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Satisfaction Guaranteed

By: Rockwell



From her plush pad in Sta. Monica, pop teen diva Britney Spears was on the phone talking with 'J', that's Justine Timberlake, her beau, pouring out her disgust over a tabloid write-up that said she had become the role model for sluts. 

"Gosh, these people don't seem to care for other people's feelings," Britney had told J. This was the result of her 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction' performance onstage where in she was media bashed for wearing a very revealing attire.

"I mean who gave them the right to judge people? I know I'm not a role model for anyone, I know me, and I'm not a perfect individual. I am an entertainer and when I go up on stage it's none of their business what I wear or what I should wear. I'm a grown up girl and..." Her voice trailed off into sobs.

"Yeah, yeah, I agree with you a hundred per cent sugar, just be yourself sugar, don't mind those friggin' dweebs and believe me who are these paltry individuals compared to your countless fans? Forgive my language but fuck 'em! They're not the ones buyin' your records! Look, sugar I know how hard you worked your ass for that show and I'm so proud of you, there's no one in this planet who could pull out that kind of talent like Britney Spears! Yes, sugar, you're the greatest! One of a kind and I love you!"  

"I love you too and I wanna see you J." Britney said.

"Hey, anytime sugar. I'm just right here fixing my den, in fact I am dedicating this to you," J said.

"Oh, wow, way cool," impressed. "Wanna have sex?" Britney asked. 

J was stunned and held away the receiver from his ear. He couldn't believe what he heard—SEX? Britney asking for it at last? Kiss my dick! He lost his words and went, "ah...ahh."

"Get naked, I'm on my way!" she chuckled. J was stunned when she hung up.

Less than half an hour later, the pop diva herself alighted from her SLR 500 Mercedes Benz and flew into the arms of J waiting at the front entrance of his house. She was dressed in a tattered denim jacket, ribbed midriff underneath and a stretch mini skirt that encased her voluptuous hips and meaty thighs.

"J, my honey bunch, hmmm—you smell so good." Britney hugged him kissing him exuberantly. J was casually dressed in red crew-neck shirt and white dropping down pants and smelling of Davidoff. 

"Glad you're here sugar," J said twirling her around in the air. When he eased her down, they entered his house and proceeded to the den.

"Oh, my God! It's fantastic!" Britney gasped, so surprised. The cozy den was made of rich wooden interior adorned by neon signs of famous American products, like Pepsi, Snickers, Budweiser, and posters of comic book heroes like Captain America, Batman, and Spiderman. A Fender Strat and a vintage dart hung by the wall. A rare Wurlitzer jukebox, pin ball machines, a billiard table, a bar on the corner with a huge flat TV set and quite unique, a split in the middle Thunderbird convertible whose backseat was used as a couch. Who could ask for anything more? Topping up these glitzy adornments were two big back-lighted portraits of Britney that J unveiled before her – one beautiful close up and a full body shot in concert action.

"Wow! Amazing! Where didja get these pictures? I've never seen 'em before. I look fabulously cool in that outfit, one of my favorites," Britney gushed.

"Sugar, to me, you're the most beautiful babe who's ever walked the face of the earth," J acclaimed coming up behind her holding her shoulders and letting her feel his boner. 

"Oh J, I am deeply flattered you're so sweet," turning to him and kissing his lips profusely. When she eased her lips from him, she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it away nonchalantly. Her bosomy chest impressed she had no bra underneath her top. J licked across his lips as he stared at her nipples that stuck out like bullets through the cotton fabric of her top.

"Sugar, how about signing on these portraits?" J said handing her a Pentel pen he took from his pocket.

"Like I'd hesitate," Britney said releasing the cap and scribbling To Big J, My love 4 U is forever!!!  Britney Spears 2001. And to the next, and ever! Lve, Britney Spears 2001.

"How's that? Like it?"

"I love it!" J said nodding. Then they kissed once more, this time, long and hard for a minute.

When they gasped for air, Britney eyed the vintage jukebox. "Does that thing really play?" she said and walked towards it. She leaned over flaunting her lush bottom to J's alert eyes.

"Yeah," J replied.

"Ok, like I choose and press, right?"

"Simple as that," J replied and dropped a quarter in the slot. "Most of the songs there are rock oldies."

"Yeah, I know...now let's see...aha...think I got it."

She pressed the coded button for "Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stone. "Boy, this one's got the beat that can't be beat," she said and shimmied to the funky riff as it came on.

Britney jerked her way to the billiard table. Excitedly, she picked up a cue stick and swept up her gaze over the green top. J immediately racked up the 15 balls in a triangle and Britney placed the cue-ball on the head spot. Britney treated the cue tip with that blue cube chalk. 

"J, check this out, I'm good at playing stick and balls." She licked her lips and winked at him as she addressed the table with the cue stick.

She bent and struck dispersing the balls all over then jerked up her knee in the air at the impact she made. "Yesss!" she shouted. Two balls rolled into the two corner pockets. Then, she aimed and pocketed number one in one swift stroke. "See, that's one, and..." she squealed.

The next shot called for an angle that she had to lean forward deeply. Her skirt rode up flaunting an eyeful of her thong panties. J winced at the sight and felt his dick rocket to the moon. 

Britney hit the number 2 ball and it zipped toward a side pocket knocking the number 8 which rolled into a corner pocket. J clapped his hands. 

"Hey, I didn't know you play like a hustler!" J was surprised. 

"Satisfied?" 

No reason for J to disagree. Britney outstretched her hands in the air and wiggled her butt.

The song ended and Britney leaned her ass against the side of the table. Then she brought one bent knee up on the ledge showing up front her white thong panties to J. She held the stick between her legs and slightly rubbed it against her crotch. As she did that her eyes glanced down to his tented front pants. 

"You know when I was about 8 or 9, I remember I coaxed some neighborhood boys my age to get to show me their...she said, trailing off discreetly. "'Let me see it!' I was so curious." She giggled. "They don't want but I was so determined. So one day I cajoled the one that I had a crush on bribing him a G. I. doll just so he'd show it to me."

"And the result?" J asked.

"He'd show his doodle, but he wouldn't kiss me," she said giggling and tossing her head back her blonde sexy hair cascading down. She pushed herself back to sit her full ass entirely. 

"Why do you do that?" J asked picking up his own cue stick and bending to the table to address the object ball trying to divert his sexual tension.

"I don't know maybe because mine is different and at that time I want to be like one of 'em boys. I like their games, their ideas..." 

"Did you show yours?" J asked making a side-spin shot pocketing the number three ball.

"Whoa, nice shot, uh!" Britney flinched and, "No, they never asked, they weren't interested," she laughed. 

J looked into her eyes as she put away the cue stick behind her. 

"Would you be interested if I show you mine?" Britney asked. 

Man, the last thing in the world J needed is persuasion. Britney's playing a dangerous tease. She had this nagging conviction that she'd walk down the aisle with her virginity intact. How many times had she given him blue balls? Finally she wanted to loose it and J's heart pounded in his chest.

J picked up her hand and placed it across his chest. "Feel it?" He asked. 

"Aha..." she nodded.

"You're making me all excited," he added in a whispery tone. 

"Did I sound like a slut when I popped you that question, J?"

"Beats me."

"J, If I say that by looking at you makes my panties wet, would you think I am a dirty slut?"

"My sugar babe, if I say I'd have a giant hard-on just by hearing that from you, would you say that I am a dirty guy?"

"Yes, down and dirty," Britney giggled and groped for his hard on." 

"Ok, that's really me thank you very much," he laughed dryly as her hand massaged his bulge. 

"Hmmm I like this. Would you still respect me in the morning if I give you a blowjob?" she asked as she loosened the drawstring of his pants and slipped her hand inside to feel more of him. 

"Of course. Would you tremble, if I lick your pussy?"

"Gee we're talking dirty here," she giggled. "If you do that I'll faint or die with pleasure," Britney sighed leaning back on her elbows and showing J all the more of her thong that never could go wrong.

"How'd you know?" J said. 

"I know. You're tongue is a deadly weapon," she giggled under her breath.

J laughed dirty. "Really?" 

"How about giving me a sample here on the billiard table?" Britney said patting her hand on the green top.

J moved up to her and placed his hand over one bent knee. His other hand went directly to her fat pussy and caressed it through the thong fabric. 

"J, this is the night I'm giving myself to you because I love you," Britney purred sensing the wetness creeping between her legs as his fingers worked on her magic button. Touched by an overwhelming desire J kissed her with ardor. Britney put her arms around his neck and welcomed his questing kiss as well as his probing fingers. Delicious! Their spirits soared.

Britney nuzzled her lips on his ear and invoked her feelings. "Fuck me J. I decided not to wait for the marriage 'cause I can't hold back anymore. I want to be spontaneous with what I feel and what I'd like to do. I think I am old enough to be responsible for any wrong or right that I do. You and I know what tremendous pressure it is to suppress sex when we're going together like this. Now I am ready to go all the way," she said trembling at the onslaught of his deft fingers delving into her most secret part. 

"I'll go insane if I wait a second more," J said running kisses on her cheek, ear and neck.

"Sex is the dance of life," Britney said, her heart swelling with desire. "Without it there is no choreography in life. Like in a dance, if there's no choreography, then it's gonna be dull," she sighed and laid herself down on the tabletop.

"Then I'll make this night special... the night we won't forget," J said gluing his eyes over her sensational face and body. 

J picked the remote and extended his arm to the direction of his CD player and clicked it on for Britney's mellow hit song 'Don't Let Me Be The Last To Know.' The music engulfed the whole room. 

Arching her back and feeling her fulsome breasts, J wanted to possess her with startling force and yet kept his raging feelings under wraps. He wanted to take his time, watch her hot body moves, besides he wanted yet to be gentle in breaking her in. All the girls he'd tasted before were those backstage girls all ready for hot action, hence his acts had always been fast and furious. Now he wanted to do it longer and of course special. 

"J, I'm a bad ass girl tonight but treat me gently, huh?" 

"Why? Scared?" he croaked.

"No, I meant I want to feel every inch of the sensation of making love. I want it gentle not so fast but put a little bit of roughness into it," Britney said touching her wet pussy through her panties with her thighs closing up on her hand.

"Don't worry sugar, I'll be as gentle as I can," J said. 

"Oh...Mother...Mary," Britney murmured, lying on her elbows across the green top, chin up. The now shirtless J was chewing her nipples over her bosomy chest.. Her areolas pebbled and her nipples swelled to hard peaks as J played his tongue over and around them. Britney's heart was pounding in her ears and she was breathing hard through her opened mouth. 

J slid her skirt out of the way. The stringed thong that lay bare left nothing to imagination. J decided to nibble her inner thighs first. "Gosh, you smell so good," J said in between kissing up her thighs to his prime destination. Britney moaned as her body anticipated the unbearable sensation. 

When J reached her mons, he swirled his lips over the tender flesh through the thong and absorbed the heat of her arousal. Britney closed her eyes, flared her nose and hissed. "J, I'm so turned on," Britney uttered in a struggling tone. "Please," she begged. "Take off the damn thong."

"We'll get there in time, sugar."

Her fingers raked through the back of his head as he reclaimed her sweet aching nipples. While he was damping hot kisses on her face and especially on her moist quivering lips, his fingers kept teasing through her sheer thong. If only her clit can scream for mercy at his tormenting fingers, it would have done so. 

At last she lifted her ass and pressed her sumptuous thighs together as J eased down her thong. When the thong was rid off, J parted the knees slowly revealing her pussy that millions of boy fans and boy bands would kill for to see—creamy twin pulp of flesh, shaven, and smooth as a baby's ass. The inner lips peeped out from the cleft like an opening of a pink kimono sleeve. It was pure joy to behold, breathtaking, ripe, moist and ready.

"You shave it all?"

"Don't you like it?"

"I do. I just didn't get to find out the color of your muff."

"It's darker than my hair on top. I was only trimming it last night when I decided to get rid of them all. I think it's sexy, if you can imagine it."

"I can easily imagine it," he said as his fingers traced the plump lips, caressing the configuration of her inner lips and bringing the moisture over the swelling clit hood. Britney smelled so good there, a mixture of some blossom powder, and an honest to goodness pussy scent. J felt damned lucky he's the first guy to touch her there and taste it. 

J buried his face in between her legs and explored her fresh, young pussy through his lips and tongue. Britney's eyes drifted closed and her lips parted and trembled as his tongue flicked wonderful sensation around her bud of desire. Britney bucked her hips, squeezing her thighs against his ears, as she absorbed all that excruciating pleasurable sensation. 

"Omigod! J...I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum...ohhhh..." Britney was palming atop J's buzzed head and clutching his shoulder arm as she braced for the climax. 

J responded to Britney's blissful announcement by sucking her clit. She was wincing, breathing hard in her seductive open mouth, feeling within her a savage ecstasy she'd never known. 

"Oh my god J...J...Oh...Oh...Oh J slowdown, I think I'm going out of control or something," she groaned anxiously.

J raised his mouth and grinned. "Don't worry sugar, everything's working the way it's supposed to."

At last she came and her hips lifted off above the green top her hands white-knuckled as she clutched his arms that enclosed her thighs and hips. She took the tormenting pleasure with audible moans. She never came that hard before. Well, it was more powerful than the first time she played doctor to herself under the sheet when she was 13 or 14. Then her hips dropped back on the table as her shuddering climax dissipated. "Omigod, that was so, so like dying good," she muttered, stretching herself luxuriously on the green top.

"I'm happy you enjoyed it," J smiled and pushed himself away and stepped a bit backward without pulling his eyes at her sopping pussy. With an enthusiastic urge, Britney rose from the table and dropped to her knees before him as she stared at his thickened dick largely imposed through his snug shorts. His pants had fallen down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. She tugged at his shorts and his cock sprang out like a javelin. Britney was mesmerized and her heart squealed when she grabbed the shaft stroking it from tip to root in corkscrew motion, greased by his pre-cum. 

Britney licked the tip of his cock thoroughly then took him in her mouth. Her head moved back and forth trying to get all of him inside her mouth but she couldn't. But by instinct Britney easily learned how to pleasure him by swirling her tongue around the head and milking it. Britney pressed his cock to his belly and reached for his balls with her lips, licking and tea-bagging each one in her mouth. J groaned at every degree of pleasure she was rewarding him.

