'To Come on Command', Segment Six

This is the last posting from this story. Not sure what's next

CB

*****


Just Another Date - Nicole Barnes

“So your husband... he truly does not mind?”

Todd is a sweet graduate student. Though a stud, very forceful with his penetrating thrusts, he’s otherwise rather naive. I sort of like that in a man... very manageable.

“It does not matter whether he minds or not. I never really asked.”

“So you just go... ah... out?”

“Of course. You beginning to find objection... some concern?”

“Ah... well... ah... just curious I guess.”

“Michael has a role. We all have roles. His is to provide. He works. He pays the bills. And I let him... guess you would say glow in my presence.”

“Just glow? No...”

“No sex,” finishing his bashfully fumbled query. “But he jerks off. Least he used to jerk off... and more than I ever imagined.”

Blunt, crass, but I like stunning my boy toy.

“Finish your wine. You know... the hotel...” our meal completed.

With my weekly trysts, I have made arrangements, utilizing a plush room at the local hotel. No hot sheet motel for me. The deal is... room half price... but to vacate before midnight when some airline crews from the airport need to bunk overnight. Technically the airline pays for the room all night. Thus the manager charges little. And he gets to fuck from time to time... me.

Husband Michael makes a good living and pays the half price for the room. I like it when he sees the charges on his credit card. It drives home the relationship. But there’s no point in impoverishing him. More money to be spent on my dinners. Some of my boys... like Todd... can’t afford my tastes.  

So wine sloshed, it’s to my car, the drive short.

“Used to jerk off?” Todd’s curiosity piqued.

Our talk continues as the car whisks the few blocks.

“I stopped it.”

“So he...”

“He’s kept in chastity. Locked up. Lots of wives insist on it. And overall, it’s for the best. As I said my husband basks in my presence. Well in time he will radiate... his devotion to me strengthening day by day. Think of it as a coal oven, Todd. You can lengthen and even increase the smoldering heat by controlling the flow of oxygen.”

“But you can put the fire out too... with no oxygen.”

I reach with my free hand, unzipping Todd. Ten or more years his senior, I know he feels a decadent thrill in sensing the brazen touch of an older woman.

“Exactly, Todd. You’re so astute. That’s why I’ll control the oxygen at my whim, but not cut it off... and the inferno will not extinguish. It will blaze.”

I want him nice and hard going through the lobby. And indeed his penis springs to life. Are my words found to be arousing?

Exiting the car his firmness will assure that there will be no dawdling. Plus it amuses the young woman bestowing the room key, Todd never able to fully cloak his tumescence. 

'To Come on Command' published

I have published the referenced story. 31,400 words, $6.55

Available at...
 

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/to-come-on-command/25401716

Enjoy,

CB

'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.

'To Come on Command', Segment Four

The New Paradigm Begins - Nicole Barnes

“Found this on the internet,” holding up a cylinder of squishy pink rubber. “As you can see there’s a hole through the middle,” inserting a finger and thrusting it inward. “It replicates a vagina. I purchased the model with the smallest hole. Though it still may not be tight enough for you.”

One must always keep the beta male down, so recommended my friend Dr. Michelle.

Mike nods. I hand it to him. Whatever is the substance, it’s gelatinous but durable, able to stretch to accept my intruding finger and return to shape when I withdraw.

Mike looks at me quizzically but I can tell the rubbery smoothness brings thoughts.

“Yes, Mike, you’re going to fuck it for me... when I decide.”

It’s been four days since his piercings. Remaining under lock and key has not been too mentally frustrating for him... with the soreness not much desire to stroke himself. But there is healing, and in a day or two thoughts of furtively jerking off will return. I want to plant a seed as to the circumstances I will permit it.

“Some lube, Mike. Finger fuck it for me. Sensually, pretend it’s a pussy.”

Yes the unique substance turns to amazingly slick smoothness with just a drop of viscous fluid. When I lean and anoint his finger with a tiny rivulet of mineral oil, I’m amused to see Mike go to work, finger inserting, glaring fixedly, repressing a libidinous smile as he senses his tiny penis within the tight smoothness of the cylinder, I know imagining that it is his free penis and not a finger thrusting in and out.  

