Indentured: Part V
Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 6:11 am
This is the fifth part of the story "Indentured." Thanks for all the comments. Responses are always appreciated.
----
"After Miranda introduced you to us last night, I couldn't wait to try you out," were Kim’s first words to me, once we were alone. "I've needed a man's honest opinion on a lot of things, and it feels like it's been so long since I've really had the opportunity to work someone over. So this is like Christmas for me."I nodded silently, trying to maintain eye contact and avoid her deep, bouncing cleavage. I didn't want to give her more leverage over me than she already had. Luckily, she seemed oblivious to my internal conflicts. After she finished her brief speech (which I think she had sort of planned ahead of time, it had a rehearsed quality that was endearing), she motioned me to sit in a desk chair in the middle of the room. She got out some rope and bound each arm at the wrist and elbow, and my knees and ankles.
"Ok, try to get loose," she commanded imperiously. I made a half-hearted effort to shimmy out of the bonds. "Oh, please, you're not really trying."She leaned over and began to stroke me - the nice, long, deep strokes that Miranda had avoided for so long. I sighed and closed my eyes, focusing on the intense stimulation. But she was slowing down as time went on, and I began to arch my back, pressing forward. I even wiggled my feet to push the chair forward, but to no avail. When I had just hit the edge she stopped, and I strained my arms and shoulders trying to touch anything, even -please- just a fingertip to my cock. Nothing. I tried wiggling my hips, so that the tip of my cock would touch something, anything, solid enough to get me off. Nothing."Yay!" she clapped, "That's what I wanted you to do. Now I know we can get started."I guess she wanted to get a "man's honest opinion" of her wardrobe, because she began a fashion show. In the middle of the room she had set up one of those folding walls of oriental origin; she would retreat behind it to change each outfit. On the far side of the room was a light, which silhouetted her as she changed. The barrier itself was only about shoulder-height. Whenever she raised her hands to put on a shirt, prayed that it would raise her breasts enough to take a peek - but of course it never did. I only saw the shadow they cast on the folding wall. She started out wearing conservative outfits; over the next hour they grew risqué and then downright obscene.
She'd ask my opinion of each outfit, but I think she was really using the size of my dick as a measure of arousal. If I was very approving, she'd give me a few brief strokes until a drop of precum bubbled to the tip of my cock. She separated her outfits into three piles: unattractive, attractive, and "hot," although frankly she looked great in all of them. The hot ones had caused my jaw to drop, among other things. They had an obvious effect on both my cock, which danced after she sidled around the folding wall, and my brain, which told me to spout inanities. The second-to-last outfit, a swimsuit, was the hottest. She walked into full view, still adjusting the bikini top, which caused her breasts to jiggle as the cups settled into place. She had what appeared to be a knit top on, and an elegant plain white bikini bottom. The knit top had lots and lots of little holes in it - and yet, impossibly, I couldn't see through it. Each wool triangle was small and sat so low on her monstrous breasts, it seemed as though the delicate string that held them up would snap (and how I prayed that it would!) or that a nipple would at least pop out. Since this was the best view of her breasts I had seen, I drank it all in. They looked soft, round and pillowy - yet firm enough that they didn't really spill out of the swimsuit top. I longed to touch the milky, cream-colored flesh, pale enough to see a few blue veins through - like veins in a fine cheese. My cock reacted to the sight of her by ejaculating a full load of precum.
She giggled and jumped up and down, causing her breasts to jiggle precariously in the swimsuit. "Hey Mikey, he likes it!" Following my eyes, it must have been obvious that I was staring straight at her chest.
"That's so rude, staring straight at my tits," she acted offended. "You know that's rude." As she scolded me, I struggled to keep my eyes locked on hers, but she slowly leaned over and brought her arms close to her sides, pushing her boobs together and forward; finally I couldn't hold out any longer and took in their full beauty."I'll punish you for this later," she exclaimed happily, then spun around and dashed behind the privacy screen.
A few minutes later she came out wearing a tan strapless top that strained at the seams. It was probably a B-cup, and clearly much too small for her D- or E-cup breasts. It looked painful to me, but it also made my cock painfully hard. Maybe that was worth it to her.
"Gosh, Todd, I just can't seem to find anything large enough to hold my boobs. Do you mind if I wear something a bit smaller? I'll do it for you, even though it makes me a little uncomfortable," she said breathlessly. Indeed, she had to hold the ties to keep the suit from bursting. Even so, it rode low enough that I could nearly see her nipples. The cleavage was amazing.
