Life had soured, but my innate attitude remained positive. That's hard to do after your parents have died. First Dad's heart gave out, after months of futile stents and a quadruple bypass. I always thought the stress of his illness triggered Mom's cancer. She started feeling tired and went to the doctor, learning that she had an inoperable brain tumor. She refused treatment. I think she just wanted to move onward to be with Dad.
Though they had both been successful, and had a rather impressive nest egg for their golden years, the medical expenses whittled that down to just a fraction of the original total. I was left with nothing more than a small cottage on a small mountain lake and Dad's shop full of rather high quality wood and metal working tools. Growing up, Dad loved to spend time in his well equipped shop and teach me the arcane arts of metal and wood craftsmanship. Of course back then he had a two thousand square foot shop built at the rear of their rather impressive estate. I couldn't part with the tools and machinery. It represented the best years of my life with Dad. So I moved it all to the double car garage Dad had built next to the old lake cottage. Doing so revealed to me that he had probably planned on this years ago. The wiring and plumbing was perfect for setting it up as a shop.
At just twenty-two, I found myself a year short of a degree in history, a small cottage with a fantastic view, and barely enough money for a year of necessities. There wasn't enough money to return to school. So I just sat around for a month considering what my options were. During that time, I was surfing the internet and happened onto a bondage furniture website.
Compared to the furniture Dad and I used to build, this stuff was incredibly crude! Spanking benches, crudely bolted together, from framing lumber were selling for five hundred dollars in some cases! I wondered if anyone would want such an item that had been designed and crafted like a really fine piece of antique furniture. With nothing else to do, I found myself sorting through all the wood Dad had stocked over the decades, then drawing up a plan.
That first one took me a week to construct, but it was a beautiful piece of furniture. Every joint was so finely joined that it was almost impossible to detect. The walnut wood grain flowed smoothly throughout the short bench. There wasn't one bolt, nail or screw used anywhere in the piece. I was not only proud of my craftsmanship, but of some innovations I had incorporated.
To the unknowing eye, it looked like a simple hassock, but pushing on one edge allowed a horizontal member to move left, then another to the right, opening the interior of the simple cube of wood. This exposed other sliding components operated from the interior. One could then fold out a kneeling pad and rotate stout internal members outward. These members had large diameter holes bored in them, each lined with a metal collar that would protect the wood from the chains that these bondage people used.
The surface of the bench was covered with thick medical grade elasometric padding, similar to what was used in hospitals to keep patients from developing bedsores. I had learned about it when Dad was bedridden the last few months of his life. Atop the padding, I covered the surface with very high quality split leather I had found at a local saddle maker.
I took half a dozen pictures of the bench, both open and closed, then posted an ad on a free site. On impulse, I put a price of two thousand five hundred dollars on it, plus shipping. At that point, I had another idea that would improve upon the stocks I had seen on several websites. But before I had even finished drawing up the plan, I was getting email responses. Most were just negative comments on the expense, but a handful seemed to be serious inquiries. One, in particular, asked if I could ship immediately and asked how I wished to receive payment. I emailed 'Dresden' back and outlined an electronic funds transfer to my online account and asked for a shipping address.
Before I could turn away from the computer, I received a response from Dresden. Apparently it was MS. Dresden, and she lived in a city just seventy-five miles distant. So I emailed her back and told her I could personally deliver the bench the next day, if she wanted to pay cash. I figured that was the end of that. But, again, I received a reply within a few moments. She indicated that she would have cash in hand and gave me the delivery address.
I spent an hour informing the serious sounding inquiries that I could custom build them a bench, for the same price, and deliverable within thirty days. Having worked out the production challenges with the first, I calculated that I could build one every two days. Thirty days gave me a good cushion. I asked each for a fifty percent deposit.
The next morning the day began gloomy and cold, though I was cheered to find four customer orders, along with their electronic payments forwarded to my account. After sending each a confirmation, and detailing shipping, I wrapped my first bench in bubble wrap that I had left over from my move to the cottage and loaded it into my Ford van.
Though the lady's address was in the city, she actually lived well outside the busy center of the city. The neighborhood was one of those gated communities, with each house sitting on rather heavily wooded estates of several acres. The guard at the gate made a phone call then handed me a single page map with her home marked on it. After the wrought iron gate swung open, I wended my way through a confusing maze of streets until I arrived at the cul-de-sac that had yet another gate at the entry.
I pressed the button at the gate and had a quick answer from a man. When I identified myself, he told me to pull up to the side entrance to the home. The gate swung upon and I followed the drive through several hundred yards of thick woodland. The house was huge, definitely falling into the mansion class. As I pulled up to the side entrance, a man and woman appeared.
