A Visit From Miss Edie
Miss Harriet and Miss Leona sit at the breakfast table. Roberta serves, the slim links of her chain dragging across the tiling of the kitchen floor sounding in cadence with the bells of her testicle rings, nipples, and earrings. It is Saturday, a morning of leisure. As a platter of bacon is placed at the center of the table. Miss Leona takes a slice, bites one end then playfully tosses the remnants into Roberta’s dog bowl at the floor.
Roberta then returns with a platter of scrambled eggs. Miss Leona extends her hand. Roberta knows to immediately pause, part her thighs and permit access to her tethered scrotum. A knowing hand palms and lifts, a thumb grazing over the hairless thin pink flesh. Roberta expects another invitation. The cyproterone acetate tablets offered at every morning meal. Instead...
“Make a fried egg... sunny side up,” Leona directs. “For your bowl.”
More playfulness, Roberta directed to eat on all fours, face to the bowl, hands and fingers denied. The suggested fare will be comically sloppy to eat.
“Edie will be stopping in.... Miss Edie,” Leona informs as Roberta thrills with her governing touch. “It’s been I while since she masturbated you.”
“Yes, six weeks,” Miss Harriet joining in the conversation.
“”Six weeks locked in steel,” Leona’s hand going to the mesh of the penis cage, jostling to bring added stimulation.
Roberta closes her eyes, knowing the manipulation will have the intended effect... a catalyst to begin the march to full erection... attempted erection.
“You’re not trying to harden for me, are you Roberta? Girls don’t get hard. It’s crass.”
“No, Ma’am” Roberta biting her lip.
“Well I’m sure Edie will have the key. She’s taken to her role. Wears it about her neck all the time.”
“Do you think she will use it, Leona,” Miss Harriet again joining in, her tone of voice that of feigned concern.
“Goodness, what do you think, Roberta? You‘ve shown impressive discipline, remaining flaccid while Harriet pegs you every night. Should your penis be granted a reprieve?”
Leona’s words bring images of the typical nightly bedroom scene, Roberta obediently positioned kneeling on the bed, elbows to the mattress, head down, knees parted, buttocks high, back arched, humbly awaiting penetration. Of late Miss Leona has joined in the frolics, standing before her, fingers going to tweak her pierced nipples and flick her bells.
The sensuous onslaught is abetted by Miss Leona’s flimsy robe, folds opening to flash inviting breasts ripening in pregnancy.
“How was your towel, Roberta? Wet?” Miss Harriet inquires. “Prostatic fluid... nasty, sloppy stuff... but always a barometer of male need.”
“Well, we know how to stop that. Don’t we, Roberta?” anti androgens at the ready.
“It was... ah... moist, Miss Harriet.”
“Tsk, tsk tsk. That’s quite indecorous Drooling like that in the pink tent will be unseemly. Don’t you think Roberta?”
Roberta begins quaking, the exchange bringing thoughts of his stint months ago at the drilling sight in Zolanda.
“Did you drool for the boys in Zolanda?” Miss Leona seeming to read Roberta’s mind.
Rarely. But how is Roberta to explain that fellatio became a defense ploy, begging to suck cock to obviate robust anal sodomy?
The roustabouts were big, brusque and burly. Face fucking was a welcomed alternative. Despite being prepared, well opened by Masters Satana and Sodoma, rectum made supple by Clinic staff, Roberta feared injury, aside from the abject humiliation.
Leona notes tears forming. She smiles knowing of Roberta’s memories of being entered, mercifully letting the discussion drop, Roberta to return to the stove for hot muffins.
As the doorbell rings, matters of prostatic discharge are put aside.
“Do curtsy for her, Roberta,” Harriet nodding toward the living room and the front door. “And be particularly obeisant. The girl has your key,” understanding that the visitor can only be the vixen Edie.
Though the teen has certainly seen Roberta naked, led him about leashed, even mastered his/her emancipated penis in experiencing the elation of a controlling hand job, the lengthy chain, symbolizing her servitude, is a concern. Roberta hesitates in apprehension.
