Harry's Tale

Harry’s Tale

By Millie

 

Written for a good friend.

 

“Good afternoon, Harry, is he in?” The voice startled me and I looked up from the page I was writing, a smile crossing my face as I did so.

 

“Yes, Ma’am, but he’s on the phone, could you wait a few minutes?” I received a nod in reply and then watched my boss’s wife make herself comfortable in one of the sumptuous armchairs, I saw her cross her long, shapely legs and then, my cock stirring painfully in my pants, I returned to my work.

 

My boss is the CEO of a subsidiary of an oil conglomerate. We provide security for some of the offices they have around the world and he pretty much concentrates on that one client, although we do have a few others, all of whom are also linked to the oil company. My boss’s name is John Downley, he is 36 years old, tall, dark haired and, to me at least, devastatingly handsome. Mrs Downley is the same age, a little shorter than he with blonde hair and a figure to die for.

 

I’m Harry, and this is my ideal job. I am in charge of John’s office staff, three secretaries, two clerks and a chauffeur. I am also, not that many people know it, the Downley’s personal slave.

 

When I am talking about them with other people I can call them either Mr or Mrs Downley, but when we are alone then they are Sir and Ma’am, or Master and Miss Samantha or even Mistress. The names fall easily off my tongue and so natural is my position with them that I never make any mistakes with their titles. To do so would be very painful and humiliating for me and, although I love the punishment I receive, I think that even I would struggle to cope with the type of reprimand that blunder would earn me.

 

Master and I met at college, I was in the year above him, not that it mattered, and he was assigned to my rooms for his first year. We hit it off right away, although I didn’t tell him I was bi, not wanting to scare him off, or fight him off either. He tells me now that he always knew, and maybe he did, after all, who am I to argue with my boss?

 

“Harry, do you think he will have finished yet?” Miss Samantha’s voice cut into my thoughts and I quickly looked down at the small switchboard on my desk.

 

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, he is off the phone now.” The look I received for this news was not encouraging, so why did it make my heart flutter? “I will announce you, Miss Samantha, and I really am very sorry.”

 

“Yes, you will be, boy, but then so will he, for hiring such an incompetent!” I quickly put a call through to my Master and then watched as the double doors to his office opened and closed and again I was alone.

 

I guess I should explain a few things, maybe show you how my life works. As I sit here at my desk I look like any other mid management bod, a little bored, a little listless, and ready for a holiday. I am all of those things, but I am also far more. For instance, however I look it isn’t apparent that, under my smart suit, chosen for me by Master, I am wearing very skimpy white lace panties, a suspender belt and stockings. The panties I wear all the time, the stockings are a punishment for spilling some orange juice at breakfast this morning. I also have on a chastity belt. It is made of clear plastic and points my penis down and towards my body. One of my common punishments is to stand in front of a mirror, hands behind my head, and see how restrained it is, how small and wimpy in its confinement. The problem is that looking at myself in that way excites me and my cock tries to grow, to become hard and erect, but it can’t and that adds to both the excitement and the humiliation.

 

I live with Master and Miss Samantha; the house is large with a beautiful annexe. When visitors come it is made clear to them that I live a totally separate life in that annexe, and so far no one has questioned it. When they are gone, of course, my life is anything but separate, and although I do live in the annexe, I don’t get to spend a lot of time there.

 

When Master John and I first met, like I said, I was the second year student and he was the new boy. He seemed so nervous and quiet that after a week I wondered whether he would actually stay the course. I had just broken up with my first real boyfriend at the time and was, for me, uncharacteristically mean and nasty.

 

“For goodness sake, John, you have to get yourself together. Everything is still packed, you have a first assignment due in by the middle of next week and so far you’ve done nothing but sit and dream on the sofa. You need to get a hold of yourself.”

 

He’d just nodded; after all, what I said was true. In fact he had the same t-shirt and jeans on that he’d worn when he arrived because he hadn’t unpacked anything. Every two days or so he’d remove the smelly articles, wash them, put them to dry and they would be back on his slight frame the next morning.

 

“Would you like me to help with your unpacking?” I asked begrudgingly, and in a way I hoped would show that I really didn’t want to bother, but his eyes had lit up.