The man looked quite ordinary, but the woman he followed out of the side entry was something else entirely. I guessed she was thirty-something, but with the petite, compact, body of someone that spent hours in the gym. She was dressed in black. A black silk blouse, with full length arms, did little to hide quite large breasts, and I was immediately aware that she was not wearing a brassiere beneath it. Her thick nipples were quite protuberant! She wore a tight matching black silk skirt, though it wasn't nearly as sheer as her blouse. If she wore panties, I couldn't see a hint of a panty line.
My eyes glanced downward as they approached, noting that her legs were encased in black silk stockings. But her height was raised by nearly six inches by rather stoutly heeled high heels with straps that crisscrossed her lower legs up to just beneath her knees.
She walked up to me, her long, flowing, raven black hair shifting in the light breeze, "Mr. Combs? I am Ms. Dresden. Thank you for being on time." She didn't introduce the man, nor did he say a word.
I shook hands with her, feeling a grip more like that of an athlete than a dainty woman. My eyes kept returning to those stout, clearly displayed, nipples and I found myself blushing and dropping my eyes as I fumbled with the key to the back door of the van.
Pulling the bench, still in its bulky, protective wrapping from the van, she instructed the man to take it from me. I responded, "No, that's ok. I've got it. Where do you want it?"
Without a word, she turned and headed back into the side entry. The man quickly outpaced her, beating her to the door and holding open for her, and then me. He then dashed past us again to open the next door. At the end of a long hallway, he opened a door that revealed a staircase leading downward. After making a turn on a landing, I nearly stumbled. The room below resembled the home dungeons I had seen on many of the websites I had visited during my research.
These folks weren't amateurs, but people dedicated to this lifestyle. I proceeded down the rest of the stairs and set the bench down on a low platform as Ms. Dresden directed. As I started to unwrap it, she stood very near. Once it was fully exposed and the bubble wrap piled to one side, she said, "Oh, my! It is much more magnificent than your pictures detailed, Mr. Combs! It is, without a doubt, a masterpiece of art as well as a most unique piece of furniture." I think I blushed again.
Not knowing how to respond beyond a simple, "Thanks", I proceeded to show her how it functioned. I hadn't stated so in my advertisement, so it had one more function she was unaware of. After opening it, I reached inside and rotated a single lever, and the bench rose up on heavy casters, allowing it to be rolled around.
She actually clapped her hands in delight, "That's marvelous, Mr. Combs! That will be quite useful." Snapping her fingers, I looked up and saw the man place a thick sheaf of cash in her outstretched hands. After thumbing through it, she handed it to me.
"There is your purchase price, Mr. Combs, along with a small bonus for your prompt delivery."
As I was counting the money, I found that she had tipped me two hundred dollars. Making that much money so easily sort of flustered me, so when she spoke I missed what she said and looked up questioningly.
"I asked if you would like a cold beer after your labors, Mr. Combs."
Shrugging my shoulders, I told her that sounded good. The man strode away quite rapidly and returned with an ice cold bottle of imported beer. She invited me to sit down on a nearby black leather couch and started asking questions.
In a few minutes, her direct questions had outlined my short personal history, including the loss of my parents. Then she asked me something that shocked me, "How would you like to be the first to try out your creation, Mr. Combs?"
Somewhat shocked, I stuttered in reply, "Uh...uh...Ma'am, I'm not into that kind of stuff. I just noticed that no one was making really quality furniture for folks that...uh...well, like to use it."
She laughed, "Quite strange, Mr. Combs. You are a straight arrow, then? No perversions at all?"
Now I was blushing outright. "No, Ma'am."
"Well, then perhaps you would benefit from a demonstration. Let me show you how I will be using that bench." Again, she snapped her fingers and before I could respond, the man was toeing off his shoes, and then stripping out of his clothing. If it was possible, my blush deepened into a darker shade of red when I noticed that his penis and testicles were bound up in some complicated arrangement that appeared to be made of stainless steel. He promptly knelt over the stool.
As I sat there in shock, Ms. Dresden walked a few feet away and retrieved a stainless steel cart. She handed the man a confusing array of chains and leather. In a moment he had shackled his wrists and ankles in thick leather cuffs, then ran attached short chains back through the attachment beams on the stool. Each was padlocked securely, though she had to padlock the last one for him.
Sitting there in stunned silence, I used the beer to distract me, taking a long pull from it as she picked up a black leather quirt from the cart. Stepping up behind, and just to the rear of the bound man, she began swinging it full force into his buttocks. After about forty full force swings, his a network of purpling welts crisscrossed his buttocks, and she stopped.
