As soon has she had him naked and secured his hands behind him she made him kneel in the centre of the room and went to get the phone. He kept his head bowed while she dialled.
"Ask for Mary," she said, holding the phone to his ear, "explain to her why I need you punished."
"Yes Mistress."
She pulled a chair up beside him and leant forward so she could hear the conversation. The phone rang four times and was picked up, "Club Taboo, you are speaking to Clarissa, how may I help?"
"Ah, can I, can I please speak to Miss Mary?"
"Let me see, hold on a minute while I see if Mary is available. Who shall I say is calling?"
"Ahh, ah, Miss Robertson's, ah, um, Fucktoy."
"OK, Fucktoy, I think she is busy but I'll check and let you know when she can call you back."
He could sense her smile. He thought he knew Clarissa, one of the University students that the Club employed on reception, a plump girl with a blonde bob and very bright red lipstick. She usually wore low-cut sleeveless dresses to show off a rose tattoo across one shoulder. The phone was silent, there was no hold music. If you rang Club Taboo it was up to you to entertain yourself while you waited. His heart was pounding as the silence dragged on.
"No, sorry, Fucktoy, Mary is busy this morning; if you give me your number she will ring you at midday. May I ask what you want to talk to her about, Fucktoy?"
His Mistress, listening, smiled grimly and pinched his nipple hard, nodding, Mary really was very good.
"Yes Miss. Ah, um, Miss Robinson caught me with, um, a.." the twisting of his nipple got worse, "girlie magazine and she wants Miss Mary to punish me."
His Mistress pinched his nipple painfully. "Severely."
"OK, Fucktoy, I'll tell her you need to be punished for wanking and she'll call you back."
"Well I wouldn't say..." but the receptionist had hung up, the smile in her voice almost becoming a chuckle.
His Mistress sat up and took the phone away from his ear.
"Midday then. I have things to do so you better hold the phone."
She left him kneeling and went off to their play room. She came back with his collar, ankle cuffs and some chain. His hands were locked to the ring in the front of his collar and his ankles locked together and chained to the ring at the back. The chain was short enough to keep his back pulled up straight and the collar from pressing on his throat. She put the phone into his hands.
"Don't drop it. Mary won't be happy if you miss the call and I won't be picking it up for you."
She left him to wait then suddenly she was back and dropped the magazine she had found in the recycling in front of him.
"Something for you to look at while you wait."
He stared at the magazine. His name was clear on the address label. Behind the label a girl in matching lacy black bra and bikini bottoms stared back with a slightly questioning expression. She was pretty enough but nowhere near worth the trouble he was in. He sighed.
The wait was interminable. There was no clock in the room so he had no idea how time was passing. Occasionally he heard his Mistress moving around the house, working he supposed. The phone was awkward with his hands locked together at his throat. He couldn't see the keypad and worried he would hang up instead of answering. His knees and ankles were aching after so long kneeling on the wooden floor.
When the phone rang he jumped and very nearly dropped it. He fumbled it with his heart racing and his hands suddenly sweaty.
"Is Fucktoy there, please?" came Mary's deep amused voice.
"Yes, Miss, sp..speaking."
The phone felt very slippery. His Mistress had come into the room and sat on the couch watching him intently.
"So. You want to tell me about your wanking."
It was a statement more than a question.
"Well, n..not as such. My Mistress found a...a girly magazine." He said looking at his Mistress frowning at him.
"A girly magazine. What a quaint way of putting it." Mary was frankly laughing now. "So you've been caught with a wank-mag and she wants you punished."
"It wasn't..."
"Excuses and explanations. We don't need them do we, Fucktoy? You've been thinking about playing with yourself over some dirty magazine and your Mistress wants you punished."
"Yes, Miss.... severely." His Mistress nodded.
"Good. When?"
"Um. Ah. As soon as you can," he said looking at his Mistress for approval. She nodded.
"OK. I'm booked up for today."
His heart sank as he thought of waiting.
"But then it shouldn't take too long, should it? I think the best thing for fucktoys who can't control themselves is to be caned. Don't you?
He said nothing.
"Don't you Fucktoy?"
"Yes Miss."
"Good. We're agreed then. I like it when you agree with me. What's the most you've had before?"
