Jamie's Rule Book Part 4

Jamie's Rule Book Part 1

Jamie's Rule Book Part 2

Jamie's Rule Book Part 3

“Stop being so sulky,” she told me the next morning, Saturday, in the car outside of Rosylind’s house.

I refused to look at her and pulled away when her hand hovered into my line of sight. “It’s fine.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that I’m pissed but you’re not going to care or understand why.”

She shrugged. “That’s fair enough. Come on though. You’ll get to hang out with Berry.”

I shook my head. “I don’t like Berry. I tell you that every time we come over here.”

She flicked my arm. “You don’t like Berry after what Rosylind had him do for you last time?”

I didn’t want to think about that. I shuddered when I saw his doughy face. “Hey, Lance,” hey greeted me. 

He said to my girlfriend, “The girls are out back with a pitcher of Mui Tais. You just let me know when you run out, okay?”

“What’s new with you, Berry?”

He started to prattle on about some bullshit he’d seen on TV. I stopped paying attention after a few minutes but thankfully for both of us, Berry either couldn’t tell the difference between attention and total indifference or else no longer cared. I busied myself throwing together some sauces for a marinade.

When I stepped outside for a drink I was greeted by ten staring eyes. My wife’s gang sat around a metal table with Steve, the token guy. Steve’s real name was Stefano Raul Vesquelez but everyone called him Steve. His long dancer’s legs were stretched out over Rosylind’s lap casually. I’d never seen her allow a man to touch her instead of her touching him except Steve. His dancing had earned their respect and now he was just one of the girls. That said, he was rarely invited out shopping or really any events that didn’t involve drinking. “Hey there, Lance,” he said. “How are you this morning?”

I glanced around the yard as I approached. “I’ve been better.”

Rachel coughed and Evie kicked her under the table. Steve, sharp as a spoon, asked innocently, “Did you have a big night last night?”

Evie stifled her giggle but the damage was already done and all the girls were rolling with laughter, even Jamie, after a bit. “What? What?” Steve asked.

I finished filling my glass and made a bee-line for the screen door to the kitchen but Rachel stopped me, asking, “Wait a second. You didn’t answer Steve’s question.”

Rosylind giggled from behind her hands, “was it big, Lance?”

“I- my- Jamie there,” I indicated with an extended arm, eyes glued to my shoes, “Jamie milked me.”

“Milked your ass?” clarified Steve.

“Yes, my ass,” I said.

“And…?” encouraged Rachel.

“And she had sex with Brad,” I squeaked.

Rosylind put a hand on Steve’s arm, asking, “You know Brad?”

“I know Brad,” said Steve.

Jamie snorted and looked off to her right, taking a drag of a joint and passing it to Evie.

“And…?” persisted Rachel.

“And I c-“ my voice caught on the word- “cleaned out my Princess after.”

Steve finally broke into a hearty laugh even though his hand shot to his mouth as soon as it started. “Okay,” he said between breaths, “that is pretty bad.” As he giggled his white A-shirt drifted up his supine torso, exposing his rippling abs. These dancers were always in such good shape.

When the laughter subsided, I asked, “May I start cooking lunch now?”

Jamie responded, “Let us get another drink in and then start it up.” I turned on the grill to begin warming and returned inside.

I added the meats from the fridge to the marinade bowl while Berry excitedly explained his college volleyball bracket for the season. I washed my hands and relined on the kitchen island holding my drink with both hands, eyeing Berry suspiciously. He had the loose, vealy tone to his flesh and although his skin was naturally darker than mine, indoors it had paled to a yellowy brown. This is what marriage does to you, I thought. I can’t become some homebound nitterer. I can’t.

I gulped down my drink to both limit my exposure to Berry’s running mouth and dull the embarrassment. When I approached the screen door it banged open with a kick of Rachel’s foot. She shot past me, out the front door. After her came Stefano, shrieking as Evie nipped pinches at his butt. Rosylind followed at a jog and finally Jamie. “We’ll be back in ten, maybe fifteen minutes. We’ll be right back.”

Perplexed, I wandered out back and put the meat on the grill. I sat in the shade of the umbrella at the table and sipped on the half-finished mai tais. Fucking Jamie always dragged me to stupid shit like this, made me hang out with some empty-headed boy while she went off someplace fun with her friends. As if I would have anything in common with Berry. Doughy, soft, boring, inoffensive Berry. I hated the silent parts, the waiting, the wondering. What was Jamie doing?

Before long the meat was cooked but the girls were nowhere to be found. I piled the grilled meat, dripping juices, onto a plate and covered it with aluminum foil. Eventually Berry waddled out and sat with me, burbling on about his mansercize group. Honestly I preferred the company of just the meat.

Finally we heard earth-rumbling percussion of Rachel’s car returning. Berry, always a little puppy, bounded inside to greet his wife. I kept my seat until Berry’s face appeared at the screen door, saying, “Your girlfriend wants you.”

That was not a phrase I’d heard much lately. When I got inside I heard Steve calling out in a high sing-song voice, “Oh Lance. Your lady requests you upstairs.” A chorus of girlish chuckles followed. I could never tell if Stephano’s lisp was an accent of a speech impediment or what.

I replied as I climbed the stairs, “Okay, but the food’s been ready. We need to eat it before-“ I stopped short at the sight down the hallway. My girlfriend sat on the edge of Rosylind’s bed wearing only an oversized shirt with a long, open neck that exposed her right shoulder. She locked eyes with me and beckoned with a smile. Evie and Rachel sat together in a sofa on one side of the bedroom looking hot and tossled, sharing giggles and glassy stares. Rosylind leaned against the other wall, watching me intently, and Steve lay on the bed behind Jamie.

Rosylind spoke first, “We have a present for you, buddy.” Steve giggled at that.

He said, “Look at your skin, Jamie. You’re glowing.”

Evie chimed in, “Didn’t I tell you he was great.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” giggled Rachel, twirling a wavy golden lock of hair in her finger.

I spoke, my voice small and hollow. “I don’t understand, Jamie. Why are you doing this to me? We were… happy.” Were we?

“Don’t be like that. We decided-“ It took to the first C of decided for me to realize she was sloshed. How did she get drunk so fast, I wondered but then it hit me: we were set up. One of the girls had planned this. “- to give you a chance to get free. Isn’t that nice of us? Didn’t you want to cum?”

“Jamie, this is-“ I started but was cut off by Rosylind.

“Oh, you don’t want to cum?” Rosylind asked flatly.

“I- of course- Jamie, this isn’t right. You can’t just-“

Rachel undercut me, laughing, “Well she did.”

Jamie made a sympathetic face and reached out to me. She refused to take my hands when I offered them and instead reached for my head. She said, “I want to do something nice for you, but you have to impress me. You have to get my question right.” She pulled me in, closer and closer to her sopping cunt, half obscured by the cotton shirt.

“No, no, no” I was saying. Her hands prevented me from shaking my head.

“If you can tell me whose cum it is, I’ll let you cum. Right in front of my girlfriends. Doesn’t that sound nice?” I tried once more but it was too late. My face made contact with her hot, cum-filled sex, wet and reeking from the mingling of body juices. The taste made me gag a little at first, but no one noticed. She tasted of salt and body odor and the cum was fresh.

Rachel moaned, “Oh my god he was so big!”

Evie nodded, “Right? He’s the best.”

Rosylind cut in, “Don’t spoil the game. Come on now.”

Rachel didn’t care, saying, “I can’t believe I never tried him before.”

Evie remarked, “I’ve been telling you.”

All this I heard muffled by Jamie’s thick thighs that squeezed and then released my head as her fingers on my scalp compelled me into her deeper and deeper. Jamie was too focused on the warm softness of my tongue to join the conversation but I knew she’d be praising some other man for her current pleasure.

“You’re going to turn me on making all those noises, girl,” said Rosylind.

Finally Jamie pulled me back by my hair and I sat on my heels between her legs staring up at her. She wiped my moist face and smiled. “Well?”

I shrugged and looked down. My lips curled into a pout. Was I going to cry? “I don’t- I can’t-“ I started blubbering.

“A boy who doesn’t like to cum,” remarked Rachel. “Didn’t think I’d ever see that.”

Rosylind asked Jamie, “I thought you said he didn’t get out ever anymore.”

Jamie nodded, saying airily, “But only for the last week.”

Rosylind tutted. “Maybe he’s not hungry enough.”

