With A VII Stephanie Takes Control 1
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With A_ VII - Stephanie Takes Control - 2 free porn video
(Recap: after setting me up, Stephanie has fucked me and I wish it were
literal.)
And there I was. So mentally excited and so physically frustrated that I
was a tingling mess of nerves. My eyes watered up. I was angry at myself
and especially at Stephanie. In less than five minutes I had gone from
an ecstatic pure high of pride in myself and my abilities to a pit of
shame and failure and ridicule. Yes, from the sublime to the ridiculous.
Worse than ridicule when I thought about it. I felt used and abused. A
kind of violation of the mind and spirit. One that I had brought upon
myself. It was all my own fault. Why had I let my pride get in the way
of granting her desires and wishes? Why had I made her set me up?
It was because I was so weak and so easily embarrassed that I had begun
refusing her requested commands; that I had quit the course she had laid
out for me. If I could have just given myself to her as she had so
nicely asked. My abject failure was based on such small failings. Would
it have really been so difficult to keep doing as she asked? Was a quick
orgasm worth losing my soul over? She was my Goddess.
I slapped myself. What the hell am I thinking? She just wronged me. She
set me up and yanked the rug out from under me. I have done no wrong
here. I can stand and be tall and be proud. She is just a bitch pussy
whipping controlling female cunt whore. I don't have to take it any
longer. I don't have to allow myself to be controlled. I don't have to
be a subservient wimp. Why have I allowed it to go on so long, anyway?
Then I thought of my words with puzzlement, "bitch pussy whipping
controlling female cunt whore?" Where did that come from? Wait a minute;
I'm not that kind of guy. I need to calm down here and restore some
balance.
I went for a walk. I felt better, or at least not so bad. I assessed my
position. Tomorrow I get out. Just one more day. And then, I decided
this next thought right then, calmly, rationally and unemotionally, and
then never again will I allow my poor penis be caged. Ever again.
Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of my penis' life; a life
free from artificial constraint.
---------
The next morning bright and early I went to Stephanie's. I rang her
bell. It took her a bit to get to the door. She was in a filmy cerulean
blue negligee. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was
astray. When she saw me she brightened.
"Hi," she said cheerily, "what brings you here?" Pausing then, "as if I
didn't know." It was as if the previous day hadn't happened. It was all
lets let bygones be bygones. I was having none of it. Whether it was my
fault or not I had vowed that it would be strictly business today. Well
business until I was released and then I would be rushing home to
fulfill a new fantasy I had constructed for my penis.
"Lets just get me unlocked, okay."
She reached into her cleavage. But there was no chain and no key there.
"Oh, it's not there. Why don't you reach your hand down there and double
check?" I was not amused. I called her bluff and extended my hand to her
neckline. She slapped it away. "No, no, you naughty boy."
"Just get the key," I demanded with an ever so slightly stronger tone.
"It's not here. I left it at the stables."
"Liar," I spit out.
"Don't be rude. Oh wait maybe it is here. But you now must make up for
your rudeness and kiss my foot."
"Fuck you," now I was getting angry.
"More rudeness," she replied calmly, "now you must lie at my foot as you
lick instead of kiss."
"Get the fucking key and unlock me now, bitch!"
"For that you must submit to a whipping!"
I could see where this was going. I got out my phone and dialed Ilona's
number. "I'm going to tell Ilona that you are not being fair."
"Ouuuh, you're going to tell on me. You're going to tell mommy."
That stung. I stopped before pressing the last number. "Look, Stephanie,
please quit playing games and just unlock me."
"Okay, that's better. You said the magic word, 'please.' So I am taking
the whipping off the table." She paused then laughing, "and replacing it
with a firm slap to the cheek."
I finished dialing. There was no answer until the recorded message.
"This is Dr. Victorian's answering machine. I will be out of town until
the 13th. If this is important you may leave a message and if it really
is important I will get back to you. If this is an emergency, please
call 911. Good-bye." I hung up without leaving a message. It was an
emergency and it was important to me. I would give it one more try with
Stephanie.
As I turned to her she was smiling broadly. Obviously she knew that
Ilona would not be back for two more days.
"Okay, new deal. The whipping's back on the table. Or rather you are on
the table." She paused, waiting for me to speak.
I sank back into myself. I should just walk and go to Ilona's in three
days. Three more damn days of caged frustrated chastity. If I stay and
listen to her "new deal" it will be an admission of weakness. Whatever,
I thought. Do I really have any pride left at this point?
"What's the deal," I asked finally.
"Ooooh, good boy. One should always be willing to listen. It's a sign of
flexibility.
"So here's the deal. I promise, I swear, that I will release you
tomorrow, and even assist you in you know what should you so desire,
if..."
She paused again. It was driving me nuts these pauses. She shifted
gears.
"Do you remember a time in a parking lot where a little boy wore thong
panties and was painfully whipped?" I reddened at the memory. "Of
course, you do. What a silly question. But humor me anyway with an
answer."
