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BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 01

By: NastyPierre



Sister of the well-known secret sorority

PI LOADA CUM

*****

Chapter One: Oh Woe is Me

I was born and raised with a mom-problem and it rendered me compulsively shy. No! It left me in the grips of a parasitic life form that bred fear and moved like an enveloping phobia. It became a really big problem for me, especially after mom died. I became so concerned I sought help and used the flip of a coin to decide fate. The toss sent me to a psychologist instead of a priest.

I took my meager inheritance, weighed it against my problem and decided to gamble it on the remedy chosen by lady luck. It was an effort by me to seek balance in my pitifully lonely existence, which seemed greatly out of kilter compared with the rest of the world, or at least my small part of it. I didn't want to spend my life cowering, I wanted to live, to love and party. I wanted to meet a woman, one would do... I'm not greedy. I wanted to settle down, have children and raise a large family, just like what's his name, on television.

Ms. Jane Monroe was the psychologist's name and after several remarkable sessions, she was telling me all about myself. During the second session she sat uncomfortably near to me, while she pried me open. She had every intention of splitting me wide and planting her seeds and like an excited clam, I fought a losing battle. Ms. Monroe thought it would be in my best interest if we shared a seat made for two, a tender milieu I endured with nerves on edge. It threw my morals off guard and yet I never grew comfortable with our bodies pressed together, stoking a hot spot.

Touching was a concept Ms. Monroe thought important, so we'd sit together during each and every meeting. For two to three hours a session, four days a week, we'd sit like a pair of sardines in a can. I'd sweat and squirm with a throbbing hard-on and she'd keep my head spinning like a top. Her lips lingered close and formed the words she blew at me, while her hands danced about me with suggestions I couldn't imagine. Without fail, the sessions ended with my trouser fronts stained. I couldn't help it, as the sensations continued my arousal increased and became ever more evident. Even through two pairs of underwear I succeeded in producing a big wet spot. Ms. Monroe never seemed concerned about my misgivings and seemed only to take a slight interest, though a belittling one.

The first day I met her, it hit me. I discovered Ms. Monroe to be everything my mom had not been. As weird as it seemed, she exuded the nurturing qualities I'd sought and never found in my mom. They were qualities I'd needed for support, while seeking to understand myself. The only similarity between this sensuous psychologist and my mom was in a single shared belief: they both believed males should always obey females. Both women believed obedience to be my strongest attribute, especially in relation to women. Mom exploited it mercilessly; Ms. Monroe made it a prisoner of love.

Ms. Monroe always acted professionally, even the days she had me disrobe for her. She'd made me undress in front of her while she sat on a chair with her legs crossed. Now Ms. Monroe is a gentle woman, thin, but not skinny. She's one hundred percent Italian and her face is the work of a Roman artisan. She has an olive complexion and dark, deep set eyes. She has a Roman nose and raven black hair. Her hands are those of a princess, strangers to manual labor. Her voice is quiet and even, but always clear, firm and crisp with its meanings. I found it awkward whenever she steered me into discussing my anatomy and admitting to my perversions.

I always found Ms. Monroe poured into the tiniest of light weight dresses. They were eye catchers and she addressed me every time I was caught admiring her. We'd spend the entire session like we had the others, sitting next to each other in the chair made for two. But now my penis stuck out in the air from between my legs and she forced me to tell her all about it. I told her all I could and more, as we watched it drool and ooze shamelessly. I kept my hands by my sides or palms up on my lap, obediently and without moving. By the time the sessions ended, my thighs were saturated in my secretions and I was dripping in sweat. Then, Ms. Monroe made me dress, without allowing me to wash or dry off.

She'd sit with her arms and legs folded, watching seriously as I struggled to fit my boner back in my pants. I tried hard not to touch it, prayed not to orgasm in front of her and as strange as it seems, I would never have thought to climax without permission. I also needed to be careful, because I didn't wish to catch my skin in the zipper, which happened more than twice. It was a messy job Ms. Monroe watched till I wiped my hands off on my trousers and then she'd smile. On the way home, I was sure everyone on the bus could see my discomfort and smell my afternoon diversions, as well as I could.

At first, I raced home every evening and played with myself, until I squirted into my favorite towel. But ejaculating became more difficult as the sessions with Ms. Monroe progressed. Sure the friendship between my hand and penis became cozy again, once I realized mom could no longer jump out from somewhere and catch me, but Ms. Monroe was seeing to that. She quickly filled my mind with knowledge of marriage, a wife's requirements and her loathing of masturbation. She referred to wives as ladies of the house, mistresses and explained to me what they expected and how I should proceed. I soon found masturbation all but impossible. Maybe it was the way Ms. Monroe explained things to me, or how well she understood my unstated idiosyncrasies. She had the most pleasant way of taking control, never demanded a thing, yet had me dancing from the ends of psychic wires.