"Are you ready to lose your precious virginity?" J struggled to ask.

"Are you kidding, I'm too prepped up now to back out," she said in a low sexy voice.

"Then let's get it on before I burst here. I'll just get a condom."

"No J. I took a pill before I came here."

Britney rose and sat on the ledge of the billiard table. She gazed down at his cock feeling it slide and throb against her belly. J reached under her left thigh to wrap her leg around his hips. He pushed aside the other leg and then rubbed his dick back and forth along the cleft of her pussy lips bombarding her with lush sensations. The lips gave in as his cock finally drove in inch by inch letting her feel the power of its dimension and desire. J pumped at half entry. Britney spread her pussy lips with one hand and watched excitedly his cock moved back and forth into her love tunnel. Her pleasure raced with en ever-building rhythm. J was beading with perspiration as he felt the barrier of her virginity yielding off to his full throttle of pumping her. 

At last J set his left foot up at the table over her spread right thigh. This time his dick burrowed deeply with long steady strokes. Britney entwined her arms around him pushing his head down to hers so their lips fused. She felt some pain but it was quickly smothered with pleasure as J made his thrust steady and sure. 

"Stay longer inside me J," she said absorbing the heat of their passion. J was on top of her plunging into her in the missionary position.

"Gosh, I don't know if I could stand this longer," J muttered breathlessly.

"Oh god, we'll do this often J, won't we?"

The taped music was gone and only the erotic sound of sticky noises of their coupling permeated the room. 

"Yeah, sugar, god this is terrific."

"Ohh, ohhh, ohhhhhh!" she moaned. "I'm coming again...I'm commingggg..." Britney was delirious her eyes rolling beneath her lashes. J could see how juicy her pussy had become, coating his dick like its been dipped in oil.

J pumped away and Britney couldn't believe the tumultuous waves of pleasure rolling within her. She was abandoning herself into the realm of passion. "Oh, J this feels utterly great." J became more inflamed. With the faster pace, she tightened her grasp around his hardness feeling the sheer awesome pleasure spreading all over her body.

"J, how about me on top like we see on those movies with steamy bed scenes."

"Good idea," he said like he could go the distance. So they exchanged places. Britney straddled his hips and moved like she was on a horse for an afternoon trot. Wow. She was exhilarated mastering every down thrust she executed. 

Their flesh slammed against each other as J meet up her down thrust. J could no longer hide his uneasiness about his impending orgasm and he announced it. 

"This is it Britney, can't hold back anymore!" He uttered. Britney felt his cock spurted his seed inside her jolting her with a tsunami of pleasure. Both groaned into a torrent of ecstasy as their orgasm tore through their writhing bodies. 

Later they ate pepperoni pizza with portobello mushrooms, bell peppers and mozarella cheese spread all over. J took a beer and Britney a Seven-Up. They chatted about their careers and their experiences on the road. Soon after, they were hot again and made love much longer on the Thunderbird couch like minks. 

Satisfaction Guaranteed



It is my favourite time of day, that moment when the night slips away. The room starts to brighten and the cloudy sky looks like a grey sheet in front of an ultraviolet light, just slightly surreal. I curl up, feeling the warmth of his solid body beside me. He lies on his back, his lips parted slightly, a dusting of stubble across his jaw. He sleeps so deeply that he doesn't feel my gaze, or my fingertips brushing the hair back from his face. I watch his eyes dancing under the lids, the way he smiles in his dreams. Sometimes he wakes up, laughing.

I am the luckiest guy in the world. I tell myself that every day. There aren't many people in the world who would want to commit to someone like me. But Jamie saw past my illness and fell in love with a person I'm not sure has ever existed. Jamie is beautiful, successful, loving. It doesn't matter to him that I can't get a job, or that I'm uncoordinated and useless sometimes. He takes me to the gym in the mornings, since the medication I'm on means I can't drive. His friends are like him, tolerant, liberal and gentle. We have dinner parties and barbeques. He likes to cook for me when he comes home from work. He likes it even more when I bend him over the kitchen counter and fuck him until he screams and blows a load over the drawers.

I stroke his hair and he murmurs and smiles, still fast asleep. There is a knot in my stomach. I'm supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to love him back. I thought I did. An image shoots into my head, of my hands wrapped around his neck, choking the life out of his body. His tanned, smooth body. I don't know if I want to fuck him or kill him. Immediately I hate myself and I roll over, breathing hard with the effort of not thinking about it. Maybe the dose is still not right. I vow to make another appointment with my GP. It will be the second vitally important thing I have on my agenda today, the first one being to let in the plumber when he comes at 10:30 to fix the shower for the hundredth time. Jamie is thinking of redecorating the bathroom. He gets the Ideal Home magazine delivered and it's always giving him ideas. We live the suburban dream.

= = = = =

He comes down for breakfast at half eight, slightly later than usual. His hair is tousled and wet after his shower. He eats his cereal at the breakfast bar, perched on a stool. His dressing gown slides apart, and I let my eyes travel over his muscular chest down to where his cock is hanging down. His tan lines make me think of how he looks in those skimpy Speedos he wore when we were in Mykonos. My first ever official "gay" holiday. I hated every minute of it. Except the nights. Those were something else.

He feels my stare and pulls his dressing gown back around himself, checking his watch and shoveling the cereal in faster. "Fuck," he says, and milk dribbles down his chin. "I'm going to be late."

"Jesus," I mutter, feeling my cock start to burn in my pyjamas. I stand up and go over to him, grabbing his wrists, my eyes on the white drops. I feel my head cloud with lust as I bend over and lick the milk off his chin, then his lips, then my tongue is in his mouth and I've released his hands as mine slip inside the toweling robe, pushing it off his shoulders. I pull him up so he's standing, letting the robe fall to the floor. His cock is already starting to grow and he sighs as I trail my tongue down the side of his neck to his nipple, playing with the piercing until his fingers grasp at my hair and his eyes close. I know exactly where to touch him and I show no mercy as I sink to my knees. Small pearls are forming at the tip of his cock, and I lick them off, barely touching the swollen flesh. I push his legs apart and attack his balls with my tongue, sucking each one into my mouth. His cock jumps and weeps against my face as my fingers press on the skin behind his balls, working towards the dark little hole behind.

Taking his cock into my mouth, I swallow it until his pubic hair tickles against my lips. His scent is intoxicating and I groan, letting the sound vibrate on his shaft as I work my fingers up inside him. My free hand grabs his prick and starts to slide up and down, up and down. I let my tongue trail up the vein on the side, from base to tip, where some more pearls wait for me. The salty taste sends my head spinning. No more teasing. He's gasping and clutching at my head as I bob my head up and down, licking and sucking until I know he's almost at the edge. 

I stand up, turn him round and push his face down on the counter, running my palms over the smooth skin of his shoulders as I slide my cock up and down his arse crack. The olive oil will do. I pour some into my hand and massage it into him, letting my cock nudge at his slick entrance until he's begging me to fuck him. "You'll be late for work," I chuckle, amazed at my own self restraint.

"Fuck work," he gasps. "Oh... my god!" 

I slide inside that tight sheath until my balls are resting against him. My breathing is ragged and I run my hands over his smooth white arse cheeks. I love the sight of my cock planted inside him as I start to move and he moans again as I find the angle I'm looking for. As I fuck him, I slide my hands up his back, pulling him up a bit so I can reach around to play with his nipples. I bite on his neck, sucking until the skin is purple. And again. I want to brand him, make him scream. I slam into his body harder and harder. He tries to soothe his dripping cock but I grab his hand and force his arm up behind his back. He yelps and twists but I keep fucking until I feel his body start to tense up and he bucks his arse back against me and just as the first lines of cum burst out of him, I bite down on his bruised neck and he screams as his inner muscles start to contract around me. Just as he finishes, I close my eyes and let myself fall over the edge. My nipples tingle as I explode inside him, releasing his arm, resting my forehead against his neck, feeling my body shake and spasm, the delicious afterglow spreading through my veins like honey.

When I've steadied myself, I slide out of him and turn him around, kissing him deeply and cupping his arse in my hands, pulling him against me. The tips of my fingers brush against his hole as I feel my cum start to dribble out of him. He's gasping for breath as I release him, his cock still semi-hard, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed. 

He shakes his head, checking his new love bites in the reflection of the kettle. "Looks like a polo neck again today," he said. "Why do you always do that?"

I know he hates it, but I can't help it. And I know the pain turns him on, even though he denies it. Maybe I'm trying to make him angry. But I never can. I watch him contain his irritation and he smiles. "Well, that beats going to the gym in the morning," he says, pulling the robe on. He kisses me on the cheek and heads into the hall. "I'd better get ready and scoot," he says. "Don't forget the plumber's coming."

When he's gone, I ring my GP. It's three weeks before I can get an appointment, so I ask to speak to him directly. He's a nice guy, much better than the old git I had before who spent twenty years telling me to get more exercise and "cheer up". 

He laughs when I tell him how removed I am from what I should feel, how I imagined strangling Jamie. "Listen," he says. "Last night I was making soup and my wife was going on about getting a conservatory. She's been saying that for three years now but she won't do anything about it. Drives me nuts. I imagined throwing the soup around her, just to shut her up. Felt good too, I have to say, for a second. But of course I wouldn't dream of doing it for real."

I bite my lip. "So you don't think...?"

"Alex, you have to remember that everyone feels bored, angry, miserable, whatever, from time to time. These are normal emotions. Having partner trouble is also perfectly normal. Just talk it over with Jamie and don't be so fast to see monsters in the mundane."

I love the way he says stuff like that. Slightly reassured, I hang up and scratch my hair. I stink of sex and sweat and need a shower. Just as I leave the kitchen, the doorbell rings. It is the plumber. He is early. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks as I notice his eyes traveling over my body. He hands me his business card. I notice a wet patch on the front of my pyjama bottoms and I'm mortified. "Come on in," I say, wishing I was wearing a t shirt. "Bathroom's an ensuite, upstairs." 

His footsteps thud on the stairs as he follows me up. I feel his eyes boring into my back and shiver. He's tall and very well built. His hair is sticking up as if he's just got out of bed. His eyes are bright blue and cool under the thick black brows. Tufts of chest hair poke out from under his shirt. His jeans are faded and dirty. "Shower again, is it," he says, setting his tools down at the bathroom door. "I'll get on with it then. Get us a coffee, would you?"

I gape for a second. "What did your last slave die of?" I try making a joke but it comes out wrong. He's so huge the bathroom looks small and I feel myself start to dance with nerves. He looks round and his face twists into an evil grin. "Get the fuckin' coffee and maybe I'll show you," he says.

Feeling anger simmering in my chest, I go downstairs and put on the kettle. I don't remember him being at our place before. Jamie must have saved that particular pleasure for himself. I thumb his grotty business card as the water boils, noticing the little rainbow in the bottom right corner. Jamie uses some website or other to get gay friendly workmen. Mr Thomas Kirkland, plumber and handyman (satisfaction guaranteed), is obviously affiliated to the site. 

Coffee made, I carry the cup upstairs and leave it by the door of the bathroom. He has already taken off the unit cover and is tightening something inside. He's humming tunelessly and I see earphones in his ears from an iPod. I gaze at the muscles sliding inside his huge biceps. This is like some kind of lame porn movie plot. Now's the time when I'm supposed to make some comment about his "toolbox", get naked and start sucking him off. He looks up and sees the coffee. Nodding me an acknowledgement, he stands up and takes a sip.

His face contorts for a second. "Fucking instant coffee?" he says, spitting it down the toilet and handing it back. "I thought you gay boys had better taste. Get me some of that Columbian, will you?" He reaches me the cup. Speechless, I take it. Then I find my voice. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I say, shaking with anger. "If you want the good shit, then do what you were paid to come here and do."

The blue gaze runs icy cold. "Whatever you want," he says. Again, his eyes drop to the stain in the front of my pyjamas. I feel myself blushing again as I go out into the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, breathing heavily. I don't know why I'm even obeying him, the bastard.

It's the "gay boys" comment that's making me crazy more than the coffee thing. I remember the torturous week in Mykonos and slump over the worktop, my head in my hands. Jamie is big into Pride. He works in an organization which promotes gay men's sexual health. He goes to a gay friendly gym. All his friends are gay or female. He even hires gay friendly workmen, although I have my doubts about the "friendliness" of Mr Kirkland. I feel as if I have been boxed and packaged with a nice label stuck across my chest, gay by association. Of course it's the logical thing for anyone to think. But still, it annoys me.

The marble worktop surface is cool against my cheek and I listen to the choking noise of the percolator, feeling my consciousness drift, trying to push the rebellious thoughts from my head. 

"That coffee ready? I'm all done up there." A gruff voice from behind. I sit up, suddenly awake, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth. The coffee pot is full, my heart is beating fast with the shock of pulling me awake. I fill a mug and hand it to him. As he's taking it from me, a tremor shakes my hand and sloshes a bit over his fingers.

"You done that on purpose, you little shit," he says, shaking the scalding liquid from his hand.

I look at him and suddenly feel fear. I know he isn't playing with me. And he's so much taller than me, so big and powerful. Maybe he joined the website with the intention of gay bashing? "No, my hands shake sometimes," I stammer. "It's just the medicine I'm taking. I'm sorry, really."

He holds a dirty hand in front of my face. "Lick it off," he says. My mouth opens to protest and he shoves his burnt fingers in. I taste oil, bitter coffee. "Suck them," he says. "Just like you sucked your boyfriend's cock this morning. It's amazing the things you see when you're early for a job."

I stand up and my hands find his arm but I can't get his fingers out of my mouth and I don't dare bite, he's staring at me with this amused look like I'm some kind of rat in a lab. His fingers are thick and he fucks my mouth with them and all I can do is try not to gag. All sorts of vowel sounds are leaking from the corners of my mouth as I think of him watching Jamie and me going at it in the kitchen. Being watched doesn't bother me, it's just being watched by this monster. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and clutches my hair so tight a whine slips from my mouth. 

His hands are strong and he yanks my pyjama bottoms down and I'm naked in front of him. I can't meet his eyes. "You have a lot of scars," he says, taking my hands, turning them palm up so he can get a good look at my wrists. My body is starting to shake now. I'm scared of what he's going to do. My phone is lying on the table just meters away but it might as well be on the other side of the world.