I let out an exasperated moan. The only guys I knew were Brad and Evan. Who was that other guy? Andrew? Archer? I regretted my habit of filtering out the ladies’ boy talk. None of them stuck around for long. Archer? I peer past Jamie’s leg at Steve. He was smiling and kept touching Jamie’s hair and sides, but he seemed too awake. Besides, he was a brother to them. Who has the biggest dick? I asked myself, but of course I didn’t know. Brad’s wasn’t much bigger than mine. The cum certainly tasted more like Brad’s then Evan’s.  “Brad?” I guessed.

Jamie made a surprised face for a long moment and then it cracked into a smile. Laughter rose from the women, everyone but Steve. Jamie too broke into a guttural guffawing and laid back on the bed giggling. I stared at her glistening sex, watching her stomach rise and fall. I felt stupid and inferior. Jamie sat back up and between peals of giggles and wiping away tears from her eyes she said, “How can you… you were there! Brad’s not… I’m not having sex with Brad ever again.”

Rosylind howled, “Did you send him packing?”

Jamie shouted, “He was there!”

That sent a fresh round of laughter through the girls. Rosylind was in disbelief. “He watched him fail and he still guessed Brad?” Jamie buried me back in her pussy as the laughter rocked through her, ab muscles pulsing. Her joy morphed into a lustier moaning and she laid back on the bed, wrapping her thighs around my head.

Steve looked her down and said, “Damn girl, how many times are you going to cum today?”

“Stephen,” said Rosylind, getting up to hit him. He yelped when she slapped his face. “Don’t be a bitch.”

Stephen rubbed his face distrustfully. Evie shouted over Jamie’s moaning, “He’s just jealous.”

“Aaah,” Jamie moaned, “that’s the… uhhh… good boy. Gooooood.”

Rosylind asked Steve, “Is that it? Jealousy?”

Steve played dumb. “I don’t know what you girls mean. I’m not-“

“-Jealous you didn’t get to cum,” responded Rosylind. “We let Arthur have a go on you but you didn’t get to cum.”

Arthur, I thought to myself. I should have known. The taste of his cum had been almost entirely replaced by the more familiar flavor of Jamie’s growing horniness.

Steve pretended to be uncertain. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t.” Nervousness started to well in his throat.

Rachel whined from deep in the sofa, “You never want to play with us, Steve? Why don’t you like to play?”

Steve got to his feet carefully and backed up the short distance he had to the wall. “I don’t really like games,” he said, his ass still sore from the game minutes ago.

Suddenly Evie announced, “I want to see him cum in Lance’s ass.”

“Hmm,” considered Rosylind. All of the girls watched me for a moment, voraciously eating Jamie’s snatch in the vain hope that she’s stop the growing consensus. Jamie writhed on the bed, spasms of pleasure gripping her legs now and then. I worked my face up and down, anything to get her off. Anything I could do from this position.

Rachel said wistfully, “I’ve never seen Lance get fucked.”

Evie’s eyes lit up. “Oh well you have to then. He makes these noises. Like these little ‘no’s but you can tell it’s actually a ‘don’t stop.’”

Rosylind guffawed. “It’s true. He goes ‘no no no no.’ It’s so cute.” Then, without hesitation she shouted to the door, “Berry, lube.”

I started to say something, tried to pull back but Jamie noticed immediately and drew me in tighter with a “No no no no.”

Rosylind advanced on Steve and he said, “I really don’t know girls. I… uh.” He was saying no but I could hear a second voice taking over. I knew the sensation well. Every reasonable part of you knows it might end poorly, but the deeper, animal voice just wants to cum. I knew what happened when I listened to that voice, and yet seeming every time cumming was an option…

Berry arrived at the door holding a platter of lube. I back for a moment when I heard the door squeal open. He tip-toed in nervously, cautiously. I caught his eye for a moment and we shared a look of regret. Just one week ago Berry was in my position and I in Steve’s. We both looked away, Berry in shame and I at Jamie’s insistence. “Stop it,” she commanded. “Make me… oh… make me…” She seemed to be on the verge for a second but the tension went out of her voice. “Mmmm more like that.”

“Get him ready,” said Rosylind, untying the string that held Steve’s grey sweatpants. They dropped to the ground revealing his slightly stubbly pubic hair and his growing, circumcised member. I never understood why boyfriends like me were always in chastity while they allowed short-term lovers and friends like Steve to remain uncaged. Jamie insisted that the cage was all about ownership. She wanted everyone to know, me included, that I belonged to her completely. Berry, his own member soft and caged, got on his knees and began to rub the lube onto Steve. Steve began to sigh as the pudgy fingers encircled his long-ignored cock.  “Very good,” said Rosylind. “I didn’t even have to tell you.”

“Yes Ma’am” he said.

Evie spoke excitedly with Rachel about their past experiences with forced man-on-man action. Apparently Rachel had a brother who became well established at her high school as a fucking boy for good boyfriends’ cum. Good girls like Evie and Rachel would never debase themselves to ritual cum-letting but they were more than happy to find a boy’s warm hole to substitute. It wasn’t until after college that they discovered the joys of being fucked for themselves, once their mothers’ teachings wore off. Evie meanwhile used to make casual hook-ups fuck her boy roommate to prove they had the moves and stamina. “If he can’t make a boy squeal and scream, what chance does he have of pleasing me?” she asked.

“St-stop,” Steve stuttered. “It feels too good.” Berry had clamped his lips around the head of Steve’s skinny cock.

Rosylind slapped Steve again. “You better not cum on my boyfriend,” she insisted.

“Stop-“ Steve pushed Berry off of him. “Cut it out, man.”

Soon Berry’s pudgy fingers were at my asshole, pushing lube into me. I grunted to try and rouse Jamie’s attention but she only moaned louder. His greedy sausage fingers poked at my hole harder and harder until they started to slip in, one at first, and then two. I tried not to tense against him, but his movements were quick and startling. I guess I couldn’t hold it against him, but Berry was always altogether too happy to fulfill the girls wishes (at the expense of his fellow man). No one could be counted on to try as hard and as obstinantly as Berry when pitted in competition with a fellow man, even if cumming was not on the table. Thankfully his doubtless devotion was tempered by his flabby body and general ineptitude, which made him an easy competitor physically. In mental and endurance challenges, Berry was a real bastard. He jabbed me persistently, shamelessly.

“Are you ready?” asked Rosylind.

Steve now had his dick in hand, standing over me, considering my helpless, squirming body. “I don’t know…” he intoned.

Evie moaned, her hands slipping into an easy rhythm in her lap, “Do it. I want to see it go in.”

I made a final effort to warn Jamie but as my grunts grew more and more hysterical, her moans grew to cover them up, until she was gasping thunderous gasps, squeezing her breasts with one hand as the other stayed glued to my scalp. In a long, slow, even movement Steve leaned into me, impaling his throbbing cock past my desperately squeezing sphincter, deep into my guts. I could feel the fat cockhead inside of me, widening me for the rest of his long cock. I screamed and shook, as did Jamie. Steve clasped his hands around my hips as he sank balls deep. He seemed to fill up my ass completely, pushing hard on my unwilling prostate. Even so, my cock stiffened ever so slightly in its cage. Steve moaned, “uh-huh. That’s right,” as he locked hips with me, rocking my body back and forth with his cock fully planted. Then he backed out a little. My whole body tensed, the sucking emptiness as uncomfortable and the growing wideness. As he pulled almost entirely out I felt my muscles tense with the anticipation of pushing him out completely. Instead he stayed just where he was, cockhead nuzzled tight against my sphincter. I tried to pull away but he stayed right there, just a little inside of me. “It feels good when you squeeze me like that,” he said, “really good,” and thrust back into me. This time he didn’t stop, but continued, in and out, in long, unavoidable strokes. My prostate burned with sensation.

Jamie, who had climaxed moments after Steve found purchase in my guts, finally looked down from the ceiling and wiped the sweat from her face. As she did so, she pushed my face away from her sensitive pussy, driving me back onto Steve’s cock. He grabbed my hips tighter and drove himself deep, no longer in even movements but pounding, jerky jabs deeper and deeper. My continued wailing was enough to drive Jamie back to reality, and when she did so she mumbled, “Wait, stop.” She looked weakly down at my glistening, red, smeared face and then back up at Steve. “What are you doing?”