“It’s... it’s...”

“Disgustingly sensuous,” completing his thought. “And you’ll be using more than your finger... when I say so... and how. You’re going to strip naked for me, I’m going to hold it for you, and you’re going to fuck it for me while I videotape your depravity.”

“No, I won’t do that.”

He pauses then meekly inquires.

“What will you do with the recording?”

“Whatever I want. Remember Mike, new paradigm... enforced by she with the key,” holding up the sliver of metal required to emancipate his inadequate appendage.

I reach and retrieve the faux vagina.

“Fun time over. Do give it some thought,” my advisement superfluous in knowing he will soon be dreaming of getting off... if not already suffering from nocturnal penile tumescence.

“Got a date... with Todd. He’s only nine inches... but he uses it so well.”

Dressed to the nines, I stand knowing Mike will watch in admiration as I depart.

“Play all you want,” nodding to his privates.

Yes, the method of chastity is wickedly tempting. Mike can touch and play to his heart’s content. But that will just bring torture... a form of self flagellation.

“How do I get unlocked?”

“Yield and obey,” the succinct reply coming as I step out the door.

'To Come on Command', Segment Three

Visiting an Alpha Woman - Michael Devereau

I’ve learned the lingo... that the so termed bulls that Nickie dates are alpha males. And as I lie on my side, naked on a padded examination table covered with an antiseptically clean white sheet, I must suppose Dr. Michelle White is an alpha female.

Haughty, no nonsense, apparent disdain for men, as a gynecologist it seems for the fairer gender she dispenses more than medical care but advice as well.

“Yes, they all masturbate... and most to excess. So it’s for the best.”

The doctor and wife Nickie talk as if I am not present. I am a thing... an object to be examined and discussed. And for some reason my nakedness in the presence of two regal fully clad women brings arousal. I am shamefully hardening. And the more this Dr. Michelle looks at me the firmer I become.  

“He’s been circumcised high and tight,” she notes. “Not much foreskin to work with... but that doesn’t mean there is lack of pleasure in stroking the penis,” such clinical observation. “And I do believe he’d be indecorously wanking now given some lubricant.”

“You see the problem, Michelle,” Nickie pointing, her words bringing further stiffness. “You’re drooling Mike, stop it.”

I am, pre ejaculatory fluid streaming.

“Well, after I’ve done him, you’re going to either accept the messiness or have him jerk off for you... which would counter our intention,” Dr. Michelle advises.

“I’ll keep him drained... initially,” my wife’s words bringing contrasting thoughts.

“So let’s got started. Just some piercings, Mr. Devereau. Pin pricks,” the doctor holding forth a frighteningly long and curved needle. “Nicole can you bend back his right leg and hold his knee high and well out of the way for me?”

Nickie steps to the opposite side, gently grasps my right ankle and pulls to bring it to my right cheek. In awe, overwhelmed but the scenario and the verbal input, I meekly yield to her.

“Now lift Nicole. I’ll need access to his privates... obviously. Part his thighs as widely as possible. And be a good boy for me, Mr. Devereau,” the latter words coming with a forced smile of professional politeness.

I’m a good boy, finding myself lifting to assist, sensing the cool room air waft over my scrotum and anus.

And it begins... the beginning of the new paradigm. I am to be placed in chastity... penis under lock and key. And my wife has concurred with the imposing Dr. Michelle in deciding to do so in a very tantalizing and tempting manner. For there will be no clumsy device, no steel or plastic covering. I will be able to touch myself at any time. I will play and toy. My manhood just won’t stand without my wife’s consent.

A guiche piercing at my perineum, the piercing needle exiting within my rectum. In inserting a thickly gauged ring of steel through the opening, I will constantly feel something abrading a most intimate part of my anatomy.

It hurts, but for some reason I further harden. Dr. Michelle of course taking note, again speaking as if tending to an object...