 

“Would you? That would be wonderful … I … I’ve never been away from home before except on holiday, I’m not used to doing this for myself.”

 

With a sigh I’d marched into his bedroom, grabbed the first suitcase and hauled it up onto his bed. I undid the zip that went all the way around and then looked at the contents. They were all folded beautifully and between each item was a layer of tissue paper.

 

“Whoever packed this for you? Does she feed you breakfast as well?” John had blushed and turned away and I knew I’d hit a nerve. I shook my head and laughed at him before picking up the first item, a new shirt, and sliding it onto a hanger. Each item that I took out was also new. This boy was seriously spoilt.  As with all student rooms there was never enough space, and by the time I was on the second case the wardrobe and drawers were filling up rapidly. I picked up a pair of Superman boxers and as I did so a sheet of paper fell out. John reached for it, but I was faster, and with a laugh I began to read.

 

‘Johnny, mummy hopes you have enough stuff here. If any of it isn’t to your liking send it to the charity shop and let mummy know. She will send you some more things to replace them. Make sure you call her every day, and write too, you know how she gets when she doesn’t hear from you.

 

Good luck, I know you will do well, I will miss you, but one of us had to leave, and it was always going to be you.

 

Love

Dad.’

 

John was beet red now but I noticed that his hands were in his lap as he sat watching me. I don’t know why I did it but I ordered him to remove them, and sure enough his trousers were tented, he was getting off on the humiliation!

 

I finished up his clothes and then moved into the small lounge area we had. John didn’t follow me and in the end I called out to him and he scuttled into the room.

 

“So, mummy’s boy, what do you want to do now?” I kept my eyes firmly on his groin and the small movements there were easy to see.

 

“I … I could fix you supper, I’m very good at that.” I waved him towards the kitchen and leant back in the chair, closing my eyes and letting the wonderful possibilities of what I had here wash over me.

 

The door to Master John’s office opened and Miss Samantha and her husband came out.

 

“Harry, it’s time to go.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.” I stood up, slid my work into a grey manila folder and put it in my desk drawer. I locked it, gave the key to my Mistress, and then followed along behind John as we left the office suite.

 

The deep blue Mercedes that Miss Samantha drove was parked in one of the visitor’s lots of the underground car park. There was a space for the CEO, but Master was never allowed to drive to work on his own, Miss Samantha always drove us to and fro, even though we both had licenses. John and I climbed in the back and our Mistress made herself comfortable in the driver’s seat. As always we held hands, John’s soft skin against mine and I longed to lean over and kiss him, take him in my arms and just hold him tight. I didn’t though, because to do so without permission would earn both of us a severe thrashing, and I had outside meetings the following day, which would go much easier if I could sit down.

 

The journey was usually a half hour one, but there was an accident holding us up and, looking into her rear-view mirror, Miss Samantha spoke.

 

“Harriet, I know how much you want to, so you may kiss John.” I felt my friend, lover and Master’s hand tighten in my own. Yes, we wanted to kiss, but not when the car was stationary, not when there was a huge lorry right behind us with its driver staring right in our window. We had no choice though and so, very tentatively, like the first time we ever touched each other, our lips met and again I was reminded of the softness of every part of John.

 

Our life on campus had gradually fallen into a pattern. John did the cooking and cleaning, which apparently were jobs he’d shared with his father at home. I helped him get a routine up, introduced him to a few friends and gradually we began to spend all our time outside lessons together. His home life was explained to me over the first few weeks, hesitantly at first but then, when he realized I wasn’t going to be shocked and disgusted by it, it seemed to come out in a flood.

 

John was an only child, his mother, not wanting to have more than one child to lavish her love and attention on, had forbidden his father to touch her again after his birth. That love and attention though, had a price, and it was he as well as his father who paid it. Mrs Downley, who John still called Mummy, bought him everything she though he should have, and she pampered him. Until he left home he had never had a bath or shower without her being present in the room, had never gone to bed without a kiss and cuddle, and had never had to get a Saturday job to earn his own money. What he had had to do however, was to cook, clean, wash, dust and Hoover. All those things that his mother had deemed beneath her had been passed on to him and his father.