Steve couldn’t answer, he was already preparing to cum.  I could feel the blood rush into his cock and he grew wider and longer than before. He mounted me higher, forcing me from my hands to my elbows as he shifted more weight onto my back. He was now thrusting with the full power of both of his meaty dancer’s legs, jamming his hard pelvis against my skinny ass. I could feel the cockhead deep inside of me growing, pushing my intestines out of the way.

Jamie stood now and I stared at her foot to the left of my head. “Get off of him,” she was saying, planting her hands on either side of Steve’s chest and pushing him backwards.

It didn’t matter, though, she was too late. Steve brought my hips back with him as she pushed him backwards, glued to my hole like a mad chimpanzee. Grunting louder and louder, finally he screamed and his warm cum filled my ass, shooting deep into my intestines. He fell off shortly after that, Jamie not standing over him screaming about property and respect and I felt cum dripping out of me onto the floor. Berry caught my eyes again, this time with a horrified empathy. “Steve!” Jamie was screaming. “How could you?”

“They made me,” he insisted, looking at Rosylind and Evie, who shook their heads.

Rachel contradicted, “He was like crazy horny.”

I didn’t care anymore. There’s a special kind of disappointment that takes hold after a man fills your ass with cum. It’s like the shame and disappointment of premature ejaculation, but with an extra sense of emptiness and being used that comes from dipping cum from your sissy hole. It was not something that Jamie, who now felt only anger and betrayal, could understand.

We didn’t see Steve after that, although he remained with the company for many more years. When I finally worked up the courage to sneak a peek at Jamie’s notebook weeks later Brad’s name had been crossed about, as had Evan’s and Arthur’s. I almost shed a tear when I saw that so too was “rubbies.” I knew to expect it from the way she spoke to me on our way home after she hastily and angrily dressed. She kept using words like commitment and trust like I had somehow been at fault. I tried to explain my attempts to rouse her but she had no memory or care for that. Although she hadn’t explicitly canceled the cum points, she stopped mentioning them altogether.

I waited until she was drunk and satisfied a few weeks later to ask her when I might get out. She looked up at me sleepily before she drew close, eyes coming into focus. “You know that from book two onward there’s no tolerance for cheating.”

“I-“ I started.

“Hush,” she commanded. “At all. How can I trust you?”

“Jamie!” I snapped. “Your friend fucking raped me and you let him. And now you’re mad at me.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She sat up and began to collect her long straight hair in a ponytail at the back of her head, her small, pointed breasts waving with her movements. “Did you not see the column?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t play dumb,” she hissed, “I know you looked. I’ve already added five points for it.”

This time I was truly at a loss. I started to weep, quietly at first but growing into deep sobs. “Jamie, listen to me god damnnit.”

“Go,” she said, waving at the door with a limp wrist. “Stop and go get the book.”

I marched downstairs trying not to feel like a child throwing a tantrum. This was real, I thought, this is different. Not right.

I snatched the little black book from the drawer and returned to the bedroom. My eyes began to well again as I reentered the room. Jamie now wore her baggy practice shirt and white and grey striped panties that she’d washed too many times. She sat casually on her side of the bed. She watched me take a seat next to her and then shook her head slowly. I shrank under her gaze to a spot on my knees on the floor. “Jamie,” I started.

“Look in the book,” she commanded me. “Last page. I want to see the look in your eyes when you understand.”

I blinked water from my eyes as I scanned the page. There was rubbies, crossed out as before. Besides that were only tallies for workouts, lunches, after-dinner drinks, and…

“You’ve taken a new man?” I asked angrily. Why was she making me do this?

“What?” she asked.

I sneered, “The only other thing here is someone’s last name. Gelding. And the number 2000.”

Jamie's Rule Book Part 3

Jamie's Rule Book Part 1

Jamie's Rule Book Part 2

Jamie came home the following night as exhausted as usual. She grabbed a cup of water, made her adjustments in the notebook and joined me on the sofa watching TV. I had on some boring animal program. Somewhere, at some time on this planet, this group of lionesses trapped and devoured a confused warthog. The nonplussed narrator explained how lionesses would hunt together even though they preferred solitude.

“How was practice?” I asked.

“Exhausting,” she said, “we had to practice Steve’s lift a hundred and a half times and then Evie couldn’t get her second pirouette in the ghost sequence. The pianist started rushing she got so bored, and then nobody could keep time.” As she spoke her fingers wrapped themselves around the side of my head and her grasp casually guided my head to her belly. I kissed the dried sweat from her navel and progressed southwards as she rolled down her tights. I made my way past the strip of half-shaven stubble between her public bones and into the longer thicket on her pubic mons. She pulled one leg out of the tights and wrapped it around the back of my head, compelling me down and in. I gave her outer labia a nice even lick. It wasn’t until she pushed my mouth up against her vagina that I noticed the taste was wrong.  It was something totally unusual, something salty and foul. I made a noise of disgust and tried to pull back but her grasp tightened on the back of my head and she overpowered my retreat.  “Get in there,” she moaned. “Suck Evan’s cum out of me. Make me clean, baby.”

After she’d cum on my face I sat on the floor between her legs, my head rested on her thigh. “I can’t believe you did that,” I mumbled bitterly.

“Was it good to taste a real man?” She asked. “Do you know how many times he made me cum before shooting off in me? Do you want to guess?”

I looked away, off at her other thigh. “How did you become so…” I let the first word pass from my mind, “voracious all of the sudden?”

She giggled but her laugh descended her throat into a belly laugh. “All of the sudden?” she repeated. “I’ve always loved sex. I just stopped looking forward to it because you’d always tease me up and then leave me high and sopping wet. When we were first dating I would get a boy in almost every day.” She caught my chin with a finger and pulled my face to see hers and then pet my cheek. She sat back, relaxing in the sofa. She said, “I think this is just fantastic. I’ve never been this fulfilled physically and I just feel so alive.” It was true, she was beaming.  “I haven’t danced this well since college.”

After I cooked dinner and we ate it on the couch, watching a cooking competition series on TV, Jamie noticed me watching her. “What?” she asked.

“Weren’t we…” I hinted, “Didn’t you want to…”

Comprehension broke across her face. “Right. Your milking. I did want to try that.” She considered me briefly and said, “But you’re going to have to get prettier than that if you want to seduce me.”

I was still wearing sweats from hanging around the house all day. I didn’t feel terribly sexy, but I did feel pent-up. I gussied up and returned wearing the red silk nighty and panties she liked so much. “Ooh, nice choice,” she said. “Now shake it for me.” She turned on “Leave the Key on the Chain,” her favorite slow, sexy song. I shimmied a bit and made a few poses, trying not to feel silly. She didn’t look entirely impressed, but when it was over, she said, “Okay, bring that cute ass over here.”

She leaned over the back of the couch to grab something and I presented my locked cock and balls for her key. When she turned back, she held a floppy purple dildo. “All right, let’s get you ready,” she was saying.

When I saw her hand I stepped back. “What?”

She burst out laughing, her giggles sending ripples through the floppy silicone. “You didn’t- I told you that you weren’t getting out of that cage anymore. Did you think I was kidding or something? My goodness you look so silly.” She mocked my sad expression with a sadder one. “Why are you so sad? Did you not understand?”

My shock and horror mixed with embarrassment. Before I could she laid a towel across the floor beside the sofa. “Get down there, on hands and knees. No, facing away from me. Are you just acting dumb to waste time? I hope so at this point.” She lubed up my exposed hole and began to work the dildo inside of me. I tried my best to accept it inside, focusing on relaxing into the intruder. I looked down and saw a clear liquid dribbling from my cock. “Woah,” Jamie said, “You weren’t supposed to start that quick. It’s supposed to take a-“ she cut herself off and hurried to the kitchen leaving me waiting with the dildo hanging out of my ass, held in only by gravity. She returned with a roll of condoms and opened one. She rolled it over the plastic of the chastity cage and remarked, “It’s been a long time since you’ve worn one of these, huh?”

She sat back down and continued to work the cock into me, in and out, inch by inch. I was moaning and groaning by the time the handle hit my hole. “Oh god, that’s deep,” I gasped.