I thought the demonstration was over, but instead she said, "I don't want to sweat all over this Italian silk." And with that she unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off, revealing her magnificent breasts to my eyes. I took another long pull of the beer as she resumed her fervid abuse of his butt.
By the time she paused a second time, the man was whimpering and tears were dripping from his cheeks. She glanced over at me, her own face and breasts flushed with either excitement or exertion. "My, my, Mr. Combs, it appears that this does excite you."
I wasn't sure what she meant, until her eyes lowered to stare at my crotch. Sure enough, I had a king size boner on display through my sweat pants. "Uh, it isn't what you're doing to him, Ma'am. It's, well, it's you being uh...topless."
She walked over to the couch, and to my shock reached out and grasped my boner. I just sat there as she said, "This has excited me. May I?"
Before I could answer, she knelt and pulled my sweatpants down, freeing my thick eight inches of meat to her view. And before I could protest, she dived down on it and swallowed it halfway to the root! I gasped. It had been nearly a year since I'd had sex. The stuff going on with my parents had left me no time, nor the inclination, to date. My girlfriend of some months had left me because I just couldn't give her enough time.
Ms. Dresden sure knew how to suck a cock. She would suck at the glans, almost as if she were trying to pull it off, then dive down deep and wriggle her tongue along the underside on the way down, then do the same on the way up. I don't think I lasted more than two or three minutes before I felt my balls tightening upwards. I tried to warn her, but her response was to redouble her efforts. I soon found myself grunting and thrusting upwards, ejaculating a huge load into her throat. She met each spurt with a powerful suck. I'd never, ever had a blow job that intense.
But Ms. Dresden wasn't finished, and though her vacuuming suction was reduced, she continued, if anything gulping my somewhat slackened penis right down her throat. I found my erection returning full force in just a few minutes. As soon as I was back up to full size, she stopped and stood up. Dropping her skirt, I found I had been correct. There were no panties. Her cunt was as bald and smooth as a baby's butt, without a hint of stubble. She didn't hesitate, but straddled my crotch as she knelt on the couch, one knee on each side of my hips.
With a hiss, she settled down until my swollen glans nudged her very slick, very hot, labia apart. Driving downwards, she moaned as my prick sluiced halfway into her hot cunt. We were soon bouncing in tempo; she driving downwards as I lunged upwards. As I became more excited, I sat back upright and lurched to my feet, holding her in place. I turned, and leaned forward onto the couch, putting her in my former position. I then began hammering into her cunt full depth, and with full force, causing her to have an orgasm so powerful that she began to raked my back with her long nails. I guess, one way or another, she would leave her mark on every man that came under her spell.
By the time I came, she was almost exhausted, barely moving, just shuddering from one orgasm to the other. When she felt me coming, it ramped her upwards again. After I filled her little cunt with my semen, I was getting cramped, so I withdrew and stood between her splayed thighs. To my amazement, her hooded eyes focused upon my slick prick. Sitting upright, she leaned forward and began licking me clean, now and then sucking at my glans to draw forth the last remnants of my latest ejaculation. I knew that if she kept that up, I'd get hard again. But I needed to urinate, and pulled away, "Where's the restroom, Ms. Dresden?" She waved at the far wall, where there was a doorway.
Pulling up my sweatpants, I staggered off to the bathroom, which was a whole new experience. I didn't recognize half the stuff in that huge bathroom, so after I finished draining the lizard, I whipped out my cell phone and took half a dozen photographs. Curiosity was part of my motivation, but I also thought that I needed to learn a lot more if I was going to cater to people engaging in this strange sexual behavior.
When I returned, Ms. Dresden was gone. The man was now free once again and fully dressed, thank goodness. He said, "Ms. Dresden has retired. She instructed me to give you this and tell you to be alert for her email."
Without another word, I was led back to the side entry. Minutes later, I was headed home. During the drive, I thought about the experience, and prayed that Ms. Dresden needed more perverted furniture. I had never had such a powerfully satisfying sexual experience in my entire life.
As I navigated towards home, I had several ideas. First, if my efforts continued to prove as productive, then I was going to need some help. My first thought turned to old Abe, a not too distant neighbor, who I had hired to help me move and set up all the equipment in the garage. Abe was sixty-something, and it became apparent to me that he was familiar with most of the woodworking equipment and tools. During our talks while hauling everything in my van and the trailer I rented, I discovered that he had worked in a cabinet shop for decades. I made a mental note to approach Abe with a lucrative employment offer.
*********************
A month ago, when I arrived back home, I found two emails from Ms. Dresden. In the first she thanked me for being a capable 'lover', and informed me that sometimes women like her needed men that could meet her on an equal footing, rather than being submissive to her, yet without being driven to dominate her. I marked that down as something important to me in the future, especially if I had to contend with her, or her kind, in the future.