 

So John had been socially inept but made a mean Sunday roast. I hated cooking with a passion and had the numbers of all the take away joints on a list by the phone. I still called them, but not with the regularity of my previous year in college.

 

The first holiday we had, at Christmas, John invited me home with him for the festivities. As I hadn’t been looking forward to spending the time with my own folks the invitation was gratefully received, and with hindsight, proved to be the catalyst to the relationship we have now.

 

“For goodness sake, put a bit of passion into it.” Miss Samantha’s voice cut through the car like a knife through butter and, knowing better than to annoy her, I turned a little and pushed my tongue gently against John’s lips. With a moan of surrender he opened his mouth and at once we were in heaven. My hand snaked round to grasp the back of his head, my eyes closed, and I began to kiss him in earnest, my cock trying it’s best to respond, as I knew his would be.

 

“That’s better, now, Johnny, stroke Harriet’s little Dickie. Make sure he’s good and hard, well, as hard as it gets in his cage, and that all the other drivers can see what you’re doing.”

 

I wanted to slide off the seat, or pull away from John and even maybe slap him, so that the other drivers would think I had nothing to do with what was happening, but I didn’t. Instead I waited for the feel of his hand against my thigh, felt him gently touch me, before, after a stern coughing sound from the front of the car, he grabbed hold of me, through my suit and moved me around. Of course, with my cock inside its prison, all that happened was it throbbed painfully and I cried out into his mouth, wanting the torture to stop, but praying that it wouldn’t.

 

I heard a few car horns, and one or two voices calling out to Miss Samantha, but then the traffic began to move again and we continued our journey. As we hadn’t been told to stop John and I carried on kissing and fondling until we arrived home, by which time both of us were so horny and desperate that we would have agreed to anything for a little release.

 

The house we live in is huge, as is befitting a man in John’s position. All of it is in Miss Samantha’s name however, and if it were ever to be sold she would make millions. John is an extremely wealthy man though, the family money put in trust for him and any children he may father. Miss Samantha can’t touch that but, as she spends the interest and enjoys the lifestyle it affords her, she doesn’t mind too much.

 

My rent is tiny for the living arrangements I enjoy, but then, it never was the money that made them invite me to co-habit with them in the first place. I am there to be enjoyed, humiliated, shared and tormented, and I love every minute of it.

 

Miss Samantha drove the car straight into the garage, the door automatically opening as she passed a sensor on the gate, and closing again once we were inside. The house itself is on a very pleasant, very expensive, and exclusive road on the outskirts of town and has sufficient grounds around it that we are never disturbed by the neighbours, or they by us.

 

John and I reluctantly stopped kissing each other and climbed out of the car. Then we stripped off our suits, shirts, shoes and, in John’s case, socks and placed them in two empty laundry baskets. We would return later to collect them; now wasn’t the time.  I knew better than to remove my stockings and so they remained on me, along with my panties and my hated but revered cock cage.

 

On the counter at the end of the garage were two small jewellers boxes. We each opened one and carefully put the enclosed gold loops through our pierced nipples. Miss Samantha knew that wearing them in the office wasn’t feasible, heaven knows what one of the older managers, or visiting clients might have thought if they saw them through our shirts. Our Mistress controlled us both, but she knew that certain relaxations of the code we lived by had to be expected if we were to continue bringing in the large amounts of money we both earned each month.

 

“Harriet, my sweet boy, I do believe you have a punishment waiting for you, Johnny, you may go and make me a drink. Pimms I think.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” John fell to his knees in front of his wife and then crawled off into the house, making his way towards the bar area in the living room where he could do as he had been instructed.

 

At home I was always Harriet, never Harry, unless we had guests of course, and I carefully slipped the wide silver cuff bracelet with my female name on it onto my left wrist.  I wasn’t allowed to be without it in the house; it was, I had been told, a constant reminder of who and what I was.

 

Although both John and I answered to Miss Samantha, I also answered to John, in fact in the house he was, as I said before, Sir or Master John at all times.

