Saturday, March 12, 2016

Tie Me Chicago XIII

My thoughts are interrupted when the young receptionist arises from her desk, clipboard and pen in hand.

“Forms, a questionnaire, and a release should you and Miss Matsumoto agree on modeling for us.”

I accept and scan. The top sheet is standard stuff, information required... name address, social security number... for when employing a person. The release also proves to be mundane, similar wording found on the forms of every ski resort... the facility not responsible for bodily harm, etc.

It is the questionnaire which proves to be disconcerting... much personal information... height, weight... ok... but last bowel movement... last ejaculation... penis size!

I look up in alarm. The receptionist anticipates my reaction.

“Oh don’t bother about the penis size. Most men lie and our clinicians will measure any way.”

What am I getting into?

 I read, I write, by rote... and my thoughts return... to Miss Eve.


I grew, not only in height and weight but in muscle tone. Miss Eve proved to be an admirable trainer, a life of athletics plus her college education served me well. We visited the gym regularly.

On Mondays we kick boxed, the rumors proving to be true, and the fears of her male compatriots well founded. For I learned more not only of the woman’s strength and power but her zeal and determination to conquer. It was too often that I was put to the mat. Our brief encounters in the ring attracted the other patrons, jeering with every thud as Miss Eve put me down.

Miss Eve also put me through a workout before every Friday afternoon bath. Yes, though advancing age precluded the need for supervision during my mother’s absence, I innocently suggested to my mother that Eve was a friend, that she visit the house and we work out together, my bath and its nirvanic ending not divulged.

And yes, the sensuous masturbation... penis for the most part untouched... continued... the warm spray... the count to three... the thrust of my hips... the clenching of the small but meaningful muscles... the spurt... on cue... Miss Eve’s sardonic snicker indicating she as thrilled as me with my obedience and discipline. The soothing warmth, the scented water, Miss Eve’s divine touch, all had the effect of a narcotic... I was addicted. And there was no doubt she in turn reveled in her control of the male phallus and its most significant function.

Though achieving the age when for most boys interaction with girls became an attraction, the untoward antics with Miss Eve... older than me by some five years... obviated any desire. There was no normal dating... no movies... no school dances. Succumbing to her, giving myself up at bath time, though only once per week, sufficed. Certainly worth enduring the frustration of self restraint.

As I matured, the gym owner developed concerns. It seems though some gym members were amused by my near naked endeavors in the lady’s locker room, others, presumably daughters of Sapphos like the owner herself, were intimidated. In hindsight, my penis, growing like the rest of me, strained too much the jock strap. The sole garment, outlining what Miss Eve described as a well tamed serpent, came to offer them limited comfort.

So one day in arriving for a workout, the owner took Miss Eve aside, as usual never addressing me.

“If he’s to continue working here, have him put this on,” handing Miss Eve a box. “Make sure it’s locked in place. I’ll keep the key. It will be at the reception area ready for when he leaves.”

In the box was a chastity device... steel... expensive... ineluctable. The woman owner spared no expense in ostensibly protecting her clientele.     

Taking the box, a smiling Miss Eve led me to the locker room, commanding me to strip. She handed me the device, its manner of fit self evident.

“Look at the good side, Matt,” her words coming as I clicked closed the lock. “No one will complain about you watching in the locker room now. You’re effectively neutered while wearing this thing. The girls can’t complain... and you can learn all about the female anatomy.”

Smiling, she reached down and gave the steel mesh penis cage a brisk tug. Yes, ineluctable.

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