Indentured: Part III

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This is the third part of the story "Indentured." It's recommended that you read the first two parts first. Thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback so far. Thoughts and comments appreciated.

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The next morning I woke up feeling quite submissive, and with and unusual dull, full ache in my balls.

Miranda had an annoying habit of carrying on conversation while toying with my dick absent-mindedly. If I wasn’t hard, she’d flop it around, letting it smack against my stomach or legs. If it was hard, she’d bat it a little, or walk her fingers down the side. It wasn’t much stimulation, but it was distracting. As a result, our conversations were usually one-sided.

Miranda began to tell me what rules I would have to follow while I belonged to her – and the other girls she lived with. First, she said, I would always have to obey the girls, without hesitation. Second, I would always be nude, except for a rather elaborate harness, which had numerous D-rings sticking out along every strap (I correctly assumed these were for bondage purposes).

After showing me the harness, she insisted I wear it. Reluctantly I stood up and slid into it. It fit really well, in fact, as though it were made for me. There were straps across my torso and shoulders, as well as my upper thighs. There was a collar, too. Across my hips was a leather band, with a narrow ring through which my dick protruded. The cockring was a little bit too small for me, and we both watched silently as my erection grew inside the ring, leaving me nearly erect even without stimulation. Another strap ran underneath my ballsack, pushing it up and holding it away from my body. The tension from this strap on my perineum was actually quite satisfying.

Once I was strapped into the harness, she put a comfortable, padded cuff around each wrist. These also had D-rings attached to them. When she seemed satisfied that they were firmly attached, she continued her discussion of the rules: in addition to obeying their instructions, I was encouraged to “be proactive” and take initiative to keep them satisfied, however I saw fit.

The rest of the day passed quickly. I felt uncomfortable in my harness, but I could tell it was mostly a psychological thing. It wasn’t physically uncomfortable, just unusual. It emphasized how little clothing I wore.

As the sun passed under the treeline and the sky turned a fiery red, Miranda put a blindfold on me and attached a leash to my collar. She tugged me out her door. I tried to walk confidently, but I really hadn’t paid much attention to the layout of the mansion, so I was I walked hesitantly; occasionally I stumbled and twice I stubbed my toe. I heard what sounded like an automatic door sliding open, and then a cool breeze. I could hear crickets chirping; it was nice to be outside after being cooped up indoors, but I didn’t know where I was, and I immediately became self-conscious about my outfit. Could cars see me from the street? Or was I in the backyard.

Miranda continued to lead me for a few minutes, then pulled down on the chain, forcing me to kneel, and positioned my body with my arms above my head. I was leaning against some sort of structure. She hooked the cuffs to something far above my head, then attached the D-rings on my torso and legs to some sort of scaffolding, so that my movement was greatly restricted. It was no secret to her that I found this enjoyable: my erection gave it away.

“Looks like you enjoy it when I take the lead, so to speak,” Miranda whispered, her breath hot on my ear. “I hope you enjoy the next part of the evening as much, too. Somehow, I think you will.”

In addition to the crickets, there was a sort of hushed whisper in the twilight. I was certain that I heard voices. Suddenly, without any notice, I felt another Masturbator (or was it the same one as before?_ slip over my cock and balls, where it was fastened.

Miranda whispered in my ear; I could tell she was smiling while she talked. "See? I told you you’d enjoy this. I guess I was right. I’ll be back in a while.” She playfully slapped my ass, and then I heard her footsteps retreating.

There was silence, and then I heard silverware clinking and dishes clattering, gradually growing noisier. There were muffled voices and quiet laughter. It sounded as if a group of people were eating.

The Masturbator began to pulse, increasing and decreasing pressure. It was fitted with a terrycloth liner that was almost painfully stimulating. As my arousal increased, its movements became more languid. Soon it stopped; the muscular spasms of my penis were enough to keep me on edge, as they forced my cockhead against the rough fabric. I would have thrust, in order to get off, but my hips were held firmly in place by the harness and scaffolding.