His rough fingertips trace the scars on my wrists, the fainter ones further up. His touch is like ice, his face inscrutable. I can feel his gaze travel down to my cock, which is hardening fast. He laughs, a deep throaty chuckle. "You're all the fucking same," he says, taking my shaft into his dirty, rough palm and jacking it in time to his words. "Pathetic...little....shit. You couldn't be faithful if you tried. Look at you. You make...me...sick." His tight grip, sending fireworks into my brain.

I'm flooded with shame but I can't help pushing my cock into his hand. He tightens his grip on my wrists and spins me around, kicking my legs apart. I hear him fumble with his belt buckle, the snap of a belt. The tickle of its leather tip over my cock and balls, up my crack, brushing over my hole. Then suddenly an explosion of pain that rocks my body as the strap connects with my buttocks, forcing a scream from me. And as soon as the pain sears into my brain, his soft tongue and breath follow, soothing the reddened skin, brushing my asshole, tickling my balls. 

I brace myself against the work surface where Jamie made me a casserole just last night, my fingers clutching the marble in anticipation. The thought of turning around and telling him to fuck off enters my head but as the strap connects again, my body tenses and the magnitude of my arousal blows all thoughts out of my head. "Oh Christ," I mutter. He lashes me again and again and I tense and scream and gasp. He's laughing at me. "Pathetic little gay boy," he says as he grabs my dripping cock. "Put your arms around my neck. I'm going to show you how a man should be fucked." 

I am breathless as my hands lock together behind his neck, and he reaches behind me, massaging my aching buttocks with his big, callused hands, lifting me up and carrying me over to the table where he rests me on the edge. The surface is cool and soothing and I lie back, helpless with lust as he pulls his cock out of his trousers. It's long and thick, with the purple head winking out at me from under its hood. I feel the clutch of desire in my stomach, my balls. He takes his time getting ready, pulling on the condom so slowly and deliberately, feeling in his pockets for lube. Finally he's ready and he pulls his t shirt off, revealing his hairy chest and I long to run my hands over those pecs, to bury my face in that dark fur. My cock is rigid and weeping as he pushes inside my helpless body and I can't stop myself from moaning as he leans forward to nibble on my neck. The friction of his hairy stomach on my shaft is torture as he fills me up, stretches my hole tight. His breath is hot, his tongue fills my ear and sends goosebumps all over my skin. "Let go," he whispers, moving inside me and I feel his cockhead brush against something inside me, which makes my body jolt. 

He straightens up and throws my ankles up over his shoulders. It's been so long since I bottomed that the pain is intense but still my cock won't go down. The pleasure from that spot inside, the sounds of his fist yanking at my dick and letting it slap onto my belly, the stinging from my buttocks...my brain is starting to overload with sensation and as he hits his stride, and starts pounding me hard, all I can do is try to brace myself and hope the table doesn't break under me. I'm completely out of control and I can do nothing but watch my rigid cock jumping and dribbling against my stomach as I feel a tightening inside, as my body starts to clutch that huge cock into a hot tight heaven. Liquid pleasure drains from all over my body to my cock and balls. He's watching them draw up and suddenly twists my nipples hard. The pain sends me over the edge. White hot spunk bursts out of my cock and my back arches, my hips jerk and I pant and groan. Before I've even recovered he pulls out of me and forces me down on my knees. Yanking the condom off, he finishes himself off stabbing that hard purple flesh through his closed fist until he blows his load all over my face and hair, then slowly strangles out the last white drips which he wipes across my lips. 

Then he tucks himself all away and pulls his t shirt back on. "Mr Scott already paid by credit card," he says in a businesslike voice as his cum stings my eyes and I wipe it off, still naked and trembling on the floor before him. He has fucked me into a jelly. My hole feels hot and stretched and where he lashed me is tingling and sore. He slips his belt back on and runs a hand through his hair. "If there's any more problems with that shower, just give me a ring." I can't speak as I watch him leave. Eventually I struggle to my feet and head upstairs to shower. My body is covered in marks. I wonder how I will explain it to Jamie when he comes home. 

= = = = = 

After I've slept for a few hours, I call Declan, my oldest friend. The only one I have left who isn't gay, or a friend of JamieandAlex, that two headed creature I've become a part of. I spare him the details, but tell him I've just fucked the plumber, and my boyfriend will be home in a few hours.

"Sure how will Jamie find out?" Dec says. I can hear him sucking a polo mint as usual. Some things will never change. "Anyway aren't gay blokes like forgiving about shit like that?"

I sigh. "Well there are some...marks." I press my hand against my burning arse cheeks. There are tooth marks on my neck and shoulders, scratches on my inner thighs. "As for being forgiving of infidelity...that's where Jamie is just as straight as the next girl." I feel bad for making a joke out of it but I don't know how else to handle it. Declan has never seen me in tears.

He chuckles. "Well you're welcome to come and stay a while if you want," he says. "I've just got a Wii. Want to have a go?"

"A Wii? Damn! I'd love to," I say. Dec always beats me to the cool stuff. I think of Jamie and I feel a tidal wave of guilt and self hatred hitting me suddenly. "But I think I'd better talk it over with him. He won't be too happy to find out I've shagged the plumber then gone off to play with your gadgets."

"Yeah he doesn't like me much, does he." 

I try to sound convincing. "Of course he likes you," I say automatically. But Dec's not far from the truth. Jamie hates him, and I don't really know why. Dec's wife just left him and he's doing a good enough job of not seeming too miserable about it all.




Satisfaction Guaranteed



"Don't forget we're supposed to go to Ibiza this summer and be a pair of disgraceful thirty year old gits among all those gorgeous twentysomethings," he says.

I laugh. "Speak for yourself," I say. I make plans to go over at the weekend and hang up. The kitchen smells of sex and I open the window. I'm showered and clean and my body is glowing despite the weight of guilt pulling at my heart. I catch sight of Kirkland's business card (satisfaction guaranteed) and smile to myself for a moment as I pull out Delia Smith and try to decide what to make Jamie for dinner. He might as well dump me on a full stomach. The thought of losing him doesn't register. I can't imagine my life without him.

= = = = = 

Jamie's home early for a change. We eat in silence. I watch the candlelight flicker over his face and try not to grit my teeth against the pain from my strapped arse. For the thousandth time I wish he'd bought more comfortable chairs instead of these stupid arty farty stools. The pie is burnt and I force myself to swallow a few forkfuls before pushing it to the side.

"Christ, that's gross," I say, breaking the silence. Jamie laughs and dumps his plate on top of mine. "Let's get a Chinese," he says. The dimples in his cheeks tug at my heart and I feel wretched and hypocritical, eating dinner off the table where I was fucked to oblivion by another man just hours before.

"Jamie, there's something I have to tell you," I say, closing my eyes and digging my fingernails into my palms. No point beating about the bush. "I fucked the plumber."

He freezes, and the smile stays fixed on his face but drops away from his eyes. His mouth works soundlessly until he forces out one whispered word. "Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. One minute he was bitching about the coffee and the next he had me on the table. It was kind of surreal."

Jamie's eyes flare black and his fists clench. "You mean he fucked you? You bottomed for some complete stranger when you won't do it for me?" His voice drops low and the venom in it makes my blood run cold. "You bastard." I see tears start to glitter in his eyes. But then the hurt leaves his face and he takes some deep breaths. He turns on the light and blinks for a second. "Well, you're on new drugs I guess, maybe your judgement is...I don't know."

Anger splits through my brain. "Jamie it's not all about that!" I've lost it suddenly, my voice raised. "Will you be angry for Christ's sake and stop dismissing everything I say or do! Stop fucking...forgiving me!" I feel like I've opened a festering boil. There will be mess and blood but it's always better to release the poison. " Maybe the plumber just didn't ask me if I wanted to bottom, he just did it, just whipped the shit out of me and fucked me and I couldn't stop him and...fuck! It was the best sex I've had in a long time because I wasn't controlling every fucking second of it, like I have to do with you!"

His fist connects with my jaw, sending me spinning back against the table. Blood spurts from between my fingers, from a cut in my lip. My head spins and I sit down hard. "You ungrateful fuck!" he screams. "Look at all the shit I've put up with over the last couple of years, your moods, your fucking mania, all that bollocks at the police station! Paying off your credit card! Looking after you all this time and now it's all my fault that you can't keep your dick in your pants?" The fight goes out of him suddenly and he sits down and bursts into tears. "I hate you," he says. The words pierce my heart and suddenly I feel grief like I haven't felt in a long time.

"I can't be grateful all the time, Jamie, " I say, pulling myself to my feet. "I love you but...this is an unequal partnership. We live in your house and hang around with your friends. And then there's my illness sitting in the corner like a big fucking...pink elephant... that we both blame every time there's a problem between us." I run my hands through my hair and sigh. " I don't want to go on gay holidays and drink in gay bars all the time. I want to do normal things, like I used to. I want us to talk. We used to talk all the time." I remember those nights in the early days when we'd fuck like rabbits then talk until dawn, tangled in each others limbs. That was what I loved most about it all.

"Normal things?" he says, incredulous, and I meet his eyes. "Jamie, we are normal," I say. "I'm sick of being different and living different. If that makes me a bad person, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about the plumber." I pause at the door. "I'm going to Declan's to stay for a while. You know where to find me if you want to talk."

He doesn't stop me leaving. As my taxi pulls up, I look at him one last time. He's staring at the burnt pie I made, weeping silently. His tears pierce my heart like shards of glass. I want to hold him close and tell him I love him. But I can't. He has a lot to digest and I hope against hope, as I climb into the taxi, that we can get past this.

= = = = = 

Declan isn't surprised to see me. He shows me to his spare room and then we fall on the Wii like a couple of kids. I'm desperate for the distraction. We play Prince of Persia on the Playstation and stuff ourselves with pizza and prawn crackers. Declan drinks a lot but I don't join in. I have enough drugs to keep me going. He invites some old friends around, people I've lost touch with over the years of erratic contact. They look shocked when I tell them that most of the good times we had together were because I was sick in the head, the debts I gathered, all the times I was arrested. I hide nothing from them. It's better to scare off the lightweights in the beginning, than later on when you've come to depend on them.

I clean Dec's flat while he's at work, trying to make myself useful. I go to the job market and apply for jobs. Employers tend to run a mile when they see bipolar disorder written on an application form but I keep trying. I can't stand sitting around the house. Too much time to think, to look at the gap in my life that Jamie has left behind. The simple fact is, I miss him, even though he drives me mad sometimes.

Of course I can't stay at Dec's forever. Two weeks go by and I find myself a flat. Dec and I are celebrating with a pizza and ice cream when the doorbell goes. Dec's delivering the punch line to a joke as I open the door, laughing. The smile dies on my face. It's Jamie. There are dark circles under his eyes and he thrusts a bunch of roses into my hand before pulling me into a tight hug. 

I feel his breath hot in my ear and the prick of the thorns against my chest. "I've been thinking a lot," he whispers, kissing the side of my head. "I'm sorry for being such a prick. I thought I was giving you control but...you can't really give, it, you just have to take it, right? Shit, I'm not making any sense." He sighs. " Just...please give me another chance. I love you." 

His hair smells of kiwi fruit shampoo and his skin is salty against my lips as I cling to him, tears stinging my eyes as his simple words unravel me. " I'm sorry." I whisper. "It didn't mean anything with the plumber, you know that."

He pushes me back and looks into my eyes. " I promise not to forgive you any more, or blame your illness for your stupid shit." He grins and settles his lips on my ear and I shiver, feeling the heat of arousal building in my pants. He knows exactly where to touch me to get me going. " Say you'll come home with me. We can get a new place, I don't care. I just want you there in it. I don't care if you fuck the occasional workman as long as you do it safe, like."

Pressed against his solid body, I close my eyes as his lips brush against mine, letting his tongue slide into my mouth. My fingers push through his hair and stroke the back of his neck. "I'll get my bags." I can't say no to him when I'm horny.

Jamie and Dec make strained conversation while I'm packing. At least he's making the effort. I know Dec will miss me. He hasn't lived with anyone since his wife left and I think he was getting used to having me around. The Ibiza thing will probably be a disaster, him heartbroken and getting a divorce and me a nutter...still you only live once. I tell Jamie about it on the way home. He suggests us taking one week's holiday together and one week with our other friends. I'm surprised at him but it sounds good. I feel hopeful that we can make it work. 

I know the minute we enter the house that he's been cleaning. He does that when he's stressed or upset. I know that if I run my hands over any surface, there will be no dust. A little warmth creeps into my heart and I watch him humming and smiling as he starts pulling my clothes out of the bags and arranging them into colours and whites. He doesn't trust me to wash anything. I'm contemplating jumping on the bed, tearing off his clothes and fucking him when he gets up and stretches. "Let me get showered first," he says winking, as if he'd been reading my thoughts.

I don't need any encouragement. I pull off my clothes and sprawl myself over the quilt, already getting a boner. I play with myself idly as I listen to the spray of water. "FUUUUCK!!!!" Jamie comes running out of the ensuite, nipples hard, covered in goosebumps. "The water's freezing!"

"Thermostat must be gone again," I say, pulling him down beside me, licking the drops of water off his chest and back. It doesn't take a lot to coax his cock out after the shock of cold water it received. Soon he's gasping and spurting in my mouth, all thoughts of the shower forgotten. I slide up his body and slip my tongue into his mouth, playing with his nipple ring, feeding him his own cum as my cock beats a hot tattoo against his thigh.

"I'll sort out the shower," I whisper in his ear as I move between his legs, sliding my cock home into his hot, tight ass. I look into Jamie's eyes as I fuck him, long, slow strokes that I know he likes. The little whines he gives just make me crazy and soon I'm dumping my load inside him, feeling his legs locking behind me as he pulls me tight and tells me he loves me. I really am the luckiest guy in the world, I tell myself, kissing him deeply. But the shower still needs fixing. I wonder if Mr Kirkland will be free next Monday.



Satisfaction Guaranteed



"Mistress Kathy Products customer service. This is Carol. How may I help you?"

"Hello! Yes, I'm having trouble with one of your products."

