The Interrogator

“The trauma of my counseling in Bangkok most likely triggered a condition that would otherwise manifest at another time, at another place, during some other stressful undertaking.”

“It may have even occurred had we not interrupted your planned sojourn at Empress Suhan’s. I would suggest that being in the presence of a Dominant woman is the catalyst. And the irony is that with your psychological make up, you enjoy being in the presence of strong women.”

“So fo

r you, ejaculatory incompetence comes with the territory, so to speak. A latent condition germinated in childhood and nurtured in adolescence, that would be my initial assessment.”

Miss Denise pauses in thought, the interview apparently winding to conclusion.

“I’ll have Mae Lee feed you and give you a nice sponge bath. She can be quite caring at times.”

Miss Denise takes a final sip of coffee and rises to stand between my spread thighs. She reaches down and diddles my right nipple. Her touch is divine and the simple gesture sends chills. With her movement, the robe partially opens and the air wafting from beneath emits the musky scent of feminine genitalia, frictioned, aroused, and brought to lather by her ‘bed warmer’... a virile young male I fantasize as garbed in athletic attire while Miss Denise assesses his sexual prowess as would an exacting coach. When she deems his output adequate, she blows her whistle and with a mere point of her finger has him jog to the locker room.

She notices the reaction of my olfactory nerves as for the first time ever I pilfer a glimpse of the more intimate realms of her fine flesh. A nipple flashes, warm, inviting, seeming to welcome lips in need of nurture.

She folds together her arms, closing the robe and denying me further visual delight. “Yes. Guess it’s time for a shower. I tend to enjoy too much basking in the glow of good sex.”

She turns to step away, the hem of her robe brushing my erect shaft. I once again observe that walk, one of purpose yet with such style. At the door she turns, left hand on the knob, right arm extended against the upper surface. She leans, her piercing blue eyes seem to swim in gazing at my naked form, erection so humbly saluting.

“Did I mention that he performed well? Nicely hung.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I am left to thoughts of envy, but for a only a moment. Mae Lee enters with a tray, a basin of steaming hot water and towels.

Yes, it is time for release, the pain of cramping almost completely masked by a cortex awash in endorphins. And as always, the velcro of the strap entrapping my right arm is dislodged and Mae Lee’s powerful hands immediately establish control with a tight grasp. I grimace, yelp and cry out with the agony as my limb is first massaged to waken the circulation, then gruffly bent, twisted and pulled about to maximize the torment. Then her established control is demonstrated as a hot cloth swathes my skin in a combination of cleansing and soothing and I fail to move in protest, my nervous system ceding all to the devilish Asian woman, my capitulation complete.

Then the strap is returned and Mae Lee mechanically moves to the left arm where I am soon emitting similar cries of anguish and pleas for grace.

Such is not forthcoming as left leg and then right leg follow.

Next the neck collar is temporarily removed, and the hot cloth soothes. After replacement of the high and stiff leather, the cloth swathes my chest and stomach.

Lastly, Mae Lee cups my balls in her cloth covered palm and dutifully cleanses where a man prefers his own tendance. There is a look on her face that cannot be described, one of prideful ownership. And indeed, after the many hours under her painful tutelage, I wonder to whom the organs belong.

Finished, my body ready to once again begin the journey to slow suffering, the headphones return and the hood slides on to blind me. I am heartlessly returned to sensory deprivation to await Mae Lee’s next release.

When my anal insertion deflates, I assume that it is Mae Lee’s final duty and she thereafter leaves the room.

My body is well restrained but my mind is free, as I am sure is the intent. But I wonder how long such freedom of thought will be granted. In Bangkok, though it took many weeks, Miss Denise eventually controlled all and it does not seem that the dreadful experience in the cell three years before is helpful in building resistance.

What was Miss Denise’s comment? That I probably have long sought to be controlled?

And the noted psychologist has diagnosed the strange affliction which has plagued me since leaving Thailand three years ago. Ejaculatory incompetence.

At first, I see the with the woman’s temerity and prescience. And then as the darkness seems to bring clarity of thought, I realize that in not having ejaculated in three years, I should seek some form of counseling. Late night research on the internet has suggested that the male reproductive organs are best used. Yes, there is a need for exercise as with every other part of the anatomy.

The ‘bed warmer’ has no problems exercising his organs, as Miss Denise so tauntingly suggested. And with the vision of Miss Denise straddling the supine torso of some well hung brainless gigolo, I lose control of my thoughts. Her beautiful naked form assertively rocks in a practiced rhythm, soaking up the offerings of the ‘bed warmer’s’ stiffness. She smiles that smile, looking down into the eyes of a male object, nothing more than a human dildo.

Still, she has the power, the authority, and the ‘bed warmer’ will perform to her satisfaction then be tossed aside like an old toy. Yet, he is afforded the benevolence of her charms whereas I am forcibly denied.

My envy rekindles. I wish to be under her, watching those firm breasts jounce with her own squirms of pleasure. I create my own imaginary X-rated movie where it is I beneath her rocking hips, bound to the bed by wrists and ankles. It is a tiger bed and Miss Denise rides and rides, taking her pleasure. My wandering mind will not permit me a climactic ending, it just goes on and on. Just as in real life, I cannot ejaculate, yet Miss Denise clenches thighs and buttocks in achieving orgasm after orgasm.

Finally Miss Denise arises and steps into the arms of the ‘bed warmer’, waiting patiently to the side. They kiss. She smiles that confident smile and looks down at me gloatingly.

“Some day you will come. Only when I command, of course,” she laughingly suggests.

Then she and the ‘bed warmer’ walk off hand in hand as I struggle in my bonds, my erect and unsatiated penis pointing straight to the ceiling.