 

Miss Samantha reached over and cupped my genitals in her hand. My balls were heavy with spunk and hung down below the ring of the chastity belt. I hadn’t been allowed to cum in over a week and I was getting desperate.

 

“Please, Miss Samantha, please, let me cum tonight. Please.” I mumbled my words as her hand gently manipulated my balls, causing me to break out into a light sweat.

 

“I am sorry, my dear boy, but I can’t hold a conversation out here in this smelly garage. We’ll go into the house and you can show me your cute little arse as we do so.” Miss Samantha slapped my backside hard as she spoke and I mumbled my reply.  

I too fell to my knees now that I had been given permission to enter her home and as I crawled along in front of her she used a rattan cane she had picked up to whack my arse with.

 

In the lounge Master John had finished preparing his mistress’s drink and was now on his knees in front of the bar. I crawled over to join him and our different positions in the house became apparent. My Master, although required to kneel, was allowed to look his wife in the eye. He didn’t have to keep his head lowered at any time, whereas I was only allowed to look at either of them when I was given permission.

 

The other differences were in our dress. John’s nipple rings, gold like mine, also had diamonds adorning them whereas mine were plain. His panties were extremely expensive, designer label items, in fact the thong he was wearing had cost a little over a hundred dollars from an American site on the Internet, whereas mine, although very pretty, were from Marks and Spencer and cost under a tenner for two pairs.

 

Miss Samantha picked up her drink from the bar and took a sip.

 

“Delicious, my darling. Thank you.” She smiled at her husband and then placed a finger under his chin. “You may stand, my sweet, tonight we will work together.”

 

With a smile Master John got to his feet, carefully removed his beautiful underwear and then waited while his wife removed his chastity belt. His cock, suddenly free of its restraints, became semi erect immediately and I watched in envy as Miss Samantha ran her beautifully manicured, blood red nails up and down the shaft, slowly manipulating and teasing until its full eight inches bobbed impressively in front of me.

 

“Now, Harriet, I need to go and change, you can ask your question when I return. John, I don’t want you to cum yet, but you may play with your other toy.” Miss Samantha smiled and kissed him gently on the lips. It was clear that tonight he was her equal and that I was to be used and abused by them both.

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha.” John still wasn’t allowed to drop all formality, but it was a small price to pay for the freedom he would enjoy and I knew he didn’t mind in the slightest. We both watched as his wife and my Mistress left the room, her hips swaying and her hair doing the same.

 

John moved closer to me, his cock waving in front of me.

 

“Suck it.” He moved it even nearer and I willingly opened my mouth to do as I was told. The heat and hardness made my own cock throb even more in its restraint and as I began to lick and slurp on him I tried to forget my own problems.

 

I was the middle child of three and my father had been unemployed for years. There was very little money spent on us at Christmas, but in John’s house it was completely different.

 

There was a beautiful tree outside on the porch, a small one in the front hall and an enormous one in the lounge. The presents, all gift wrapped in gold and purple or silver and red looked as if an interior designer had carefully positioned them.

 

John’s parents had welcomed me with open arms, delighted that their son had a friend at last and more than happy to include me in their celebrations.

 

We had gone upstairs to unpack and I saw John’s mother enter his room to do that chore for him. Once I heard her leave again I went along to his room and tapped on the door.

 

“So, mummy’s boy, is all your stuff put neatly away?”

 

“Yes, Sir, would you like me to come and do yours now?”

 

I nodded, the thought of controlling John in his own home was a delicious one and I was determined to make an early start with it. We walked together back along the hallway, which was wide and covered with a deep cream carpet. There were balustrades, which covered the entire length and then went down the stairs to the ground floor. A child’s dream, unless that child was John, I was certain he had never slid down them and enjoyed the exhilarating freedom.

 

As soon as we were inside my room I pushed John against the door and began to kiss him grabbing at his cock at the same time and feeling it harden. Usually he couldn’t get enough of me, but I knew that in his parents’ house his feelings would be different and I wanted him to know I was still in charge. The defining of our relationship had taken place over the three months we had known each other, gradually I had shown John that his place was below me, or under me and he had agreed.