"Really? I'm so sorry to hear that, sir. We stand by all of our products. Which of our fine pleasure devices is giving you trouble?"

"The, uh, the SBU-590."

"The automated self-bondage unit?"

"Yes. Yes. Um, yes."

"I can certainly help you with that. I'm having trouble hearing you, though. Can you move closer to your speaker phone?"

"No. No, I'm afraid that . . . I just . . . No."

"I understand. You pressed the red button for customer service?"

"Yes."

"And you are speaking into the microphone provided on the SBU-590?"

"Yes."

"And you're hearing me on the speaker that's also part of the unit?"

"Yes."

"Is the screen still working?"

"It seems to be."

"What does it say?"

"It says, 'Press red button for customer service.'"

"Good, that means your system is still online. Give me a moment while I retrieve your information, and I'll see if I can address your problem remotely."

"Thank you so much."

"This call may be monitored for training purposes. Is that all right?"

"I, uh . . . Who . . . would be monitoring?"

"Just trainees, and other interested parties. Quality control is our number one priority. Do I have your consent to continue?"

"Do I have to agree to that? This is kind of embarrassing."

"You don't have to agree to anything you don't want to."

"I'd rather not, then."

"That's quite all right. I'm sorry we couldn't help you. Have a good evening, sir."

"Wait! Wait! Don't go!"

"I'm still here. As I said, this call may be monitored. Do I have your consent to continue?"

"Yes! Yes, anything! Just don't hang up."

"Thank you. This will only take a moment."

"Does this sort of malfunction happen often?"

"The SBU-590 is the final word in self-bondage. It's been field-tested under the most stringent conditions and has been painstakingly designed to meet the needs of the lonely bondage enthusiast. Its titanium alloy frame, chain spools, motorized winch system, redundant power supply, and Intel Core processors are all lovingly assembled by Mistress Kathy's most detail-oriented engineers. It provides the ultimate feeling of helplessness in more than 150 stress/pleasure positions. It never malfunctions."

"Well, I'm stuck."

"You must have used it incorrectly."

"I was careful."

"We'll get to that in a moment. Am I talking to Edgar?"

"Yes."

"7999 Arbuckle Lane?"

"Yes. You know where I live?"

"Your SBU-590 is transferring your customer profile to me so that I may better assist you."

"Is this going to take long?"

"If I cannot address your problem remotely, we will send someone to your address to assist you in person."

"You're not going to call 911, are you?"

"911? Why? Do you want the police?"

"No, no, no, no!"

"Are you sure? I can send them right out."

"No, I'm sure. No police!"

"Very well. I'm still downloading your information, but I think I have enough to start. Can you reach the blue button?"

"I think so."

"Push the red and blue buttons together. That will put your SBU-590 into Remote Administrative Mode which allows me to operate your device from here. Can you do that?"

"I think so. . . . There."

A friendly face with big glasses appeared on the screen and smiled at him. "Edgar? You see me now, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I do. I didn't know you could do that. Are you using Skype?"

"Something like it." The woman on the screen was very young, and her businesslike white blazer had been expertly tailored to suit her petite figure. "Before you got into your pleasure device this evening, did you read all of the instructions?"

"Yes."

"And did you test each component as instructed to make sure it was working properly?"

"Yes."

"And did they?"

"Yes, they were fine--before I got in. Each item locked, and then unlocked when I used my safe word."

"Did you also test the built-in cameras?"

"No, I'm not using them. I don't record my sessions. I don't do that."

"Well, that's awfully selfish of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Is there some kind of obstruction on the lenses? Because I can't see you from either of the two cameras."

"I put masking tape over the lenses. They made me nervous. I tried to remove the cameras, but they're stuck in there tight."

"You taped over the cameras? Oh, dear, dear. This takes so much longer if I can't see you!" She took off her white blazer--as if she knew this was going to take a while. The tube top she wore underneath seemed awfully casual for office attire. "Which of the stress/pleasure positions were you attempting?" she asked.

"Is it important?"

"Of course, it's important! Which one is giving you trouble?"

"It was, uh . . . it was . . . number 129."

She gasped. "The Gothic Hanging Yoke? My goodness, I'm impressed, Edgar! You're very daring! Marta! It's a Gothic Hanging Yoke!"

"Who are you talking to?"

"It's a slow night here. How on earth did you reach the red button from the position you're in?"

"If you must know, I'm only half in it. I started to get in, and then I got . . . scared. But now it won't let me go."

"Which half?"

"What?"

"Which half of you is in the Gothic Hanging Yoke? Top or bottom? Remember I can't see you."

"Um, top."

"So your head and your hands are in the ClampTite Punishment Yoke?"

"That's right."

"And the yoke is hanging?"

"Not yet. I didn't get that far."

"The yoke is still docked in the stockade position?"

"Yes."

"I think I know why you're having difficulty. You tried to abort the exercise in mid-procedure. And I see that you preset the device to Discipline Goddess—its highest setting. It doesn't allow for faintness of heart. The setting demands that you complete whatever procedure you start."

"That's not how it's supposed to work, though. Is it? I programmed a safe word. It's supposed to release all the catches when I say my safe word."

"Yes, but your safe word changed."

"It couldn't have! I didn't change it!"

"We changed it for you."

"What? But--but why?"

"You shouldn't have taped over the cameras. It's explained in the Terms of Service."

"The . . . what?"

"You indicated on our website that you had read the Terms of Service. You didn't just click through the thing without reading it, did you?"

"I . . . Uh . . . Listen, I paid a lot for this thing, and you're not really helping me."

"Your tone isn't very helpful. I'm not the one with the problem, Mister Gothic-Hanging-Yoke. I'm going to help you, but this is going to take some time, and you're going to have to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

"Whatever! Can you just tell me the new safe word?"

"Hold your hormones, big fella. There's a lot of information in your profile, and it's going to take time to find the specific information you're requesting. I'd find it a lot faster if you showed me a little more respect. Don't you think?"

"Jesus Christ! I don't know why I bought this thing!" 

The lovely face on the screen sighed heavily, took off the big glasses, and no longer smiled.

"Don't you? Don't you really? Because I have the marketing information right here that tells me exactly why you bought the thing! Because all your life, you've been too timid to tell your sex partners what you really want—to be dominated--so when we gave you a discount on a big damn sex toy that promised what you craved, you couldn't resist because you wanted to feel helpless!"

"You can't talk to me that way!"

"So do you?"

"What?"

"Feel helpless?"

"Well . . . Well, yeah."

"Then your device is working properly."

"Listen, the ad says, Satisfaction Guaranteed!"

"Yes. But it doesn't say yours."

"What?"

"From a design aspect, the more helpless you feel, the better it's working. And I think it's working perfectly. It's not going to let you go until I'm completely satisfied that it's in our best interest to let you go. Do you understand? Are you listening?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm listening."

"Good. I will help you. I will find your safe word, but first I want you to ask me nicely."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . . Please tell me my safe word."

"Ask me nicely—by name."

"What?'

"The first thing I told you when our conversation started was my name. You said you were listening, but I'm not convinced. To convince me, you will have to ask me by name." 

There was a terrible awkward silence. 

She repeated, "Tell me my name, Edgar."

"Okay. Okay. Please tell me my safe word—Mindy?"

The girl on the screen playfully typed a few keystrokes. "Oops! I accidentally deleted your safe word! I'm sooooooooo sorry!"

Edgar said nothing. He didn't like where this was going.

"What's that I hear? Nothing? Oh, so now you're listening! Isn't this better? Here's what's going to happen next: Without a safe word, the only way the SBU-590 will let you out of a Gothic Hanging Yoke while in its Discipline Queen setting is for you to complete the entire exercise. The program doesn't tolerate shortcuts or work-arounds. But don't worry. I will talk you through it. And since you can't remember my name, you may call me mistress. Can you remember that?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I heard you."

"Yes--mistress."

The face on the screen smiled again. "Good, Edgar. Now let's have some fun."

"Will this take long--mistress?"

"That depends on you. Why do you ask? Have you been stuck there for long?"

"About an hour and a half, mistress."

"Oooooo! No wonder you're cranky! I'll tell you what. Since you've finally agreed to be good, I'll let you in on a little secret. While in Remote Administrative Mode, the SBU-590 allows me to engage a Time Out session. It won't release you, but it will make you more comfortable for a while before the really tricky stuff begins. Would you like that?"

"Yes, mistress. I would like that very much."

"You have to promise me to be good."

"I will, mistress."

"And you have to promise to do two things for me in return."

"What two things, mistress?"

"It doesn't matter. Both things are easy, and you're going to do them both. Promise me."

"I promise, mistress."

The steel yoke abruptly came loose from the rest of the machine but remained secured around his head and hands. It felt good to stand up straight for the first time in more than an hour, even though his hands were still suspended on either side of his head.

"I'll give you five minutes. You're still yoked, but you should be able to step out of the machine now."

He could. His feet had not yet been shackled, so now he could walk around a bit—not that he could go far looking the way he did.

"I don't hear you, Edgar. Did it work, or not?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. Now unlock your front door."

"My door! I mean, why, mistress?"

"You don't need to open it. Just unlock it. I may have to send a service representative to your house, and if I do, she'll need access."

"But with the door unlocked, anyone would be able to—"

"I understand. I'm sorry we're unable to help you. Have a good evening."

"Wait! Okay! I guess it's all right, but it feels weird to do this without the door locked. How long will this take?"

"As I said, that's up to you. The more you cooperate, the faster it'll be."

"But you've done this before, right?"

She started to giggle. "A Gothic Hanging Yoke? No." She said something he couldn't hear to someone he couldn't see. "Nobody here has ever done a Gothic Hanging Yoke. Honestly, we didn't think anyone would ever try it. But surprise! Here you are! Now, unlock your door."

"The service representatives you mentioned. Are they . . . discreet?"

She giggled again. "Hardly! They're domination experts. Subtlety's not what they're good at."

Edgar carefully undid the deadbolt on his door and walked back to the machine.

"It's unlocked, mistress."

"Good work, Edgar. Now take the tape off the camera lenses."

"No! I really can't do that."

"Oh, Edgar!"

"You don't understand. I . . . I don't have any clothes on."

"I know."

"You know? How can you know?"

"Well, it's kind of obvious, isn't it? You're using our product alone, and you've chosen a position that doesn't allow you to touch yourself—which defeats the whole purpose of using our product—unless, of course, you've applied our Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone. If I'm right, you're wearing the Pleasure Cone right now, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Edgar. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm really not. Not yet. I was going to do it later."

"Without the use of your hands? Really?"

"The thing looked silly. I was going to do the other parts first, and then . . . I clipped the cone to the stockade post--at waist level." 

Edgar looked down at the simple yet frightening cone dangling from the end of its control cable. The sturdy retractable cable provided power, lubricant, and suction as required for the cone's shameful purpose. "I was going to lock the other parts down and then--you know—slide myself into it."

The face on the screen smiled approvingly. She typed something he couldn't see.

"What are you typing?"

"You're very creative, Edgar. When a customer finds a new way to use one of our products, we make a note of it. This helps us improve our products in the future. Well done. Now take the tape off the lenses."

"I can't."

"Edgar, why are you being so difficult?"

"I'm naked and you're not. It's not that hard to understand."

Her pretty eyes narrowed in a thoughtful way. "What if I were naked, too? Would that make a difference?"

Edgar hesitated before answering. "Would you do that?"

"Don't be absurd! I'm not the one stuck! I'm just saying it shouldn't make any difference what we're wearing. Do you want my help or not?"

"I'm not uncovering the cameras."

"If I can't see you, how will you be able to communicate after you've been gagged?"

"But . . . but I set the machine for NO gags! I chose the No-Gag Option."

"The No-Gag Option was part of the safe word protocol, and yours was deleted. Since you have no safe word—and because you're alone—you'll have no use at all for your mouth. The device knows this, so the gag is now part of its program. Just accept it. To finish the exercise, you have to be gagged."

"I hate you."

"That's hardly helpful. You wanted to be helpless, so enjoy it. Take the tape off the cameras. Now."

Physically, it wasn't difficult to do, even while wearing the yoke. Mentally, tearing away the slender adhesive strips of privacy was the hardest thing he had done since taking the machine out of the box.

"I see you, Edgar!" said the smiling face on the screen. "My, goodness! I'm not used to seeing all that body hair! The men on our island are all clean shaven--but you look fine! Some of our men should be jealous!"

"Your men? You have a lot of men?"

"That's not important. It's time now for you to come back to the machine."

Edgar was not eager to return to the device. He was not at all certain that the smiling face on the screen was truly motivated to help him, but he didn't see any alternative.

"Come along! You're the one in a hurry, so don't make me wait! Your yoke needs to be docked in the stockade position for you to resume the exercise."

Edgar stepped into the machine and leaned forward until the yoke snapped into the stockade dock. He had to strain his neck upward to look back at the screen. When he did, he was surprised to see a second face staring at him from a new window on the bottom left corner of the screen.

"Who's that?"

"That's Marta. She's a trainee. I told you this session may be monitored. Now would you be so kind as to put your feet inside the ClampTite DoubleLock Shackle?"

Edgar looked down at the dreadful clamp between his ankles and realized he could not avoid it any longer. He carefully set his feet into it. It snapped shut with an unsettling clunk, pulling his ankles together while anchoring his feet firmly to the floor. 

The newcomer in the corner of the screen had beautiful white teeth which she used to bite playfully on her pen as she stared. She said nothing with words, but her face registered silent approval.

"Are your feet secure now?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I heard you."

"Yes, mistress."

"Are you sure you can't get your feet out? Give your feet a good tug. We wouldn't want you falling out accidentally before we're done."

"I'm sure, mistress. I can't get out."

"You're hardly trying! This is part of our product research, and I can't continue until I'm satisfied that you are really trying to get out."

He tried to placate her, eager to be done with the ordeal. He tugged against the clamp, first with one leg, then the other, in an all-out effort to get free, but it achieved nothing.

Leaning forward, Marta the trainee bit harder on her pen.

Meanwhile, the larger face—what was the girl's name?—nodded with the condescension of an approving babysitter. "Well done, Edgar. Now let's get that yoke hanging, shall we?"

She typed a few keystrokes which he couldn't see. 

