'Keyholder' Segment VI

 This is the last snippet for 'Keyholder'. Hope you all enjoyed. Working to finish up a sequel.

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It’s Sunday. My mind is addled... reflecting on Wednesday’s exercise and stretching at Willie’s Workouts... then jumping to thoughts about my forthcoming ‘matinee’ with Miss Monique. I am to meet a friend. The apprehension certainly does nothing to quell the jitters of my ten days in chastity. The friend... what gender, what is the relationship, and how is it I am to perform?

Driving to Miss Monique’s, oddly I take my mind off the concerns by thinking of my trainer Liz... Miss Elizabeth Doyer... and how she has so gleefully joined in what I have described as a game.

At age eighteen there is a certain naivety over matters sexual. She knows anatomy with her training in physical therapy but in returning to the aerobics room with my attire after many stultifying minutes in the nude, she found the growing puddle of prostatic fluid on the floor mat to be curious.

‘It results from the game,’ I explained taking back my towel and sheepishly mopping up my effluent.

Will there be a time when she is made aware... that the demanded pose of Miss Monique brings stimulation to the various glands and muscles of the male reproductive system? And that her prank of having me strip naked and threatening exposure to the unknown aerobics instructor brought excitement to this warped psyche? 

As I dressed, the growing enthusiasm of Miss Elizabeth... for the game... became more apparent.

‘You look kind of silly, Mr. Partland... shaved around your pubes like that. Why not shave everywhere?’     

I meekly nodded. But then as we departed to the main exercise area, she must have had more thoughts.

‘If you want to be stretched next week, you’ll be hairless for me... neck down,’ her tone once again firming after being childishly playful in returning my garb.

I park the car, exit and walk to the front door of Miss Monique’s unassuming home. In a quiet suburban neighborhood, I must wonder if the local residents are aware of how their neighbor makes her living... tending to submissive males locked in chastity.

It’s a quiet profession. Very little investment required. No sexual contact... she doesn’t bare herself. And for a woman of Miss Monique’s ilk, the exhilaration of complete control must bring a thrill... reserved, but a thrill all the same.

A shaky hand rings the doorbell. Within moments entrance is granted and I step into the parlor of my keyholder. I note she is dressed neatly and primly as always, white satin blouse, pencil skirt of maroon. Further observation ends when I am introduced to a stunning blonde woman, sitting in a comfortable chair sipping a Mimosa.

“Robert, this is Mrs. Marion Dresser. Sit, I will get you some water.”

Yes, the water... to be piss proud.      

“So you’re locked in chastity, Robert,” the Dresser woman more informs than inquires. “At your age it must be a challenge. And Monique says you have problems performing for her.”

I am embarrassed... the woman seems to know much. My face reddens... she notices.

“You just be a good, obedient boy and Monique will take care of your needs. My husband now spurts for her like a fountain.”    

Husband? Spurting for Miss Monique?

Miss Monique exits the kitchen tumbler of water in hand. I am both worried and chagrined... will I be posed, shaved and milked in her presence? Baring myself to two imposing women? 

“Drink up, Robert. Nice full bladder for me. Tell me how you’re faring with your trainer... stretching progressing?”

Miss Monique sits gesturing for me to take a chair opposite the Dresser woman. I take the glass hoping my ogling isn’t noticed. She is gorgeous.

“Ah... well it’s getting easier... the split I guess you’d call it.”

“Good. And your trainer... knowing of your proclivity... she’s in acceptance... that you enjoy yielding to a woman? As  sexual need?”

“She seems to be. I have described it as a game... sort taking away the initial shock.”

My statement brings Marion Dresser to laugh. 

“I’ll have to ask husband George if he considers it a game. He’s not touched his cock in years.”

With that, the Marion woman downs her Mimosa and rises from her chair.

“Got to go, Monique. Brunch with a well hung stud... big and black. You’ll finish off George?”

“Eventually, Marion. He suffers for me divinely... no point in rushing.”

Husband George... well hung stud... big and black? 

“I'm sure you’re going to perform nicely today, Robert. Maybe someday for me,” reaching to blatantly tug at my ear as would a mother tease a toddler.

Her touch begins the cascade... twinges below. It’s that simple after ten days of forced chastity.

Miss Monique sees the woman to the door. I drink, sort of relieved that it will be only me and my keyholder... but missing the view. The woman is beautiful... knows of her good looks and flashes it... not the understated elegance of Miss Monique Von Buren.

Miss Monique returns and takes my empty glass. To the kitchen she refills and returns. I drink more.

“So tell me about your training and stretching session... details... about the youthful Elizabeth Doyer. Should I send her more pictures?”

Speaking to the superior and confident Miss Monique seems to calm the fidgeting. Plus, the anxiety of meeting the unknown friend has proven to be unfounded. So I sort of relax, talk and drink, telling myself that ten days of denial will soon be ending.

The words flow, and I tell of Miss Elizabeth Doyer, Miss Monique smiling when I use the word ‘Miss’ in relating my trainer’s name. She finds fascination with the girl leaving me in the nude... only for a few minutes... but Miss Monique points out a very meaningful few minutes.

“Do you think she was testing you, Robert? Seeing how deep is your need to submit to a woman?”

“I... ah... don’t know.”

“But you do enjoy it... did enjoy your exposure... at her behest... in the aerobics room. You left a nice puddle for her, you said.”

“It’s the... you know... denial...”

“Which you’ve brought upon yourself.”

I complete relating the events, seeming to err in explaining Miss Elizabeth’s quest to completely defoliate myself.

“Yes, I think you’d look cute for her. Do that... make the girl feel empowered... that a grown man would make himself look childishly foolish for her.”

Yes, an error.

“It’s... ah... a lot of shaving.”

“You have time... you will make time. And I’ll give you some special lotion I use on some of my effeminate clients... my girly boys. That will initially limit the growth... and eventually kill the follicles.”

Miss Monique stands, again taking my empty glass. 

“If you show hair on your next visit, that penis of yours will be locked up for a long time. Do it Robert... I want you hairless for her. Consider it to be part of the game... as you explained it.”

She steps to the kitchen. Miss Elizabeth’s playful quest has become Miss Monique’s command.

Returning with a third glass, I feel bloated. Filled bladder, thoughts of making myself hairless on a woman’s whim, knowing that I am close to penile freedom... the twinges progress. Miss Monique’s experienced eye knows.

“Shall we get you soaped and shaven, Robert? A little different protocol this afternoon. You’ll be sharing the table with George. I want you to see close up how a good boy performs for me.”