As time went on, my focus was increasingly on my erection, but occasionally loud bursts of laughter made me realize that there was a world beyond my arousal. Finally, though, everyone must have finished eating. The Masturbator stopped pulsing, and I could feel it slide away. Without the warm cocoon, the air felt cool against my wet erection. I heard Miranda talk.

“Ladies, this is your first formal introduction to our subject, Todd. Now he can’t see you, but I expect he knows you’ve been watching him. Do you like what you see?” There was some applause and someone shouted “I’ll like him better after he’s been here for two months.”

“Why don’t all of you come up here and really meet him?”

Soon the voices grew much louder and more distinct. They all sounded like women. The next thing I knew, I felt hands on my shoulders and chest, then more and more, sliding all over my body, pinching and slapping, massaging and rubbing. I couldn’t tell how many there were, but it felt like a lot. None of them indulged me and touched my cock, though, which was all I craved.

Finally, I heard Miranda suggest they go back to the table, and there was a disappointed murmer before the voices retreated and the hands disappeared.

Without any warning, Miranda ripped off the blindfold, and my eyes struggled to adjust, even to the dim light of the evening sky. When I could finally see clearly, I saw two tables filled with stunning girls; they must have been the roommates Miranda had talked about.

After an embarrassing (and to my mind gratuitous) series of toasts and speeches, Miranda finally unhooked my harness and hands from the metal framework I was attached to. Then she carefully folded my arms behind my back, fastening the cuffs to the harness so that my hands were twisted behind my shoulder blades, locked in place and barely moveable.

Then she tugged me down the steps and past the tables of women into the kitchen. Inside there was a huge mess of plates and cookery and a whole lot of wine glasses. She pulled out a tray from one of the drawers, and carefully attached it to the front of the harness on my chest so that it stuck out horizontally. The whole arrangement was actually quite stable, except that I couldn’t see where I was walking.

“Now Todd, dear,” Miranda began, “you can see that we don’t have any waiters here, so you’re going to have to do. We like to have drinks in the evening, you’re just going to need to bring them out. And these glasses are really expensive, you do NOT want to break them.”

With that she opened some wine and poured out several glassfuls, putting each glass on the tray. She put a few small snack dishes on the tray as well. Now that I was fully laden, she swatted my ass and I began to carefully edge towards the door.

Wine glasses aren’t the most stable vessels, so I had to be careful, but the flat kitchen floor wasn’t much of a problem. Once I got outside I had to edge down the stairs, though, and then across uneven patio bricks, which was nerve-wracking. When I finally made it to the other girls, they helped themselves to drinks and hors d’oeuvres, some giving my cock a gentle tug or flick.

I returned to the kitchen to get another load, taking two or three loads out. On the final load, right before I reached the table, one of the girls jumped up and ran over to me. She was a blonde, a bit more muscular than the other girls but with bountiful cleavage readily apparent through her thin summer evening dress.

“So Todd, I have a question for you,” she asked coyly. “Are you ticklish?”

Without waiting for an answer, she began to tickle my stomach. With my arms pinned behind my back, I couldn’t stop her, and my stomach was actually pushed forward a bit, even more sensitive than usual.

I couldn’t walk away from the torment, and I certainly didn’t want to chance a punishment, so I had to keep the tray perfectly still. I was able to move a little bit to escape her long nails, but for all intents and purposes I was fixed in place.

The most humiliating part of being tickled is that while you’re suffering so much, you appear to be enjoying it – and it robs you of your dignity, and that must have been the case with me. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the girls watching me while they enjoyed their drinks. Even while I tried not to move, I had an enormous smile and I couldn’t stop chuckling. I would have been laughing hysterically, but I was trying to keep my breathing under control.

The girl kept tickling me for several minutes, and soon the strain grew too much for me. I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and cheeks. And I knew that within a minute or two I’d have to get away. Perhaps sensing I was reaching the end of my tether, the girl gave one final light swipe across my stomach, up across my ribs, and then grabbed a glass of wine.