"Ah, um, eighteen miss. I think."
"Oh, Fucktoy, you are funny. Think again. I'm sure I remember giving you twenty-four at least once. Shall we call it a nice round thirty today so you have something easy to remember when I ask next time. Does that sound good to you?"
"Ah... yes Miss." he was shaking badly with a mix of terror and excitement.
"How many strokes was that, Fucktoy?"
"Thirty, Miss."
"Good. Do you think that will hurt, Fucktoy?"
"Yes Miss." He was almost breathless.
"Good. You see, I do like it when you agree with me. Don't worry, I will make very sure it hurts. Your Mistress can bring you in whenever she is ready and I'll thrash you after my last client at about six. I look forward to it. So should you."
She hung up.
He passed on the message to his Mistress with his voice shaking and as he held out the phone to her to put away, he dropped it. She unfastened his hands and feet and indicated his clothes, left over the back of the couch when she had made him undress. Immediately his heart started pounding and the breath was sucked out of him.
He had been in his cleaning dress all morning and that was what she was pointing at. For months she had been threatening to make him go out in public in some of his women's clothes. It had been terrifying to think of in the indefinite future and now it seemed to be happening he was almost in shock. Hesitantly he picked up the lacy white knickers and matching bra and pulled them on. He had had the bra for only a few weeks. It had proper prosthetic breasts that matched his skin tone and looked surprisingly real. His Mistress watched.
"Before we go out you had better tape that thing down. Properly."
He went over to the drawer in the big sideboard and rummaged around for the strapping-tape, glad to have something to do with his shaking hands. Finally he found it and tore off strips in the familiar routine. He took down his knickers, ran the strips of tape from his belly over his pubic hair, pulling his cock tightly down between his legs and taping over it, finishing off between his buttocks. When he had finished and pulled his knickers up it did look like a passable imitation of a woman's mons under the lace. The skin colour of the tape meant it didn't show through the sheer fabric.
He put on the button-through cleaning dress and did up its front. It was pale blue with a wide white collar low cut front that showed the new silicone breasts against his shaved chest. He stepped into the moderately heeled blue shoes that matched the dress and waited. His Mistress went to find a wig and came back with a dark pageboy that she slipped over his short greying hair and held in place with hair clips. She stepped back to look, then held his chin to put some pastel pink lipstick on him. Dressed like that with the wig, his arms, legs and body shaved and his slight frame he did have a very feminine look.
"Good," she said, "Very nice. I'm looking forward to seeing my pretty girl getting thrashed within an inch of her life to remind her to keep her little hands off nasty, dirty magazines."
He stood in front of her with his head bowed, knowing it was pointless to try to explain; it would only make things worse. There was nothing he could do to avoid his humiliation and beating. His mouth was dry with fear, and excitement made his cock strain under its layer of tape. He followed her out across their lawn to the garage keeping his head down and hoping that no one would see him, even though he was sure his Mistress was going to show him off deliberately in a minute.
He drove them out of their street, through the collection of shops in the centre of the suburb then down the hill and through the tunnel into town. She had him park under the raised section of the motorway by the Terrace which meant it was at least a ten minute walk through town to the club. As he got out of the car to open the door for his wife his legs shook so much that walking was difficult. Even as he stood holding the door for her his knee was trembling uncontrollably and he was breathing hard. As he closed the door she took his hand and held it tightly without saying anything. She knew he was terrified, she had seen how he had reacted every time she had suggested being seen in public in women's clothes. Always before she had worried it would be too much for him and had tried to think of a way of breaking him in gently but today she was too angry to care much. She was happy to drop him in the deep end and see how he coped. Serve him right. Even so she held on to his hand.
He helped her into her jacket, locked the car, and they set off down the narrow path with the steps that led under the Terrace. As they came out of the narrow tunnel into the steep little alleyway of Woodward St she felt his hand tighten its grip as he braced himself. Luckily for him the street wasn't very crowded but still he kept his head down so as not to catch anyone's eye. The tape around his crotch meant he couldn't walk fast but he was practiced enough in the low heels so that it looked fairly natural. She kept hold of his hand and looked at people as they passed to see their reaction. Most people were too busy with their own affairs to pay much attention. Every now and again she caught an odd look but the people looked away quickly when they saw her looking back. Only one young woman, in very high red heels and a long black dress frankly stared and kept looking as they passed. She raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile and the girl's mouth opened slightly as she smiled back, blushing. If he noticed this interaction, he gave no sign. He kept his head down and held tightly to her hand.