I needed to succeed before my funds ran out, so I made every effort to learn what I could from Ms. Monroe. She knew of my problems and promised an answer.

During what would be our last formal session, my birthday, Ms. Monroe ended it with a suggestion. I should take the position as personal secretary to a very close friend of hers, the senior vice president of Biprods Incorporated. She convinced me it was the best way of conquering my fears, and then arranged the interview. She seemed truly happy for me and got me excited about the prospects of meeting and learning about women. With a tingle I followed Ms. Monroe's dictates: the practicality of anything else never entering my mind.

Ms. Monroe seemed almost as excited about the interview as I and although she told me not to be, I was very nervous and barely slept that night. Ms. Monroe felt confident my obedient nature would be pivotal in gaining employment at a company such as Biprods Incorporated. She told me to let my obedience speak for itself and took time to explain how I should dress. I would be meeting with Ms. Handlesmen first thing in the morning. The thought of an interview with a strange woman, or any woman, put me on edge even after three months with Ms. Monroe. Though I slept with my hard-on in my hand I could no longer find the dreams necessary for successful masturbation. I slept in a turbulence brought on by surging hormones and the desire to get a female pregnant. Ah, I am truly a father at heart. 

I awoke early, showered, shaved and dressed as Ms. Monroe had suggested, then tried to relax until it was time to leave. It was my mom who had made me take typing and shorthand classes in high school. To her, those were the types of careers men should have. Looking back, I now realize that mom thought, or hoped, she was raising a daughter. That was one of Ms. Monroe's interpretations. It explained my mom's preoccupation with heavy handed discipline, ladled with verbal abuse, and the regular spankings I received up until the hour before she passed away. I remember looking into the coffin expecting her to jump up and apply one last whipping before she ascended to her heaven, and in a way, she did just that. I was aware enough to board the bus when it pulled up in front of me.

I stared from the window of the bus into the glow of orange morning sunlight reflecting back at me from everything. I noticed we were moving along at a rapid pace, in light morning traffic. I jumped when a pretty woman sat down beside me and flushed to her smile. I turned to the side in fearful bewilderment, as her look, fragrance and hands, called. I kept my eyes outside the bus and my outsides turned in. I noticed we were nearing my stop and excused myself while standing. It was then I discovered the bulge my hard-on produced, a rude protuberance. The pretty stranger smiled, and in a very bold way told me how interested she was in my condition. I turned my bright-red face away, shocked, embarrassed and ashamed. I realized my fears would be difficult to escape as I wiggled nervously past her intentionally erected barricades.

It was a beautiful day, the sky clear and bright blue. As I stepped from the bus, I remembered I'd forgotten to eat breakfast, or even gulp down a cup of coffee. I stood before the mountainous steel and glass building, attempting to work up enough nerve to enter. I felt my stomach growl and heard my heart pounding as I looked at my watch: eight forty-nine and my appointment's at nine. I had to be brave, take deep breaths and remember Ms. Monroe's instructions. "Promptness is very important", she'd said. Her words echoed about in my head like a tolling church bell. They banged against either side of my brain until drowning out every other sound, until I felt secure. I placed my hands over my ears and slowly caught myself, somewhat. I swallowed hard and walked up the steps, and through the revolving door.

BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 02



Chapter Two: Joey, Joey, Joey

Once inside, a black marble reception area dosed me in reality and I became a preprogrammed android. Just as Ms. Monroe had led me to expect, I found a blond-haired receptionist sitting behind a black marble booth. Her smile drew me on mechanically.

"Yes sir, may I help you?" she chimed in what I sensed to be a worn but meaningful phrase, a phrase that pulled my next words from me. 

"Ms. Handlesmen please, my name is Joe Lipinwiskme and I have an appointment," I muttered with a polite limp. I was nervous as could be and sweating hard. I found it difficult to look at the receptionist even with her head lowered, scanning the date book. She was just too pretty for me, even on a dare. I could only hope that Ms. Monroe had been correct in sending me here. If I feared the receptionist, how would I to react in front of a vice president.

"Yes... you may take any elevator from that bank. Take it to the thirteenth floor and exit, then enter the doors you find directly across from you," she explained. She was pointing in the direction of a long wall decorated with mirrors and three elevators.

"Thank you ma'am," I stated through a bold front she obviously saw through. Nothing seemed to help my ego. While walking away I looked around. I noticed all the walls, the floor and ceiling were of marble and reflected like the mirrors themselves. I spotted my figure in the black stone, saw the future and made to walk taller while adjusting my tie's knot.

"It's Ms. and good luck," she shot back. I wanted to look around at her but didn't. I knew she was smiling and probably laughing. I walked into a waiting elevator as quickly as I could, hoping she thought I didn't hear her.