 

“Please, Sir, not here. What if my parents find out?” John blurted the words out as soon as our lips parted.

 

“Well, you’ll just have to be careful won’t you?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” John mumbled the words as he began opening my suitcase and taking the items out. He had packed it too, a task that I especially liked to see him do as he had been totally unable to achieve it when he first arrived.

 

Once the job was done I sat on my bed and undid my jeans.

 

“Now, before we go back downstairs, I think I need you to suck my cock.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” John immediately fell to his knees before me and took my dick into his mouth. I wasn’t hard but as he began to lick and suck me I began to get bigger and firmer and his hand began to fondle my balls as well.

 

“Oh yes, you little slut, don’t stop, you are so fucking good at this.” I only ever swore when I was having sex, and it was true John was the best cocksucker I had met, he could make me cum or keep me waiting, and then he would swallow every last drop.

 

“Now … ohhhh, you little whore, now, arghhh!” My cum shot out and into his mouth. He knew better than to swallow it right away and as I pumped it out he kept it in his cheeks until, finally sated, I pulled my cock free and told him to open wide. All my spunk was there, resting on his tongue and then down beside his teeth. I looked at him and nodded and he closed his mouth. When he opened it again all of it had disappeared.

 

“Good boy, now we had better go and see your mum and dad.”

 

“But, Sir. What … what about me?” I could see his cock tenting his pants, he was bigger than me and when he was hard there was no mistaking it.

 

“We don’t have time now, you’ll just have to wait until later.” I reached over and slapped my hand against his hard on and watched him fall to the floor. “Oh, for goodness sake, get up!” Reaching over I grabbed him by the hair. He was my cock slave, and I had no intention of him forgetting it while we were at his house.

 

John leant over and began pulling on my nipple rings, twisting them and making my eyes water. I didn’t want to stop sucking him, but he was hurting and in the end I had to cry out.

 

“Arghhh, please, Master, no.”

 

“You don’t want to be my toy? Ok, I’ll leave you alone. After all, I’m not the one in trouble. What do you think Miss Samantha will say if I tell her you made me stop?”

 

He was right, it was my place to entertain him, Miss Samantha had said he could play with me, and I wasn’t willing.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir, please, play with me, I am yours to do with as you wish.” It hadn’t always been that way, he used to be mine, but things had changed, we were both Miss Samantha’s but I was Master John’s as well. My change of heart made him smile and he sat down on one of the soft and comfortable chairs that were spread out around the room.

 

“Come here, boy.” I did as I was told, not wanting him to get mad at me. He was as submissive as I had discovered I was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a mean streak in him, and I knew he enjoyed punishing me just as much as his wife did.

 

Master John reached over the side of the chair and picked up a pale coloured dildo that had been half hidden by the deep pile of the carpet.

 

“I think you know what I want you to do with this.” I nodded. His own cock was still hard and I knew that as he watched me it would only get more engorged and far more difficult for me to take my eyes off.

 

“What do you want, slut?” Master John spoke softly, but there was force behind his words and I swallowed hard. It was always far harder for me to tell him what I needed, because he always knew when I kept things back, when I didn’t bare my soul. Now though he wasn’t interested in my real needs, only his, and what he wanted me to do for him. One of his turn ons was begging, either doing it himself or having me do it for him.

 

“Nothing, Master, I want for nothing.” His hand struck me across the face and I felt the mark instantly rise on my cheek.

 

“Wrong answer, what do you want?”

 

I swallowed hard, I was as turned on as he, the humiliation he was dealing out making my dick throb painfully in my chastity belt and I looked up at him.

 

“Your cock, Sir, please, let your worthless slut suck your big plastic cock and get it ready for my arse.” I could feel tears in my eyes, he knew that the only cock I really wanted to suck was his own, not the fake one that he held in front of me.

 

“You had better take it then, bitch.” I nodded, and slowly opened my mouth, licking my lips as I did so to ease its path.” Master John pushed the phallus in, not slowly, but he didn’t jam it in either. It made its way across my tongue and to the back of my throat where I tried not to gag on it but without success.