On Lambton Quay one of her colleagues was walking purposefully towards them, caught sight of her and came up to talk.
"Hello Catherine, how is it going?" she asked.
"Good. Good," his wife said, "I've been meaning to catch up with you about your restructure."
"Sure, this week is pretty much gone but sometime next week? I think first thing on Tuesday is clear."
"OK, when I get back to my desk this afternoon I'll get Sal to give your PA a call. I think Tuesday should be fine. But it is going well?"
"Pretty well. The first round is over and we are recruiting for the third tier now."
"Well don't poach any of my people. But sorry, I had better get a move on now if I'm going to make my two o'clock."
"OK, good to see you, I hope we can catch up on Tuesday."
While she was talking to his wife the woman had looked at him curiously a few times but had not seemed especially surprised. The two women kissed each other on the cheek and they all moved briskly off down the Quay in their separate directions.
"Does she know about me?" he asked.
His wife shrugged, "Never said anything but she keeps her ear to the ground so maybe she has heard something. I wouldn't be surprised. I must ask her to dinner and show you off. We could let her see your arse after this evening's thrashing so she can see how I'd like to keep my team in line." She laughed, "She probably guesses."
As they went down the Quay he held his head up a little more. He caught a few stares and blushed but didn't look down. Once a group of office girls smoking outside their building all looked together then turned to each other giggling and he managed not to flinch.
On the narrower footpaths on Willis St people seemed more concerned about not walking into them in amongst the building work than staring and as they got close to the Club in Cuba St it was his wife's elegant and obviously expensive grey dress that was attracting the odd looks from the dreadlocked and pierced passers by.
Turning into the doorway of the Club and climbing the stairs he was feeling quite breathless. In reception his wife went straight up to the desk and quickly said that she was bringing in something for Mary and it wasn't allowed to leave until she came to collect it. The receptionist was the girl with the rose tattoo.
"Good, yes, Mary said to expect him. What time do you think you will be back?" It sounded like the same snooty woman he had spoken to on the phone.
"Well, Mary said she should be able to get round to him at about six so I'll try to get away from work by then to watch. If I don't make it she should just get started anyway," his wife said, backing away from the desk.
"OK, I'll let her know. Have a pleasant afternoon and we'll see you later."
"Good. See you later. I'd better run if I'm going to make my meeting," she turned on her heel and left without a glance at him.
The receptionist's smile faded immediately. "In there, Fucktoy," she said indicating a door across the hallway. "I'll be keeping an eye on you," she tapped her screen, "so keep your dirty hands off yourself and don't touch the magazines. Shut the door behind you."
As he pulled the door closed he heard it lock. The room was small and windowless, a small sofa and a large plant with shiny leaves on a side table its only furniture. On the walls were photographs of Vixen and some of her girls dressed up and looking sternly at the camera. There were a couple of Toulouse Lautrec posters of dancing girls with old men leering at them. On the table next to the plant was a pile of magazines, fanned out so he could see they were hard core BDSM. On the cover of the top one a girl in full pony gear was on her knees being fucked from behind while she sucked the cock of another naked man in front of her. Her back and thighs were marked and both men had riding crops. He remembered what the receptionist had said and guiltily looked for the camera. It was in a smoked glass dome in the centre of the ceiling. He could feel it looming at him so he looked away from the magazines and sat down on the little sofa, keeping his hands on his knees over the skirt.
He had thought that they would have left him to wait naked and bound uncomfortably; kneeling on a hard floor at a minimum or suspended by his arms. That's what his wife would have done - with clamps on his nipples and a huge dildo up his arse to give him something to think about. He should have felt let off lightly just locked away in his dress but in a way he felt disappointed. As the afternoon wore on he knew he would have preferred to be bound. With nothing else to do, the pile of magazines preyed on his mind. To see the cover of the top one properly he had to turn his head at an angle and was busy reading the list of articles on the front when he remembered that the smug girl on reception would be watching him and was no doubt keen to report on him to Mary. More punishment on top of what she had promised him already didn't bear thinking about. He sat back in the sofa.