Her second email asked me to make her ten such benches as 'party favors' for a party she was throwing for women with her same inclinations. I felt sorry for the men attending that party as I read through her email. At the same time, I was impressed that she would give away twenty-five thousand dollars in party favors. I wasn't jealous of her wealth, but I was sure going to try to tap into it as much as I could!
After seeing that stainless steel device that neutralized her male companion's genitals, I did a little research. It was definitely some sort of locking chastity device, which also placed a substantial weight upon his testicles. I remembered them dangling far below his penis. And, the more I read about these dominant females, the more I understood about how they controlled men, both mentally and physically.
I bought some computer software that would allow me to draw up plans to within one ten thousandth of an inch. And considering the recent influx of orders from my online ads and Ms. Dresden, I dipped into my new cash capital and my meager bank account to purchase a computer aided milling system that could also be integrated into a couple of pieces of existing equipment.
Things just seemed to click into place almost faster than I could react. Thankfully old Abe was eager to go to work, but for just four days a week. He wanted a new, more comfortable, and safer, fishing boat. He did have a nephew that was unemployed, and looking for a full time job, so I hired Ken as Abe's assistant, and when Abe was off, to just mill components for later assembly under Abe's more skilled direction. The kid, just eighteen, would only have to feed raw stock into the computer guided milling equipment when Abe was off fishing.
After a week of getting the new equipment set up, and Abe's production schedule sorted out, I began work on my ideas about a much improved set of bondage stocks. I had this vision of the basics of the stocks being made of exotic woods. But instead of a simple scissoring to trap the submissive, I wanted the system to be much more adjustable than the more expensive versions.
For instance, the best stocks anchored the submissive with their hands and neck trapped between a pair of scissoring planks with cutouts for the wrists and neck. A few offered a similar arrangement for the ankles. But once in place, a position change required a dominant to unfasten bolts (usually using thumbscrews on carriage bolts) and relocating them to a new height. I envisioned having threaded rods hidden within the mechanism that could guide both the ankle stocks and the neck/wrist stocks up and down at the push of a button on a remote control panel. The angle of both the upper and lower stocks could be changed with the same remote.
I had a few false starts, but with the increased cash flow I was able to come up with what I thought was a composite of modern functions and medieval appearance detailed with the CAD software. I spent the remainder of that first month milling the wood components, then integrating them with existing components used in a lot of automated manufacturing processes. I just needed a test dummy to try my new mechanism out on. There was no one I knew that I could even consider for such a job. This machine was so very complicated compared to the bench which folded into an innocent looking boxed foot stool, I didn't know what do. So I made use of one of my few resources. I called Ms. Dresden.
I called her, on the pretext of giving her an update on my work completing her order. After giving her those details, and promising that I was ahead of schedule, I told her what I had created. She was more than interested. She even asked me if my parents had been kinky and whether I had discovered that and become interested myself. To tell the truth, that made me a bit angry, and I think she could detect the anger, though I tried to control my emotions during my denial.
She said she would be happy to send the man who I had seen at her home out for me to use as a test subject, but that repulsed me. I wasn't some homosexual, and told her so. Laughing, she said she should have known I would refuse a male test subject and promised to have a female drive out the next day. She assured me that the female would be perfectly suitable for my test subject.
Sure enough, at ten in the morning the next day, when both Abe and his nephew, Ken, were off duty, a little VW Beetle pulled up in my drive. An incredibly beautiful lady exited the Beetle as I walked out to greet her. She was attired only in a skin tight tube top, short-shorts, and flip-flops.
"Hi! I'm Dawn. Ms. Dresden sent me to help you out." We shook hands as I introduced myself. Then I found myself blushing as she continued, "Ms. Dresden said I should let you fuck me in my pussy or my ass, or suck you off. She said that you were very creative and needed someone that was cooperative."
I didn't know how to respond, so I just said, "Let's get to work."
I had performed the assembly of the major components in the cottage living room, so that Abe and Ken wouldn't know what was going on. I sort of feared them getting offended if they found out they were making kinky sex furniture. And this item did look like sex furniture in its operational mode. However, once its function was not required, it did fold into a strange looking piece of furniture that most resembled a one person yard swing with a supporting a-frame stand.
What neither Dawn nor Ms. Dresden knew, was that I had also been working on another piece of equipment, which was rather small compared to the transforming stocks. The sight of the heavy ball stretching weight on her man's scrotum had revealed some impracticalities. It worked to stretch his testicles down to the limits of his scrotum, but only when he was standing up or kneeling. I also surmised that under his clothing, the friction of the clothing would mute the effect. My reading on the BDSM sites that dealt with domination of males also indicated that women such as Ms. Dresden would love being able to maintain that stretch in any position, and at the same time be able to control the amount of stretch.
