Bad Day

It was Darla. She was holding a video camera up to her eyes, smiling broadly.

"You're going to knock yourself out if you keep that up," she said.

I decided to try to play on her sympathy, letting a catch rise in my voice. "I'm really hurting," I managed to say through the panty gag. "Please get the keys for me." To my surprise she did just that. She held the keys between the video camera lens and my face. "You want me to give you the keys?" she asked. Of course I did but I could tell from her smile that she intended to play her own little game. I nodded apprehensively. She kept the camera lens on the keys as she brought them down and then deftly worked them under the twine that encircled my cock. "There you go," she said.

If I could have gotten free right then I think I would have strangled her. But I wasn't free. I was still bound hand and foot and now I had been delivered into the not so tender mercies of Darla. Actually, I was to find out, she was quite merciless. "I've been here almost ten minutes," she said. "I taped you going up these steps. What a show." She turned the camcorder off then and set it on the shelf where the keys had lain. Then she began to alternately stroke and pull on my cock, making me gasp and groan with each movement of her small skillful hands. "Okay," she said. "We can't do much up here. Let's get you downstairs." She picked up the camcorder and then proceeded to help me down the steps. I had to sit down on each one and work my buttocks down onto the next step. She stayed in front of me to make sure I didn't fall but also to encourage my efforts by pulling on the cock leash. Once down on the second floor she made me hop into the bedroom, back to that damned bed which I was beginning to wish I had never seen.

"Ginger wanted me to keep you occupied until she got back from work." She cupped me under my chin. "She's got big plans for you," she said. "And so do I. I brought your clothes with me," she gestured towards the bed. There were a variety of what appeared to be women's clothes on them. Underwear, bras, a whole bunch of frilly stuff and God help me, a pile of bondage gear. "Clothes for our little housewife," she said, and used the cock leash to pull me over to the bed.

"Darla, pleashe," I mumbled through the panty gag. She merely put her finger up to my mouth. "Now, now. You'll have plenty of time to beg, and lots more reasons to, soon enough. Let's get you dressed. You're as naked as a jaybird." She led me to one of the bedposts and turned me around. I could feel her tying the back end of the cock leash/crotch rope to the bedpost, pulling it even tighter into my crotch and my cock against my bound legs. "That's so you'll cooperate and not get frisky when I untie your legs," she said. She untied the ropes that held my legs and ankles and then tugged on the crotch rope behind me to remind me to behave. She took pink panties from the clothes on the bed and knelt near my left foot, expecting me to raise it. When I didn't, she said "tsk, tsk," and went to the pile of gear on the bed. I watched her pick up what must have been a riding crop. "Wo," I said through the gag, "I'll cooperate." It sounded like "corfarate" through the gag but I think she got my meaning.

"Yes," she said, grinning widely, "you will." Then she began slashing me with the crop. Everywhere, never in the same place twice. My chest, my side, my stomach, the front of my legs, down past my shins, my arms. "Ow, stop! Shtop! I'll corfarate!" I said. She hit me a few more times. I didn't think she'd ever stop. Then she brought the crop up to my lips. Her eyes were burning, her lips were tight and grim. She was incensed by my small act of rebellion. Really angry. "Don't fuck with me," she said. "I'll make you so sorry." I was already sorry. She tapped the crop against my gagged lips. "Apologize," she said. "Beg my forgiveness."

"I'm shorry," I told her. She hit me again. On my ear. I was blind with pain and rage. "Goddamn you!" I said, and tried to free myself. I knew it was useless, but I tried. She hit me again, same place, then my neck, then my left nipple, then my left side, then across the front of my thighs. I was breathless with pain. I started to curse her again and she hit me on my mouth. That, I am not too ashamed to say, shut me up. I was astonished. She was way beyond mere sex games. This was true domination, totally genderless and asexual. It was obvious with her it was all about who was in charge.

I was by no means broken. I don't even know what that means, but I knew now she was ready to inflict more pain than I was ready to bear. "I'm shorry," I said with as much conviction as I could muster, trying not to let the abiding anger I felt toward her color my apology. Vague plans were already forming to make her pay for this assault. Make her pay.