 

“Suck it, make it wet, it’s the only lubrication you’ll get.” As he fucked my mouth harder and harder with each stroke I could tell the noises I was making were turning him on even more than usual. His other hand had drifted to his own cock and he was pumping his hand up the length and then over its head before returning to the base and doing it again. I loved to see him wank and I longed to be able to join him.

 

“Well, well, what have we here?” I turned, the movement making the dildo jam even harder against the back of my throat to see Miss Samantha standing in the doorway, her body now encased in leather and silk. “Don’t stop, you look so pretty kneeling there.”  I nodded and continued with my task and then heard the click of a camera and knew that she was recording my predicament for posterity.

 

Master John finally pulled the cock from my mouth, the trail of spittle joining me too it even when I was free. Then he knelt down before me and wiped the phallus off on my hairy chest. Master John was totally shaven on his trunk; even his hair was close cropped. I on the other hand kept the hair on my chest but my cock and balls were soft and bare, as was my arse crack. It had all been removed by electrolysis and so was permanent. The spit glistened on my body and he rubbed it in with his hand.

 

“So, little boy, are you ready to show me what you look like when you are being fucked?”

 

“No, Sir, please. Please don’t put that in me, I’ll do anything else.” This time my begging was real. I hated to be used with the plastic dildo and be nothing but a piece of meat for my beloved John to fuck forever. He got off on the humiliation, as did I, but I would still rather do almost anything else.

 

“Arghhh!” I cried out in pain as his hand reached down and grabbed my cock. The plastic around it cutting into the skin as he manipulated and twisted it.

 

“How long is it since you came?”

 

“A week, Sir, you and Miss Samantha let me cum a week ago in the bath.”

 

“So we did, do you know how many times I’ve cum since then?” Still his hands were on me, but now one of them pulled at a nipple ring while the other kneaded my balls.

 

“No … ohhhh, God, No, Sir.” The feelings were beginning to get to me. His fingers, soft and warm on my skin sent shivers up my spine, and the delicious sensation of my nipple being pulled and twisted drove me mad. “Please, Sir, tell me, tell me about your cum.” If I couldn’t cum then listening to Master John describe his own spunk flying was the next best thing.

 

“Does the little boy want a story?” Miss Samantha had also sat down on the floor, her legs were apart, one of them had been placed behind me and her bare pussy was glistening from her arousal as she watched her husband tease me.

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha, please, I want to listen to Master John, but can I take my cage off? My cock needs to be free, Mistress.”

 

“Your what?” Mistress Samantha leaned across and grabbed my nipple and pinched it hard.

 

“Ohhhh, sorry, Mistress, please, free my little dickie, so I can enjoy Master John’s story so much more.” I wasn’t as big as my friend, but at just under seven inches I wasn’t small either. I wasn’t allowed to call it a cock when Miss Samantha was present, and she knew the other name caused me no end of shame.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The smirk told me she was enjoying herself no end.

 

“Please, Miss Samantha, can your slut boy have his dickie free while Master John tells him a story?” I was still on my knees and I lowered my head to the floor in supplication, and felt her hand caress my butt.

 

“Such a lovely arse, but so pale. How many strikes of my cane will you take to have your dickie free Harriet, five, ten, fifteen? And how long will Master John fuck you for when he is done?”

 

I swallowed hard, not only did the strikes hurt but they made me so excited that I knew if I asked for too many I would shoot my load as soon as the cage was removed.

 

“T … ten, Miss Samantha, I’ll take ten please.”

 

“And the fucking, I think the same number, so ten minutes, at least to start with.”

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha, ten minutes.” I shifted a little; my knees were beginning to hurt, even on the soft carpeting.

 

“You may remain in this position. And count for me.”

 

THWACK

 

There had been no warning and the pain was immediate.

 

“Ohhhhh, one, thank you, Miss Samantha, please may I have another?”

 

THWACK

 

“T … two, thank you, Miss Samantha, please may I have another?”

 

My forehead was on the ground and so I couldn’t see anything, but as the blows rained down on me and I counted for Miss Samantha I could hear the sound of Master John wanking himself, his hand pumping up and down his cock and between my tears I groaned. My dickie was so hard in its case, so painful and all I wanted was release.