The slow elevator ride seemed like an endless trip to the dentist. The cab's black marble interior, with its dainty silver trim and low lights did little to lighten the moment. I was so nervous I was trembling, I had to pee and I needed to wipe my brow a couple of times, under my nose more often. I'd realized no deodorant was going to get me through this day and I now realized, neither would a couple. I got off the elevator on the thirteenth floor and stepped into another monument to marble. I walked across the hall to the doors as instructed and knocked. I waited, but nothing happened and I almost figured I'd made a mistake, maybe I was on the wrong floor. I wiped my brow and once again caught my breath. There were more doors up and down the hall, but this was the one across from the elevator as I got off. Without thinking, I knocked again. This time I obeyed a voice that bid me to enter. I found myself in another reception room, but one quite different.

This reception room was an elegant study in natures' primary colors; reds, blues and yellows. There were a few white leather upholstered chairs about, near small well-polished tables. The tables were constructed of a very light colored wood that reminded me of flesh. On each table sat a silver trimmed lamp, along with magazines and ashtrays. Strange, eerie pictures decorated the offbeat colored walls. They were captivatingly bizarre and alluring works of art and every one of them reminded me of a man in pain... At least that's what I think I saw. Maybe it was all simply mental residue, ashes left on my id from all those ink blot tests Ms. Monroe had provided me.

Behind a well-polished black lacquered desk, sat a lady whose extremely stern expression contrasted sharply with her young unblemished beauty and the lively surroundings. She seemed to exist in a completely different room, or at least in another dimension. Both she and the desk seemed without color and it took me awhile to acclimate myself. She had black hair that she wore pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a sharp two-piece gabardine suit in black, over a crisp midnight blue blouse. She looked at me with steely gray eyes through black rimmed glasses, expressively terse. Her thin dark-red lips moved little as she spoke, but she was loud.

"Mr. Lipinwiskme," she asked in clear crisp words. Her voice snapped in the air like the tip of a bull-whip.

"Yes ma'am, I'm here to..." I began, but she cut me off with another snap.

"I know why your here young man! You may enter through that door, Ms. Handlesmen is expecting you," she said with an absolute air of authority, while gesturing toward another door. She seemed to have little regard for me and yet her eyes washed over me like a soapy washcloth in a shower. I'd been thrown off balance and didn't have time to think of my fears, I was acting without thought.

"Thank you ma'am," I offered, knowing it was of little consequence to such a cold creature.

I entered another room and gone were the colors. This magnificent office was done entirely in white, solid gloss white and complimented with just enough red to suggest a splattering of blood. It looked as if small bands of English and Irish knights, armed with only axe, sword and shield, had just completed a skirmish. These walls too, were decorated with suggestively painful pictures. There was one that reminded me of a very sore behind. I soon realized that many of the paintings were in fact male behinds, which reminded me of my mom for some reason.

Ms. Handlesmen was sitting back in a large white chair, behind a polished teak desk cluttered with papers. She wore a brilliantly white three-piece suit over a ruffled powder blue blouse. The blouse was opened enough to show off her deep cleavage. She was about thirty years old, a stunning red head with flashing blue eyes against pastel pink skin. She had a sculpted nose and lips by Michelangelo. Her hair was full, lush and cascaded about her shoulders most provocatively. She was a powerful picture, of a powerful woman, in a potent situation. 

As timorous and skittish as I was, I felt my passions surge out of my control. Never had they been driven to such exciting, disconcerted heights. I was gripped by erotic urgency and backed into a lewd corner. Since meeting with Ms. Monroe my life had been moving through a world of exploding passions and Ms. Handlesmen was a fitting corollary. My balls became very sweaty and started itching. I could feel my already swollen penis stir and my pants bulge indecently. My eyes flittered like a maddened moth between this beautiful woman and the room, in nervous nonchalance. I was floating around in space as Ms. Handlesmen demonstrated the awesome power she already held over me. Her body overwhelmed my genitals and I only hoped she didn't notice... But she did of course. She made no bones about staring at my crotch before and after meeting with my eyes.

"Joey," she said, motioning to the seat she wished me to take. "Please sit down, in that chair like a good boy."

As instructed I sat in the chosen chair, the oddest of all the chairs available. It was the one in front of her desk. It was a bit high to climb into and then deep, after that, uncomfortably odd. It was designed with a steep ridge meant for the user to straddle. I thought sure it would slice through the material of my trousers. The long thin crest fit the crack of my ass and dug into the tender area. I felt almost as if I were sitting on steel, the edge of a saber. I acted as if everything was fine because I thought I should. I knew Ms. Handlesmen could tell otherwise and not simply because it was her chair.

"Joey, Ms. Monroe speaks very highly of you, she really does. In fact she's never spoken higher of anyone and I've known Ms. Monroe all my life. When she suggested you would be perfect for the position of my personal secretary, I had no doubts. I've been far too long without a good one."