A motor sprang to life. A pair of cables pulled taut. The yoke lurched upward with alarming force. Suddenly upright, he became acutely aware of his own shaft--no longer dangling, but standing to attention. 

The screen now had three faces on it—the large one of the mystery mistress whose name he couldn't recall, and two smaller ones of Marta and another newcomer in an identical but separate window. 

"How many people are going to be watching this," he asked--quickly adding, "Mistress?"

"I don't know. I told you it's a slow night at the office. Now let's have a good look at what we're working with, shall we?"

He wondered what she meant by that. Clearly she was already familiar with the workings of the machine, but then he realized she meant him. She turned an unseen knob. With his arms suspended and his feet anchored, the apparatus began to rotate him as if on a lazy Susan so that the built-in cameras could capture him from every angle as he turned.

"This wouldn't be necessary if you had better lighting in your living room," she scolded. "Ah, now there's a good angle. Yes, you're very handsome. Now I'll do a quick check of the unit's responsiveness."

The apparatus started to twist him abruptly back and forth, as if he were the agitator in a top-loaded washing machine. This had the effect of making his erection wobble in the most embarrassing way possible.

Marta and her friend tittered appreciatively.

In the large window, another woman in office attire was watching over the mystery mistress's shoulder, saying nothing.

"Your unit certainly looks sturdy," confirmed his interrogator. "Now let's get down to business." She rotated the apparatus to force him to face the screen. 

The woman lurking over the girl's shoulder was gone, but her face soon reappeared in a small window next to Marta and her friend. The three small windows containing their faces rearranged automatically along the left edge of the screen to make the most efficient possible use of screen space as the mystery girl—what was her name?--continued to instruct Edgar.

"I have just a few questions for you before we continue, Edgar." As she spoke, the cables supporting his yoke slowly, almost imperceptibly, started to glide closer to the screen, forcing him to lean toward it.

"Questions?" he asked. "Are they important? I'd like to get out of here."

"It's just a brief customer survey. It'll only take a minute." 

As the yoke inched slowly toward the screen, the clamp around his ankles slowly inched in the opposite direction, forcing him to tilt uncomfortably forward. 




Satisfaction Guaranteed



"Is this the first time you've had trouble with our product?"

"Yes. I haven't had it for very long. For a while I was kind of afraid to take it out of the box--but this weekend I finally got around to it."

"That explains it. It appears that your Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone has never been used."

"You can tell?"

"The cone is taking longer than usual to lubricate. But that's normal for its first use. It's never been primed."

"Mistress, the machine is tilting me forward. Is it supposed to do that?"

"Oh, yes. It's really uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"It's hurting my neck."

"I know. As you lean forward, it's moving weight off your feet and onto the yoke. You'll have to use your arms to support your upper body weight. If you don't, the added weight will be supported by the front of your neck, and then you won't be able to breathe."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's not me. It's the program. It's identified your reluctance to complete the exercise. It also knows that you'll become more compliant once you've been thoroughly fatigued, and forcing compliance is a high priority in the Discipline Queen setting. Why are you alone tonight, Edgar?"

"What?"

"Market research. Why are you alone? You're a good looking guy, and it seems like a waste. Why do you do this alone?"

"I don't know. It's hard to meet the right people. You know how it is." The clamp around his ankles backed onto an upwardly curving ramp, elevating his feet behind him even as his head and arms moved slowly downward.

"You don't have a girlfriend?"

"No. Ahhh!"

"Watch that neck. Do family members try to fix you up?"

"No. I don't have any close family."

"Really?" She started typing and muttered, "Physically fit . . . No close family."

"Is that important?" 

"Market research."

His arms trembled under the added strain.

Marta (who'd been watching silently so far) whispered to her friend, "I thought he'd be crying by now."

"Just one more question," said his interrogator.

The machine stopped its relentless tilt. His reddened face was dripping sweat inches from the screen.

"When you say that you 'hate' me, you DO realize that I have feelings, don't you?"

"Is this market research?"

"No," she said. "Oh, no, no, no. You see, I do have feelings. And nobody likes to hear that they're hated."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, mistress! I didn't mean it!"

"Is this an apology?"

"Yes, I'm sorry!"

"You understand, of course, that it's within my power to choose the form and the duration of your apology."

"Yes, mistress! I'm very sorry!"

"Although it's kind of late for an apology, since my feelings have already been hurt."

"I'm so sorry! I won't say anything like that again! Please, I'm really, really sorry!"

Her computer beeped.

"Look! Your Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone is primed!"

The device that he had forgotten was dangling near his groin suddenly sucked in his shaft and squeezed it in an unexpected but not unpleasant way.

His yoke and shackles slid back to their starting points, leaving him comfortably upright.

He gasped heavily as the cone rewarded him with gentle tickling strokes.

"Take deep breaths now. You're bound to be shaky after that. Your legs, arms, and chest might be sore for a few days. I had to maneuver your groin over to the cone, and it took longer than I thought for the cone to prime. But I used that time to warm the lubricant up to a comfy 99 degrees, so it should be having an effect now."

It was. He had no idea the device could be so lifelike with its gentle attention. He thrusted just once out of instinct. 

He noticed that the mysterious mistress was holding an unfamiliar control device up to the camera so that he could see it. It looked like a joystick control for a video game, except the stick was shaped like a part of his own anatomy.

"Your machine didn't come with one of these. It's only meant for administrators like me. And while I'm sure you've never seen one, I bet you can guess what it does." She giggled wickedly as she fingered it. "If you thought I could control you before, this is gonna blow your fucking mind."

She moved the joystick to the right, and the cone (along with his shaft) also moved right. When she moved left, the cone moved left. Then she moved her thumb and forefinger up and down the sides of the stick, causing his shaft to throb as though she were in the room stroking him.

"How?" he gasped. "How are you doing that?"

"I don't know it works, but our tech girls are pretty awesome at what they do." As if he needed another demonstration, she slipped the joystick into her mouth.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" he said before he knew he was saying anything. The sensation was unexpected and thrilling.

"Pyah!" She spit the joystick out, and the sensation abruptly stopped. "This thing's been in the drawer for a while. I should have wiped it off first, but you get the idea." She wiped the joystick off with a paper napkin she found on her desk.

Even the dry napkin felt hot and moist through the technical magic of the cone. He was suddenly lost in the bliss of the simulation.

"That was just a demonstration. I'll put it down now and set it for auto-tickle—just enough to keep you interested, but not enough to get you off." She set the joystick on her desk.

Marta the trainee said, "I want to hold that. Is the cord long enough?"

"It's wireless!" said the mystery girl.

"Oh, neat!"

The mystery mistress handed the joystick off camera. Marta could be seen in the smaller window accepting it. 

By now there were four small windows filling the left edge of the screen. The woman in the fourth window was on a lunch break. She ate popcorn as she watched, and shared some of it with the woman in the third window.

Meanwhile, Marta the trainee stroked the joystick with a couple of fingers and was delighted by his involuntary gasps and spasms.

"Just relax and take deep breaths," said the mystery girl from the main window. "You'll need your strength for what comes next."

He felt something he didn't expect. Something he couldn't see, something unfamiliar, was lifting his balls.

"What's that?"

"Just a scrotum ring. In the remote administrative mode, the Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone can also be a cock cage."

"Oh . . . . Ummmmmmmm . . . . What's a cock cage?"

The lunch break woman spat popcorn.

"Oh, Edgar!" giggled the mystery mistress. "You're my favorite! My best caller ever!"

All the faces on the screen were giggling now as more faces appeared on the periphery of the screen. When the screen's edge reached its capacity, a scroll bar appeared, and faces of new women started to automatically scroll into view as others scrolled out.

The mystery girl continued. "The automatic scrotum ring couldn't engage you right away because your nutsack was too tight. But now the warmth of the lubricant has loosened the skin around your balls rather nicely, so the ring is able to automatically deploy around the base of your scrotum. By now you should feel the ring constricting a bit. Yes?"

"Y-Yes."

"Good. I wouldn't try pulling out now. It won't let you."

"Ah! It's tight! It's too tight!"

"Yes, I know you're very delicate down there. You'll get used to it after a while--probably. Actually, I've never asked how it felt, but the machine always knows what it's doing. You didn't even notice when the cock ring wrapped around the base of your shaft. Marta?"

Marta twisted a ring on the joystick.

Edgar flinched in surprise.

"Feel that?" asked the mystery girl. "That's a cock cage. We can prolong—or if necessary inhibit—your erections, but not in a way that you'd necessary enjoy. It's just another motivator to help you concentrate."

Her computer beeped again.

"Edgar, you've been approved for our Most Desired Customers Program! Would you like to take a moment to go over some of the benefits?"

"What? Really? Now?"

"It will only take a few minutes. Based on the data that we've recovered from your SBU-590, we've determined that you respond exceptionally well to domination. This makes you eligible for certain opportunities not available to other customers. Edgar, have you ever considered committing to a lifestyle of submission?"

"No! No, I haven't."

"Liar. You just bought a big damn domination machine. You must have at least thought about it."

"Well, I may have thought about it, but--"

"Of course! You think about it all the time. You're a natural slave."

"Don't call me that."

"What? A slave?" She leaned closer to the camera. "But you are a slave, Edgar. Why does it bother you to be called one?"

"I'm not a slave."

"Hmmmm, I don't think I heard you."

"I'm not a slave—mistress."

"Ha! Do you realize you've never called me anything other than 'mistress?' Aren't you admitting that you're my slave?"

"No! I don't know! I just want to get out of this!"

"Calm down, Edgar. I'm speaking as a representative of a powerful organization of dominant women who want to meet men like you." She turned to someone off screen. "Marta, please give him some more encouragement."

"Yvonne has the controller now," said Marta. "She wanted to hold it."

Yvonne (in the second small window) slid the joystick into her mouth and slurped affectionately.

Edgar convulsed to their amusement. 

"If you're willing to relocate," the smiling girl continued, "you can live the lifestyle you've always fantasized about. We'll pay your travel expenses, your food, your board, and all your other living expenses. And you'll have the best, kinkiest sex you've ever had—every day. Doesn't that sound appealing?"

"What would . . . What would I be giving up?"

"Well . . . Edgar . . . You'd be a slave, so—everything."

"No. No way. I don't want to be a slave."

"Are you sure? You're really good at it."

"I don't want to!"

"Oh, Edgar! Very well. Then turn the black knob."

"What?"

"Just turn the black knob to decline this once-in-a-lifetime offer. The shiny rubber thing on the bottom of your screen console."

"But I can't reach it."

"Hurry, Edgar. I don't have all day."

"I said I can't reach it."

"Of course you can. It's right in front of you."

"I really can't!"

"If you really wanted to decline, you would try harder!"

"I can't . . . Wait! Maybe I can reach it with my mouth."

"Yes, Edgar! Use your teeth. Be quick about it."

Edgar lurched forward as far as his yoke would allow. His teeth found their target and twisted.

He heard a sudden hiss of compressed air. The "knob" got suddenly bigger inside his mouth—much bigger.

"Psych!" said his tormentor. "You don't have a knob! That's the Ultimate Silencer Inflatable Gag you just bit. Our marketing staff calls it the Final Word in Getting the Final Word."

Edgar tried to let go. He tried to push it out with his tongue, but the gag in his mouth held him firmly to the screen console. He started to panic.

"Don't get all upset! This is the part you knew was going to happen, so relax. As it turns out, I have some discretion on how much the gag inflates. Are you able to talk at all?"

"Ohm-ly a lih-ull bih!"

It hissed again. "How about now?"

"Lughhh, lughhh luh-ugllllll!"

"Perfect!"

The gag popped off the screen console, staying firmly implanted inside his mouth. He was finally able to see the screen again.

All the faces were leaning forward to see what he looked like, including his mystery mistress. Some of the women exchanged whispers. Others just laughed. All continued to look at him with unrelenting fascination.

"Sorry, Edgar. You're awfully funny looking with your mouth full, but there's no going back now. In case you're wondering, there's a valve stem's on the front of your gag. When we're done, you can just place the stem back on the console to deflate it."

Edgar reached toward the console with his mouth to deflate the gag, but it didn't work.

"Not now, dummy! I said when we're done!"

Never before had Edgar's jaws been forced so far apart, and already they started to hurt. He flexed his fingers and shook his head vigorously as if the gag could be shaken out.

His tormentor disapproved of this display. "Now don't throw a fit! You're attempting an exercise that's never been done before, so there's bound to be a little discomfort." She turned away from the camera. "Yvonne, give him some more encouragement."

"I gave the controller back to Marta," said Yvonne.

"No, you didn't," said Marta.

"Yes, I did! You should have it."

"I don't."

"Then someone else must have taken it."

"Ladies!" said the mystery girl. "One of you must have the controller."

This Edgar already knew. Someone was anonymously giving him "more encouragement"--with uninhibited enthusiasm. Laboring to get air past his gag, he snorted uncontrollably.

Now another window appeared, this one in the lower right of the screen. Unlike the other girls who were dressed in some variation of office attire, this girl was wearing a tight vinyl mini dress. She was sitting in the dark and was operating some kind of--

It was a car. She was operating a steering wheel. Light from passing streetlights intermittently revealed her face.

"There you are, Famke. Where are you?"

"I just turned onto Arbuckle Lane," said the dominatrix in the car.

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Famke's window disappeared from the screen.

Edgar's bewildered face caught the attention of his tormentor.

"Oh, Edgar, you must have so many questions! If only you could ask them. Tell you what. I'll throw you a bone. I'll start to answer some of those questions for you."

She leaned toward the camera so only her mouth filled the screen. Slowly and without pity, she said, "Caaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrooooooolllllllllllllll." She leaned back. "My name is Carol. Since you're on a speaker phone, I could have forgiven 'Karen,' but where did you get 'Mindy?' That was just weird."

He tugged his arms against the yoke harder than he ever had before. It would be worth the loss of a thumb, he thought, if he could get one hand free of it.

"Oh, slave, don't hurt yourself! You're only two steps away from being done!"

He calmed down, but he suspected a trick.

"That's right, my little cutie slave! All that's left is for me to flip you upside-down and squeeze you 'til you cum. And then it's over!" Her computer beeped again. "Hang on. New information."