She hit me again, this time on my right nipple. I writhed. What could she want? "That's not what I told you to do!" She said, and hit me with each word. She was running out of fresh places. I racked my brain to figure out what she wanted me to say. Oh yeah, beg for her frgiveness. "I... Pleashe forgive me," I said. My face was flushing with shame, a good part of which was being forced to try to make myself understood through the panties. "I... beg your forgivenesh." God I would make her pay.

"Don't think about the future," she said, as if she could read my mind. "You're problems are right here, right now," and she tapped my imprisoned cock, none too lightly, for emphasis. I had to agree. Without another word, she picked up the panties again and knelt so I could put my foot through the leg hole. Then the other. She drew them up around my hips and when she got to my cock, she stopped. She reached behind me to loosen the cock leash enough for her to be able to lift my cock and push it up against my stomach while removing the handcuff keys from beneath the twine. She tossed them aside on the bed and then she pulled the panties all the way up and, after forcing my cock against my underbelly, she popped the elastic waistband against the head of my cock. She gave it a little pat and smiled at me. Then she wagged a finger in my face. "No more trouble from you now, little housewife," she said. She reached down and stroked my cock. Oh, God. "I can be nice, too," she said. "You want me to be nice, don't you?" She kept stroking me. "Well, do you?" She gave it a fairly hard squeeze, causing me to grunt in pain. "Goddamn it, answer me when I ask you a question!" She squeezed harder. "Yesh!" I said. "I want you to be nishe." She released her grip and began stroking me again. Jesus. From pain to pleasure to pain to pleasure, on and on with no say in the matter. She kept stroking, causing me a very agonizing erection, and then she stopped. She giggled. "Now, let's get the rest of your outfit on, okay, little housewife?" Man, did I wish I had never called poor Ginger that.

Darla picked up a lacy black bra and stretched it out, then shrugged. "It doesn't really go with your pink panties, my sexy little housewife, but it's the only one that's strapless, and I don't think I want to risk uncuffing you just yet. You were so mad at me a few moments ago, weren't you?" She said, making a mock pout. "But not any more, right?" And she reached down and stroked my cock through the panties again. I shuddered, then she squeezed it again, hard. "Right?"

"Yesh!" I said, then remembered her last question, "I mean no! I'm not mad at you anymore." She laughed merrily at my desperation, then stopped squeezing and started stroking again. My bound cock had reached a sort of painful tumescent stasis now which I wasn't sure would change no matter what torture or pleasure she inflicted on it. Then she stopped and put the bra around me, letting her pert little breasts rest against my stomach (she's quite short) while she clasped it in the back. It was too small but she made it fit. I thought it might have been Ginger's but then I realized that if Darla liked these games, she probably had a whole stock of outsized women's underwear she could use to humiliate those men who were unfortunate enough to come under her ministrations. Like me. She stepped back to assess her work. "God, you look like the bearded lady," she said. "I wish I'd thought to bring clippers and a razor." She looked me up and down. "You're really quite hairy. If we get the time, I'll take care of that for you." The realization came to me then that Ginger and Darla could make this last quite a long time if they wanted to. After all, I think Ginger wanted to get back at me for a whole year of Saturdays.

For Ginger it was vengeance, for Darla it was just... fun. I think she was having a helluva time. She found a black garter belt and put that on me, then dark stockings, which she clipped to the garter belt. "You look precious!" She told me, "but we're not done yet." Next came garish clip on earrings, a ridiculous strand of pearls around my neck and finally, "to complete the ensemble," she said, "lipstick."

"Really have to get you shaved," she said absently as she applied some powdery makeup and then lipstick to my mouth. She mimed for me to purse my lips into a ridiculous pout and when I didn't immediately mirror her action, she pulled extra hard on the cock leash.