"Thank you ma'am, Ms. Monroe is very kind," I blurted out. I cut in on Ms. Handlesmen with a failed attempt at sophistication and then caught myself. I felt like a blubbering fool with a foot in his mouth. I didn't know what to do next, I was sure I'd offended and lost everything. Again, I was going to let myself and now Ms. Monroe down. I was already falling, tumbling back to a life of non-existence.

"Yes," Ms. Handlesmen moved to cut me short. She dropped her hands to the desk, palms down and finished a couple breaths with a cocked head. My eyes fell from hers with my gulp and I listened. "Ms. Monroe is very kind, but it's you, that we're here to talk about. I would appreciate you keeping silent. You must learn to keep silent at all times, unless called upon to speak. After all, you're simply a male," she continued calmly. I failed at lifting my eyes to hers. "Then dear boy, you simply answer the question posed, or state what's expected and then shut-up. Now I hope that isn't too difficult for your brain to comprehend and I hope I've made myself clear?" Our eyes met and, and like a wielded razor, hers sliced through to my soul and turned me inside out. I sat there, bewildered by so charismatic a demand. I was spellbound and swallowed hard.

"Yes ma'am," I choked aloud, without a moment's reflection.

"Very good, then you and I will get along well," she said with a big warm smile. She sighed deeply and looked relieved. She left me confused and flipped through a couple of papers from an open folder on her desk. I watched her reading some long sentences, bits and pieces. I sat there staring at her, waiting to dash away if she looked up suddenly. Here was another beautiful women, every bit as beautiful as Ms. Monroe and maybe more so. She looked up quickly and snared my eyes before they could flee. She demanded my attention, but got a face flushed with crimson. She laughed with a bob of her head, a flippant grin and went on.

"After sifting through the many applicants Joey, your name stood out. It stood out for a very good reason Joey, and I'll tell you what that reason is. Everything being equal among all the male finalists, there was one thing that most impressed me about you. I'm swayed by your remarkable passion for discipline."

'Passion for discipline?' I thought to myself and cringed. Oh why and what had Ms. Monroe told Ms. Handlesmen. I should stop everything here and now, maybe. I should get up right now and walk out, maybe. I should run back to the lonely world and live without friends or acquaintances. Where even my meaner neighbors have grown up, married and have families of their own. And if the neighbors invite me to their homes it's simply to humiliate and abuse me, and I'll admit that sometimes I enjoy it. Well maybe most of the time, but is that normal? Is that living? Hey, I could find a woman and marry, I was convinced of it.

"You need to understand some things Joey," Ms. Handlesmen continued. She became somber and looked at me with definite intent. "We run a very tight-knit, but well lubricated organization here at Biprods Incorporated. Consequently a new person, especially males, must meet very high standards. There are also some rather strange standards we'll get into later, or should I say, you'll get into later. In either case, Biprods Incorporated has no time for riffraff, truants, thieves or slouches etcetera. If caught in any questionable circumstances, simply questionable mind you... Even if completely unproven, you are dealt with severely." I sat motionless, trying to fathom everything she said, as she continued saying it.

"The point is this, we are a generous, fair minded but vicious organization, and Ms. Monroe thought you would fit in. So, correct me if I'm wrong. You're accustomed to discipline and enjoy being spanked or whipped. You've been put under the hand, bitten by leather and weathered the cane?" She was still looking into me, stomping around in my head, the head of my cock that is. It was from there I was conducting all my operations. "Right or wrong," she asked again. My mind was a wet noodle, an Alka-Seltzer fizzling in mud. She had the elbow of her right arm on the desk and its hand just under her chin. With an extended index finger she tapped at her cheek in a sign of impatience. I slowly found enough of myself to realize I was quivering.

I flipped through many bright shades of crimson in light of those words. I couldn't deny the truth, or the tales they told about me. Shame wanted me to turn my eyes from hers, embarrassment wanted me to turn my head and hide, but Ms. Handlesmen was strongest. She held me fast and nailed me steady, until I ended up stuttering as best I could.

"I... well... I... guess, I... mean... I'm not sure..."

Ms. Handlesmen laughed at my pitiful response. "Now now, Joey, Ms. Monroe is my oldest friend and a sorority sister. Were sisters in PI LODA CUM. Our sorority's entire philosophy centers around the most radical of feminist precepts. I mean completely beyond the most reactionary of all present philosophies. We exist to rectify sixty-nine thousand years of injustice and bring balance back to our species. It's a goal I'm sure you can agree with." She leaned forward and allowed me a splendid view of her deep cleavage. I was a head-bobbing toy dog, sitting on the dashboard of her Rolls. I was fastened in place, shaking my head yes as she pressed her breasts out and went on. "We exist to further the concepts, the history and our agenda of social re-evolution. To survive as a species, we must re-embrace female dominance and complete male servitude. I'm sure you have some knowledge of this. I'm also positive you are without objections to so important a goal as that." Her logic turned my head into little 'no' twists, while I stared at her as if she were Santa Claus and I was seeing her for the first time. Her chest moved with each of her breaths and counted our moments. Still red from shame, my body in the throes of hot flashes, I stammered some more. 