“Go Roberta. The girl knows you... knows of your needs...your propensities... your innate craving for feminine guidance,” Miss Leona lectures. “You may even wish to kiss her feet,” Leona adds to bring a snort of laughter from the two Masters.
Reluctantly. Roberta gathers her chain, assuring such does not snag while negotiating doorways and furniture. Passing through the livingroom she finds herself pausing before a mirror, free hand going to prink loose strands of her lengthy locks. She examines her nails, dismayed to see such need a fresh coating.
Then Roberta berates herself! What is this need to look prettified for the eighteen year old girl of assertiveness?
The key yes. But is there more?
The conflicting emotions begin to overwhelm... the embarrassment... yet to once again be near she with the key! Hope!
Then with one more step comes cognition. More concern. In spending hour after hour anally plugged, the sense of fulfillment, the sensation of squishiness, has been mentally blocked. It now occure, Miss Edie will see she is impaled!
Miss Harriet laid out a particularly large anal plug this morning. Such deviousness! The flaming red flange is sure to be noted! Protruding between hairless cheeks. More ignominy!
The door bell rings again. Roberta puts aside her reservations... her thoughts... and dashes forth. In opening to grant entry she dips, lowering herself in an animated curtsy, her many bells ringing as Edie steps within.
“You’re naked, Roberta, here in Harriet’s home!” gushing with enthusiasm.
“Yes, Miss Edie. Welcome.”
“Wow. No leash... but you’re like... chained!”
“It’s a proclamation, Edie,” Harriet Cabot stepping from the kitchen to greet. “For the likes of Roberta, it’s important for her to announce her subservience.”
“May... may I take your bag, Miss Edie?” Roberta forcing herself to focus on the role of servant.
Edie dismissively hands over a sizable over-the-shoulder bag, attention drawn to Harriet.
“Come into the kitchen, Edie. Join Leona and me. There are muffins. And Roberta will cook what you’d like... bacon, eggs, sausages, toast. She’s becoming an inspired cook.”
“Does she... ah... really want to so... like advertise...” Edie nodding to the long string of metal links, ending at a padlock at the barbed rings of Roberta’s scrotum.
“She locks herself in the restricting chain every morning. For a girl with her deviant needs it’s important... addresses her curious sense of vulnerability by countering with a perverse feeling of security. Being a captive can console the likes of Roberta. Like being tightly bound in a dark cell. Yes one is denied contact with the outside world... but also one is shielded. Bondage and confinement can be a two edged sword.”
“I like the heels,” Edie compliments. “Kind of silly though... walking about otherwise nude.”
“Yes. But what you term silly is quite humiliating. For Roberta that’s what it’s all about.”
Harriet leads, Edie follows, hearing behind the clatter of links... and Roberta’s bells, which the girl expects.
Into the kitchen, Leona rises from her chair, giving young Edie with a hug.
“I know you’ve probably brought the key. But don’t feel obligated to use it, Edie. It’s totally at your discretion whether Roberta ever again... ah... benefits from a woman’s graciousness,” Leona humorously stroking the air with her clenched hand.
“Oh, no. That was fun... informative... but I’d not want to impose. I understand the importance of denial... the intensity... the need for males to capitulate to feminine control.”
“Really, Edie. Learning... such edification at your age.” Leona genuinely impressed.
“The internet. Boyfriend situation... situations. Then leading about Robert... Roberta... on a leash... and masturbating him... her. Kind of inspired me to do some researching.”
Roberta listens, knowing as a servant not to be heard... striving not to be seen... and places the stuffed bag in a kitchen corner. She then moves to the oven and places a freshly baked muffin on a plate, serving in humble silence.
“So you researched... and found?” Miss Harriet prompts.
“Guys really do need guidance. They sort of think with their dicks. So the next boyfriend... well... I’m prepared... sort of,” Edie stifling a giggle.
No comments:
Post a Comment