“Hush, Sandy’s pulling ahead.” she responded, glued to the television. I looked down to see the condom hanging loosely from the tip of my cock with an increasingly large bubble of an off-clear liquid. As the drama of the show heightened her movements became more forceful until I was grunting like a Pool Party slut. During the commercial breaks the thrusting stopped as she lubed up the next biggest cock and replaced her fucking implement inside of me. By the end of the show I was in tears from the pain and stimulation. We were only two toys away from Mr. Happy. She inspected my cock and said, “Yeah, that looks like a healthy amount. Possibly a week’s worth. Anyway, anything we missed we can get next time.” She carefully pulled the condom from me and brought it to my lips. I turned away, disgusted by the smell, but she grabbed my face by the nose and when I gasped for air I met a mouthful of my own filth. I coughed and hacked with elicited fresh guffaws from Jamie. “Mmm mmm, I bet that’s yummy,” she mocked.

Not long after that the front door opened and slammed shut. The noise sent of shiver of tension through my body and I had to fight to keep my stretched rectum relaxed. “Hello?” called a man’s voice.

“We’re in the living room,” cried out my girlfriend.

Facing into the room, I couldn’t see Brad until he came around the sofa. My head was to the floor and I was panting into the towel, shaking and exhausted. I saw his brown shoe first, then the pressed line of his starched slacks, his manicured fingers and the cuffs of his green shirt. Meanwhile my nighty had ridden up to my nipples. Brad looked in every way my opposite: he had fair skin and blonde hair totally unlike my deep mocha skin and black, thick hair. He looked to be as much as a half foot taller than me, and when Jamie bid him take off his shirt I could see how hairless his chest and back were. Jamie hadn’t waxed me in ages. Brad’s chest formed an almost perfect V shape from his broad, built shoulders and slender abs.

She got up and ran her pale pink fingers down his white, unfreckled chest. “Did you come from the gym?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “I thought we were going out.”

Jamie spun around and leaned back onto him. He had to step back to brace against her weight. She put her hands around his neck and shimmied down her body, saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in?” Then, turning back around she curled her fingers around his stiffening cock through the thin slacks. “I think maybe you do.”

Brad let out an embarrassed laugh and stepped back, taking a look at me. The expression that flashed across his face, was it disgust? Or fear perhaps?

Jamie frowned. “What’s wrong, Bradley?”

“I don’t… He’s- this is your boy-“

She cut him off, “He’s my boy. You’re my man.” She approached and grabbed his ass at which he let out a startled yelp. She drew him in close to her and rubbed against him. When she felt his body relax in her hands she said, “I want to see that beautiful cock of yours,” and undid his belt.

The slacks thudded to the floor, weighed down by the leather. She pulled his boxer briefs to his knees and lowered herself to her knees, face to face with his throbbing member. “Hey there, little guy. You look happy to see me.”

Brad guffawed again and reached for his underwear, saying, “Jamie, please.”  Jamie stopped him, catching his hands in hers and gave his cock a lick, causing it to bob up and down. She looked up and said, “Hush now. I’m not talking to you.”

“You’re a pretty cock, aren’t you,” she said and gave it a kiss on the head. “You like to look me in the eye.” That was a slight my hockey stick penis. While Brad’s was no longer than mine and probably a big skinnier, his had a long gradual upward curve. My wonky cock jutted decidedly to the left halfway down. Jamie never found it terribly pleasing. Jamie now wrapped her lips around the head of his tool and licked slowly down the underside with her extended tongue. She only used that long muscle on me to occasionally gag me while we were making out, for a laugh. I could see Brad shudder with pleasure as she drew her tongue back into her mouth. She pulled back with a pop and pushed the saliva down his shaft with her hand. She took the glistening thing in her palm, thumb extended along the shaft and began to stroke him slightly as she took him back into her mouth. He thrusted gently into her and she encouraged the movement. As Brad let out a low moan she reached up and dug her nails into his chest. His moan rose to a strangled shout and she pulled him in by his cock as his chest tried to pull away.

“Ouch, Jamie,” he said with an edge of annoyance in his tone.

She replied coyly, almost mocking, “I thought you liked it rough.”

“I do-“he said, then clearing his voice and proceeding in a deeper tone, “I do like. Rough.”

“Mmm” she hummed approvingly. “I want you to fuck me on the couch.”

I shifted a bit to keep them in my sight (managing the wedge the dildo deeper into my guts thanks to gravity) as they approached the couch, she falling backwards onto the cushions and pulling him onto her. She, glistening from my tongue, invited him, glistening from hers, into her. They both gasped with pleasure and he started nailing her hard. The couch joined in on their racket with its squeaking. “Hard, hard” she was screaming and he was giving it to her. “Fuck! Fuck yes!” she shrieked, pulling him close as she came. I watched the muscles spasm through her body, hard tired muscles shaking under her sweaty skin. She grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily. “Your cock fills me up so good,” she whispered. I moaned with frustration.

Brad looked over at me, surprised I was still here. Jamie looked at me too, stress forming across her pale sweaty brow. “The cuckie,” she started but had to catch her breath. “The cuckie is frustrated is he?”

I closed my eyes and regretted my misfortune of being born with a mouth.

She allowed Brad, still hard and unsatisfied, to pull out as she crawled across the sofa, leaving a damp spot where they fucked. With her knees on the cushion she leaned over the arm of the sofa and planted her sweaty hands on my back. Her nails bit slightly into my skin. “Up, up,” she said, and I pushed myself up into a table position. “Brad, get that glorious cock back in me.” As he took up a stance behind her she moaned, “Right where it belongs,” and groaned her pleasure as he slid back into her. Before long he was pumping away with her hips stationary between his broad hands.

“Take it. Fucking take that shit,” he grunted through grit teeth. I could feel every pump through Jamie’s arms 

pushing me into the ground. My own shaking arms could barely hold us up but I fought to hold my ground. One of her hands picked up and traveled down my back to the dildo still jutting from my back end.

“Take it,” she echoed and worked the beast in and out of me. My prostate was tired and sensitive from the already extensive hammering it had received but the punishment continued. The thing had a big head that I could feel jabbing me deep inside, and along the sides the ribs of silicon kneaded my aching hole. I whined like a dog as she brought up the pace.

“Please!” I cried.

“Fuck me Brad,” she screamed, “fuck me deep.”

“Oh fuck!” he yelled.

“No, no, no,” shouted Jamie, pushing against me so that she could continue fucking him as he came.

“Ah! Ah!” he cried as she humped his sensitive cock. “It hurts!”

“I didn’t say to cum yet, you shit,” she said, taking out her frustration by raping my ass all the harder as she ceased her humping. “Did I say you could cum?”

Brad looked like a hurt animal. “I thought you liked it,” he was saying.

“Get, get,” she yelled shooing him. Brad snatched his clothes from the floor and scampered into the front room. Soon afterwards I heard him leave.

Jamie was rage and heat of the moment so she eased the silicone out of my ass. The relief was indescribable, the relaxation glorious. She spanked my playfully. “You did very well, toy.”

I was shaking my head, digging my forehead into the carpet. “No, no, no,” I shouted, “That was awful. I hated it.”

Jamie tsked. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll earn yourself a night in the crate.” She rolled me off of the towel and, seeing it was clean, threw it on the wet spot and plopped herself down on top of it. The late afternoon sun made the droplets of sweat crawling across her skin an orange and purple. “Give me your tongue,” she demanded.

“Nuh-uh,” I shook my head.

“Get over here,” she said, a note of annoyance creeping in.

“No. That’s disgusting,” I said. “I can’t move, anyway.” I felt so tired. I didn’t care about points or punishments, I just wanted to lay there and die.

She slapped a pillow beside her for emphasis, saying, “I can get Mr. Snappy if I need to. I’m sure he’s feeling left out.”

I met her gaze to express my displeasure and she stared me down. Seeing she was totally serious, I pulled myself to my knees and crawled between her legs. The taste was different, slightly better than the older cum from earlier, but salty. The salt of her sweat had accumulated in her bush and my nose sucked in the air and moisture indiscriminately. I was already dreading the inevitable next time.

Jamie's Rule Book Part 4

Jamie's Rule Book Part 2

Author's Note: Sorry I hadn't been posting regularly. I'd had some tumult in my personal life. Hoping to get back on track now.

Jamie's Rule Book Part 1

It wasn’t until a week later that I found the courage to look inside of her notebook. True to form she had drawn an X across the “Rubbies” box with two fine precise lines and a new box had been started beside it completely devoid of tallies, with the new number, 2100. She didn’t give me credit for dinner or anal this week, I realized. She had even peed in my mouth while I licked her during Thursday morning’s shower, not that there was any formalized reason I should receive points for that. Still, come on.