“You may consider occasionally applying pain, Nickie. If you love him, give him what he seems to crave,” her smirk most irritating.

But then my priapic response is to end.

A Prince Albert piercing, horribly deep, the penetrating needle entering my urethral opening and exiting the underside of my penis well down the shaft with agony.

I deflated, the women laughing with my timid squeal.

“The ring will take quite a bit of tension the way I pierced him,” the doctor advises holding up not a circle but an equally thick ellipse of matching stainless steel. “Deep. If it ever does tear away he’ll lose most of his little thing.”

Just as distressing as the weightiness, part of the surface of the ellipse, at the penis tip, is scabrous. I judge that brushing with a finger may cause injury!

“You’ll probably need to buy a leather thong for him. This will tear up any tight fitting underwear,” the words coming as gloved fingers carefully insert the open ellipse into my urethral opening and out the piercing some two inches down the shaft.

The ring and ellipse closed and soldered for permanence, more advice comes.

“My husband was a chronic masturbator. And clever... and deceitful. Nothing seemed to work... until I castrated him. Now his attention is better focused,” Dr. Michelle lectures.

“Castrated?” my wife so nonchalantly prompts for more.

“Oh, yes. It’s the ultimate cure. And I’ve countered his deceit with some of my own. The injections I give him which he thinks are testosterone are actually a mix of prolactin and estrogen. I feel like a farmer fattening a hog. He’s not only nicely plumping for me but growing breasts as well. He does not understand why. Someday I’ll tell him... after the physical change is no longer reversible.”

“Did you hear that, Mike? Perhaps I’m being lenient with you... and that can easily end with any disobedience.”

Nickie’s warning comes as the doctor hands her a small padlock.

“He’s flaccid. No ice needed. It’s symbolic that you do the honors.”

Nickie does. Stepping forth my wife is surprisingly nimble in looping a finger into the Prince Albert ellipse, utilizing it to draw back my penis toward my anus and locking together my two steel piercings.

“The tip of the ring has some sharpness... by design. So he’ll walk a little funny for the next few days until he adapts. It’s always amusing to learn how they explain loping about to their colleagues.”

The women step back, standing shoulder to shoulder assessing.

“Why don’t I take some measurements for you Nicole... in case you want some... other trinkets.”

My wife nods.

“Ok, Mr. Devereau. Up on all fours... like a little doggie.”

For some reason I cede to the woman who so callously used my anatomy as a pin cushion assuming the position, one again becoming an object to be poked, prodded and discussed.

“He’s not much of a specimen,” the doctor notes as calipers gauge various body parts... wrists, ankles, neck, testicles. 

'To Come on Command', Segment Two

Confessing to Me - Nicole Barnes

“If you need to wank yourself, doing it so often is going to diminish the returns, Mike. In time that means your proclaimed devotion to me will wane. I’ll become a constant afterthought. I’ll not have that.”

I’m firm with my tone. It’s not a suggestion. And Mike knows... it’s a demand.

“I... well... you have your thing...”

He hints at my dating... ‘my thing’. He accepts but he does not. He needs to acclimate. And I in turn would feel better if he not only fully accepted ‘my thing’ but embraced it, that the devotion he claims to have is transformed to devotion for my needs... and those of my lovers.

“Women are equipped differently, Mike. I can have countless orgasms... with the right man. And I do, by the way. And that won’t put me in a state of lassitude. Look at you! You’re probably too tired to cut the lawn. Suppose I did want to have sex with you...  right now.”

I’m not a selfish woman. But I have learned at age 35 that a woman must take care of her own desires and not rely on the male. Flowers and jewelry tend to come only when male needs require address... not when the woman desires attention.

So I sip coffee in thought. Mike needs to get off.... I need to get off... and though deep penetration from one of my bulls seems to be a weekly thing, perhaps Mike’s inadequacies can serve a purpose when I’m not riding ten inch cock. But he needs to learn his place... be put in his place probably the better wording.

“You’re weak, Mike. And not only physically. You need to be led. You want to be led. Your so termed fantasies of devotion to me... rather a vague image in turns of bringing yourself to eruption. A man does not spurt on thoughts of devotion.”