For some reason, an odd idea popped into my head. What if two rings of metal were used? If both were magnetized and the poles were oriented in opposing directions, the magnets would push them apart. Milling magnets didn't seem practical, but constructing coils about a metal cylinder to create a magnetic field when an electric current was passed through it did seem feasible. Working on the lathe, I created two cylinders, with a hole in the center of exactly one and one half inches. That was the narrowest opening that could fit around my scrotum when I stretched it out after a hot bath. Each cylinder was then bisected and milled so that each could be bolted back together to form the weighted cylinder.
The next step was much more tedious; I had to hollow out the interior of each cylinder. Within that cavity, I inserted the coils, along with a small circuit board controlled by a microchip. Finding batteries for this application was difficult, and they were quite expensive, though rechargeable in a unique manner. Of course I had to have the circuit boards and coils built by a subcontractor in Southeast Asia, so I had a dozen of them made.
The circuit board controlled the recharging, by an external coil, similar to how some electric tooth brush batteries are charged without having exposed leads or poles. The circuit board also allowed the amount of energizing electricity, with activated the magnetic fields, to be varied from zero to a level that produced a steady ten pounds of opposing force. Have you ever tried to push the north poles of two large magnets together? You can do it with a pair of small ones, but the big magnets that weigh several pounds produce a surprising amount of resistance.
After I had all the components assembled, I tried the stretcher out on myself. I clamped the first one inch thick cylinder around my scrotum, and then the second. Picking up the remote, I dialed it to the first setting. It felt as if I had a two pound weight pulling my testicles away from my body. When I dialed it up to just half power, I nearly fainted. It felt as if my nuts were going to be ripped from my body! I knew I had another item that women such as Ms. Dresden would enjoy. Of course it was pricey. My cost for the first unit was going to be a whopping two thousand dollars! I had no idea if anyone would pay that much, plus a decent profit margin, but I hoped they would. The people involved in this kind of perversion seemed quite fixated on equipment to enhance their power over another, or being subjugated by another.
As I directed Dawn through the front door of my cottage, I wondered what sort of magnetic marvel I could conjure up to play havoc with her mind. As I watched her taut little rump sashaying along before me, a host of ideas rushed through my mind. But, for right now, I had an existing creation to fine tune, with her aid.
Dawn immediately spotted my 'contraption', which sat in the middle of the living area, and commented upon it, "Why it is beautiful. The wood has such splendid grain, and looks so warm and earthy. What kind of wood is it?"
"I used White Oak. It is strong, but has a well defined grain that produces a good contrast with the right stains and finishing. I coated it with a non-reactive polymer, so that it won't get stained."
"Well, we better get to work. What do you want me to do?" Dawn posed for me, thrusting her tube top clad breasts forward as she stood before me.
I had her sit in the swing and put her feet on the foot rest. It operated sort of like a gliding chair. Putting pressure on the footrest, then releasing the pressure caused it to begin swinging from the massive frame. I watched for a moment, and listened for points of friction that might squeak. But my hidden roller bearings kept it quiet and smooth.
Picking up the remote, I had Dawn step out of the swing. I picked up the remote, which was a panel similar in appearance to those whole house control panels. Pressing a single button caused the unit to begin its transformation. First, the thick foot rest had upper and lower layers of wood unfold, and rotate outward. This revealed a pair of holes, about four inches in diameter in the center piece. As the foot rest continued to expand, the plank with the holes split in the middle and parted several inches. When the three inch thick plank was parallel with the floor, its motion stopped.
Next, I pressed the bench control. Similarly, the seat back unfolded to reveal another thick plank with three holes, one for the neck and two for the wrists. As with the foot rest, this plank continued its motion, by separating and opening a gap down through the center of the three holes. It was now clearly a fairly conventional set of stocks, though suspended by a quartet of heavy four inch square posts.
Dawn smiled, "How ingenious! I would never have guessed!"
I might have blushed at her quite honest compliment, and her reaction. I shouldn't have been surprised when she immediately kicked off her plastic sandals, and then wriggled out of her shorts before peeling her tube top up and over her head.
I don't think I had ever seen such a perfect body! Her body put Ms. Dresden's to shame, as difficult as was that challenge. She had delightful breasts, those pear shaped, upwardly cantilevered, type that one rarely sees, even by those that peruse volumes of men's magazines and surfs the internet. Dawn also displayed one of those incredibly flat tummies, with no hint of abs. And just below that she had a fat, out thrust, pudendum that promised a soft landing for any man lucky enough to make landfall within her most private of places. It was not shaved. It was either plucked, waxed, or she had used some hair removal product.