Of course, I didn't mind what she was wearing. In the future, in private, she would virtually always wear one of these two swimsuits, flaunting her attributes in front of me. Now though, she finally released me from the chair; I was getting sore after an hour and a half of seeing her in these outfits.
She motioned me over to her bed, where she tied me down again. With Kim, I was also always tied down with my head propped up, so I could view my cock as she went through her motions. Her philosophy seemed to be that, if I could see what she was doing to stimulate me , but couldn't stop it, then I'd be most turned on - and who was I to argue with her? She certainly seemed to be onto something, because her teasing sessions, beginning with this one, were quite intense.
In fact, Kim seemed to enjoy tying me down a great bit, and, with her knot-tying abilities and skill with rope, I was sure she had been a girl scout. In the future, when I had begun to adjust to the constant pressure in my cock, I began to notice that she took her time tying the knots, and that her panties would sometimes be wet by the time she finished. Of course, she was thorough, and she knew exactly what she was doing, tying very complex knots. I wasn't just tied spreadeagled, my knees were secured by a rope under the bed, my torso was tied down, and there was a web of other ropes that kept me in place. About the only movement I could get was shifting my weight around and trying to let the bedsprings move me.
Satisfied with her work, she began working on something else. She grabbed a big pile of blankets and began to slowly wrap each one around my shaft, leaving the head exposed. She had a pretty thick layer finally, extending up m stomach and down to my thighs. The head of my penis poked out the top."You're not going to like this, Todd," she warned me. "And I don't take any pleasure in it. But it has to be done. And just be glad Nikkala isn't in charge of it."I was getting worried.She rummaged through a box next to the bed and pulled out about 5 samples of fabric."I'm going to have to polish you, in order to make you more sensitive. Basically, I'm going to 'tenderize' your cockhead with these bits of cloth. First, we've got a rough terrycloth. That's probably going to hurt. Then this bit of denim. After that, it's this stuff, and then some t-shirt fabric. We'll end with some silk. That shouldn't be too bad, right?
She was wrong. It all felt bad. She spent 5 minutes with each swatch, rubbing it back and forth and in circles around the head of my cock, gradually increasing her speed. It was painful and stimulating at the same time. And by the time she finished, the next, less coarse fabric would hurt just as much. By the end, even the silk was painful. After just a few minutes the stimulation was just torture; I began bucking all over the place, but the tight bondage had no give."Aww, poor little boy," she said to me, "he doesn't like that, does he? Does Toddy-poo hurt?" she rubbed the denim extra-fast. It was clear that she took some satisfaction in seeing me writhe. When she finally stopped, I was crying like a child from the over-stimulation. Finally, though, she was done. "That wasn't so bad," she said jokingly. I just stared at her, too furious to respond. My cock was a bright, tender red color. She slowly unwrapped the fabric. Then she tried stroking my new, more sensitive shaft. It was strange: the shaft itself was normal, but as soon as her fingers reached the head of my cock, the stimulation was incredibly intense - perhaps two or three times as much as it was before. She was remarkably gentle, but I was gasping almost immediately. And she was just trying things out.
Finally she stopped and I sank into the bed as though someone had cut the marionette strings that held me straining against my bonds. I hadn't realized that my muscles were so tense from trying to escape from my bondage. I myself didn't mind enjoying the pause, however brief it might be. And brief it was. She walked around to the bottom of the bed, and crawled up to my cock as I stared at the spacious valley of her cleavage. I thought she was going to give me a blowjob, but she crawled a little further. Then she lay down and squeezed my cock between her unbelievably soft tits, causing it to spasm wildly and my entire torso to clench reflexively. When she released it, I felt as though something dear to me, something perfect, had been stolen. I almost felt empty. Although the stimulation itself was maddening, when it disappeared it was definitely felt worse.
This was a segue into the real tour de force. Kim already looked like a goddess to me – I’m a tit man, after all. And, believe me, her tits felt great. Now she tossed a blanket over my face; it was followed by the swimsuit top. Then she began to rub her nipple across my urethra, while pressing the rest of my cockhead into her breast – I’d never felt anything quite as wonderful. And I could tell she was getting off on this as much as me, because that nipple could have cut diamonds. Within a few minutes, she would get off on my tongue anyway, moaning in perfect satisfaction as she did so.