"Ah... I... don't know... I... mean, I guess so... I... ah... ah... ah." I was chewing on my lower lip while attempting to put everything, or at least something, into a prospective. Maybe if I could gather my thoughts and wits. Is this what life is all about? How was I to know, I'd never been away from my mom and she'd been as helpful as a closed tome. I decided I'd just been shown the road to success, the remedy to all my problems. I'd been given another chance, another opportunity to accept reality. I didn't realize it would mean my inevitable surrender. I thought of Ms. Monroe and how much she'd learned about me. No one knew more, not even mom when she was alive. I thought of her genuine concerns for me and my future. I thought of her faith in me, convinced I would dispel my fear of women. I felt her wiggle in beside me and made her room. I needed her beside me; I needed to bask in her warmth. She could provide me the backbone I sorely lack. I had no reason to disagree with Ms. Handlesmen and looked up from her breasts.

"No ma'am... I... have no objections to female dominance, ma'am." And with that admission, I felt the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders.

"Good boy and you have no objections to being disciplined regularly and severely. After all, you're not a baby anymore, right," Ms. Handlesmen queried in a soft voice that tickled my crotch. I smiled broadly. She was staring at me, shaking her head 'no'. She was asking me something quite personal and answering it as well. It left me light headed and giddy inside.

"I don't object ma'am," I admitted without understanding, or caring about what it was I was getting myself into. I was deliriously nervous, knee-knocking excited, and Ms. Handlesmen allowed me little reason to be otherwise. What was happening to me, I was so agitated I couldn't keep my legs from bouncing together rapidly, though it caused the ridge to gnaw painfully on the crack of my ass.

"Good, then if you pass the simple tests I give you, I will hire you. Your salary will begin at thirty-five thousand dollars a year, with benefits and bonuses, when earned."

My eyes opened wide when I heard those figures. Suddenly, things were soaring beyond my wildest dreams. The room got brighter and my head went up in pride. Ms. Monroe had steered me in the right direction financially and I expected romance to follow suit. From the way things were going, I almost believed I would find a woman of my own very soon, and right here at Biprods Incorporated. My dreams of marriage rekindled and brought me comfort.

"The first test is quite simple Joey. I wish to ensure that everything we've just talked about is true. It seems boys will say the damnedest things to land a job with us. I'm sure you understand why I need to discover the truth. So as a new male employee, I expect you to put yourself over my knee. We need to be sure, that as a man, you can tolerate the several types of discipline we employ. Of course the first and most often used method, is the spanking," Ms. Handlesmen said, watching another shocked expression hit my face. After I endured more hot flashes and bright pinks, she went on. "You see, Joey, all females at Biprod Incorporated are your superiors and may discipline you at anytime, anywhere and for any reason. It's all part of their responsibility. Considering it takes a few days at best for most men to acclimate themselves to our rigorous requirements, we encourage the ladies to discipline often. Thus, spankings are numerous in the beginning but taper off as time passes, or should I say, as the male learns. It's really not that difficult to understand and you see, it plays into the total scheme of things." She was still smiling and nodding at me and I simply nodded too.

"Ah, yes ma'am."

"Good boy, then why don't you stand up to remove your shoes and socks. Then discard your trousers and underwear," she ordered while pushing back her chair. Her eyes held mine under a spell I couldn't evade, even as hers dashed about my body. After the shock of that order sank in, I slipped from the seat.

"Ma'am... now? Here? I... " I stammered. I balked in stumbling discomfort and rose to my feet in confusion. My head was spinning and I felt something amiss, but I couldn't see, hear, or feel through the mounting tension.

"Joey, I just took a lot of time explaining to you why you got the job and I explained to you about the discipline. Joey, it's an experience you need to accustom yourself and I haven't got the time to play games. I expect you to act like a grown up, so strip down or walk out that door now and never come back," Ms. Handlesmen screamed while slapping both her hands down flat on her desk. The abrupt change sent me into the air. She looked at me differently now, her eyes in flames and her mouth in a scowl. She waited for my response, like an actress awaiting her cue, knowing the lines, but needing to hear them.

I'd only been naked in front of a girl one time, before Ms. Monroe made me spend several of our sessions naked and now I understood why she'd done it. But I still didn't know how to do it properly. I no longer wished to be lonely and Ms. Monroe gave me hope. She assured me I needed this job to escape life's misfortunes and nothing I'd seen or heard had proved her wrong. Though I was bitterly embarrassed and couldn't keep my eyes from shooting about the office, between the pictures and thinking of the money, my shaking hands went for my trousers button.

