Whereas the sessions were emotionally stressing, I felt strangely neglected on those Friday afternoons when left to my own. Particularly when it became evident that she was busy preparing for a date with the likes of a star football player, and I faced spending an evening not only alone but without experiencing the decadent yet gratifying sensation of masturbating for her.
However, in those increasingly rare times when she indeed commanded my presence, her demands reached an ever higher level of depravity. It was as if she had fantasized about some sexually lewd scene then decided to act it out in reality, with me as the guinea pig, the unwilling participant, or perhaps the reader may suggest the benefactor, of her lewd and deviant whims. And though she possessed the photos, I was so frustratingly willing to ride her roller coaster...
Sometime in our senior year, Eve’s parents decided to move. Eve’s father had progressed in a successful business career and our little suburb was apparently too provincial for a man on the rise.
The decision was announced with little fanfare and well in advance. So in anticipating graduation both Eve and I realized we would probably not see each other after matriculation. Not only would there be the obstacle of attending distant colleges, but also the hurdle of returning to parental homes that would be many miles apart.
And so in the spring of our senior year, Eve seemed to fully comprehend not only the negative but also the remaining positive aspects of our relationship. That is she understood that although she would no longer be able to vent her sexual proclivities on my naked body, for whatever did occur in the interim, she would most likely never again have to face me and account for or explain her actions. Thus, our meetings resumed in earnest.
Eve had always dictated that my hands remain out of the way. Not only was I denied the modest covering they provided, but she insisted that I not touch myself, which when excited I was wont to do well before she permitted me to stroke myself to ejaculation.
So she began to use some old silk ties which her father had apparently discarded. The half dozen worn strips were hidden behind her doll collection and they were ceremonially retrieved as I quietly stripped. My hands were then tied behind me and ‘Little Dickey’ would begin his inevitable rise with the excitement and Eve’s proximity. She always seemed to position herself so that my penis brushed against her as she bound my hands. Her wry smile evidenced her enjoyment of watching the sensitive engorged tip thrust forward as she moved away.
Naked and bound she would step back and survey her toy and ‘Little Dickey’ would fully rise solely from her inspection. Then she would gather up my clothes and leave, with each visit hiding the garments in a different place.
Upon her return the games would begin. Sometimes utilizing the remaining neckties to tightly bind me in the most awkward and embarrassing of positions, closely observing the reaction of my penis. She seemed to recognize the aroused responses...but was it the bondage or the touch of her controlling hands that so excited me?
Not even I knew the answer.
Everyday household items became a source of amusement for her. Over the course of one afternoon, clothespins were attached to every sensitive area she could find. When my penis reacted with renewed firmness, Eve was spurred to add more and on occasion she had to dab away the pre-ejaculatory fluid accumulating on the tip, lest it drip to the rug and leave a telltale sign of our play.
Eve discovered that erogenous zone so particular to the male. If her mother only knew to what uses certain vegetables were put, thankfully well lubricated but still painful yet strangely stimulating. One of my duties became disposing of the objects on my walk home.
“Unless you’d like to eat them, James,” I remember her weekly taunt.
Then came graduation week. Eve had me kneeling on the rug, wrists tied together behind me under my back. I was bent backwards, legs under me with the back of my head resting on the rug. As stated, this position highlighted ‘Little Dickey’s’ stiffness and I indeed was standing nicely for her as she placed clothespins on my young nipples.
She increased my level of torment and frustration by telling me about having wonderful sex with an athletic classmate and what lewd activities she planned after the weekend graduation dance. While she spoke she retrieved a zucchini, already lubed, then stood over me. Under her short skirt she wore nothing, and my eyes glued to try to catch a glimpse of her young pink flesh.
“Now, I wonder why I brought this?”
These were the times when I felt particularly ashamed, for I found myself parting my knees, perhaps subconsciously, perhaps consciously and perversely presenting my separated buttocks for her attention. Eve laughed.
“Yes, now I remember.”
She continued to narrate as she leaned over, found my puckered aperture and began to insert the sizable green cylinder.
“Open nicely for me.”
Over the weeks, she had taken the time to slowly stuff things in that most embarrassing of places. She always took her time, enjoying the reaction of my turgid manhood, and making humiliating comments with every push and twist.
On this occasion, she explained how satisfying her recent dates had been, and how my penis was so small in comparison to others. I flushed with rage but could do nothing. I was physically bound and the blackmailing photo collection had grown enormously.
After several minutes the zucchini was inserted to the desired point and Eve stepped away to survey her handiwork, continuing to regale me with stories of her sexual relations with this ‘Mr. Wonderful’. She diddled the clothespins on my nipples, then gathered up more.
For the next 20 minutes she gently attached more clothespins, this time to the shaft of my erect penis. It was unusual for her to touch me there. But I surmised that her recent sexual experiences had emboldened her. When finished, three pins had been carefully clasped onto each side of the shaft, the effect was to turn the head to an unusually deep shade of purple.
“Oh, we must add to our collection.”
The camera appeared and she snapped away, aligning herself to ensure that the frame included the colorful scene of protruding green zucchini and purple erection along with my reddened look of sexual torment.
With her last shot she lifted the front of her dress with her left hand, when I craned my neck to finally glimpse her beautiful sex, the camera flashed and she laughed as the skirt was released.
“You like that, don’t you James?”
The camera and photos were put aside and another necktie appeared. This one was used to encircle my testicles, which she then used as a leash.
“Come, let’s walk.”