In the evening, we repeated the previous night's on-stage routine, but I was never blindfolded. If anything, this was even more humiliating than before, as I tried not to look at anyone, Zooey most of all. My cheeks burned as the masturbator slowly pumped up and down, keeping me on edge. All my attention was drawn to two things: the humiliation I felt and how great my dick felt. Closing my eyes didn’t help either, as I just ended up visualizing Kim’s cleavage from earlier that day.
When all the girls were done with the meal, and talking casually together, Kim tapped her glass with a spoon, getting everyone's attention."I have an announcement to make. As we discussed, I went over his cock, 'polishing his knob.' He really didn't like it much, but it worked wonders. He was way more sensitive afterwards... I had to be really careful that he didn't cum. I think we need to do it every few weeks to keep him primed up." I stared at her and shuddered, hoping against hope that someone would intervene. But they all basically nodded and congratulated Kim. Even Zooey looked pleased.
As the other girls slowly drifted away, Zooey remained seated, focused intently on me. She just stared me down. It’s a strange thing, but when you know someone is staring at you, try as you might you can’t look away. Sure, you’ll glance in the corner, or look down or shield your eyes. But in the end, you’re always drawn back to the observer – and so it was with me.
I felt bashful, restrained on stage as I was, yet I couldn’t avoid Zooey’s gaze.
When we were again alone, Zooey sidled up. She was even more forward now than the evening before.
“Hey there cowboy,” she said. “I know that what you want most is to be allowed to cum. And I know that what you want least is to be played with even more. It’s funny how similar each desire is. Just touching you for a minute would make you miserable, but touching for a little longer would make you really happy. I’d like to make you happy… but I can’t. So I’m going to make you miserable. Believe me, if I was making the decisions here, you’d be spurting all the time. But I’m not, so neither are you.”
Now she reached out and used her pinky to massage just under the head. We both watched quietly as my cock grew harder and harder, the tip oozing and the veins pulsing, while she manipulated a square centimeter of skin. Finally, when I was about to explode, she pulled her finger off the magic spot.
“You deserve a reward for that,” she said. And she leaned in and gave me a full kiss – unlike the night before, this was with tongue. When she was done, she turned and walked away, leaving me naked and desperate on the podium.
----
"After Miranda introduced you to us last night, I couldn't wait to try you out," were Kim’s first words to me, once we were alone. "I've needed a man's honest opinion on a lot of things, and it feels like it's been so long since I've really had the opportunity to work someone over. So this is like Christmas for me."I nodded silently, trying to maintain eye contact and avoid her deep, bouncing cleavage. I didn't want to give her more leverage over me than she already had. Luckily, she seemed oblivious to my internal conflicts. After she finished her brief speech (which I think she had sort of planned ahead of time, it had a rehearsed quality that was endearing), she motioned me to sit in a desk chair in the middle of the room. She got out some rope and bound each arm at the wrist and elbow, and my knees and ankles.
"Ok, try to get loose," she commanded imperiously. I made a half-hearted effort to shimmy out of the bonds. "Oh, please, you're not really trying."She leaned over and began to stroke me - the nice, long, deep strokes that Miranda had avoided for so long. I sighed and closed my eyes, focusing on the intense stimulation. But she was slowing down as time went on, and I began to arch my back, pressing forward. I even wiggled my feet to push the chair forward, but to no avail. When I had just hit the edge she stopped, and I strained my arms and shoulders trying to touch anything, even -please- just a fingertip to my cock. Nothing. I tried wiggling my hips, so that the tip of my cock would touch something, anything, solid enough to get me off. Nothing."Yay!" she clapped, "That's what I wanted you to do. Now I know we can get started."I guess she wanted to get a "man's honest opinion" of her wardrobe, because she began a fashion show. In the middle of the room she had set up one of those folding walls of oriental origin; she would retreat behind it to change each outfit. On the far side of the room was a light, which silhouetted her as she changed. The barrier itself was only about shoulder-height. Whenever she raised her hands to put on a shirt, prayed that it would raise her breasts enough to take a peek - but of course it never did. I only saw the shadow they cast on the folding wall. She started out wearing conservative outfits; over the next hour they grew risqué and then downright obscene.
