Saturday, November 24, 2012

'Madam Me and It' Part XVII - Prepared


I must assume it nears noon. And as desired, I am indeed exhausted. Should words be effective I would beg for some form of relief... just to lift a foot would be exquisite. But my ankles are closely secured, my wrists equally so, and the leash taut. The high broad neck collar inhibits even the slightest motion of my head.

Yet strangely, I somewhat harden, something not easily achieved of late. I am thus reminded of tales of those executed by hanging, the curious reaction to tension on the spinal nerves in fostering tumescence.

It is then that I hear the door knob rattle. Madam returns! I become a puppy eager to greet its master.

Alas, It enters, smiling, reveling in freedom, prancing like a young girl, under formed breasts bouncing, the letters of his branding rolling on feminine buttocks. It moves to the wall and begins assembling stuff on a tray. Meanwhile I quiver in fear, the testicles It so covets hanging and invitingly exposed.

“Bite me and I will have Madam pull your teeth,” I warn in desperation.

It smiles and approaches. My pubes is to be shaved and It adoringly lathers and works the razor, the hands soft and caring. But then more of my nakedness is lathered. Thighs, calves, buttocks. I am not hirsute, but have wisps which quickly and easily yield. A small stool is pushed adjacent. It mounts and arms, chest and back are likewise lathered and shaved.

Next my entire form is tenderly patted with a warm wet towel removing all traces of lotion. The caring touch, if that of a woman, would be appreciated. And though I have so often benefited, knowing now that the gentle fingers are those of a male... former male... I cringe in disgust.

But there is more. I am oiled, every inch of flesh kneaded, sensuously caressed. More disgust but my cramping muscles cherish the respite. I repress words of thanks.

I look to the mirror, my flesh glowing in the room light, a living statue.

Madam termed this the viewing room and that I was to be displayed. And so it is.

Finally attention is paid to my gluteal cleft. It lubricates and I recall his penetrating digits on that fateful day... the prolonged hand job... the bite... the amazing climax.

Yet, It is not to be denied his reward. He stows the tray and returns. With my organs at head height, he palms my testicles and begins to lick. I shudder... in repugnance?.. in joy?..

It is accomplished. A long tongue laps, laves, swishes and swirls. How many has he fellated under Madam’s direction?

My penis stiffens. It smiles. There is power in bringing arousal... something long denied him.

Then I hear voices and the door knob rattles again. For sure it must be Madam... and it is.

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