"Yes," I whispered.
"Yes what? Go on"
"Yes I remember..."
"And tell me about how it felt?"
"It hurt. It was painful," I replied wondering why she would ask the
obvious?
"Yes, of course it hurt. That was the idea. But how did it feel inside.
How did it feel emotionally."
Now the just listening part of staying was getting really really
difficult. I should have left. But the memory had begun to fill me with
remembered emotion.
"I felt shamed. I felt powerless, even as I allowed myself to do it. I
felt that there was something wrong with me. I felt it was wrong to
allow myself to be treated that way..." I trailed off, my mind flooded
with remembered and now also fresh emotions.
"See," Stephanie said brightly, "that's what I've always wanted. I mean
that's what I've always wanted to do to a man. Now you may not actually
be a man, maybe you are, but no matter you will do. Will you submit to a
repeat of that moment?"
The word "submit" ballooned to fill my mind. "But ...," I started to
speak.
"Ah, yes, a very red butt. But let me elaborate. We'll do it here, if
that makes it easier. And with a twist. I will think of a number and I
will begin flogging you. As some point you beg me to stop. Now if we
have reached the number, then fine, I stop and you go home and come back
tomorrow. If we have not reached the number then we double it and stop
then. What do you think? Take your time. But don't answer. Either remove
all your clothes or leave. That will tell me what I need to know."
I cast my eyes downward. I was remembering that time. I was remembering
A_. At that time, which now seemed so long ago, A_ was the most amazing,
the most intense, the most alive woman to ever allow me into her life.
While what I had said about being shamed was true, these other emotions
were also a big part of the mix. Then I had allowed myself to be
humiliated. It was my choice.
This was different. There was an element of powerlessness here. My
feelings for Stephanie, while they had grown, had not begun in the same
immediate fashion as they had begun with A_. And yet adding to the
complexity of this moment was the real element of powerlessness with
Stephanie which was adding its own element to this emotional m?lange.
I also had to factor in the possibility that she would not release me
tomorrow even if I submitted. That I still would have to wait for
Ilona's return.
I began unbuttoning my shirt.
When I was naked, except for the unremoveable thing, I stood impassively
before her with my arms at my side. All along my mind had been filling
with dread. Then to my surprise she slipped out of her panties, right in
front of me. Her negligee was barely extending below her vagina.
"These will do. They're not thong but they are even better for you
because they are, shall we say, 'fresh.' Put them on!"
The "Put them on" command excited me. She came up next to me and grabbed
the back of the panties and yanked them up. I rose up on my toes. Using
the panty wedgie in my butt like a leash she led me to the dining room
table and pushed me down over it. The wedged panties would not be
offering me any protection.
One! Pain. Me, "uuugh." Her, "yes!"
At each blow she would sigh or moan a guttural squeal of pleasure. She
seemed to be getting off on it. And the blows were not regular. There
was no rhythm. Between five and six there as a longer pause and I
realized that the faint sounds I was hearing were her masturbating.
At eleven I pleaded for her to stop, "Please, please stop." Between each
word was a hint of the fact that I was losing it and on the verge of
crying. The blows had been hard and very painful.
"Well," she said, "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that
eleven is a pitiful number. Not a manly number at all. The good news is
that you will not have to listen to my orgasm as I still have a ways to
go and you are out of here. Keep the panties as another remembrance."
I dressed and as I was at the door I turned and as I watched her hand in
her crotch rubbing her clit, I asked, "what was the number that I had to
meet?"
"Four."
-------
Going home I thought about how eleven was not a manly number. I wondered
what sorts of experience she had to back up that assertion. I especially
wondered at what number manly began. I wore the panties all the way home
with my regular underwear stuffed in my pocket. The panties were easy to
forget about because my ass was the thing calling my attention.
At home I ripped the panties off (not literally) and threw them into the
drawer with another pair and what was now not far from being a
collection.
I got through the rest of my day uneventfully and without a lot of
thought. Not much thought about what had just gone down nor much thought
about what might or might not happen tomorrow. If I had thought about
it, as I can now at this distance from the events, I would have been
amazed at how ordinary a set of very un-ordinary events had become. Some
profound changes were occurring within me and unnoticed by me and right
under my nose.
------
The next day I did not even try to arrive as early as I could have. When
I got there Stephanie was drinking coffee at her kitchen breakfast
table. She offered me some and I accepted without comment. We engaged in
chit-chat banter for a bit. Then she reached behind the top button of
the white shirt, a not exactly mannish but not a blouse either, she was
wearing and pulled the chain and key over her head. As she walked over
to me she grabbed a pair of scissors laying on the table.
"Stand up," she asked flatly and I obliged. She unbuckled my pants and
let them drop to the floor. "Don't care for panties ehhh," she asked,
again flatly and without particular emotion? She then cut my boxers off
with the scissors. "I'm a collector myself," she commented dryly.