She'd ask my opinion of each outfit, but I think she was really using the size of my dick as a measure of arousal. If I was very approving, she'd give me a few brief strokes until a drop of precum bubbled to the tip of my cock. She separated her outfits into three piles: unattractive, attractive, and "hot," although frankly she looked great in all of them. The hot ones had caused my jaw to drop, among other things. They had an obvious effect on both my cock, which danced after she sidled around the folding wall, and my brain, which told me to spout inanities. The second-to-last outfit, a swimsuit, was the hottest. She walked into full view, still adjusting the bikini top, which caused her breasts to jiggle as the cups settled into place. She had what appeared to be a knit top on, and an elegant plain white bikini bottom. The knit top had lots and lots of little holes in it - and yet, impossibly, I couldn't see through it. Each wool triangle was small and sat so low on her monstrous breasts, it seemed as though the delicate string that held them up would snap (and how I prayed that it would!) or that a nipple would at least pop out. Since this was the best view of her breasts I had seen, I drank it all in. They looked soft, round and pillowy - yet firm enough that they didn't really spill out of the swimsuit top. I longed to touch the milky, cream-colored flesh, pale enough to see a few blue veins through - like veins in a fine cheese. My cock reacted to the sight of her by ejaculating a full load of precum.
She giggled and jumped up and down, causing her breasts to jiggle precariously in the swimsuit. "Hey Mikey, he likes it!" Following my eyes, it must have been obvious that I was staring straight at her chest.
"That's so rude, staring straight at my tits," she acted offended. "You know that's rude." As she scolded me, I struggled to keep my eyes locked on hers, but she slowly leaned over and brought her arms close to her sides, pushing her boobs together and forward; finally I couldn't hold out any longer and took in their full beauty."I'll punish you for this later," she exclaimed happily, then spun around and dashed behind the privacy screen.
A few minutes later she came out wearing a tan strapless top that strained at the seams. It was probably a B-cup, and clearly much too small for her D- or E-cup breasts. It looked painful to me, but it also made my cock painfully hard. Maybe that was worth it to her.
"Gosh, Todd, I just can't seem to find anything large enough to hold my boobs. Do you mind if I wear something a bit smaller? I'll do it for you, even though it makes me a little uncomfortable," she said breathlessly. Indeed, she had to hold the ties to keep the suit from bursting. Even so, it rode low enough that I could nearly see her nipples. The cleavage was amazing.
Of course, I didn't mind what she was wearing. In the future, in private, she would virtually always wear one of these two swimsuits, flaunting her attributes in front of me. Now though, she finally released me from the chair; I was getting sore after an hour and a half of seeing her in these outfits.
She motioned me over to her bed, where she tied me down again. With Kim, I was also always tied down with my head propped up, so I could view my cock as she went through her motions. Her philosophy seemed to be that, if I could see what she was doing to stimulate me , but couldn't stop it, then I'd be most turned on - and who was I to argue with her? She certainly seemed to be onto something, because her teasing sessions, beginning with this one, were quite intense.
In fact, Kim seemed to enjoy tying me down a great bit, and, with her knot-tying abilities and skill with rope, I was sure she had been a girl scout. In the future, when I had begun to adjust to the constant pressure in my cock, I began to notice that she took her time tying the knots, and that her panties would sometimes be wet by the time she finished. Of course, she was thorough, and she knew exactly what she was doing, tying very complex knots. I wasn't just tied spreadeagled, my knees were secured by a rope under the bed, my torso was tied down, and there was a web of other ropes that kept me in place. About the only movement I could get was shifting my weight around and trying to let the bedsprings move me.
Satisfied with her work, she began working on something else. She grabbed a big pile of blankets and began to slowly wrap each one around my shaft, leaving the head exposed. She had a pretty thick layer finally, extending up m stomach and down to my thighs. The head of my penis poked out the top."You're not going to like this, Todd," she warned me. "And I don't take any pleasure in it. But it has to be done. And just be glad Nikkala isn't in charge of it."I was getting worried.She rummaged through a box next to the bed and pulled out about 5 samples of fabric."I'm going to have to polish you, in order to make you more sensitive. Basically, I'm going to 'tenderize' your cockhead with these bits of cloth. First, we've got a rough terrycloth. That's probably going to hurt. Then this bit of denim. After that, it's this stuff, and then some t-shirt fabric. We'll end with some silk. That shouldn't be too bad, right?