Once the thought was lodged in his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. Thirty strokes! Like so many things in this fetish relationship with his wife, being beaten was exciting to think about before it happened, wonderful when it was over but awful while it was happening. The sexual excitement gave way to simple pain and fear after the first few strokes. Once a beating got going all he wanted was for it to stop. After four strokes from Mary he knew he would be begging to have it all end and wouldn't be able to remember how sexy and thrilling it seemed only a few minutes earlier.
He suddenly just felt foolish sitting there in a cleaner's uniform, women's underwear and a wig. What could ever have made him think it was a good idea? But now the door was locked and there was nothing to do but wait until he was dragged out and beaten. He sat as still as he could as his fear and feeling of foolishness grew along with his desire to look at the magazines. If his cock had been free and the supercilious girl had not been watching he would have wanked over the magazine for sure.
oooOOOooo
He was feeling very sorry for himself when the sound of the key startled him. He was also thirsty and hungry and his bladder was full. The receptionist threw open the door and stood looking at him.
"Right, she is ready for you. Get your clothes off."
She shut the door and leaned on it to watch him, holding a cloth hood and swinging a collar and lead casually. He took off the wig then pulled his dress over his head. She seemed very amused by his false breasts and dropped her cool pose to come over to him and feel them.
"Mmm. These are nice. They must make you feel very girly. Let's see what you have in those pretty knickers." She reached in to feel and turned her mouth down sardonically when she felt the tape.
"Drop them and let's have a look. Oh yes. Very tidy but Mary said naked so you better get it all off."
"Are you sure? Miss Mary usually..."
"Don't fuck with me, Bitch!" she shouted and hit him hard across the face, "Get your prissy little cunt out."
Trembling he put his knickers on the pile of clothes, took off his shoes and stockings and started picking at the edges of the tape to get it off. The tape usually stayed on longer and it was difficult to get hold of enough to pull on.
He had just started when Mary breezed in. "Backchat?" she said smiling pleasantly looking at his red cheek.
"Yes. He was slow to start getting that tape off."
"Well, his Mistress... wife, does like to have him beaten with his cock taped down so she doesn't have to see him get excited. But keep going now you have started," she said, shaking her head slightly, seeing him trying to smooth the tape back down, "you'll just get in a mess if you try to put it back. Time to get back to the desk now, thank you, Claret babe. I think Vixen is expecting someone."
The girl left grumpily, leaving the door open. Mary closed it, still smiling and leaned against it with her arms folded as the plump girl had before. Getting the tape off was proving really hard and she watched him struggle with it, pulling at the hair around his cock, with an air of increasing amusement.
"Had a good day today, Fucktoy? That looks a bit painful."
"Not a good day so far, Miss, but I'm used to the tape."
"Oh, good. Well, I'm looking forward to making your day a whole lot worse for you then. When you've finished there get down on all fours for me please," she pushed herself up from the door and was looking around for something.
"Where is that collar and hood? Oh, bloody Claret's taken them out with her." She left him for a moment, shutting the door sharply then returned with the gear. The last of the tape was off and he was already kneeling as the door opened.
"Good," she said and knelt down beside him to buckle on the collar and pull the hood over his head. She ran her hand over his buttocks and reached for the cock between his legs then stood up to lead him crawling out through the reception area as his cock hardened.
"Let's get you to the Punishment Room."
He knew it well. It was a small room just down the corridor, but not so small there was no room to swing. The only furniture was a solid horizontal whipping bench for the subject and a couple of chairs so their owner could watch in comfort. The first time they had used it his wife had asked if it was soundproofed and been told that it wasn't and it was deliberately close to reception to give people waiting something to think about.
Clarissa was still looking sulky but stood up and leant over the desk on her elbows to look at him as they came out. Just as they got in front of the desk his wife came up the stairs, slightly flushed and out of breath, and stopped to watch approvingly.
"Good, not too late then."
"No, Miss Robinson, not too late. Your Fucktoy is just being taken down for his punishment."
