we were at the age when parents and teachers were warning all the children to be wary of people who engaged in the very acts that Eve was insisting that I perform...exposing the private parts. Whenever I hesitated in obeying her, she mentioned the police detective that had lectured us in school. My explanation of her complicity would never be believed, she would offer with a smirk.

With Eve’s reference, I recalled the detective’s remarks and his adamant comments concerning the punishment and incarceration of offenders.

With that thought, I lowered my pants. Under Eve’s riveting gaze and with my fear and humiliation, my young penis turned to rock.

D

After my shower I released James. I pointed to the bathroom and told him to clean the ‘man spreader’ then return to the cage.

He was patiently kneeling in front of the cage door when I returned from the kitchen with his orange.

I put him on all fours, restrained his wrists and ankles, slid on his hood, then dangled the fruit. He was hungry. I wanted more training for his tongue. After his display of obeisance in ejaculating upon my command and without physical manipulation, the need for further sensory deprivation would be limited. Perhaps as little as 8 hours per day.

James attacked the orange. On Friday night, an errant swipe of his tongue had gathered in some love juice from my fingers. Otherwise he had not tasted anything since Thursday.

I returned to my book.

James

The sweet juice was wonderful when I was able to hold the orange in my lips. But often I thrust my tongue too firmly and the fruit escaped and swung away. Then I would patiently wait for the string to steady, and again crane my neck and suction the sphere between my lips.

With the strained procedure, I estimate it took me between thirty minutes and an hour to suck as much juice and pulp as possible, given my restrained hands.