He nods. He realizes by now that I too much know the male libido.

“So... more... how is it you’re visualizing your devotion while stroking away.” 

He pauses in thought... then he downloads for me. Describing his imagined fervent oral caresses brings to me a smile. He pridefully brings me orgasm after orgasm as his untiring fantasy tongue and lips work and work. And my smile is not because I can picture his oral caresses, feel his mouth as he spews the libidinous words... but because he’s not good in that department either.

If I were to ask him bluntly, he’d claim his pathetic four inch penis to be a feared serpent.

Alas... the male ego.    

“I’ll need to lead, Mike. There will no longer be unsupervised masturbation.”

He looks at me glumly, but I know he’s already considering how and where he’s going to cheat. And when I say I’m going to supervise, it will not be because I’m following him around the house, visiting him in his office.

“We’re going to visit Dr. Michelle.”

“She’s a bitch!”

“Yes, that’s why we’re going to make an appointment.”

'To Come on Command', Segment One

New story. Unfinished, therefore I am not sure how far this will go.

Enjoy.

CB

*****

To Come on Command

Copyright 2019

by Chris Bellows

Prologue - Nicole Barnes

I’m not sure which came first with regard to sex and my husband... his preference for masturbation or my preference for sex with multiple partners. Yes multiple partners and often, yet seemingly never often enough. But before making judgements, reader, I should add that husband Mike’s preference... though the frequency thereof initially unknown... was notable as well. The occasions well concealed until one day having an emergency use for the bathroom.   

Caught him in flagrante delicto... the translation to English most apropos... hand afire.

Seeing him sitting on the toilet, the tip of that modest nearly inadequate erection squeezed to purple within the tight grip of a hand slathered in lotion, that sheepish face, fumbling for words, brought the need for a new paradigm.

“We need to talk, Mike.”

I exited, rushing to use the bathroom in the guest bedroom instead.

No wonder I needed partners... well endowed partners, eager, not so much fawning but attentive. And on that Saturday morning, after tending to my emergency needs and letting him finish getting off, it became time for a rational and calm discussion over coffee... rational for me... calm for him, having squirted any excess testosterone into the toilet bowl.

“Things need to change, Mike. What is it you think about when engaging in self gratification?”

Prologue - Michael Devereau

Okay, all guys do it, reader. Don’t be too quick to make judgements. Yet getting caught at the point of no return so to speak, is embarrassing. Beneath the chagrin, there was odd relief when Nickie simply uttered those four all too significant words... ‘we need to talk’... and shut the door to let me finish myself. 

But later came the talk... probably better termed a cross examination. 

Well, just as all guys do it, all guys have fantasies abetting the process. And I find myself at the kitchen table, physically basking in the release, but in emotional turmoil as wife Nicole Barnes proves to be quite the inquisitor... Miss Torquemada?

I have always considered my fantasies to be just that... mine. Yet with Nickie being empowered in discovering what has become a regular diversion, I cede, tending to appease, not wishing to extend the morning irritation.   

So we talk... guess I talk... Nickie listens. The frequency of my secretive couplings... hand and penis... appall. But as more of her questions are answered and it all comes out... she becomes more serene in learning that my love and devotion to her combined with my inability to adequately perform and please... has led to furtive self pleasure... guilt but pleasure all the same

My fantasy... while bringing myself to ultimate climax... is her... pleasing her. Guess it’s most  appropriately described as... doing so as best I can.

With my explanation, she smirks. Am I believed? Is a guy ever to know? 

Further chagrin comes when she acknowledges... that yes I am inadequate. Worse, the acknowledgment comes with a haughty laugh... wicked snicker?

“Yes, we’re definitely going to change things, Mike.”

I put aside my own questions... all relating to Nickie’s infidelity... strangely acceptable in knowing that such brings her own gratification... and that’s what I want as well... gratification... though mine comes vicariously.

Wife Nicole terms it a new paradigm. It becomes my turn to listen