"So I see. Excellent. Has he been behaving himself?"
"I don't know, Catherine," said Mary. "Has he been, Claret?"
"Pretty much, Miss Robinson. I didn't see him touch himself or the magazines while he was in there. He did seem very interested in them though."
"Mmm, he does have a dirty mind. Let's get on with it," said his wife handing her jacket and briefcase to Clarissa and following Mary and her crawling slave along the corridor.
Halfway down, one of the doors opened suddenly and Vixen strode out talking over her shoulder to a slight young woman with very short hair bleached platinum blonde. Vixen came out so abruptly that she nearly fell over the slave. Mary pulled him to a sudden stop with the lead just in time and Vixen stepped quickly to one side to recover her balance. Vixen nodded to his wife.
"Ah, good. Do you mind if we watch?" she asked.
"Not at all," said his wife, "although I don't think you'll find this worm very interesting."
Vixen and her companion, who was looking very flushed and nervous, fell into line at the end of the procession as Mary got him crawling again with a kick and they carried on down the corridor. When they entered the Punishment Room Mary just kept pulling on the lead until he had no choice but to clamber on to the whipping bench. She dropped the leash and started searching the racks on the wall for wrist and ankle cuffs. His wife sat in her favourite chair with the familiar almost non-sexual thrill rising in her. Vixen and the young woman stood in the doorway.
Mary found the cuffs and dropped them on his back in a pile as she started to buckle them on and clip them to the rings on the bench. She worked methodically, without saying anything, frowning slightly with concentration, putting a cuff on each wrist and ankle, pulling the limb as tight as she could and moving on to the next one. Once he was bound to the bench she went around each corner pulling the cuffs out and clipping them to rings a little further out until he was stretched out so tightly he couldn't move. The only sound in the room was the rattle of the buckles on the cuffs and the quick breathing of the woman with Vixen.
His senses were filled with the smell of the leather of the bench through the musty hood. His heart was pounding. He knew it was going to hurt but even though it was so familiar he couldn't actually remember exactly what it felt like. Mary carried on, pulling up the thick leather straps attached to the bench and buckling them tightly over the small of his back and across his knees. He was completely immobilised and beginning to sweat. He heard his wife cross her legs restlessly and knew she was getting excited.
Mary was at the rack on the wall sorting through the implements looking for the one she wanted. Sometimes his wife suggested what she should use but mostly she just let Mary choose. It was what she liked most about Mary, her almost casual brutality. Mary was happy to role-play if required and took obvious delight in the pleasure some of her clients took from milder forms of bondage but she always seemed most relaxed causing serious pain with a minimum of fuss. It was ideal for what his wife needed. She could do all the mind fucking with her slave and then hand him over to Mary and, with an ironic smile, she would inflict the torture to the edge of what he could bear. Certainly beyond what he thought he could bear. The muscular young woman seemed very sure at finding the overlap.
He was scared. He was trembling and sweating clammily onto the bench. His wife couldn't stop herself smiling. After this she was going to take him home and have him lick her to orgasm and then bring her off a few more times with her vibrator. She'd have to make sure his cock was taped down again before he got started on licking her. It was disappointing that Mary had let him take the tape off.
Mary had chosen her implement - it was a new one, a long thick riding crop made of fibreglass with a black shiny latex cover. She swished it through the air a few times and despite its thickness it made a lovely noise. There was silence after the swish as everyone in the room pictured what it would be like when it ended on the crack of hitting flesh. Especially the man on the bench. He flinched. The woman with Vixen had her mouth open.
"How many strokes today?" Mary asked.
"Thirty six, thank you Mary," said his wife. Mary raised an eyebrow.
"He needs punishing. I found a dirty magazine he'd had posted to himself in the rubbish and I think he's been wanking without permission," his wife explained to Vixen, "haven't you, Pig? Disgusting. I know you have so now you have to pay."
He felt a huge shock go through him when his wife pronounced his sentence. He was shook his head in the hood and starting to say, "No, no, Miss Mary only said thirty..." when his wife shushed him. It could only get worse so he lay still and clenched his teeth waiting for the first stroke.