Right below the Rubbies box was another, the outline created with the usual two fine strokes, but the title in darker, deeply furrowed letters, the result of tracing over them. The title was simply “Brad” and there were three vertical lines below it. A horrible feeling sank from my brain deep into my gut, a twisting worse than any punishment Mr. Happy could inflict.

She returned that evening red and sweaty as usual. She grabbed her notebook from its usual place in the drawer and made her daily adjustments before sitting down to the chicken fricassee I cooked. As I sat across from her chewing in silence I couldn’t help but wonder, is Brad’s cum leaking out of her right now? Do they laugh about her stupid boyfriend in chastity after he cums? Does she miss my cock at all? A week with absolutely no erections was driving me crazy, particularly when I serviced her needs each time she dragged me towards her crotch.

My first question was answered after dinner when she did just that. I pushed aside her thong with my tongue and found only the usual heat and smell of sweat and work. Brad hadn’t gained another tally, not yet.

But when I checked the notebook again three days later he had gained not one tally but another three. Not only that, but another name, Evan, had claimed a box of space. Evan had only one stroke as of yet. I was so surprised that I almost didn’t hear Jamie enter the front door. I stashed the book away but in my haste, closed the drawer too quickly. I tried to look cool as she entered the kitchen, pretending that neither of us had heard the sound we both knew too well. “Hello,” she said.

I blushed but maintained eye contact. “Hi, honey.”

“What did you get up to today?” she asked, popping open a beer from the fridge.

“You know, worked on a few pieces. I’ve been talking with the curator from Atlanta,” I said, circling the kitchen island opposite of Jamie to stay a healthy distance from her.

She snatched the notebook from its usual place and slammed the drawer shut, staring me down. It made the exact same sound it had made a moment ago. She then grabbed a pencil from the cup on counter and jabbed its already pointy end into the electric sharpener. She withdrew it sharper than before. She took a seat on the low kitchen table and after making a few jots she casually asked, “and how many do I take away for snooping?”

“Huh?” I asked, praying I’d heard wrong.

“Well obviously you don’t get away with snooping through my private information. It’s a little shocking considering we just had a conversation about breaching trust.”

“I…I” I stammered.

“No, you don’t need to talk,” she replied. She thought a moment in silence and then said, “Well clearly you learned nothing from my usual methods. I can’t seem to hurt or fuck the disobedience out of you, which is a shame because those options are far more fun, for you, than the others I have in mind. I think we’re going to need to move to book four.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine. Book four. Every time we had advanced a book, things only got worse for me. Book one seemingly only contained instructions about focusing the male’s mind with chastity and properly administered rewards, which seemed reasonable enough to me even if it meant that my orgasms were now primarily into her hand than her warm, snug… anyway. Book two introduced negative reinforcement: pain causing devices and techniques that made the increasingly rare positive reinforcement all the sweeter. It was around this time that she discovered I had been escaping my chastity cage to masturbate, one afternoon when her friend Rosylind stopped by to pick up Jamie’s water bottle on her way to the studio. In light of the severity of the infraction and the public nature of its exposure, Jamie insisted we dive straight into book three. Book three of the Olympia Club guidelines introduced anal sex. When combined with pain it had the effect of both draining me physically and emotionally, but rendering me a completely blank slate from which she could build a new, more trusting, more complete relationship. Rosylind had never looked at me the same after the day she caught me.

Book four. The thought was chilling. Where could the humiliation lead from here? Despite my racing mind I dug in my heels and demanded, “Who’s Brad?”

She squinted at me over the notebook. “Excuse me?” she asked, voice like ice.

“Tell me who Brad is.”

She closed the book and set it on the table beside her, then placed the pencil on top of it. “Do you really want to talk about this right after you get in trouble? I’m not feeling very pleasant and you might not like your answer.”

I knew I wouldn’t like the answer, how could I not know that? Even so, a bridge once crossed is not easily retreated over and I found myself unflinching in my self-destruction. “I want to know why Brad’s in your book. And another guy. Evan?”

She sucked on her cheek and her teeth almost visible through her thin, pale skin. “Do you remember the talk we had last week? About your ejaculation problems?”

I felt like a chided child standing before her. I only nodded.

“Well I decided that you wouldn’t be getting out of chastity anymore.”

I stared at her for an interminable minute waiting for her to continue. She met my eyes unflinchingly. “And?” I asked.

“What?” she asked with a guffaw, “You expect me to be celibate too?”

I knew it was coming but her admission stunned me all the same. “We didn’t talk about this,” I said.

“We didn’t talk about your total incompetence as a man before we started dating either,” she shot back. “I, for one, think that this is going to be a really good thing for us.”

“You can’t do this to me!” I insisted. “I’m your boyfriend! I get a say in this!”

She rolled her eyes. “I expected you to take this hard but I didn’t expect you to throw a tantrum. You know how I respond to that sort of behavior.”

I stamped my foot and shouted “Six times? In a week? And a second guy?” I even advanced on her a little.

Her lips gathered to one side, unimpressed. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. Maybe if you calm down-“

“I am calm!” I shouted. “I am calm,” I repeated, taking control of my voice. The rage cooled to venom in my throat and I tried her tactic. “Really, Jamie?” I asked. “You disgust me.”

Her foot shot out quick as a dart and in a single motion she brought me crashing onto my back. Just like that her other foot rested gently on my neck. “I don’t let boys speak to me that way,” she said over the din of my cries of pain.

“Jamie! For Christ’s sake,” I tried saying, but her foot continued to compress my throat, warping my voice into a distant croak.

“You’re a slow learner,” she was saying. “You always have been, but it’s okay because I’m patient.” She considered my reddening face and decided to free me. I coughed as she helped me to my feet. “I like you, Lance but you’re really too hasty. You wouldn’t have said those things if you knew what was in Book Four.”

I shuddered. The fear of the anal punishment I’d already earned disappeared in the shadow of the unknown punishment I had coming. Jamie had been going to community pod meetings since before middle school and had personally educated several men at the Olympia Club. Her mother made it a point to see that Jamie developed proper attitudes about men early, she informed me the first time we visited her. Consequently, Jamie never kept any of the actual instruction books from the training series in the house. She had them entirely committed to memory. The only book Jamie needed was her little notebook. From the beginning she revealed to me the expectations and punishments of each book at her own pace. For example, it wasn’t until I was tied over the bed receiving a caning that I learned that a Book Three boyfriend is expected to enjoy the same size dildos as his keeper. Her friends all giggled at me when she told them about it over lunch one afternoon. “It’s true,” her friend Rachel told me, “all my serious boyfriends have overcome Stranger eventually.” Not that many boyfriends tended to hang around

“Tell us again about the blood,” implored Evie. Evie weirded me out. The way her neck swiveled on her freaky bird neck unnerved me. Honestly, the whole gaggle was bird-like with their long, skinny legs and arms. And the bird necks. They ate like birds too, leaving for me half the sandwich tray I’d prepared.

The company girls were constantly present in Jamie’s life, together after practice almost every day, spending most evenings in the village, taking pictures of each other wearing motley combinations of new fashions. On their salaries, the trips rarely ended in a purchase unless one of them happened to find a short-term fling to foot the bill. They knew everything about each other’s lives. They knew when Jamie had news long before I did, including the news that I’d be wearing a chastity device. “That means she likes you,” they’d told me on the sly. They were her confidants and biggest supporters. They were also cruel, angry women who loved nothing more than seeing each other fail.

Rachel, a blonde with dark eyebrows and a chest unusually large for her profession, always wore a tight sports bra that pushed her boobs into a single jutting mass. She asked, “Has he met our Bradley yet?” The girls shared any man fool enough to impress any one of them. I learned about the practice the first time I met them for food after work when Rosylind was threatening to use my face for a pad for being such an insolent bitch and Jamie informed her in no uncertain terms that I was Jamie’s and hers alone. Since that time I’d seen many boy toys swallowed up and spat by their game broke and broken.

Evie gasped and asked, “He knows about Brad?” She looked at me in puzzled amazement.

“He found out yesterday when he was digging through my things.” Part of my punishment was to cater to the girls wearing my sexy maid lingerie Jamie loved so much. The other girls certainly weren’t adverse to the sight, but had learned to keep their hands to themselves. I caught Rachel eyeing the outline of my chastity device through the thin elastic panties several times but she didn’t seem to mind. “He hasn’t met Brad yet, but he will tomorrow night.”

It was my turn to gasp. She’d told me that tomorrow night was for milking.