"Good boy, Joey... you will never regret this, I promise you Joey," Ms. Handlesmen said with a confidence that spurred me on in a strange way, a totally erotic way.

I stood before my new matriarch and began fumbling with my trousers' button, without thinking about what it was I was doing. After all, I argued with myself, this was only slightly worse then when my mom was alive. Actually it was better, because mom wasn't a stunning red head with big breasts. I was shaking with excitement and my breath was coming in little gulps I had to think about taking. I had succeeded at this with Ms. Monroe and that should have made things easier, but it wasn't helping. When I got to that point and hesitated at lowering my trousers, Ms. Handlesmen helped.




BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 02



"Down, damn it, get those damned pants down now," she yelled at the top of her lungs. She was suddenly quite stern and her actions reminded me of mom. It hit very close to home and I let my pants drop down around my ankles. I thought of my therapy session.

"Now, Joey! Pick those trousers up from the floor and place them neatly over the arm of the chair," Ms. Handlesmen ordered, again just like mom. I couldn't help thinking she acted like my mom on purpose.

I bent over, reached down and slipped off my shoes. I pulled loose my socks and worked my trousers free. As ordered, I stood and draped the trousers over the chair's arm. I could feel my shame as it moved through my body like a deep running ocean tide. It engulfed and smothered like an uncomfortably hot humid day. It was evident in my crimsoned glow and the excitement bulging from inside my tented underwear.

"Underwear," Ms. Handlesmen continued with a shameless slap. She had an upset look on her face and was nodding for me to hurry. I didn't think I'd have the guts with Ms. Monroe, but found it very exciting. When my eyes came up again and were successfully snagged by Ms. Handlesmen's, I knew all was lost, or was this 'found'. My stubborn fingers gripped the waist band of my briefs and I took a breath. I just closed my eyes and pulled them down, allowing my hard-on to spring free. For a moment I was a newborn in a remote forest, hatched from an abandoned egg. I felt as if I should apologize, but my shame and her look kept me mute.

I placed my folded briefs over my trousers, then followed them with my socks. Now I stood before Ms. Handlesmen like a child before his doctor. My arousal jutted out from between the vee of my shirt and try as I may, there was nothing I could do to rectify the situation. Unlike Ms. Monroe, who looked at me professionally, Ms. Handlesmen debased me with a leer I didn't dislike. Ms. Handlesmen was calm and acted as if nothing unusual was taking place. She simply acquired a large pink towel from somewhere and placed it over her lap. Then she motioned me to approach.

"Come here Joey," she said in a now bitter-sweet, caustic voice. "Lie yourself across my lap and be sure to keep your penis on the towel, so you don't stain my clothing. We both know how messy little boys can be, don't we." My head was shaking in mechanical agreement and would have agreed with anything at this point. Ms. Monroe hadn't warned me about this. Though I'd hoped the spankings and discipline ended with the death of my mom, I was mistaken. They were the price I'd pay for the chance to meet women and it wasn't so high a price.

Knees shaking, I moved uneasily around the desk to stand in front of Ms. Handlesmen. What a strange feeling that was. I felt so small and helpless, so completely vulnerable and yet I was so outrageously excited. Our eyes were still entwined; mine caught in a wondrous 'growth', a lush garden of inner space that left me shivering in her presence. Hers moved as they desired, between my penis and my mind, battling and playing for both in an arena located somewhere in virtual reality. She smiled warmly now as I moved closer and she reached up for me.

"Like this, Joey," she said like a school teacher. She instructed me on what to do by taking me by the waist and moving me around to her right side. I was extremely self-conscious about the bouncing of my penis. It bobbed and bobbled up and down and all around. It drooled and splattered everywhere as I moved and it was almost in Ms. Handlesmen's face. I felt so ashamed of myself, so unmanly, but I didn't know what else to do.

Quite unexpectedly, Ms. Handlesmen took the head of my penis between the thumb and index finger of her left hand and held it up, held me up. She pulled it against my belly and I almost jumped out of my skin, blowing my load all over her. She was the first woman to ever touch me intimately. She came in close and studied my organ carefully, as one would a commodity before purchasing. I looked down and prayed I wouldn't embarrass myself further, a fart now would simply kill. She didn't seem concerned with the way my penis drooled. It never stops secreting long strands of thick lubrication and Ms. Handlesmen watched some of it ooze down my entire length and onto my balls. Here was this beautiful but strange woman, Ms. Handlesmen. She was my boss and the first woman to ever touch my penis. The sensation of that moment was seared into my soul forever. They say your first sexual experience shapes the nature of all others. If so, what were mine to be like after this. This woman was definitely interested in my penis, but did little else then hold it up while looking it over.