Without a qualm, she stepped into the stocks and slid her feet into the ankle holes. The holes were leather lined. The leather lining hit small micro switches, which would over ride the controller. That was required because the ankle stock wasn't a simple split plank, but was actually three planks. On one side there were two planks, separated by the same thickness as the opposing plank, allowing the ankle stock to close like a pocketknife blade into the slot within the pocketknife's handle. Pressure upon the micro switches would over ride the remote's ability to continue closure of the stocks, preventing painful pinching. The closing force was only a couple of pounds; both opposing switches in each hole had to be contacted, in order to stop the closure. I didn't want anyone to be injured. And of course if the micro switches failed, the remote's closure function would be disabled. I had triple redundancy built into the system. I had been well grounded in shop equipment safety devices, and merely translated them into my creation.
Dawn leaned forward, easing her head of blonde hair through the appropriate hole in the upper stock. Then she lodged her wrists in the lower half-moon of the wrist holes. I touched the control pad and watched the upper stocks close. Quickly I moved around in front of the stocks and checked the tightness of the soft leather around her neck. I could easily insert two of my rather thick fingers between her neck and the leather, so there wasn't a chance of her choking.
Now it was time to check the positioning system. Another touch of the button and the upper yoke began to slowly glide downward until her head was lower than her delectable ass. As I moved back to her rear, the push of yet another button caused her ankle stocks to begin to telescope outward, spreading her legs, and exposing her most private areas to my view. Her inner labia were now swollen and protruding from her very plump outer labia, and that was clearly viewable because she had such a smoothly depilated cunt.
Over the next half hour, I used the remote to move Dawn from one position to another. My high tech stocks could shift her from a standing position to a bent over position with her hands and head near the floor in about ten seconds. I could also move her from a position resembling a jockey astride a thorough bred to the same position, but upon her back in about fifteen seconds, and all with the push of one or two buttons.
I tested my safety fail safes, to insure that someone placed in a reverse position couldn't be rotated so far backwards that they could suffer a spinal injury. Everything, with one exception, worked perfectly. Though Dawn didn't verbally protest, when I tried to extend her legs to maximal spread, I could tell that she was in pain. At that point I chided her, "Dawn, we are not engaged in some sadomasochistic exercise here! I'm testing equipment that could cause permanent physical harm to someone. From now on, if you experience pain, you must communicate that to me instantly! Understood?!"
Dawn responded with, "Yes, Master! I will obey!"
That provoked a bit of anger from me, "Dawn, I am not your master, nor anyone's master. I'm just an inventor, trying to make an honest dollar. I'm straight as an arrow. So, please, no more of this 'master/slave' bullshit. OK?"
"Yes, Mas...Mr. Combs."
"Call me Jack, Dawn."
"Yes, sir."
As I continued to put the machine, and Dawn's flexibility to the test, I was making notes. I made sure to add the installation of lateral micro switches to all the apertures in the stocks, in order to avoid over stretching someone laterally. Dislocations of major joints are serious injuries. I also jotted down a reminder to restrict over all pressure to less than ten pounds, which most people could resist for quit some time. If they quit resisting, then they would engage the micro switches and trigger the fail safe. The fail safe would return the system to an original neutral position.
By the time that I had finished my detailed testing procedure, it was obvious that Dawn was sexually excited. Not only were her inner labia flushed and swollen, but her vagina was positively dripping fluids! Her large nipples were swollen and erect, and the upper surfaces of her breasts were flushed, along with her chest.
When I released her, she asked for the location of the bathroom. After she returned, still naked, she asked, "May I suck your cock, Mas...er...Jack?"
Not wanting to get into this scene, I replied, "Dawn, if you truly wish to do so, yes. But if you are trying to fulfill some slave fantasy for Ms. Dresden, or someone else, no."
She dropped her head, "I don't know what I want, Jack. I've been doing this scene for two years. I expect to be subservient. Isn't a woman's place to do what the dominant male wishes?"
For that I had no answer, and when I hesitated, she was suddenly on her knees, fumbling with my belt and zipper. She had some quite obvious problems contending with the extraction of my erection. I had the distinct impression that she wasn't quite as familiar with men as she would have me believe, so I stopped her.
"Dawn, have you ever done this to a man before? You act as if you've never done this before."
She looked up at me, with eyes that were just starting to tear up with that salty solution that women are so prone to spill, "Oh, God, Jack! Mistress Dresden said you were perceptive. I just...well...I've been a lesbian since I was very young. I've only been with women, and that's the way I always thought I wanted it to be. But you're, well, you're different. Do you mind if I try? I think I want to try."