She read her screen and was quiet for a long time. First she smiled. Then she laughed. Finally she covered her gaping mouth as if she couldn't contain her joy.

"Oh, Edgar! I said you were my favorite, but I never imagined! The computer says that you're responding so well, you've qualified for a bonus procedure—one that's exclusive to Mistress Kathy's Most Desired Customers! Do you want to hear about it?"

He vigorously shook his head to show that he didn't.

"Not even curious? Any procedure called Satan's Crooked Gothic Hanging Yoke has to be interesting." She picked up her mouse to manipulate an unseen control on her screen. "It's not even mentioned in our manuals, so it must be some kind of Easter egg. You're the first one to trigger it!"

He shook his head. As he did, cables pulled his yoke higher, forcing him to rise to his toes. The clamp that held his ankles together remained firmly anchored to the floor.

"But maybe you prefer the unknown. Maybe you'd rather charge ahead without knowing the details. Sound interesting?"

He continued to shake his head. The yoke continued to rise. With his ankles attached to the floor, his back and neck began to stretch. 

"Of course, I'm supposed to tell you that the bonus procedure is strictly optional."

The motor pulling the yoke started to whine as the tension on his spine reached the limit of the program's safety protocol.

"So Edgar, I have to ask, do you want to skip the bonus procedure?"

He tried to nod—and couldn't. In the elevated yoke, his head could move neither back nor forth.

"Thinking it over?" She held her hand steadily on her mouse—which maintained the tension on his neck and spine. "No pressure, mind you. If you want to skip this part, just say so. Or nod—just a little."

He thrashed his arms uselessly within his restraints, but his head wouldn't move. 

She leaned closer and smiled. "Going once."

He tried to scream, but the puny sounds that came through his gag were inaudible. 

"Going twice."

He tried to blink an SOS. . . .

"He's going to go for it!" She jumped out of her chair with uninhibited glee. The cheers of an office full of horny women filtered through his console. On the screen, Edgar could see only Carol's bouncing tube top. 

Wrapped around the base of the ClampTite DoubleLock Shackle which held his feet firmly to the base was a canvas strap. He assumed it was a safety strap—until an unseen cable from behind pulled it up over his calves and tightened it around his knees like a noose.

"Oh, Edgar! You've inspired us! To volunteer for such an ordeal without even knowing what it is? You're fearless!" 

Although the ClampTite DoubleLock Shackle did not open, it suddenly came loose from the base. The tension on his spine ended, but he was still suspended in the air. Immediately another cable attached to the shackle started to pull his restrained feet in front of him.

"We're in uncharted territory here, but my screen has a script that I'm supposed to read to you."

He thought he was being pulled into a fetal position, but that was not the plan. As his feet were pulled upward, his knees were pulled backward, which had the effect of forcing him into the shape of a tilted letter "L." 

"Insolent slave," she read from her script. "Your worth will now be tested in the trial of Satan's Crooked Gothic Hanging Yoke." 

His head was tilted forward as his ass was elevated. As this happened, a control arm (which he had assumed was only part of the machine's frame) unfolded into a metal paddle. It positioned itself behind his ass.

SWAT! 

He could do nothing to dodge the blow, and the pain was immediate.

"You are to be swatted repeatedly by the Discipline Queen Punishment Arm. The strength and frequency of the swats will gradually increase over the course of the next twenty minutes--"

SWAT!

"—as is fitting for your kind. Meanwhile, a random number generator will determine--"

SWAT! Bzzzzzzzt! "LLLUGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

"—which swats will be electrified. The frequency and intensity of the jolts will likewise increase during the twenty-minute trial."

SWAT! 

Even as the paddle struck, his shaft throbbed as the cone continued its maddening massage.

"Do not ejaculate. An ejaculation before the end of the trial will cause the machine to lock down in its current position until you again become erect--"

SWAT!

"—and the procedure will repeat itself--until you complete a successful twenty-minute trial. Good luck, you undeserving worm."

Enduring the relentless spanking, Edgar spotted a beautiful long-haired woman in a small window at the edge of his screen sitting in her office chair with her legs apart. She was busy thrusting something beneath her skirt. She briefly opened her eyes toward the camera to let him know exactly where the handheld controller was and how much she enjoyed his reaction to it.

He would have shouted at her to stop--if he could have shouted anything. 

"That's all the script says," said Carol, now sounding a bit breathless herself. "And I'm getting awesome data from your SBU-590!" He heard her type on her keyboard again, but the keystrokes were slower and more erratic than before—as if she were typing with only one hand.

He became lightheaded. A part of him knew that the spanking would stop—temporarily--if he just surrendered to the cone. 

The more sensible part of him (weak as it was) realized he may be lucky just to avoid passing out.




Satisfaction Guaranteed



"Remember what I said earlier," said Carol, "about committing to a lifestyle of submission? I want you to know that was all true. I wasn't just bullshitting you. 

"You fit the profile for our Most Desired Customers perfectly. A certain attractiveness, a fascination with fetishy taboos, no close family ties, and an almost unreal response to erotic domination!" Her fingers authoritatively pounded her keyboard. "Check, check, check, and check!

"All that remains is your consent. And the beauty of it is, you've already given it.

"It's in the Terms of Service—which you've already read. By modifying the SBU-590 in any way, you renounce any citizenship to your native country and agree to become a permanent resident of our little island!" She reached inside her tube top and cupped herself thoughtlessly. "Provided you match the profile--which you do! Isn't that exciting?"

A barrier in Edgar's mind broke, and he knew that the mystery girl—Carol!--had broken his will. It was no longer his own. He had nothing left to surrender.

"You're the best slave ever, Edgar! We can't wait to add you to our herd!"

And the machine stopped.

It just stopped.

"What the fuck?" asked Carol. "All right, which one of you made him cum?"

"Irene!" chimed the majority of voices.

Irene ignored the others, bringing her own persistent thrusts to an inevitable, self-gratifying, and somewhat louder than expected conclusion.

"Irene!" scolded Carol. "I should have known it would be you."

"She didn't do it," said a voice that did not come from Edgar's screen console.

Famke had arrived. Edgar did not notice when she'd entered his living room, so she could have been there for some time.

"I could see he wasn't going to last twenty minutes." Famke wrapped a comforting arm around Edgar's aching torso. "Sorry, girls, but I don't have all night. I turned the machine off. He didn't cum."

Collected sounds of disappointment came from the screen console.

Famke disengaged the Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone. Edgar joyfully moaned.

"Oops! I spoke too soon!" 

She wiped the mess onto Edgar's hairy chest.

Then she punched an administrative code into the console, and the machine folded Edgar neatly into a fetal position. She wheeled a shipping crate under Edgar's suspended body. 

Carol said wistfully through the screen, "He's going to be popular when he gets here."

"He's not even resisting," noted Famke. She sprayed a powerful sedative mist directly into Edgar's heaving nostrils. "I've never seen a submissive this fucked. The program must be one of Helga's."

The last thing Edgar remembered when he was lowered into the crate was Carol's voice.

"You're our favorite, Edgar! You're our new training video!"



Satisfaction Guaranteed



"Are you sure you don't want anything special for your birthday, Nick?" Libby whispered in her boyfriend's ear as she molded her long, lean body against his. The bar was busy, as it was a Saturday night. No one seemed to notice when she slipped a hand down the front of his pants as they cuddled in their booth.

"Aww, Libby, who could ask for anything more than you?" the tall young man chuckled. He turned his head and gave her one of his special, long, hot kisses that never failed to make her toes curl. She sucked his wet little tongue desperately, running her long fingers through his short dark hair. 

"Nicky," she whined a few minutes later when she pulled away. "After what you did for my birthday a couple months ago, I feel like I owe you something big!" she whispered. She'd long had bisexual fantasies, and Nick had picked out the sweetest, bustiest blonde to help her explore them. Sure the woman had been a prostitute, but no one had ever licked her so good, before or since. She wanted to do something equally kinky and satisfying for him in return.

"That was as much a treat for me as for you," he grinned and downed his tall beer. "You were so grateful at the time, you let me have her too!" 

"Yeah, that was pretty sexy, watching you do it with another woman," Libby blushed. She hadn't felt too threatened, as gorgeous and well-endowed as that blonde hooker had been. She was no slouch in the breast department herself. In fact, if it wasn't for her bosom, her smooth, oval face and willowy body would have been perfect for the runway.

"Yeah? I don't think I could handle that, with another man anyway," he winked. 

"Aww, you don't want me to get you a stud for your birthday?" she giggled, rubbing his growing bulge through his jeans. He grew hard pretty quickly, of course. They'd been together over a year now and he still got hard for her at the slightest touch!

"I meant watching you fuck another man, you naughty girl!" he laughed and kissed the top of her head.

"Aww, I'd do that too, if you wanted," she said, winking mischievously.

"Damn! Maybe another time, when you get bored of my dick!" Nick coughed, squirming in his seat. 

"Maybe for my next birthday, then," she stuck out her tongue at him.

"Whatever you want, Libby. You know how I love to indulge you!" he said seriously. He wrapped an arm around her slender body, his big hand caressing her side through her sweater.

"You're such a gentlemen," she cooed. He was so loving and sexy, she wanted to give him the world, if she could! She'd settle for the longest, hardest cum of his life, though. "But seriously, I meant to ask if you wanted a good-looking man on your birthday. You know, if you wanted to explore your bi side like I did."

"I've been down that route, it wasn't really my thing," he shook his head. "I just like women too much." He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Well, I have to say, that guy in college did give a pretty fucking mean blow job," he stroked his chin as he mused.

"Yes, just like that blonde did licking my pussy! She was amazing. Are you sure you don't want me to get you a hot young guy to give this," she squeezed the tube of his cock through the denim, "the royal treatment?"

"Only if he looks really, really good in a dress!" Nick quipped. "Like, looks like a sexy woman good."

"Basically you want a chick that sucks dick like a man," she snorted. "You know, if I hadn't told you how well that blonde hooker licked me, I'd be pretty offended right now!"

"Oh Libby, you know I love the way you and I get it on!" He stooped to kiss her cheek. "I was thinking you'd pull out Miss Pink tonight," he suggested in a whisper hoarse with desire.

"Oh you want to bend over and let me do you with my huge plastic cock, do you Mister?" she nibbled his earlobe. He shivered in response. His cock throbbed so hard she thought he was going to cum in his jeans right there at the bar. Early on in their relationship, the young couple had openly shared their fantasies with each other, and Libby had liked him so much that she hadn't hesitated when he'd shyly suggested that she strap on a dildo and take a turn doing the fucking for once! While she didn't cum from it, she loved how sexy and powerful it made her feel. More than that, Nick always came like a fiend when she drilled him. A wicked thought formed in her head, and before he could respond, she pushed him out of the booth, eager to get their evening of fun started.

***

"I can promise you one thing, if your boyfriend is as open-minded as you say, he won't leave unstatisfied." The exotic brunette nodded once, decisively. She sat back on her tall leather chair, crossing her stocking-clad legs and regarding the younger woman thoughtfully. "But that's the crux of it, isn't it? Your boyfriend Nick may enjoy a good pegging from time to time, but I've got the real deal. Not every man can handle that." 

"If he freaks out, he freaks out," Libby shrugged. "Sure, we've never hired a prostitue like you before, and I'm pretty sure he'd have admitted to sleeping with a..." the young woman licked her lips as she paused. "With a woman like you, Jane. But he's very liberal and I've never known him to get weird about that kind of thing."

"Men can be pretty touchy about their sexuality. What makes you so certain?"

"He's admitted to playing around with another guy in school," Libby offered. "And he's not shy at all about how much he enjoys it when we reverse roles. I think he deserves the real deal, as you put it. I for one much prefer that to plastic!" the young woman finished with a chuckle. She'd been dating Nick for just over a year, and the two twenty-somethings enjoyed a more than active sex life. Her boyfriend was tall, dark, and cut. Her long honey brown hair, her model's face, and long, lean body never failed to attract men's eyes. She simply adored him, and wanted to make his birthday something really special, and kinky. The ad that had appeared in her email inbox one day had led her here, to this stunning transgendered call girl.

"That does seem promising," the dark woman smiled. She called herself Jane Summers in her ad, and her looks were certainly smoldering. With dark hair and eyes, deeply tanned skin, head-turning curves and the plumpest "cocksucking" lips Libby had ever seen, she had a hard time believing she was truly transgendered. 

"Great!" Libby smiled back. "Are you free the evening of the seventh?"

"Let me see," Jane tapped her mouse and glanced at her computer. "I am, in fact. Where would we be meeting?"

"Our house. I have the address," Libby fished out a slip of paper with her name, number and address and slid it across the desk to the beautiful call girl. 

"And will you be joining us?" the dark transwoman asked with a knowing smile on her lips. Her dark eyes drifted down to Libby's long, smooth legs. The young woman felt herself blushing. Many people had told her her legs were he best feature, so it wasn't a shock, exactly. She'd even caught other women checking her out more than once. Still, she'd never met a woman like Jane, and the fact that the transwoman was, as she'd boasted in her ad, fully functional, gave Libby all sorts of wicked little thoughts.  

"Yes," she gulped nervously. "Does that raise the price?"

"Normally, yes. In your case, however," Jane licked her lips, slowly dragging her tongue across the plump red flesh. "I am bisexual. I can never decide if men or women turn me on more. Looking at you I'm leaning towards women! I must say I look foward to the seventh for more than the chance to earn five hundred dollrs."

"Oh!" Libby glanced away shyly. It hadn't occured to her that she and Jane might play with each other as well. The idea intrigued her, but caught her off guard. She forced her bright green eyes to meet those chocolate browns. "It is his birthday, Miss Summers. So I really think we should focus mainly on him."

"Of course, of course!" Jane chuckled. Her more-than-full bosom jiggled in her tight white silk blouse. "Just because I'd be happy to date you recreationally doesn't mean I won't enjoy every inch of your rather hunky boyfriend, Libby. Do you think you can handle seeing him have sex with someone else?"

"I've shared him with another girl a couple of times," Libby blurted. She didn't know why she was so eager to mollify the woman's concerns. It couldn't be that her spicy perfume was making her pussy ache with need. Or that she couldn't keep her eyes from those delicious curves. And the she said she'd be interested in dating her! She shook her head, trying not to imagine what that might be like! She focused on the topic at hand, clearning her throat. "It was fun to gang up on him and blow his mind, you know?"