"Why are you trembling so," she asked looking up into my eyes. My entire body was shaking and her question caught me by surprise. I stood before her in a stammering loss for words. "No matter," she said, looking back to my cock, knowing the answer. She pinched the head of my penis and gave it a slight tug, just strong enough to pull me down and over her. I followed her lead and like a large napkin, draped myself over her lap. My hands landed on the floor to her left. She was careful to insure that my penis rested on her thigh and went on with the instructions.

"Place your hands flat on the floor and keep them there," she ordered. She helped me adjust until she was satisfied. My penis was painfully hard and throbbed against her thigh in a shameful demonstration of its ferment. I was shaking terribly and quaking as never before.

"Arch your back and get your ass up higher, Joey," Ms. Handlesmen ordered calmly. She pressed some fingers into the hollow of my lower back. "That's a good boy," she continued as I conformed to her wishes. This was the most exciting and terrifying moment of my life. 

I hung my head in a childish shame that skirmished with my newly discovered sexuality. Who could have imagined that my first affair with a woman would have been...

WHAP! The first whack of her hand landed on the right cheek of my buttocks, knocking thoughts from my mind. I was suddenly home with my mom being punished for masturbating. WHAP! The second whack brought me back to the lap. My "owws", brought a small, but comforting word from Ms. Handlesmen, which were followed by a series of loud smacks.

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! 

Soon Ms. Handlesmen's hand was pummeling away on my behind, alternating between cheeks in a ruthless composition. I tensed and screamed under her onslaught, feeling my cheeks bounce to each whack. Before long, tears welled up in my eyes and I watched them rain onto the rug beneath me; a sun shower and I saw a rainbow too. Unexpectedly, I heard Ms. Handlesmen talking with someone. To my dismay, it was the secretary and my body went rigid. The dark figure was standing above me.

I was aghast, shocked at having been seen by a stranger like this and Ms. Handlesmen could tell. I hung my head and cried because of the humiliation alone. I would have jumped up and sought modesty if it weren't for Ms. Handlesmen's soft but firm hands. They forced me to stay in my awkward position. I kept my eyes lowered and made my mind study the rug's design through my tears, as the women conversed. I couldn't keep my knees from knocking together, nor my ass cheeks from clenching in a jittery rhythm both women enjoyed.

"Prepare the necessary papers for Joey to fill out and sign," I heard Ms. Handlesmen say. "I think he'll make a fine addition to the company." I could feel her hands moving about on my body and they made me feel good. They were quite curious and very thorough at helping me forget everything else.

"Yes Ms. Handlesmen, I can tell he will," the secretary retorted. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the secretary looking me over, nodding her head in approval. "Yes, I can see that he will." I lowered my head in mortification. The secretary left and my spanking resumed.

I had to admit this spanking was unlike anything mom had ever given me and forced me to reconsider my conditions in life, although I knew not why. The thought of ejaculating right there and then in Ms. Handlesmen's lap exaggerated my humiliation and anxieties. What had I gotten myself into? Was this the way to find a mate? How was I to know.

She must have been enjoying herself, because Ms. Handlesmen continued spanking for quite awhile. She had me blubbering like a baby and openly begging her to stop. But she didn't stop until I was bawling aloud and my small pleas became loud promises of obedience to actions I had yet to be ordered.

When it was over, Ms. Handlesmen allowed me to rest where I was, over her lap. She took some time to explore my behind. Her examination was shamefully intimate and quite crude, but when she told me I had passed the first test with flying colors, pride overfilled my chest and blew up my head.

I couldn't relax while in Ms. Handlesmen's control. I shivered to the feel of her soft hands and goose-bumped as they soothed my sore behind. I squirmed and twisted as her probing fingers explored places no finger had gone before. It was hard for me to believe these were the same hands that had just finished spanking me. This was more then any male deserved.

"And now Joey... for being such a good boy, the most obedient boy I've ever met, I will reward you with one of the bonuses I mentioned earlier."

Wellcum to Biprods Incorporated.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 03



Chapter Three: Journey Out of Yesterday

Ah... Yes... Ahhhh... Ohh... AAAhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmm.

My first sexual release in the hands of a woman was an anointing, a rite of passage and more wonderful then anything I'd ever imagined. I was born again and left with a new craving of abominable dimensions. A lot of people would have you believe drug addiction is somehow worse than any other behavioral addiction. I say, 'hog wash' to those narrow minded chumps. I felt like a junky who suffers a needle's pain for a habit's pleasure, a monk the lash for redemption. I was prepared to suffer a slew of painful spankings and humiliation for the wondrous pleasure of my boss' caress. That single moment, kneeling before Ms. Handlesmen, blew any lingering doubts from my immature mind. It proved conclusively that the pain is worth the pleasure! I was ecstatic and couldn't wait to begin my career as secretary to Ms. Handlesmen. I had never slept as well as I had that night, it was as if I'd been cleansed of all guilt. I now understood where salvation lay, in the soft hand of a woman. My dreams were dominated by the women I'd met at Biprods Incorporated, and especially Ms. Handlesmen. Especially, her left hand.