Next she picked up the camcorder to record it all. She studied my expression. "I know you wish I'd just go away and leave you alone but you're lucky to have me around," she told me. "Imprisonment gets old after a while. It's just boring. Nothing sexy about it or thrilling if there is no one there to mock your suffering." She replaced the ropes around my thighs and shins and ankles and then unfastened the back of the crotch rope from around the bedpost. She cinched it back up after I was free of the post. Then, taking care to pull the crotch rope tight between my legs, she pushed me onto the bed. "Ginger said you were a good pussy licker," she said as she unfastened her skirt and took her thong panties off. She climbed atop my chest. "Don't disappoint me, now," she said, pulling the panty gag out, and slid onto my mouth, cock leash in hand. I watched her rock back and forth on my face, her eyes closed in bliss. "You can do better than that," she said, and pulled on the cock leash. I increased my efforts and then noticed that she was using the leash to direct where my tongue went, right and left, up and down. How humbling to be used in such a way. Finally she bent forward, pulling up hard on the leash, her lean, almost emaciated belly brushing my forehead, her whole body shaking. "That was fine, that was good," she said, sighing. "Now let's do it again." And that went on for quite a while, until my tongue and jaw were practically cramping. If I stopped to rest, she would pull on the leash or slap my balls. She stopped moving again and looked down at me. I didn't know if she was through with my mouth or not; another humbling experience. "Ginger was right," she said, "you're a pretty good pussy licker." She toyed with my hair. "Now I think we'll fuck, okay?"

I knew I had no choice in the matter, "asking" me was just a tease. I could only hope it was not just that; I wanted to fuck her so bad it felt as if I had become a mere extension of my cock. She slid down my torso, our combined juices (my saliva, her pussy liquor) making a clear trail right down to my bound and tortured cock. She freed it from the panties waistband, and then smiling at me and nodding, as if she wanted me to thank her, she oh so slowly slid me into her quite tight but quite wet vagina. The extensive lubrication must have helped as she humped me, riding up and down the length of my entwined member, because the pain wasn't as intense as it had been when Ginger had ridden me. I thought I just might get one off, even past the damned clothesline coiled around my cock. She seemed to notice how close I was getting and I thought, Now she'll stop to tease me more but she didn't, she increased her speed, riding ever harder and higher and then I guess we both came simultaneously. She stifled her moans with her mouth closed, so it sounded like high pitched humming. It might have been funny or charming if I hadn't been in this humiliating predicament. When she was finished she draped her small breasted body over me and said, "Oh, that was fun, I think, for both of us." Then she abruptly pulled herself off of me and grabbed my swaying cock so she could tuck it once again under the panties waistband. "But now, back to work," she said, and slid again over my slick torso, reversing direction and ending up, once again, poised above my mouth. "You've got some cleaning up to do," she said. "I'm all messy down there." And she settled herself on me, rocking to and fro until she felt comfortable, I guess.

Realizing again I had no say in the matter, I licked and sucked until I tasted my own semen, no less substantial and gross than Gordon's. And then she kept riding me, goading me and guiding me with the cock leash as she had before until, finally, minutes later, she came again. Humming again.

She pushed herself off of me and stood next to the bed and took off the rest of her clothes. My slim, bare tormentress. "Okay," she said, "I think I want to see you dance." So she pulled on the cock leash to "help" me up until I was standing. She pulled it again, upwards, this time, until I was on tiptoes. I watched with trepidation as she tied the free end over the higher of the two railings at the end of the bed, leaving me only a minimum of slack. She picked up a long riding crop, one she must have brought with her, and swished it in front of me. "I know I don't have to remind you how much this thing hurts," she said and smiled and swung it quite hard against my already welted ass. "But I notice you're not dancing yet, my little housewife."

Not wanting further encouragement I began to hop up and down, all I could do with my ankles and legs bound as they were, but this lack of variation was unsatisfactory for her. "Put some different moves into your little dance," she said and swatted my ass, so I tried hopping from side to side and then, as her swipes at my ass had not ceased, I tried turning around as far as I could, with my dick leashed to the bedrail and then I tried hopping higher (I tried, anyway, anything to keep that crop off my ass).

"Now wiggle your cute pantied little ass," she said, and I did. This mortifying performance went on for ten minutes or so until I was nearly breathless and my poor cock felt rubbed raw by the clothesline. I could feel the waist rope digging into my belly and a friction burn was forming on my "taint" where the crotch rope had sawed back and forth as I danced for my captress. She smiled and laughed cruelly the entire time, doing her best to degrade me into some sort of sexual clown.

