'To Come on Command', Segment Five

Desire - Devotion - Michael Devereau

Wow! Nickie looks good! I want her... so much want to please her. But then I remember... I am locked up. Plus she has a date... with an alpha male.

Left alone, Nickie dating, these are the times when in the past I have consoled myself with self gratification. The soreness of the doctor’s piercings has waned and the hormones are building with the days of chastity. And indeed I find myself toying down there, hearing Nickie backing down the driveway, knowing that there will be wine, dinner... with Todd.... Todd and his nine inches. He will seduce her. And she will make it easy for him. Much easier than with me. 

A finger caresses, hand reaching well between my thighs to work about my penis tip. I must be careful concerning the Prince Albert piercing. Scabrous at the tip as stated, it is fiendish in design. For if I were to somehow free myself, pick the lock, I still could not fully grasp and gleefully stroke. The rough tip of the metal loop would tear the flesh from my palm.

I adore my wife, so often pumping away in envisioning her beauty. Her intelligence, even her independence attracts. Yes, when she utilizes her independence to fuck other men, even that seems to bring attraction. Her dating has been a curious catalyst for masturbation... past masturbation. That has ended with a doctor’s visit.

So in my loneliness I reflect on recent events... the piercings... the humiliation of submitting to the harridan Dr. Michelle. But then I think of the cylinder of soft rubber... first my wife Nickie’s finger fucking it... than lubricating my finger so I could give the thing a few sensuous strokes as well.

It brought a strange thrill... odd arousal. It was shameful. But worse, Nickie knew of my reaction... read my thoughts.

‘You’re going to fuck it for me... when I decide.’

Why is it the words caused my entrapped penis to stir? Because I’d be permitted climactic relief? Or because I would do so at Nickie’s whim. And when I think of her descriptive words... that she will be holding it for me while videotaping, I wince as I feel my Prince Albert ring tugging against the guiche, painfully trying to harden.

More humiliation... permitted to get myself off like that! Yet the notion excites.

Left with nothing more than my idle hand and pensive thoughts, for some reason I take off my clothes. I convince myself it is because I have not yet become fully accustomed to the metal between my thighs... the rings and small padlock abrading the skin... particularly when wearing tight underwear.

But is that the reason? Or do I want to feel more compliant... submissive as when lying at the doctor’s office... baring myself at the caprice of governing women... my adored wife firmly yet gently holding me to exhibit all.

Nickie’s been dating for how long? I challenge my memory, in a way bringing my mind to other thoughts. It’s become a weekly thing... sometimes more often. And I know upon return, when she joins me in bed, I will offer her the joy of my oral prowess. And she will snicker... and she will decline... explaining that things are a little sloppy down there... filled with another man’s seed.

I recall early on, suggesting in exasperation that a quick douche would suffice.

‘It was Edward tonight, darling. Quick won’t do it... he spent so deeply... and besides, I like the feel of him inside me... the seed of a real man.’

I turned over and seethed. But as I tried to lull myself to sleep, I realized that adrenaline was flowing. The adrenaline of loathing and disgust? Or the adrenaline of sexual excitement? 

I too much adore Nickie to demand she cease her couplings. I have not the heart to deny her the pleasure and delight she seeks... she wants... she needs... which I cannot offer.

It’s... it’s... just that... well what of me? What of my needs?

It seems such are to addressed with a locked penis and a cone of rubber.

I decide to go to bed early. And I decide to remain without clothing. Yet when I climb between the covers I realize why Nickie has me wear a silly soft leather thong. Though locked in place the Prince Albert Ring tends to move about, the tip scraping my thighs... and worse possibly tearing the sheets.

I arise, I don the special garb. I pray there will be no nocturnal penile tumescence.