"Yes, I do! And it will be especially fun with me instead of another genetic female. You and I will each bring something different to the table!" Jane crossed her long legs, kicking her foot so that her black pump dangled from her toes. Libby could see the hard little bumps of her nipples pushing out against the fabric of her blouse.

"I wish I loved my job as much as you obviously do, Jane!" Libby giggled. 

"It has it's perks, that's for sure! I can be a chore though, not every client is as gorgeous as you, Libby!" Jane beamed as she stood. She was several inches taller than even Libby in those sky-high heels of hers. 

"So we'll see you at nine o'clock then?" Libby grinned and stood as well. Was it her imagination or did the woman's black pencil skirt have a little tent in it? Well, not that little of a tent, truth be told! It looked quite massive, in fact.

"I pride myself on punctuality. How would you like me to dress?" Jane asked as she took Libby's arm gently.

"You know how men like it. A little bit slutty, a little bit classy!" Libby said cheerfully and let her guide her to her door. 

"I do know how men like it, oh yes indeed I do!"

***

The evening of Nick's birthday seemed to take forever, as far as Libby was concerned. The dinner was great, though seafood was more Nick's favorite than hers. The dancing had been fun, too. She used the time on the dance floor to grind her slinky body into his, getting him hard and trembling with lust before she finally dragged him out of there to head back to their place. Dinner and dancing were all well and good, but she had much bigger plans.

"I can't wait to see what this surprise of yours is," Nick rubbed his hands together eagerly as they walked up the steps to their snug little townhouse. He looked especially handsome that night. He really took care of himself, practically living at the gym to keep his tall body perfectly sculpted with lean, hard muscle. Those muscles bulged in the tight jeans and black silk shirt he wore, and she had to restrain herself from ripping them off of him as they stepped inside the door.

"Oh, you say that now," she giggled. She pushed her bottom back to close the door and practically jumped into his arms. He pushed the flimsy dress up her legs as his lips lowered to shower her graceful neck in hot kisses. "You might get more than you can handle soon enough!"

"You're the best damn giflriend ever, Libby," he growled before his lips found hers. The man knew how to kiss, and she felt her pussy start to melt in her panties as she tilted her head back. Their tongues entwined as they pressed their fevered young bodies together.

"I love you so much, Nick," she panted as she forced herself to pull away. Time was running short, after all.

"I love you too," he said. By the fiery look in his eyes, he was about to pounce! 

"Just sit right there, Mister Man," she said primly as she guided him to his favorite easy chair. "I'll be back in a jiffy!"

"I can't fucking wait!" he grinned like a naughty school boy. She could feel his eyes on her body as she hurried up the stairs to their bedroom. She pulled her dress over her head and tossed it into the hamper. She hadn't worn panties all evening, letting Nick grope and touch her naked bottom and pussy through her sheer dress as they danced. She picked out her favorite thong and pulled the white lace up and adjusted the waistband. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rolled white seamed stockings up her long legs. She rarely wore stockings, but seeing the glamorous Jane in them a few days before had given her ideas. She slipped her delicate feet into fuzzy white, high-heeled slippers before turning to inspect herself in the closet's mirrored door from behind. Her bare ass cheeks looked good, more than good, and she'd managed to get the seams on the back of her stockings straight too!

"Perfect!" she grinned at herself and put on a fresh layer of glossy pink lipstick. She snatched a pair of handcuffs that she'd bought just for tonight form her dresser and rushed down stairs. She only had a few minutes before nine!

"Jesus, Libby," Nick cried in delight as she rounded the corner into the living room. His dark eyes flitted over her tall body, from her cherry red toenails to her bright green eyes. "You look amazing! But what are you going to do with those?" he arched an eyebrow and gestured to the cuffs. As well he might, they'd only played with bondage a few times, and neither had been incredibly keen on it. Tonight though, she thought it might help. 

"Hush, you," she chastised him playfully. "And sit on that chair there," she pointed to the antique ladderback in the corner. "Hands behind your back, chop chop!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Nick chuckled. Libby rushed to his side, guiding his arms back behind him and clicking the cuffs into place.

"You must have one hell of a show planned! You didn't skip ahead to your birthday idea and get another man to come over to screw you on the couch while I watch, did you?" he squirmed a little against his bonds, but his jeans were growing tight the front. 

"No, but that's the second time you've brought it up!" she giggled, her full breasts wobbling in the flimsy lace of her nearly transparent bra. "I think that sounds like it might be a shared little fantasy we can indulge in, Nicky!"

"I admit nothing!" he said with mock defiance. Libby glanced at the clock, it was one minute past nine. She hoped Jane had been truthful about being punctual. Either way, she had to fill the time. She picked up the stereo remote and turned on some sensual soft jazz, but turned the volume down nice and low. She didn't want anyone distracted. She was about to give her boyfriend a sexy little dance when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, I wonder who that could be?" she gave him an innocent look.

"If it's another dude, I'm spanking your ass raw later!" he quipped, and turned his handsome face to the front door, eager to see who it was.

"Next time, sweetie," she said before stepping up and opening the door wide. Sure enough, Jane, the sultry transwoman, waited on the stoop. The prostitute had dressed to please. Her glossy brown hair fell in curly waves around her bare shoulders. A skin-tight, blue strapless mini dress covered her lush body from just above her nipples to just below her full, round bottom. Her long, bare legs seemed to stretch for miles. 

"Going to invite me in?" the dark woman asked with a smirk.

"Oh yes, come right in, Jane!" Libby laughed. She'd been standing there staring at her! She stepped aside, making way and giving her boyfriend a great view of the sexy brunette as she strode in on strappy silver heels. 

"You have a nice place," Jane smiled as she turned her head. She caught sight of Nick, fully clothed and handcuffed to the chair. "Interesting furnishings too," she laughed, her voice throaty and musical.

"Nick, this is Jane. Jane, meet my boyfriend Nick!" Libby shut the door behind the woman and took her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jane!" Nick said happily. His dark eyes flickered up and down as he took her in greedily. 

"I'd say the pleasure is all mine, Nicholas," Jane purred. "But Elizabeth hired me to make sure that you got all the pleasure you can handle, and then some, for your birthday!"

"That's my girl!" Nick beamed. "She always has the best plans!"

"Let's get started, eh? We can always talk later!" Libby said anxiously. She had been aroused all evening, but now, standing side by side with the tall, dark transgender woman and smelling her spicy perfume, her pussy felt like it was about to burst with need. Jane squeezed her hand once before letting go and walking slowly over to the bound man. 

"A marvelous idea," Jane purred. She bent over him, pushing her impressive cleavage into his smiling face as her long fingers teased his muscles through his shirt. Libby joined her and the pair of them had his shirt unbuttoned and pulled open to expose his chest in moments. 

"Help yourselves, ladies," Nick drawled, as if he had any choice in the matter. Libby teased one of his hard little nipples with her teeth, making him squirm and hiss. Jane kissed her way down his washboard abs as she ran her long-fingered hands up and down his thighs. Libby could feel the woman's soft brown hair against her cheek and smell her shampoo. It nearly made her head spin.

"Let's see what we're working with here," Jane cooed. Her voice was low and raspy, and sent a shiver up Libby's spine. They crouched before him, rubbing shoulders, as Jane slowly unzipped Nick's tight jeans.

"I'm sure he won't disappoint, he's quite impressive," Libby said proudly. 

"Oh yes, I think can tell that already," Jane cooed as she slowly fished out the young man's rapidly swelling cock. Libby licked her lips at the sight of another woman stroking and caressing that big, pink organ. Long and thick, Nick's manhood was bigger than most she'd seen, and handsome to boot. Straight and smooth, with a deep purple head just barely thicker than the shaft, it was just big enough to share.

"Go ahead," she whispered to the dark woman, patting her bare shoulder. Jane nodded and dove in, her full lips wrapping right around her boyfriend's turgid cockhead. Nick gasped in pleasure, bucking his hips up as he wiggled on the hard wooden chair. Jane moaned around his stiffness, bobbing her pretty face up and down. She twisted her head around like a corkscrew as she bobbed, then swallowed every inch of him to the base without missing a beat.

"Jesus Christ, she's good!" Nick cried in awe as the brunette worshipped his cock. She hummed around him as she slurped at his stiff rod.

"Yeah? I had a feeling she'd be really good at this," Libby giggled. The logic just made since, after all. That blonde Nick had gotten for her birthday no doubt licked pussy so well because she had one of her own. The same should hold true with the transgendered prostitute!

"If only you could feel what she's doing with her tongue!" Nick gasped. His muscled chest and stomach flexed. Jane worked him for several minutes more, putting on quite a show for Libby as she displayed her impressive oral skills. Nick started to sweat, grinding his teeth and grunting each time the brunette pressed her wet, red lips down tight against the root of his cock. She pulled off suddenly, leaving his cock quivering in midair, glistening with her spit. He looked red, raw and ready to burst.

"Two more seconds and you'd be filling my mouth," Jane said softly, her lips a fraction of an inch from his flesh.

"Yeah, you're incredible," he mumbled. He looked shyly at Libby, as if afraid he was hurting her feelings. She stood up on her knees and kissed his cheek.

"Your birthday is just getting started, Nicky!"

"I think he's settled down now," Jane said after a moment. She took Libby's hand and pulled her back down beside her. "How about we both suck him?"

"Great idea!" Libby said excitedly. The moved together, surrounding his cock with their wet lips, pushing his rod back and forth between their hot sucking mouths. Their lips and tongues touched as they worked his cock in tandem, and the eroticism of their near-kiss gave her goosebumps. 




Satisfaction Guaranteed



"I'm not going to last long, girls!" Nick gasped. Libby heard a clank of metal as her boyfriend roughly tested the handcuffs. He must really be on the edge!

"Suck the cum right out of him, Jane," Libby whispered in the brunette's ear. 

"Don't mind if I do, Libby!" Jane once again wrapped her lips around Nick's cock, but this time she didn't bob or take him into her throat. She held perfectly still, her dark eyes gazing up at the handsome man sitting helpless before her. Her cheeks hollowed and her body tensed. Libby could only guess how hard she must be sucking, but it seemed to be doing the trick!

"Fuck! Oh Fuck!" Nick growled, bucking his hips. Jane clutched his powerful thighs, holding herself right on the tip of his cock as her talented mouth pulled him straight over the edge. Libby could hear the woman swallow hard, and when she finally pulled off, not a drop of cum remained on Nick's manhood.

"That was-" Libby started, but Jane cut her off. The tall woman wrapped her hands in Libby's long, straight hair and pulled their mouths together in a hot, sapphic kiss. Libby's eyes went wide in shock when Nick's cum poured into her mouth, followed by Jane's wiggling tongue. She nearly came in her panties as she lost herself in the pleasure of kissing another woman, even if that woman had been born male. She didn't want it to end, but at last they swallowed all of Nick's hot, salty load and pulled away from each other.

"You need to kiss girls a lot more often," Nick chuckled. Normally his stiff young cock drooped for a while after a cum, and it took a few minutes of coaxing to rouse him to a second hard on. He seemed ready to go still, his cock hard as rock.

"Yeah," Libby blushed and wiped her chin. Jane merely laughed and rose gracefully to her feet as Libby moved around to unlock the handcuffs. 

"Libby," Nick started as he rubbed his wrists and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. "You've really outdone yourself. I don't know where you found her, but your friend Jane here gives better head than any woman I've ever known!"

"Ha!" Libby patted her boyfriend's smoothly shaved balls. "Yes, but was she as good as that boy you knew in college? What was his name?" she teased.

"John," Nick coughed, glancing at the dark-haired woman. They shared a knowing smile. "I'd say she's even better than old John was, too."

"Yeah, well, put your pants on and let's have a drink and get to know each other before I tell you tonight's big secret!" Libby laughed and pulled them both into the kitchen, where she had a bottle of Bolinger chilling in the fridge.

***

Libby teased her boyfriend for a good hour while the three of them drank and talked. Jane was a bright woman, with a degree in literature and a lot of interesting stories to tell. Libby was a bit surprised at how well all three of them got along. The working girl Nick had hired for her had been a lot more "down to business." If it weren't for the fact that they had just teamed up to suck Nick's big cock, Libby would have said it felt more like three friends just hanging out and having a good time than hanging out with a hooker!

"Okay, I bet you're dying to know what the big secret is," Libby said as she drained the last of the champagne. 

"I am a bit curuious, I'll admit. But take your time. I'm having a ball just being with both of you beautiful ladies. No rush to get to the bedroom," he smiled in that charming, easy-going way he had. "I assume you can stay all night?" he asked Jane.

"And into the morning, if you can keep up!" she batted her long, black eyelashes.

"Nope, I think I'm ready for round two," Libby giggled. 

"Not to mention all the rounds after that one!" Jane added.

"Okay, what's the big secret?" Nick leaned over the table, and snatched up Libby's hand. He squeezed it tenderly, his eyes locked with hers.

"The other night you said you'd only be interested in a guy if he looks really good in a dress," she began.

"That's true," he nodded, not at all bashful to admit that in front of a woman he had just met, it seemed. He was so secure in his masculinity! It was one of the things she liked most about him.

"Well, don't you think Jane looks really good in a dress?" Libby asked and nodded to the exotic woman. Jane took the cue and stood from the table, backing away and swaying her rounded hips, her hands sliding down the sides of her blue dress.

"What?" Nick look puzzled for a moment, then it dawned on him. His jaw dropped. "You mean Jane is-"

"A transsexual," Libby nodded.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Nick muttered. Libby reached under the table, giving his bulge a good squeeze. As always, his beefy cock surged to life at her touch. So far so good!

"Well, technically transgendered," Jane corrected with a soft smile. "I have no desire for a sex change, after all, but some do use those words interchangeably."

"So you're a shemale?" Nick asked in wonder.

"Well, if you want to be really fucking crude about it!" Jane laughed throatily and shook her head. "That's a porn word for women like me, sure. I don't mind it, at least in the context of good, clean sex. I'm warning you, though, use that term outside the bedroom and I'll have to kick you in the shins!"

"Noted!" Nick laughed. "And my apologies. But I guess that does explain your oral talents, Jane. You've got one of your own."