Jamie's Rule Book pt 1

Jamie was a ballerina. She had calves like granite and toes like gnarled roots. “Life is about discipline,” she told me once, “focus and self-control. There is nothing to be gained from doing whatever you want. Every day is a fight to walk the harder but better path.”

I guess I can’t disagree with that sentiment, only her application of it. She said it one night, still hot and sweaty from practice, after I broke down and begged her to allow me to cum. She said she’d be happy to let me out if only I’d earn enough points for it. Until then she’d be pursuing other options.

My girlfriend loved points. “Points are progress, Lance,” she’d say. She kept tallies of everything in her notebook: her calories eaten in the day (in hundreds), exercises performed (in a week), hours spent training me, days till opening night of her ballet, orgasms experienced and points I’d earned towards a release. Each count had a box of space allotted to it by dark, deep pencil lines and a one-word title for the category. The box she cared most about was labeled “Satisfaction.” The box I cared most about was labeled “Rubbies” and was unique in that it had a number beside it. The number read 1900 and represented the number of points I needed to earn. Three years ago, when we started getting serious, the number was 500. Each time I got my “rubbies” 100 points were added to the total. For that reason I looked on the number as both a fond memory and a Sisyphean hurdle. When I asked her why she referred to my orgasms as rubbies she said, “It’s a combination of rubs and hubby or subby, whichever you prefer.”

“A portmanteaux,” I corrected her. She didn’t care to be corrected.

“You know you lose ten points for contradicting me, you know?”

Of course I knew. How could I not know? “How could I not know?” I demanded.

“And another ten for shouting. What’s gotten into you?” She asked.

I wasn’t shouting, but finally remembered to check my words before spilling them out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, Princess. Nothing is wrong.” She’d insisted I call her Princess since scoring the eponymous role in Princess Medallion and the Grail.

“That’s weird because you’re acting like you don’t want rubbies this month. Which is odd because you usually like it so much.”

Was that a coded joke about last year when she left me crying with frustration and regret as my precum dribbled onto the wood floor of the kitchen after she refused to keep touching my cock because I was supposedly looking at her breasts too pervy? I measured my response. “I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to get aggressive with you.”

“Good,” she said, “because I could beat the snot out of you if I wanted to. Couldn’t I?”

I don’t know why she made me do this. “You could,” I admitted. It was true. She had twenty pounds on me despite being four inches shorter and they were all muscle. Sometimes she’d pick me up while I cooked in the kitchen just for fun. When we had sex and she rode hard and deep against my cock, I could watch her abs ripple with each pulse and feel her strong arms push down on me. I was watching just such a sight when I accidentally came inside of her a few weeks ago. She started slapping my face when she first saw the look of sudden satisfaction breaking across my face but she could not deter my pulsing cock. As I came the slapping only intensified and when the spasm had left me, I hid my face as best I could, which wasn’t well.

“It’s not your turn,” she said, laying into me, continuing to hump my increasingly lifeless member. “You haven’t earned this!” She was furious, I could tell. I hated to see her so worked up. I couldn’t look her in the eye so she grabbed my face and stared me in the eye as she continued to grind against me. “This is pathetic,” she said. “This is just sad. You used to have some self-control. I don’t know what the fuck this thing is worth if it can’t do what I tell it to.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I kept saying, but that wasn’t good enough for her. Even though I made her cum when I sucked my cum out of her, Jamie was unsatisfied. That was the last time she allowed me inside of her. If I couldn’t keep to the schedule, then she couldn’t allow me out. At first it seemed to me that it was as much a punishment for her as for me. Of course I loved sex, but hardly more than she did, especially with the constant mental constraint of trying not to cum while still giving her what she wanted. I really couldn’t control myself when she would shriek and writhe, pounding her pleasure into my eardrums and hips. “What can I do to make it up to you?” I begged. “Anything.”

She had a punishment in mind, not that night, but a week later after talking to a friend of hers in her troupe. “I don’t want to punish you, I just want to go on a nice date,” she told me, but I knew better than to take anything like that at face value. Her nice date cost me the better part of a months’ wages and when we stumbled back to our place she insisted I “pretty up” for sex. “You want me to be turned on for tonight, don’t you? You know you’re getting lucky, right?”

I knew it was a trap, of course I knew, but what was I going to do? Leave and spend the night wandering the cold, damp streets? Normally she insisted I shave for a special night of romance, but this night she insisted I tweeze.

“All of it?” I asked incredulously. My crotch hairs were not long but they were numerous.

“Yeah, like that,” she said. “That’s the face I like.”

I thought that after the first few hundred hairs either she would take pity on me or the pain would grow more numb, but neither happened. One by one I plucked the hairs from my skin, each one a piercing sting as fresh as the last. I alternated sides of my body to help with the tenderness. I deposited each one into a trash can at the foot of her king bed as she lay on it, alternately watching me, rubbing herself lightly and perusing a trash magazine from the supermarket. When my whimpers of pain would grow too slow she would encourage me by asking, “do I need to get the shock collar out? That usually hurries you along.” Even so it took me nearly two hours to complete the task. “Your ass looks like a homeless guy’s beard,” she said as she plucked the hairs I’d missed. “Can you do anything right? I thought you wanted to make tonight special.”

“I’m sorry, Princess. I couldn’t see.”

I felt a pause as she considered my comment, and then, with renewed vigor with the plucking she said, “Maybe you should learn what it’s like to really not see. I wonder if that would be fun.” When she’d finished removing my hair she tied up my wrists with two strips of aerial silk. The silk ran through metal hoops on the top two posts of the bed and tied together around a ring at the top center of the bed. She tugged on my shoulders to make sure my arms were secure and then tied another band of silk around my head. At first it covered my whole face and I tasted the fabric in my open mouth, but when the knot was secure she folded the silk up off of my mouth. I heard the high buzz of an electrical device being turned on and she asked at my ear, “You want to earn some points tonight.”

I panted, terrified, unsure of how to respond.

Her voice was farther away now and she cooed, “aww, are you scared? You scared of Mr. Zappy?” A shot of pain fired through my side as the cattle prod clicked against my skin. I cried out but a moment later her gloved hand was in my mouth. “Are you singing to me, baby?” she asked. Involuntarily I tugged at my bindings but could only raise one hand as I lowered the other. “You know you have such a pretty voice.” Another sting hit the center of my back and from deep within me came another howl muffled by her leather.

Then I heard a different kind of buzz, a loud, low buzzing. It didn’t sound like the little pink vibrator or the larger flesh tone one. This buzzing was lower. “All right, baby. It’s time for your old friend Mr. Happy.” Mr. Happy was a comically wide and long vibrating dildo that Jamie had brought home from a bachelorette party. They had fucked the strippers with similar models and she was so impressed by its vibration at both ends that she bought one from the sex shop on the way home. She woke me that night to show it to me. Since then, Mr. Happy had only made the occasional appearance, usually after I’d commit a particularly heinous offense such as contradicting her in front of her friends.

Her finger briefly penetrated me to apply lube and then Mr. Happy was rattling his way into me. I wailed as my hole parted and admitted the enormous head of the dildo. Right away the pressure and vibration on my prostate was enormous. I could feel my tight asshole straining to stretch. I thought my tightness was bad at first, but that was nothing compared to when Mr. Zappy rejoined the party. The pain tensed my entire body, making me push involuntarily against the invader. “Oh God, please baby, that’s enough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want it.”

She laughed and grabbed and handful of my hair. “You think this is punishment?” she asked. “This isn’t punishment. This is for the satisfaction column. Mr. Happy’s my friend, not yours.” She punctuated the point by driving the cock deeper into my guts. I heard that telltale moan of the vibrator grinding against her clit.

When she finally came she grabbed my tightly locked cock and balls with a gloved hand. “This little guy isn’t getting out for a long time.” Mr. Happy shook deep inside of me. “I’ve taken away all of your points.” She gave my balls a scream which elicited another shriek from me. “And I’ve added another 200 to your goal: one hundred for cumming and another hundred for cumming inside of me.”

After she pulled out we lay together on the bed panting. “I’m serious,” she said, looking down at me on her chest, “you seriously betrayed my trust. You know that you’re only allowed inside of me on the condition that you wouldn’t cum. We had an understanding. I don’t want your nasty juice inside of me. It’s degrading.”

Sometime around midnight she woke and, unable to find sleep, pulled me between her legs for a quick release. “I do love you,” she told me, half asleep, wiping her juices from my face, or rather pushing them back along my chin.