I merely nodded my head to assent to her confused request. And with that, she began to kiss the head of my erection. My generous foreskin was still protecting my glans, so I gasped when she wormed her tongue inside and began to run it around the tip of my glans, even as she held the foreskin in the extended position. As she deepened the delving, her tongue stretched my foreskin deliciously.
I had never had anyone, including Ms. Dresden, do that to me. As Dawn's tongue swirled on the topside of my glans, the stretching pleasure of my distended foreskin was translated into pressure upon the opposite side of my glans. I had never even conceived of such a rare sensation, so within a minute, I found myself leaking copious amounts of pre-ejaculation fluids into her mouth. As she tasted them, she shoved her lips down over my entire glans, even as her mouth continued stretching and torturing my glans at the same time. A minute after that innovation, she added a pulsating suction to my glans. And I couldn't restrain myself. I think I muttered a guttural warning, but can't remember for sure. All that I know for certain was that as I began squirting long ropes of semen into her mouth, Dawn just sucked harder. It was amazingly intense.
A few minutes later, I realized she was still sucking gently at my glans, though now she had retracted my foreskin. The sensation was almost more than I could bear after such a monstrous orgasm, so I reached down and placed my hands on her cheeks and gently drew her face away from my twitching prick, "Dawn that was the best oral sex I've ever had! Are you sure that you are a lesbian?"
She giggled, "Maybe I'm not as much of a lesbian as I thought I was. But you did something that made it seem right."
"What did I do, Dawn?" I was certainly curious.
"Well, you were concerned about me being in pain...considerate....not like any man I've ever met before. And, well, you are so very talented. I just can't believe that you are so straight, considering the bench Ms. Dresden showed me, and this...what do you call it?"
"I don't have a name for it, yet. Any suggestions? Wait! I have it! We are going to call it Sunrise, which is 'dawn'. How's that!" I thought she was going to cry. But she didn't. Instead, she jumped up and gave me a very sloppy, very wet, French kiss! And then, before I was quite back to normal, she was going back down the hill in her little Beetle.
A couple of hours later, Ms. Dresden called, "Mr. Combs, your Sunrise Stocks seem quite intriguing. When might you have it ready for deliver?"
"Ms. Dresden, I haven't completed my cost accounting yet. But I can have you a price within a couple of days. Except, it will take me about a couple of more days to make the improvements required to make it perfectly safe.
"Very well Mr. Combs, I want the first model. And I want you to demonstrate it for me and a few select friends. The first Saturday after you deliver it, which according to my calendar will be in one week."
"But you don't know how much it will cost, Ma'am." I wasn't used to the ultra rich, and their needs.
"Cost isn't pertinent. Dawn's report is all that I need. And, may I compliment you. You are the first man that has turned her toward the masculine side of pleasure. You are most unique, Mr. Combs. Call me to confirm the actual delivery date, and I expect you to instruct me on how to utilize the Sunrise Stock effectively at the same time." The line went dead.
After a few phone calls, I immediately put the calculator to work. I could make the Sunrise Stocks for right at three thousand dollars, if I subcontracted out the electronic and major components. My only challenge was whether old Abe and Ken would get wise to what they were assembling. So the next morning I had a heart to heart with old Abe. His response was somewhat surprising.
"Sonny, I spent 30 years in the United States Navy. I've done more women than you can imagine, and they all had a kinky side. You think I didn't figure out what that box we were making was really intended for?" He cackled, "Sonny, don't worry about me, and Ken is dumber than a box of nails. He just does what I show him to do. As long as the paychecks keep coming, we won't wart you with 'sensibilities'. Ain't none of our business."
I mentally slated Abe for a hundred dollar bonus for every piece of equipment we completed, though I wouldn't give it to him until he needed it or he quit. I also was going to set aside twenty-five dollars for Ken. With my conscience assuaged, I decided to quintuple my costs and charge Ms. Dresden fifteen thousand dollars for the Sunset Stocks.
A week later, with the Sunset Stock prototype strapped down onto a newly purchased flatbed trailer (it was too large for the interior of my van), I pulled up into Ms. Dresden's drive. This time she not only had her 'man' to aid her, but a couple of dark skinned men that looked like prison escapees. The pair of strangers, under the hushed directions of the wimpy 'man', hustled the stocks in through the side door, as Ms. Dresden drew me off into a distinctly female 'den' off the same hallway where the stairs to the dungeon lay.