Mary stood behind him with her legs braced wide apart and began to lash him slowly and deliberately, clearly putting a lot of strength into the blows. As he had feared, the pain was too much for him almost immediately. This was not about leaving pretty marks, there was no warm up; this was just about causing him pain. He was screaming and begging incoherently but Mary ignored the noise completely and carried steadily on counting under her breath. She was pausing long enough for him to feel each stroke but not so long that the pain of the last one faded so the intensity built and built. At eighteen strokes she changed sides.
When the beating was over the women were still, watching the man cry into his hood. The woman with Vixen had gone completely red and looked horrified but was running her tongue over her lips unconsciously. His wife waved her over.
"Just looking around? It's a very good place. You can touch him if you like."
"Yes, I am just looking, thank you," the woman said, "I've never been anywhere like this before. Do you come here a lot?"
"I bring him in every month to get twelve or sometimes twenty four to keep him in line."
The woman was very tentatively touching the bruises across his arse. Her touch was very gentle and felt strange through the burning left by the crop. His arse felt like it was wrinkling under her fingers.
"What do you mean, keep him in line? Do you have him beaten even when he's done nothing wrong?" she asked.
"But of course he's doing things wrong; he thinks about his dick all the time, looks at women in the street, fancies them, that sort of thing. He always needs punishing. And I like him to have marks, to remind him who he belongs to."
"But he was in so much pain -- shouldn't you give him a chance to say no? Couldn't he sue you or something?" the woman asked, turning to Vixen.
"No, we've got a contract signed by him to say we can do whatever his Mistress asks, haven't we?" said Vixen
"Yes, he's got a registered slave contract. It's on the internet -- that bar code will take you to it. Anyone can read it," his wife said pointing to the code tattooed on his shoulder.
"But why does he let you do it? It looks terrible."
"He likes it really, he likes to have me in control and even have me punish him. It always leaves him on some sort of high. We're both into it."
"I thought you kept him locked up so he wouldn't be able to do anything nasty without permission," said Vixen.
"I do a lot of the time but the device is heavy and he gets knocked around so he doesn't wear it all the time," said his wife. "Do you think he should?"
"Oh absolutely," said Vixen, "if you really want to stop him jerking off, you have to have it on all the time. They always wank when they get the chance, they just don't always admit to it. I guarantee he's been doing it all along and won't stop until you keep him tucked away in a good permanent chastity device. Talk to Mary about something light he can wear all the time; she is good with those things. He won't jerk off over a magazine again."
"What was the magazine anyway? I hope it was something good to be worth all this," said Mary casually, bending as she turned him over and began refastening him so that they could get at his cock. She pulled off his hood. He was still lost in the pain of the beating and not really comprehending what they were saying.
"Oh, I don't know. One of those men's things with actresses you've never heard of in their underwear. Not real porn. He wouldn't dare."
"Oh, right. We got one of those through our letter box last week; some sort of underwear promotion. I think everyone is getting them."
He heard his wife laughing, "I wondered why it was in the rubbish still in its plastic wrapping -- I thought he'd lost his nerve or something. Oh, well, tough. This can be a warning - but I had better get him locked up."
His head was clearing and he started to say, "Yes Mistress, I would never..." but he was shushed again.
Mary was still laughing as she left the room. She came back with a small black bag, took out the sheath of a transparent plastic cock cage and gave it to his wife. She turned it over in her hands as Vixen and the woman with the spiky blonde hair left and went off down the hall.
"OK, put it on him," she said handing it back, "It will work better than that tape."
"It's a bit fiddly," said Mary, sorting through the rings in the bag looking for the one she thought would fit. She tried one around the base of his cock but it was loose so she tried another. When she was satisfied that she had the right size she threaded the posts through the holes in the ring and reached for the plastic sheath. All the touching of his cock as she tried the rings had made him swell and she couldn't fit the sheath over it.
"That's the other problem," she said, "you can't get it on if he has an erection. Can I make him soft again?"
His wife had got up to watch her assemble the device and learn how it worked. She looked at Mary for a moment.
"And how do you intend to do that Mary?"
Mary raised her eyebrows, mock innocently, and said, "Mmm, well, I do fancy a fuck, and since, you know, there was a bit of a mistake over the magazine he probably deserves..."
His wife smiled at her.