It Takes a Village Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

Timmy takes the opportunity to pull off of her and try to make a break for the door.  Sandy lets go of his hips for the fun of it and he disconnects from her cock with a sucking “pop.” Ass gaping, he crawls on hands and knees for the door, shouting muffled curses through the throat cock. He manages to get on his feet for a moment, but the heels land him on the floor, face-cock first, in moment. Exhausted and defeated, he keeps crawling towards the door, now in an army crawl.

Amy watches, captivated for a moment, and then strides around him in front of the door, cock slapping against her thighs as she advances, her thighs glistening with the perspiration of the hot summer afternoon and the sexual excitement of seeing a boy properly fucked. Timmy looks up at her, with the legs of an Amazon, up and up, until he sees her giant purple cock. He drops his chin to the floor, finally accepting the futility of escape.

“And where do we think we’re going?” Amy asks sarcastically. She bends down (cock resting against the carpet), unbelts his gag and pulls the six inches of plastic from his throat, bringing with it a fresh round of coughing, sputtering and retching. 

“A-ka. Ah. Heh,” Timmy continues to sputter, trying to make words with his fucked voicebox.

She grabs his face and says, “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, young man? When women are enjoying your company, you’re obligated to please every woman there. Don’t play favorites. I’m going to get jealous thinking that you like Angie and Marcy better than me,” adopting a little pout at the end. “Do you want to make it up to me?”

Timmy finds himself for a moment and says in a dull, scratchy voice, “please let me go. I will do anything. I won’t tell anyone about this, I promise. Just please, please…”

My heart breaks for the kid, I have to say, but Amy has never had any males in her family, and she will not abide ‘pleading’ so she talks over him, now with a little edge of anger, saying, “you can make it up to me by burying my cock in your face.”

“Just let me go. I’m so scared. I want to go home,” Timmy keeps mumbling, turning inward, knowing that Amy will never help him. He looks at me with those puppy-dog eyes and says, “Carol. Please. Please help me,” and Amy slaps him hard right in the nose and mouth with her girthy dildo.

“I don’t want to fuck you with this. I want you to suck me. Got it?”

Timmy is reeling from the pain, eyes watering, but his hands soon find the cock and he guides it to his mouth.

“No hands,” says Amy, her gorgeous thighs glistening in the afternoon light.

Timmy lowers his hands and takes the tip of the cock in his lips. He pushes himself up off the ground, working the cock into his stretched mouth.

“I would tell you to back off the teeth, but I really don’t think you could if you tried,” she says, caressing the back of his head. He draws up closer to her, taking as much as he can in his mouth, eyes bulging, sweating, straining, but when he tries to draw back her grasp becomes hard, steadfast. “You’re not going anywhere,” she says, looking into his eyes.

Sandy, seeing an opening, steps in with all that talk again, “I want to bury this big black cock in your sissy hole. I want you to feel my chocolate cock fill you up like no cock ever has,” and she starts working her dildo back into his tortured hole, which of course sends him into a screaming and crying frenzy.

Amy, who hates whining at the best of times, is none too pleased with his development and turns on Sandy, saying, “I am so sick of your racist bullshit, Sandy. Everyone knows that I have the biggest cock here. You being black does not make yours special.”

Sandy, who was lost in her dirty talk, looks up at Amy as she absentmindedly sinks the rest of the cock home.  “What are you saying?” she asks.

Amy adjusts her grasp, forcing a little more cock into Timmy’s mouth. “I’m saying that I have the biggest cock. So why do you keep talking about your big black cock like it’s anything special?”

Sandy, undeterred, starts fucking Timmy, nice and slow, moving several inches in and out. Timmy is screaming like she’s ripping his guts out. “You hear that sound?” says Sandy. That’s what my big black cock can do.

Amy forces her giant dildo further down his throat, trying to muffle the sound, saying, “my cock could do that too. I don’t like the whimpering. I want him to fuck me.”

Everyone knows what she meant, but I giggle at the prospect of this little sissy using his clit for anything other than receiving pain and humiliation. Sandy retorts, “you know this cock is modeled on an actual man’s penis. All 12 inches of it. Everyone knows that black cocks are the biggest. Everyone knows.”

Amy starts rage-fucking Timmy’s face a little bit. I can see the new shock in his eyes. “Who gives a fuck what guys dicks were like? That’s totally irrelevant. A cock is a cock is a cock now and mine’s the biggest, okay?”

Sandy snorts, “whatever.”

Poor Timmy. This is not an argument that any of us women would be willing to get in the middle of. He was totally at their mercy. Amy suddenly rips her cock out of his mouth. “If you want me to show you, I will show you. Okay?”

Sandy says, “Fuck off. I’m getting into it.”

Amy stands up, her cock waving dangerously close to Sandy’s face. To touch her with it would be the ultimate insult. “You want me to make him scream, I will show you. Let me show you, you racist bitch.”

Sandy swats the cock away, “Fuck off. Just let me cum.”

“No,” yells Amy. She gets on her knees next to Sandy and starts trying to cut in. “Let me fuck him,” she says, angling her cock towards his stretched hole.

“I said no!” shouts Sandy, fucking away vigorously. “Let me fuck him first.”

The women yell and bicker, pushing on each other, pushing on Timmy, who is screaming like a wildcat with his mouth unplugged, but they don’t care. They have to take this to its inevitable conclusion because it’s fucking Amy and Sandy and they are always like this. So sure enough they fight and fight and eventually Amy manages, with a horrible pop, to get the head of her cock into Timmy’s virgin hole right alongside Amy’s.

The room gasps. The air goes cold.

Timmy gasps, silent for a moment, and then lets out a mewl different from the others. What before was mostly terror now became pain. Genuine hurt.

The women pull out right away, Amy’s popping out and then Sandy, and turn to me apologizing breathlessly, blood dripping off their cocks. The blood is everywhere, welling on the carpet, splattering in little droplets. I can basically see the fibers gobbling it up.

So that was it. My ‘friends’ yet again ruin everything nice in my life. I’m a nurse who has worked in ‘men’s issues’ before, so I had him sown up before long. While he was out the women all apologized to me, except Marcy who was still mad at me for finishing her off early. I sent Timmy home with a tampon and a pad, I told him that I would never speak to him or love him again if he ever told his parents.

He was a little different after that. Jumpier, I guess. Certainly less trusting of me. But he accepted my gifts and enjoyed my company, and when he was needed, he would offer his body for our pleasure (but we always had to gag him before taking his ass. His terrified screaming was just too much, even years after we had been fucking him without incident). It ended like most relationships with males do- he was so attached that when I handed his key to his new owner, he started crying and hugging my leg, asking what he had done wrong and how to please me again. How do you explain to a boy that young that what for him was a shaping experience was for me just another conquest in a long, deeply lived life. I wonder who he’s serving now.

It Takes a Village Part 2

Part 1
Part 3

They barge in, unstoppable at this point and start to mill around the kitchen, putting on their cocks, making sandwiches and drinking lemonade. Now I’m entertaining, I think. Great. They start discretely rubbing themselves and talking about previous exploits (all stories we have heard and told many times) while listening to the howling of Timmy upstairs, still strung from the ceiling, his shoulders and back searing from keeping himself up and breathing, eyes bloodshot, snot pooling. I had fitted him with a chastity device while we were waiting (knowing the fucking Angela would bring the ladies and that the ladies wouldn’t bear an unsecured cock) and started fingering him in the vain hope that he wouldn’t be totally ruined by the experience to come.

We have a little talk about Isabel and Ella agrees to go next door and wait for Bill to get home so that he will not be alarmed about Timmy’s absence. No doubt the maid costume would be involved. This left us two hours to have our fun with Tim.

We go upstairs and Tim is panicking against his bindings. “It hurts it hurts it hurts” he is saying and squirming and the tension is visible all through his body. I rush in and lift up his head so that it is above his heart for a little while, which eases the panic. I brush his hair and his eyes close briefly, but snap open when Marcy starts playing with his ballsack, pulling the skin over the hard plastic chastity tube. He moans, confused, uncomfortable. Marcy journeys a little lower and starts fingering around his butthole and, feeling the lube I left behind, tries to push her way inside. I lower his head back down so that she can get a better angle and he starts to cry a little. He has seen the women and if he doesn’t totally comprehend the situation, the cocks certainly look ominous. He starts swinging around again, struggling and the women surround him. Sandy grabs him by the head and pulls him up to her, under the cock and big plastic balls, back between her legs and under her ass. “Wait,” she says, slapping his chest. “Hit that note again. You’re making my pussy vibrate.” After a moment she laughs and the room laughs, and everyone gets a little more comfortable.