She was wrong. It all felt bad. She spent 5 minutes with each swatch, rubbing it back and forth and in circles around the head of my cock, gradually increasing her speed. It was painful and stimulating at the same time. And by the time she finished, the next, less coarse fabric would hurt just as much. By the end, even the silk was painful. After just a few minutes the stimulation was just torture; I began bucking all over the place, but the tight bondage had no give."Aww, poor little boy," she said to me, "he doesn't like that, does he? Does Toddy-poo hurt?" she rubbed the denim extra-fast. It was clear that she took some satisfaction in seeing me writhe. When she finally stopped, I was crying like a child from the over-stimulation. Finally, though, she was done. "That wasn't so bad," she said jokingly. I just stared at her, too furious to respond. My cock was a bright, tender red color. She slowly unwrapped the fabric. Then she tried stroking my new, more sensitive shaft. It was strange: the shaft itself was normal, but as soon as her fingers reached the head of my cock, the stimulation was incredibly intense - perhaps two or three times as much as it was before. She was remarkably gentle, but I was gasping almost immediately. And she was just trying things out.
Finally she stopped and I sank into the bed as though someone had cut the marionette strings that held me straining against my bonds. I hadn't realized that my muscles were so tense from trying to escape from my bondage. I myself didn't mind enjoying the pause, however brief it might be. And brief it was. She walked around to the bottom of the bed, and crawled up to my cock as I stared at the spacious valley of her cleavage. I thought she was going to give me a blowjob, but she crawled a little further. Then she lay down and squeezed my cock between her unbelievably soft tits, causing it to spasm wildly and my entire torso to clench reflexively. When she released it, I felt as though something dear to me, something perfect, had been stolen. I almost felt empty. Although the stimulation itself was maddening, when it disappeared it was definitely felt worse.
This was a segue into the real tour de force. Kim already looked like a goddess to me – I’m a tit man, after all. And, believe me, her tits felt great. Now she tossed a blanket over my face; it was followed by the swimsuit top. Then she began to rub her nipple across my urethra, while pressing the rest of my cockhead into her breast – I’d never felt anything quite as wonderful. And I could tell she was getting off on this as much as me, because that nipple could have cut diamonds. Within a few minutes, she would get off on my tongue anyway, moaning in perfect satisfaction as she did so.
In the evening, we repeated the previous night's on-stage routine, but I was never blindfolded. If anything, this was even more humiliating than before, as I tried not to look at anyone, Zooey most of all. My cheeks burned as the masturbator slowly pumped up and down, keeping me on edge. All my attention was drawn to two things: the humiliation I felt and how great my dick felt. Closing my eyes didn’t help either, as I just ended up visualizing Kim’s cleavage from earlier that day.
When all the girls were done with the meal, and talking casually together, Kim tapped her glass with a spoon, getting everyone's attention."I have an announcement to make. As we discussed, I went over his cock, 'polishing his knob.' He really didn't like it much, but it worked wonders. He was way more sensitive afterwards... I had to be really careful that he didn't cum. I think we need to do it every few weeks to keep him primed up." I stared at her and shuddered, hoping against hope that someone would intervene. But they all basically nodded and congratulated Kim. Even Zooey looked pleased.
As the other girls slowly drifted away, Zooey remained seated, focused intently on me. She just stared me down. It’s a strange thing, but when you know someone is staring at you, try as you might you can’t look away. Sure, you’ll glance in the corner, or look down or shield your eyes. But in the end, you’re always drawn back to the observer – and so it was with me.
I felt bashful, restrained on stage as I was, yet I couldn’t avoid Zooey’s gaze.
When we were again alone, Zooey sidled up. She was even more forward now than the evening before.
“Hey there cowboy,” she said. “I know that what you want most is to be allowed to cum. And I know that what you want least is to be played with even more. It’s funny how similar each desire is. Just touching you for a minute would make you miserable, but touching for a little longer would make you really happy. I’d like to make you happy… but I can’t. So I’m going to make you miserable. Believe me, if I was making the decisions here, you’d be spurting all the time. But I’m not, so neither are you.”
Now she reached out and used her pinky to massage just under the head. We both watched quietly as my cock grew harder and harder, the tip oozing and the veins pulsing, while she manipulated a square centimeter of skin. Finally, when I was about to explode, she pulled her finger off the magic spot.
“You deserve a reward for that,” she said. And she leaned in and gave me a full kiss – unlike the night before, this was with tongue. When she was done, she turned and walked away, leaving me naked and desperate on the podium.