"Well, OK, but he deserved his thrashing and doesn't deserve anything else. If you want to use him and it will help get him put away, go ahead. Be quick."
Mary smiled back.
"Don't worry, I'm pretty turned on from beating him. I shouldn't be long."
She took off the ring around the base of his cock, pulled up her short leather skirt and swung one long booted leg over him so she was sitting on his stomach with her back to him.
"Thank you. Can you pass me the lube?" she said waving at the bottle in the corner.
His wife gave it to her. The warm weight of her on his stomach and the conversation had bought him fully erect and he gasped as she closed her hands around him. She spread lube all over his shaft then rocked forward so she could reach between her own legs. He lifted his head to see her carefully shaved pussy between her thighs and watched her push her lubed fingers into herself. Then she moved forward and leant right down, showing her cunt framed by her legs and the skirt, eased him into her and sat back on his hips.
"Mmm," she said, turning to look over her shoulder, "That feels good. You better not come until I do and get off. I don't want to be all sticky."
She started sliding up and down on him, rubbing her clitoris with her fingers and crooning gently to herself. It didn't take very long for her to come. He almost came himself when her legs tightened around him and her moans became a series of small gasps. She got off him, panting a little and took the lube again.
"Good boy. That was lovely. Let's get you all nice and soft and locked away so you can go home."
She lubed her hands and stroked his twitching cock, holding her hand tightly round the shaft and working away quickly. He came almost immediately, Mary laughing as she held her other hand over the end of his cock to stop it spraying everywhere. She found a box of tissues and wiped her hand and his stomach as he softened. While they were waiting she clicked her fingers and said, "I know what we need," and left the room. She was back in a moment with a long black stocking.
"This is what you do," she said bringing his wife closer. She pulled the open end of the stocking over his almost soft cock and slipped the other end through a slit in the end of the sheath then used the stocking to pull it fully into the sheath. Once the cock was enclosed she fitted the rings around its base and fitted the posts into the sheath.
"There, get the cock in first and then do the rest in case he gets excited."
She gave the device, inside which he was doing his best to swell again, a good shake and fumbled around in the device's bag for its padlock. Finding it she held it out to his wife.
"You want to put this on? You just slip it through here."
"Of course," his wife said and took the padlock from Mary, slipped the key out of its lock, fitted the hook through the post of the device and snapped it shut.
It sounded very business-like. This thing was clearly meant to be worn for a long time. He could feel it enclosing his cock and the ring was tight around its base. His balls felt pressed between the ring and the cage but it had no weight. The cage he had worn before was really for show. It was shiny metal and looked lovely but it was heavy and he couldn't wear it for long. Sometimes it even dragged down enough so it fell off. He and his wife had only used it for games. This one was serious. He had the feeling that it wasn't just going to slip off.
While he was lying thinking about the implications of the new cage, his wife had left the room while Mary took off the cuffs. As he sat up to get off the bench, feeling the bruises from his beating and the unfamiliar thing between his legs his wife came back in with his clothes.
"That thing is going to leave quite a bump and spoil his nice girly knickers," she said, holding them up.
"Don't worry, it can only be temporary. You can get him a proper chastity belt that will keep it all tucked away so you never notice it under his panties. Have a look on FetLife."
"Good," said his wife, "I will. But this will do for now. I think I'll leave it on for a while. I'll see what he will do to get hold of this after a week or two." She held up the key then dropped it into her purse.
"I think he'll be very biddable," said Mary.
"Come on, get your dress on so we can go home."
"A glass of wine while we wait for him, Catherine?"
"Lovely."
The two women left him to get his clothes on. The device felt strange and dug into his thighs under the tight underwear. He could feel his excitement growing. Vixen and her companion walked past the door of the Punishment Room deep in conversation and paid him no attention. The pain in is arse was bad but no longer unbearable. He felt a glow of pride to have survived such a thrashing, even though he had begged so abjectly. The fear was all gone. He felt euphoric and this new cock cage seemed to open an exciting new game. All of a sudden he was desperate to feel his tongue against his Mistress and please her so maybe she would use the key in her purse. He had got the worst beating of his life over a piece of junk mail but suddenly his day didn't look so bad.