Angela tires of the foreplay and describes to us what she wants while Tim’s head is secured between Amy’s powerful legs. She’s a biker and it pays off. Amy goes home to grab a pair of her daughter’s heels, the nearest that there will be heels small enough for his boyish feet, and Marcy starts playing with his ass again. “I like asses,” she says, “I’m an ass girl“ and giggles. “I like the way they…” she says, hesitating and then, “squirm,” she says as she jabs his prostate. The boy is mewling like a cat so Sandy decides to muzzle him. Someone brought the goodie bag from the Shandra Fawn collection demonstration the other week.

Sandy produces a gag with a 3’ dildo and a 6’ dildo of either side. “Which side goes in him,” she asked the crowd. The girls all look eye to eye, afraid to say something stupid.

Marcy asks, “What do the directions say?”

Angela says, “We don’t need directions. Hasn’t any ever gagged a boy before?”

No one had ever gagged a boy before.

“Well you obviously use the 6’ end in him. That way he’s embarrassed by his little 3’ dick-face.” The crowd nodded at the logic of it and proceeded to wrestle the gag down into Timmy’s gullet and strap it home. He gagged and wretched, but nothing seemed to come of it.

Amy re-entered the room, purple heels in hand, and we strapped them to Timmy’s still bound feet, strapping the plastic thongs between his toes. The heels were about 8’ tall, about tall enough to bring his hips near to Angela’s. As we lowered and unbound him, Amy said, “Hannie’s going to be so turned on when she hears what we used those heels for.”

I pulled her shoulders and looked in her eyes, saying “you cannot tell her. No tales of this. I thought I was clear. No one can know about this because it will get back to Isabel. She’s a lawyer for christs sakes. Come on, guys. I invited you into my house. You could do me this courtesy.”

Amy murmmered “I forgot.”

“Well don’t.”

Timmy shakily gets to his feet like a baby bird or maybe a giraffe, lightheaded and unstable on the high heels. “Walk over here,” says Angela, adjusting her strap-on, getting out the lube. He trips and falls to the ground, yelping in pain. “Come here, little bird,” says Angela, staying put, watching him get to his feet again. His eyes are bloodshot and I feel a real moment of compassion for him until his falls a second time, which just pisses us off. The laughing stops.

“Up. Now.”

Timmy struggles to get his feet under him. The carpet is uneven but it breaks his falls. His skirt is too short. Every time he stands he shows his ass and caged pupil to everyone. He stands on shaky feet and with his first step falls again.

“Aaarg!” Angela flies into a rage, falling on him like a bird of prey. She spares no kindness as she fills his shallow body with her thrusting rage and he screams through the gag, red face pressed to the carpet. She fucks him in and out, powerful hips rising up and thrusting down into the carpet, thick hips designed for carrying children and carrying weight. Thick hips driven by anger and horny desire. The little cock gag bobs preposterous on the carpet as his strained body inches across the floor with each hump. She fucks him in hard, vicious pushes, jamming her tool deeper and deeper into his guts. After a while, she reaches down and pulls his hips up at an easier angle, eliciting a fresh urgency to his screams, reaching deeper into his body.

Sandy, Amy and I watch with excitement but Marcy, ever the opportunist, gets down and straddles Tim’s head with her legs. She pulls his face, red with pain and passion and rugburn, off of the floor and rests it on the pubic mons, enjoying the undulations of Angela’s thrusting and the lost, agonized look in his eyes. His vocal chords vibrated pleasingly against her as he screamed and struggled for air. She swept the hair out of his eyes and watched with mock empathy as he shook. By now Angela was really getting into it and less than fucking him she was rubbing against the dildo, forcing it as far into him as possible. She tucked her arms under his shoulders, across Marcy’s soft thighs, and pulled his body up into hers. He writhed with agony, working the dildo just enough that Angela came, releasing her prey and her tension, but after a moment of twitching, fucking him again, harder and harder. With one more push she was cumming even harder and Timmy shrieked and shrieked.

After it was over, she lay, still lodged in his guts, and whispered just loud enough for the room to hear, “You did a good job with my dick. You’re going to enjoy the other ones less. Mine is average for normal, well grown males- about 8 inches and 3 in diameter. Sandy other there has a 12-inch dick and I can’t even imagine what Amy’s packing. So you should enjoy this dick in you while you can.”

Marcy giggled, his soft flesh jiggling as she kindly and softly played with Timmy’s hair. Angela, her body totally covering and encompassing Timmy’s small frame, gave him a breathy kiss on the ear and in one swift, cruel motion, pulled her cock from its resting place.

Something strange happened. Timmy, who had been screaming so much, shook and balked, writhing on the floor. But this wasn’t pain- Marcy could see it in his eyes. This was something else. Sure enough, when I look underneath his shaking body, there was a dampness in the carpet that could only mean one thing. “He’s a slut,” I said.

The realization dawned over the group. This was no longer just for them. They have a genuine, self-born slut on their hands. Any boy who is willing to give up his cum through the bars of his chastity cage just because his woman fucks him is obviously born to be fucked and should be treated as that. Angela got a glint in her eye. “Well I thought I was done, but maybe there’s more life in him yet.”

Marcy grabbed him by the little dick gag to anchor his face and rode into him harder, her wetness starting to soak her panties. She moaned in a childish, sing-song voice, “you made a big mistake.”

“You’ve had enough,” hissed Amy, “and you too,” she said to Marcy. “Stop being greedy. You’re all greedy,” she rubbed herself as she said it, feeling a little greedy herself.

Sandy interrupted, “No, let me go next!”

I tried to step in with a ‘what the fuck is going on, this is my boy and you fuckers are having all my fun,' but there was no way to be heard. Each woman thought herself most entitled to the aching asshole and Timmy whimpered in fear listening to their discussion of the depraved acts they wanted to try, all while choking on the dildo and rubbing against Marcy’s hungry lips. Her slight pulling on the tightly anchored gag agitated his throat and made him freshly aware of his ongoing fuckeditude.

So Sandy stepped forward, waving her veiny black dildo around like a gun, like it would scare any one of us. Timmy couldn’t even see it he was so lost in Marcy’s sensual rubbing, her wetness soaking into his chin. Sandy gets behind him and starts rubbing lube up and down the beast, and lowers it to his puckered hole. Timmy makes a “huh?” noise that starts the room giggling.

“He’s a virgin,” I cry out, suddenly realizing the enormity of the situation. “He’s never been stretched before.”

Sandy just smiles at me sardonically, saying “It’s much too late for that now, don’t you think?” and leans, no, steps into him, ramming her cock as hard and deep into him as she possibly can. His screaming echoes the room even through that brutal gag. He squirms and crawls, trying desperately to ease the dildo out of his ass. Sandy grabs his hands, lowering her weight onto him, trapping him with her flesh and says, “now stop all the struggling. You’re mine now so you should just relax. It’s going to hurt, but there’s nothing you can do about it. So be a good boy and stay right here.”

But of course, how can he? So as soon as she lets up and starts humping him what little the dildo can move, he starts crawling and squirming, cock dragging along the carpet. Marcy is, of course, none too pleased with the break in her little wonderland and decides to get down to business. She pulls off the soaked panties and starts to ease the tiny mouth dildo into herself. She grabs Timmy by the red, sweaty ears and says, “Stop all that moving around. I want your face now,” but again, how can the kid be anything but a bundle of nerves and animal instinct at this point? She starts riding his face but she has to grab the back of his head to control him enough. The dildo is small but the flesh is willing and she starts grinding his face so hard that his nose disappears into her fluffy mound for minutes at a time. I don’t become concerned until I start to see his tortured arm and leg movements become erratic and sporadic and the shakes go through his frame. Sandy doesn’t notice because she can only think about her hips and his hips and Marcy is barely sentient at the best of times.

I did what I had to do. I pushed Marcy down flat and finished her off with my hand on her clit. Timmy started up with the grunting and crying, so I knew that the air was back in his lungs. Marcy tried to fight me, the dear, but I kept one hand on her chest and the other on her clit and forced her to cum, legs wrapped tightly around Timmy’s head and back, hips thrusting wildly, muscles squeezing, firing at random, until she came, her body writhing and shaking in my hands.