And it was degrading; I guess I could have just stoically taken whatever torture she wanted to inflict on me but it was a sexual torture. That is why, I think, people like Darla instinctively know to alternate punishment with overwhelming sexual stimulation, and forcing the one receiving the punishment to cooperate and maybe the punishment would turn to pleasure.

After she undid the cock leash from the bed railing Darla led me by it back to the bed. She pushed me and I fell athwart the mattress. "Ginger will be home soon," she said. "I guess it would be wrong of me to wear you out before she can play with you again." With that she crawled up onto the bed, carelessly brushing my cock with her hard belly. Midway up my torso she turned and then waved her little behind in the air above my face. "Let's see who can make who come first," she said, and lowered her pussy onto my mouth. I saw no point in a token and probably painful resistance so I began licking her right away. A not unenjoyable moment, compared to what I'd just been through. About the same time I felt her lips ever so gently caress the head of my bound cock. It was wonderful and excruciating. But when I let out an involuntary moan she stopped and I felt her fist go around it. She pulled it up at first, making my hips rise off the bed and then she bent it back towards my belly. I groaned in pain so then she slapped my balls. "Make one more sound! One more while you're supposed to be licking me! I dare you! You think you're suffering now? Just wait until Ginger gets tired of you! Then you'll know suffering!" I immediately returned to my servicing of her.

I dutifully licked and sucked while the thought of Darla without any brakes joined an equally disturbing thought I had had before: it was beginning to look like these two had plans for me that went beyond a mere afternoon of torture. Would this never end?

Now she began toying again with my cock, occasionally fisting it to near ejaculation and then stopping. She would pull on the clothesline cock leash and strum it like a guitar string causing my abused penis to thrum and throb. And all along I did what I would have been glad to do under different circumstances but now was being forced to do; lick and suck her to orgasm.

Which she had, finally, after I don't know how long. She kept humming as she crawled over me to get off the bed, again casually brushing my feverishly tumescent cock. About that time I heard the front door open. Ginger, cause of my current suffering, Ginger the vengeful victim, had returned. Now, I knew, the both of them were going to torture me.

It turned out she had brought clippers; in fact a whole shaving kit, pleasing Darla no end. Together they led me to the bathroom and after removing the feminine garments Darla had got me into (eliciting snickers from Ginger) they proceeded to denude me of not only my beard and moustache but the rest of my body hair as well. They were none too careful, either. I ended up with quite a few nicks and scratches. It was a painful and humiliating procedure. When they had washed me down they led me back into the bedroom.

I was put on my knees facing the bed. Ginger stripped and sat in front of me. She brought herself to the edge of the bed and then she showed me a dog collar. She secured it around my neck with a padlock and after attaching a standard dog leash to it; she smiled and pulled my face into her pussy. A diminishing but still extant reservoir of defiance caused me not to do what she clearly expected me to. I let my chin rest on the mattress while my lips rested against her cunt.

But it only took a moment for me to suddenly feel the smack of a belt against my back and butt. It hurt like hell, of course, joining the welts already formed there from my afternoon of torment. When she hit me again I gave up my defiance and began licking and sucking on her cunt lips. My hearing muffled by Ginger's meaty thighs, I listened to her and Darla casually discuss their plans for me.

"Let's make him suck cock!" Darla said. "Ronald," (her husband) "loves a blowjob and it doesn't matter who's giving it to him."

"He can get fucked in the ass, too," Ginger said. She pulled the leash. "Would you like that, my little housewife?" She asked as she tapped my ass with what felt like a riding crop. I couldn't know if their plans were real but I was in no position to stop them.

I became very familiar with both my tormentors bodies in the next few hours. A forced, humiliating familiarity as they languorously used me like a meat puppet. It was either do as they said or they would beat my ass and back and legs with the riding crop, or pull cruelly on the cock leash. Then they would alternate the beatings with a tease of my cock, stroking it to an excruciating hardness in its twine prison only to return once again to abusing me with the belt and the crop. They put lipstick on my mouth and made me suck a dildo while photographing me and giggling. Oh, you bitches, I thought. When I get free I will make the both of you suffer.