She inserted the key and turned it. Well, she tried to turn it. She took
it out and flipped it over 180 degrees and tried to insert it again. No
go. She turned it back over and reinserted it. It went in but it would
not turn.
"Fuck," she said under her breath. Honestly, either she was sincere or
she was a great actor. Oh, she wasn't kidding around about not being
able to unlock the cage.
"Here, you try. It's never been a problem before."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I screamed. Then at her, "what the fuck do you
think you are doing? Get the right key right now." I knew that shortly I
was about to cry. "Stop jerking me around. Get me out of this."
And then I did cry. She walked slowly over to me and laid her hand on my
shoulder. "Really, Jeff, I am not jerking you around. Please believe
me."
I crumpled down onto the floor, my pants still around my ankles my penis
still half naked behind the un-unlockable cage. I covered my head in my
arms and bawled. Stephanie sat on the floor next me, not saying anything
but lightly caressing me.
Thirteen days of emotional and physical torture had finally caught up
with me.
Shortly she got up and went to the bathroom. I heard running water. I
did not feel like moving at all, I just lay on the kitchen floor, an
occasional sob emanating from my raw throat. My nose dripped mucus and
my cheeks were soaking wet from tears.
Stephanie returned. She knelt next to me and kissed me lightly on the
neck and stroked my brow. She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my pants
off. Gently, with my pastel yellow shirt still on, she lightly stood me
up and with her arm around my waist led me to the bathroom. It was
steamed up. She removed my shirt and encouraged me into the half-full
antique claw-foot bathtub. The warm water came up around me and soothed
me. Slowly I was able to gather myself together and calm myself.
And as I lay there, with Stephanie sitting quietly in a chair beside the
tub, and as my mind cleared and my body relaxed, I commenced to weep. A
quiet soft weeping of blessed release. Protectively cradled within the
arms of a pure white enameled hard-smooth cast iron womb and the warmth
of its hypnotic-amniotic fluidic water, I fell to sleep.
In the dream I was suspended in the air above the ground and could will
myself to move side to side and higher up and lower down over the lily-
padded inner side bend of a river. But soon, in the dream, I needed to
get somewhere. I realized I was naked. Then every movement became a
struggle as if I was now suspended in a clear liquid glue-like or
honeyed medium. I had to go but I could not go fast enough.
I awoke with a mild startle in an empty bathroom in a barely warm
watered bathtub. In spite of the dream I awoke calm and relaxed and
refreshed. I exchanged some of the tepid water for new hot water. My
splashing and re-heating must have drawn the attention of Stephanie. She
came to the door and knocked. It was a touching gesture of respect.
After all what of me had she not seen?
"You look a whole sight better. Did you have a nice bath?"
"Very nice. Thank you so much. I'm sorry that I lost it back there. It's
not like me to do that."
"Listen, just so you know I called Ilona's. Like I expected it's still
just the message. Honestly, I really was all set to release you. I'm
really sorry."
"It's nice of you to apologize. But I still don't know what to believe.
None of the keys to this thing are working and I don't know who to
blame. Maybe you are still, I'm sorry to say this, still jerking my
chain. Maybe Ilona is jerking both our chains, but I'm the one attached
to the jerked chain and I'm the one that feels pain with each jerk. And
maybe, just maybe the key or lock is broken and neither of you is to
blame." I was glad to get it all out there. It was cathartic.
"Look," Stephanie began, "if you like we can do some cuddling or
something. I know it's not the same as real sex, but just to let you
know I'm sorry and willing to make it up to you however I can."
"Thanks. That's sweet of you, but you know I just want to get home.
Bring me my clothes and I'll get out of here."
"They are there," she said pointing, "listen I sorry to have to ask but
since I cut off your underwear you have none to wear. So you can either
wear a pair of mine or I actually have a pair of Sparky's that, ahhh,
that, ahhh, that got left here." She smiled. I consider the choice.
Neither choice was particularly appealing. I needed something or the
cage would bulge my pants out. I pictured myself wearing her panties.
But only if she would put them on me and then very slowly and carefully
lift my penis out of the way. Then check carefully that they fit
smoothly around my butt and thighs. The wrinkles smoothed flat by her
soft warm hands. But I very sensibly opted for Dan's. One needs to keep
one's fantasies separate from one's realities I said to myself.
Tomorrow I would see Ilona. I certainly hoped and expected to see her. I
was going to tell Ilona that I needed a separation from her and a
divorce from Stephanie. Sometimes divorces and separations are forever
and sometimes not. That's what I would say to Ilona. I won't say I'm
quitting. Just taking a break. That's easier. Then I can just not go
back and never see her again. I can skip all the emotional baggage of
saying good-bye for ever. I can skip having to hear Ilona trying to talk
me out of it if I leave it appearing kinda undecided.
Ours is after all a professional business relationship. That's what I
told myself.
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