To my great surprise, she presented me with new clothing. At first I wasn't sure about it. After all, it was all leather, and somehow perfectly fitted, because she insisted that I try it on. Throwing false modesty aside, after all, she had sucked my dick and I had fucked her senseless, I stripped and donned the form fitting leather pants and laced up leather shirt. Of course it was all in black. She insisted, and I relented, in lining my eyes with a black mascara pencil. She said it was merely marketing, and she wanted me to appear more dominant and foreboding.
An hour later, after a couple of shots of tequila, and a healthy hit off a bong loaded with some powerful pot, I found myself in the dungeon with the Sunrise Stocks and the remote in my hand. There were at least fifty people in the capacious dungeon, all dressed in black leather. Dawn appeared, naked of course, and became my demonstration subject. I put the machine through its paces with her as my test dummy. Remembering our previous encounter, I felt my prick stretch the flat front of my zipper less leather pants. I doubt anyone there missed recognizing my sexual excitement.
When I had finished my presentation, Ms. Dresden took over. She walked over after I had released Dawn and took the control from me. The next thing I knew, her 'man' appeared naked, and replaced Dawn. After I walked Ms. Dresden through the controls, she proceeded to put him through the same contortions I had subjected Dawn to during the previous segment of the demonstration.
There was a difference, though. A statuesque woman that I had noticed in the crowd stepped forward wearing a quite prodigious black dildo. And while Ms. Dresden held the control in her hand, it was obvious that she was also controlling the woman with the huge strapon dildo. The next thing I knew, she was screwing the 'man' in the butt with the huge latex organ. He seemed to enjoy the anal abuse. In fact, during the next hour, he ejaculated twice. Neither time did he attain an erection, due to the stainless steel hardware affixed to his genitalia, but he still ejaculated while getting buttfucked.
After the 'practical' demonstration by Ms. Dresden, she passed out a small ledger book and instructed all those in the crowd who wanted a copy of her original Sunset Stocks to inscribe their shipping information. Another hour later, as her friends were taking turns at the controls, she handed me the little book. I thumbed through it to find over a hundred orders. I looked up, quickly counting heads. Some of these folks wanted more than one unit! I wondered briefly how many were ordering for the abuse of a mistress, or two. But, in reality, I didn't care.
With the orders tucked into my waistband, because neither my leather shirt nor my leather pants had a pocket, I felt someone press up against me from behind. It was Dawn.
"Jack, I guess you need me for quality control testing, right?" Her hand had slid around to the flat front of my pants to massage my erection. It was at that point that I remembered the other prototype that I had brought with me, though it was much smaller. I excused myself and went to my van.
Upon my return, I showed my high tech ball stretching device to Ms. Dresden. She was extremely excited, and stopped the screwing of her 'man'. At first she wanted me to put it on him, but I vociferously declined. So with some impatience, she called for a volunteer, and not too surprisingly, got several. Selecting one tall woman from the crowd, she had me explain to the woman how my ball stretching device worked.
To my dismay, I had to hear the 'man' squealing in pain for the next hour as various interested parties tested out the remote control. When someone asked me 'how much', I impulsively threw out the figure of ten thousand dollars. The next thing I knew, I had sixty orders.
*********************
It has now been five years since my first foray into the manufacture of toys for the BDSM scene for the rich and famous. I have expanded my original cottage into a quite large home. I moved all production offshore, where labor is quite cheap and quite graciously grateful. Old Abe, and his nephew Ken, only work two days a week, reshipping our incoming units with new labels. Ken racked up enough bonus money in two years to pay cash for a small lot down the lake where he built his dream home in order to marry his high school sweetheart. Old Abe has his new fishing boat, which he plies the lake upon several days a week. He also has a luxury cabin cruiser which is docked down in the Caribbean, where he disappears to once or twice a month.
Dawn left her Mistress (not Ms. Dresden) and become my 'housemate'. She tries constantly to get me to dominate her, but I steadfastly refuse, because it seems that the more steadfast I am, the hornier she gets. I'm no fool, and I have no desire to dominate anyone.
If I quit production today, I'd easily be able to continue a life of luxury for at least 100 years. But if I live as I am, coming up with new ideas for sexual bondage devices, my two sons with Dawn, and their sons' sons, will be able to live their entire lives without care or concern.
You'll have to excuse me now. The boys are off at school for the day and Dawn and I must continue testing my latest device for the rich and famous. I finally got around to applying my induction coil ball stretching device to a female application. Simply put, imagine a pair of Benwa balls that far surpass those vibrating models. My prototypes not only vibrate, but they thrust back and forth against one another, even as they swell and deflate in opposing rhythms. Dawn tells me that I'm still far superior to such mechanical contrivances, but for those women that don't have me, the balls are the 'cat's meow'...whatever that means. I've given up trying to figure out people and just keep on drawing up new ideas on my computer.