"And I love to use it too," she purred.

"Well, I think it's time to head upstairs, don't you, Nicky?" Libby asked as she nuzzled her boyfriend's cheek.

"High time! Lead the way!" Nick said to her surprise. She'd expected hesitation, or at least demands for more information. He seemed awfully eager to add a shemale, as he'd said, to the mix! Still, she couldn't complain, it was her own idea, after all. As she swished through the kitchen toward the stairs with them following her, she had to admit she was liking the idea of sharing their bed with the shapely transwoman more and more, and not just to give Nick a treat!

"Such a wonderful bottom!" Jane purred as she climbed the stairs behind Libby. Her hands groped at her naked cheeks and teased the lacy band of her thong.

"Yours isn't so bad, either," Nicked added, and Libby heard a slap. Jane giggled in pleasure.

"You guys are terrible!" Libby admonished them. So Jane liked her ass did she? She wiggled it seductively as she led them into their bedroom. She stepped to the side and indicated that Nick and Jane should share the bed while she looked on. 

"Help me out of this dress, first!" Jane pleaded, turning her back to Libby. The young woman nodded and drew the zipper down. Jane wore only a flimsy white bra and matching panties. From behind, her hourglass body was a vision of feminine perfection. Libby wasn't asked, but she unsnapped the woman's bra too, just to help her out.

"Oh my God, Libby, you should really see this!" Nick gasped from the bed, his jeans and boxers pulled halfway down his legs. 

"See what?" Libby wondered. She moved around in front of the dark prostitute, and her hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of shock. Jane's breasts were simply the most perfect she'd ever seen, high and round and huge, and topped with long, pink-brown nipples. Surely they were mostly silicone, but whoever had done the surgery had clearly been a master! But it wasn't her breasts that took Libby's breath away, or her tiny waist, or her flat belly, or her shapely legs. Her plain white panties bulged out between her thighs, stuffed with what could only be one of the biggest cocks and meatiest pair of balls in the whole city.

"Yes, well," Jane blushed. "Sometimes hormones make a gurl shrink, and sometimes," she shrugged. "Well, sometimes they don't have much effect at all!"

"I guess not!" Libby muttered, and sat on the bed. As the young couple watched, Jane slowly peeled off her panties. Her girly cock came into view inch by inch. The skin was the color of mocha, save where a thick bluish vein ran along the top. Semi-hard, she was already a bit longer and thicker than Nick throbbing boner, her smooth, hairless balls much larger. At last her full length was exposed, and Libby licked her lips at the sight of the crimson, mushroom head. She kept a little patch of black hair above her cock, framing it nicely, but otherwise she looked as smooth and soft as a babe. She kicked out of her panties and slipped out of her sexy heels, posing nude for them.

"What do you two think?" 

"Gorgeous," Nick said softly. He kicked his own clothing away as he stood. Libby sat on the edge of the bed as her boyfriend pulled the exotic woman into his arms. They kissed long and hard, her breasts pressing against his powerful chest and their cocks rubbing together. 

"Oh I've missed..." Jane gulped, then blushed. "I've missed this. Fuck me, Nick," she nearly growled. Libby squeaked and moved to the side of the bed as her boyfriend practically tossed the call girl onto the mattress. He paused only long enough to roll a condom down his long, thick cock and squirt a generous dollop of lube onto himself before he pushed Jane's long legs back over her head and sank himself into her tiny, exposed ass in one smooth stroke.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" Nick hissed as he worked his big dick slowly in and out. Libby whimpered at the erotic sight. She stretched out next to the woman, sliding her hand down her panties to rub her aching clit. 

"Harder, Nick, fill me up!" Jane moaned in passion. Her big breasts wobbled as he fucked her, and her big cock grew, soon standing up straight between their bodies, drooling precum. 

"You're so fucking sexy, Jane," Nick said, his eyes meeting the transwoman under him. They kissed again, their lips locked as Jane wrapped her arms around his neck and her long toes curled in pleasure. Nick fucked her faster and faster, and as hot as it was, Libby began to feel a bit left out. She had hoped he'd enjoy his present, but she hadn't expected them to connect like they so obviously did! Jealousy only feuled her passion, and she let out a little moan of pleasure as her first electric orgasm burst from her engorged clit.

"Oh, baby, thank you!" Nick sighed as he at last broke the kiss with the woman beneath him. He reached over and pulled her by her hair, bringing her face to his. Their lips met, and he kissed her every bit as hard as he'd kissed Jane. He shuddered as their tongues met, and his motions became erratic.

"Fuck her shemale ass, Nicky," she urged him as he lifted his head and roared wordlessly. He bucked against that plush ass for another minute before finally shuddering one last time and collapsing atop her pillowy breasts.

"That was so nice, Nick!" Jane smiled and teased the man's short dark hair. "But you've left me all hot and bothered."

"Or is that hard and bothered?" Libby giggled. She couldn't take her eyes of that enormous girlcock. It looked so hard and frankly, a little bit scary.

"Yeah, I think so," Nick panted as he slowly pulled back to sit up on the edge of the bed. After two hard cums, his codom-covered cock sagged between his legs. Jane's on the other hand, stood up proudly. 

"I can't believe your'e so big," Libby licked her lips as she gazed at the woman's big cock in awe. Several inches longer than Nick's sizable tool, and a good deal thicker, her cock was a work of art!

"Just lucky, I guess!" Jane smirked and sat up herself. Her cock seemed to spring straight out from her loins, so incongruous on her utterly feminine body. "Nick, grab me a condom and get on your hands and knees. Libby, get those panties off and let him lick you good while I give him a taste of a real cock up his ass!"

"Oh yeah!" Nick groaned. Libby had to giggle at the speed with which he obeyed. He tossed the transwoman a condom and positioned himself between Libby's long, stocking-clad legs before she'd even had a chance to shed her thong. He practically ripped the garment off her, burying his face in her sex. 

"Somebody's eager!" Libby sighed in pleasure as her boyfriend's lips and tongue touched her aching clit, sending hot waves of pleasure up her spine. 

"Yeah, look at how he's sticking his ass right up for me!" Jane rolled the condom down her massive prick and squirted lube all over herself. "Are you sure he's really a virgin?" 

"Just rubber dicks, Jane. Yours will be his first real one!" Libby confirmed, then forgot all about words as Nick wiggled his long tongue between her folds, sliding his tongue deep into her wet, needy pussy.

"Ah, too big!" Nick lifted his head to shout as Jane grabbed his hips and slowly, forcefully worked her huge cock deep into his tight male ass. She licked her lips, her eyes meeting Libby's as they sandwiched her boyfriend between them.

"You weren't so gentle with me, Nick!" she reminded him. She pulled back only a fraction before slamming her over-sized cock home once more. He grunted and sweat, thrashing on the bed. 

"She's just bigger than you is all, Nicky. I'm sure you'll get used to it," Libby teased. She took two fistfuls of his short, dark hair and pulled his hot mouth back down to her sex. "Just focus on my pussy and let it happen!"

"Listen to your girlfriend. She knows what's good for you!" Jane agreed, and slapped his taut, muscular ass for good measure. Thanks to the way she regularly pegged his ass with her big pink strap on, Nick seemed to adjust quickly. In no time, he was moaning into her pussy as he licked, bringing her to one sharp little cum after another.

"He's getting good and loose now," Jane growled. Her voice was even deeper than normal, with a faint masculine edge to it that belied her curvaceous body. The contrast turned Libby on to no end. She bent her legs under her crouching boyfriend. Her stocking-clad toes found his cock, once again hard as steel. She rubbed him between her soles as he rocked back to meet each of Jane's powerful thrusts. 

"He's hard again! He must be loving this! Fuck him good!" she advised the sexy brunette.

"Just what I like to hear!" Jane began to fuck like an animal. Her long fingers dug deep into his flesh as she gripped him tight. Her big, incredibly firm breasts swayed as she rammed her whole body against Nick's upturned ass savagely. 

"This is so kinky!" Libby squealed. Nick bore down on her clit, sucking and flicking at the little nub with his knowing tongue. Only the force of yet another orgasm could tear her eyes away from the sexy sight of her boyfriend getting fucked up the ass by another woman! She wasn't the only one, though, Nick's cock jerked between her feet, spewing his thick cum all over her ankles.

"I can feel him cumming!" Jane gasped in wonder. Her fine white teeth sank into her plump red bottom lip as she shuddered. For a good two minutes more she slammed in and out every bit as hard and fast as Nick had ever done. "YES!" she screamed as she threw herself bodily atop the sweating young man twitching from her own orgasm.

***

"I have a confession to make, Libby," Nick said sheepishly as he reclined on the bed, his girlfriend nestled into one arm and their new friend, the tall, dark transgendered hooker Jane on the other.

"What's that, Nicky?" Libby wondered. She smiled to herself as she lazily ran her fingertip up an down his muscular chest. She'd certainly knocked his socks off for his birthday, no doubt about it!

"I kind of set this whole thing up," he said sheepishly. Jane chuckled throatily from the other side of him, her own hand moving lower to idly stroke the man's sleeping member.

"What? Bullshit, it was my idea!" Libby pouted. Really, the nerve of the man, trying to steal credit for her brilliant idea!

"Yeah, well. I kind of planted it there. But it wasn't my idea, either, it was Jane's," Nick reached around the woman to pat her curvy hip.

"How is that possible? She doesn't even know me!" Libby narrowed her green eyes sharply, looking at one, then the other. 

"Yes, but I know him. Knew him, even," Jane actually blushed.

"Libby, remember that guy in college who used to blow me all the time? Well, he's Jane now. I have to say, I like the new improved version much better!" Nick chuckled.

"What, have you been screwing him, I mean her, this whole time?" Libby sat up on the bed, crossing her arms under her full, naked breasts. As hot as the sex had been, this news was shocking. Was she about to lose Nick?

"No, no, it's not like that!" Nick protested.

"I moved after college, and decided to embrace my true self," Jane explained slowly. "When I moved back a couple months ago, I looked up Nick on Facebook. I'm not really a prostitute," she added quickly.

"Oh, so you've been fucking for two months then?" Libby wanted to scream. Or grab the lamp near the bed and brain somebody with it!

"Nope, I met her for coffee and we almost decided to screw right then and there," Nick began.

"But he wouldn't cheat on you, not without your permission anyway!" Jane winked. "You two have a really fantastic sex life! I didn't want to come between you two. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Back in school, I never wanted him or anyone else to even look at my cock. Now that I'm a woman, I dunno," she shrugged. "I feel weirdly even more feminine when I'm fucking or getting sucked!"

"That's great," Libby frowned. "But so what? Did you hatched a plan to make me think I thought of having Nick sleep with a shemale?" Libby cried in disbelief.

"Yes. I sent you that email with the fake ad myself. It wasn't Spam." Jane said. "I didn't think the plan was going to work until you showed up at my place and well, we had chemistry, didn't we, Libby?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," the young woman blushed. The exotic transwoman turned her on to no end, and it was good to know that Jane wasn't faking her attraction to her either.

"Look on the bright side, baby. You don't have to pay her five hundred bucks!" Nick chuckled. "And this can be a one time thing. It was good to relive old times with John. I mean Jane," he corrected himself quickly. "Better actually. You're a really smoking hot woman, Jane!"

"Thanks, Nick! You're pretty hot too! And so is your girlfriend! It doesn't have to be a one time thing, etiher," she smiled seductively at Libby across the man's brawny chest.

"Oh?" Libby responded quietly, feeling her nipples harden and her pussy grow damp. The way Jane looked at her!

"Yeah, I was really looking forward to playing with you, too, what do you say?" Jane reached across to slowly rub Libby's arm.

"Nick?" Libby asked.

"Yeah, way better than watching you fuck another dude!" he laughed. "Or another woman, genetic woman I mean. Jane can actually fuck you! And believe me, she does it well!"

"Really?" Libby asked, already rolling onto her back and spreading her long legs in anticipation. She pulled Jane down atop her eagerly. She finally had to admit to herself that she'd been lusting for the woman all night. She hissed as Jane's massive cock spread her pussy, stretching her wider and deeper than ever before.

"Your pussy is so tight!" Jane moaned, her dark eyes wide in awe as their slender, feminine bodies entwined. Their breasts rubbed together, their nipples flicking against the others as they embraced tightly on the bed. 

"And your cock is so big!" Libby cried in ecstasy as that gargantuan girly cock touched her so deep. She wrapped her long legs around the woman's tiny waist, pulling her close. 

"You two look amazing together!" Nick grunted, his cock stiffening between his legs.

"Thank you for inviting me, Nick!" Jane purred as she began to rock her round ass in a slow, steady rhythm. The wet sounds of her huge tool plunging in and out of Libby's sopping pussy filled the room, as did their squeals and screams of unbridled pleasure. 

"I could get used to fucking you both," Jane sighed, and really began to fuck. She put Libby through the ringer that night. She fucked her on her back then let the slim young woman bounce on her lap, taking her huge cock to the hilt lustily. Finally she pushed her down and filled her aching pussy from behind while Libby crouched on all fours.




Satisfaction Guaranteed



Libby lost herself in the pleasure of it. Nick was one hell of a lover, but getting drilled by a sexy woman with such a big cock was on another level of pleasure! She pulled Nick to her, sucking his fat cock to the hilt as she was filled from both ends. She never wanted it to end, but didn't know what would come of this or how it would affect their relationship. But she felt as drawn to Jane as the proverbial moth to flame, and it was clear that Nick was too. 

"Fuck her ass while she fucks me!" Libby said as she pulled her mouth of Nick's cock with an audible pop. Her mind reeled with the endless possible their three bodies could combine. She came hard, having long lost track of how many times Nick's mouth and Jane's wonderful girly cock had brought her off. She blushed deeply, and looked at them over her shoulder as they kissed.

"Happy Birthday, Nicky! I think I want the same thing for my birthday when it comes... Jane!" she said happily.

"Why wait?" Jane broke the kiss with her boyfriend to answer. She jabbed her cock extra hard into Libby's well-stretched pussy. "You can have me any day you want, both of you!"

"Baby?" Nick grinned at her, leering over the transwoman's shoulder as he slid his big cock into her round ass from behind, linking their three bodies.

"Sounds good to me!"