As she sauntered back to the table, the rest of the girls turned and started talking as if nothing had happened. I tottered slowly back towards the table, trying to recover my wits. Perhaps the worst thing about the episode, as no fewer than three of the girls pointed out to me, was how hard it had made me.

I continued in my capacity as party helper and plaything for the duration of the evening, getting a feel for what my role with the group would be, and I’m certain, dripping precum across the patio.

Finally after an hour the girls began to turn in while Miranda finished cleaning up in the kitchen... finally, it was only myself and a porcelain-skinned girl with silky black hair left outside. She was sitting at the table reading a paperback, glass of wine in hand. I’d kept my eye on this girl the whole night. She had a different attitude from the more vacuous valley-girl air of the other girls. As the evening had calmed down she’d even pulled out the book and ignored the festivities.

I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I couldn’t help Miranda put the dishes in the washer with my arms fastened behind my back, and I couldn’t sit down comfortably either. In fact, there was little to do, but stand awkwardly by the back door to the mansion. I wasn’t even sure what way to look. I didn’t want to appear rude by staring at the girl while she was trying to read, but at the same time I couldn’t just ignore her entirely.

Finally, she shut the book at glanced around. She grinned when she saw me. Standing up, she walked over.

“Hi! My names Zooey,” she held out her hand, as if to shake, while looking me in the eye. There was an awkward moment when she realized that my arms were fastened behind my back. Her hand still out and clearly embarrassed, she pretended that she had meant to remove the tray from my harness.

“Here, uh, let me get that for you. There, that’s more comfortable, right? Oh – oh my, you’re in quite a state.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise, but she was right. I hadn’t seen my cock all night, since the tray on the harness had blocked my view, but it was purple, veiny, and leaking. I’d never seen it look so desperate.

“What did you think of the night? Quite an experience, huh?”

I replied that I hadn’t really thought about it, I had been too busy trying not to drop one of the expensive wine glasses.

“What, these glasses?” she held up the one she had been drinking from, then tossed it over her shoulder. I heard it shatter on the ground. “Don’t look so surprised! These glasses were from a department store, they were really cheap. You didn’t really think they were heirlooms or something did you? Oh, I’m sorry, you look so sad. Don’t worry, you did a great job.”

Then she gently grabbed my chin and kissed me. It's a strange thing, having been so teased and put into wild sexual positions formerly unknown to me, but that kiss was so sweet and romantic, and exactly what I needed that it felt more real than anything else. She licked her finger for lubrication and gently scratched under the crown of my cock with the back of her index finger, as though she were scratching behind a dog's ears, and then walked back to her bedroom, leaving me standing breathless. I know it’s a cliché, but my knees felt weak.

Miranda returned from cleaning the kitchen and we went back to her bedroom. There she stripped me, except for the cockrings, to which I would soon grow accustomed, blindfolded me, fastened my now-customary handcuffs to the corners of the bed, and let me fall asleep.

Even sleep was no bastion of platonic tranquility. I've never been able to remember much about my dreams - normally a curse, as I always wake up grasping for a way to remember them. Now, though, it was a wonderful gift. What little I remember is dreaming of porn plots, where the nurse, schoolgirl - even the cashier or clerk would flirt and display majestic, unreachable charms. I don't remember anything beyond their absurd unreality and the fact that I began to see myself naked in every dream - now I know why other people dread these dreams, as they left me feeling uneasy and restless even after a full night's sleep.

The cause of all this was Miranda, and, later, a few of the other girls. Staying up until all hours of the night, she’d watch the late shows – infomercials, even. Meanwhile, laying next to me, she’d give some slight attention to my cock, using it as a simple diversion when the dialog got repetitive or commercials came on.

[Jabber]

This is great writing. You know just the right balance between telling the sexy details and developing the characters needed for an erotic story. I hope you keep on writing new parts of the story., and also that you at some point post it in other places where it gets a wider audience. Your story really deserves it.