 

THWACK

 

“Ohhhh, thank you, Miss Samantha, for giving me ten smacks with your cane. Please, please, let me free now.”

 

“I suggest you lie out flat on the carpet while I go and get the key, then we can do this.” I immediately did as I was told, I looked over at Master John who was still stroking his rock hard dick, it shone with the pre-cum he had used as lubricant, and as he saw me he raised his fingers and sucked them, causing me to groan out loud again.

 

“Oh, God, Master John, please, let me do that for you.” I knew better than to move from my place, but my mouth was open and my tongue was searching for his fingers.

 

“Very well, slut, you may have a taste. He ran his fingers over his erection again and then let me suck them, as he did so his other hand was getting covered as well, he was so excited he couldn’t leave himself alone.

 

“John, move away.” Miss Samantha’s tone was strict and Master John scuttled backwards.

 

“Yes, Mistress.” His wife moved closer to him and whispered in his ear and then she turned and smiled at me, took my hand and helped me up; she then led me over to the sofa and indicated where I should sit.

 

“I know you won’t want to miss seeing this.” She leant closer and began to kiss me, her tongue teasing mine as she danced with it and then I felt her hands on my nipples. She pulled on the rings, twisting and turning them and then she sucked the left one into her mouth and my cock jerked against its restraints.

 

“Please, Mistress, please, let me free.” I had tears in my eyes now and if I could have moved I would have fallen to my knees again to beg for freedom. My hands were itching to touch my cock, to rub it as Master John had been doing to his. I didn’t know how long I would last, but the chance to cum was so enticing, so wonderful, that the length of time it took was secondary.

 

“When you hold still I will be able to, now, hold still!” Once again Miss Samantha pulled on a nipple ring, but then her hands were gone from my body and I waited, panting with excitement.

 

Miss Samantha was wearing a black and red basque. The black panels were leather, the red silk or satin. The suspenders attached to black sheer stockings and her feet were encased in red patent leather shoes that I knew I would be licking and cleaning later. Around her neck she had a small gold key, which swung as she leant forward. Her breasts, only just tamed by the top of her basque, swayed and I longed to reach out for them as well. The key was inserted into the lock and with a small click I was free.

 

“There you go, what do you say?”

 

“Thank you, Mistress, thank you.” My hands immediately went to my cock, already it was getting hard and I ran my fingers up and down it, loving the feel after a week of denial.

 

 “Now, leave that little thing alone and sit down on the floor. I know you want to watch Master John play with himself while you listen to his story.” Miss Samantha stopped talking and before my cock could get to its full size I watched in horror as she slid a triple cock ring into place. As my dickie engorged I felt the familiar throb and knew that my release would be delayed.

 

“I do believe I told you to sit on the floor.” I did as I was told and leant back against the sofa, my hands immediately returning to where they gave most pleasure as tried to ignore my new restraint.

 

“No, no! I will lock it back up if you don’t behave.” The cane appeared from nowhere and crashed down across my thighs, missing my now rampant dickie by a hair’s breadth and I heard my Mistress speak as I cried out in pain. “John, do you have those drinks?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” My Master disappeared behind the bar and then returned with two wine glasses filled with what looked like champagne.

 

“Good. Harriet, put your hands down on the carpet, palms up. John, you know what to do.”

 

My friend and lover did indeed know what to do. The glasses were placed, one on each of my hands and then he stood up and backed away.

 

“Now, my dear, I think you should start with how you were allowed to cum all over my breasts after I had sucked you and sucked you until I tasted your spunk in my mouth.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Master John’s eyes lit up and I groaned out loud. Miss Samantha only sucked my cock on my birthday. Master John did it more often, but I wasn’t ever allowed to shoot my load over my Mistress’s breasts.

 

“Oh, and Harriet, if you spill one drop out of either glass you will be tied and thrashed and then your little dickie will be locked up for another week, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” I couldn’t believe it. My cock was right there, free and so full of cum, and I couldn’t even touch it. I swallowed a sob and began to listen trying to ignore the throbbing and the inevitability of my disgracing myself before very much longer.

 

TBC