Today began my 'initiation', as Ms. Handlesmen called it. The word popped up after I'd dressed and just before I'd left for home. I hadn't touched down yet and was floating on a cloud, 'cloud nine' I think it's called. I was soaring on love, awaiting instructions to land. She explained to me that every male worker needed to go through at least two days of tests and usually five, as part of their orientation. All I wanted was to kiss this gorgeous woman once, for our lips to touch. I'd hoped it would have happened before I'd left for home, but it didn't. This induction was meant to weed out the incorrigible boys from those deserving; the bitter from the forlorn. To chase the ones who couldn't stomach both physical and mental abuses, piled high with tons of virtue building humiliation. We didn't kiss, but... After yesterday's bonus, I was ready for anything. I jumped into a pair of briefs, slipped on a pair of jeans and stretched into a tee shirt. I didn't even sit down to put on my socks and shoes. Ms. Handlesmen said to arrive at work dressed in something simple, because I would find a uniform awaiting me.

Though still nervous, I stepped from my home and moved with a little more confidence. I felt good about myself and positive I would find a wife at Biprods Incorporated; 'Maybe Ms. Handlesmen' I thought with a heart beat. I let the bus pass and walked to work, taking time to look around. After twenty years in the same home, I finally cared about where it was I lived. Downtown New York, I heard it called. New York! It was a monstrously seductive, yet wonderfully dangerous place to live and work. It's even nicer when you're a man with a girlfriend and a blossoming relationship. Soon I found myself outside the steel and glass menagerie known as the Biprodyke Tower, home to Biprods Incorporated. Today I noticed how well it stuck out from all the other buildings, a towering tribute to a girded penis against a coppice of contemporary bourgeoisie. It took my breath away and sapped me of my strength, but I didn't hesitate to enter.

The pretty blond receptionist remembered me and waved. I slowed to say hello before entering the elevator, making a point of referring to her as, 'Ms'. I wondered if I had nerve enough to ask her for a date... I didn't. She sported a friendly smile that worked at soothing my anxiety. While examining myself in the shined marble I saw a maturing individual, a man. But I'd never been allowed to have male friends or meet with my own dad, so I was just guessing.

This morning I found quite a number of people moving through the main reception area and noticed all were female. 'There must be a few males working here somewhere', I thought to myself. I waited for an elevator along with a very young, dark haired East Indian woman and a younger blond haired German lady. I wanted to be bold, look at them and strike up a conversation. I tried acting cool but wasn't quite ready for that. Both women were astute, pretty and wore their hair short. They dressed in dark colored suits, carried brown leather briefcases and copies of the Wall Street Journal stuffed under an arm.

Once in the elevator and ascending, the Indian lady turned to me and smiled. My eyes bounced off hers and scurried away. She had large roasted-almonds for eyes that invited and also frightened. Her teeth were big and sparkled even in the low lights. I was totally taken aback and smiled shyly without looking up again.

"Are you an employee," she asked me in a softy accented voice. Her words sounded like a gently stirred glass bell of the daintiest crystal. I bit my lip and quietly admitted this was my first day. I began my initiation today and that my name was Joey. I felt Joey was appropriate because it was how Ms. Handlesmen referred to me. I could feel both women look at one another and grin.

"Initiation," the German lady echoed in her own accent. She swung her case to her left hand and drew her arm back. Pulling her arm back allowed her a healthy swing and she slapped my behind... Whap! Her unexpected swat sent me leaping forward. She laughed aloud and I flashed a look in her direction. My eyes were swatted to the floor and I was left swallowing hard. Taking a breath, I tried to stay calm and not move, remembering Ms. Handlesmen's words. Then I felt the pretty Indian lady's hand search for and quickly find a pinch of my buttocks. She found it on the soft underside of my right cheek and she held it tight for the rest of the ride. The slap had sent me into the wall with the buttons, the pinch held me against it and as usual I didn't know what to do, and as usual I did nothing. I began acting properly and adjusting to whatever position they wished me. I wanted to look back over my shoulder at my attackers, but settled for their reflections and quick glances that kept them in laughter.

By the time we reached their floor, the seventh, my ass was sore. Especially the spot pinched by the Indian lady's fingers. Before she stepped from the elevator, the German lady gave my buttocks a final swat. I yelped, but kept my gaze lowered. I continued looking down into the corner of the compartment with tears in my eyes and sniffling hard.

"Oh, the poor baby. See ya," I heard them say as the doors were closing between us. Then I slumped and faltered back to the elevator's gentle start. I then fell forward with arms outstretched, my hands opening to land against the wall. With my feet spread wide I steadied myself as I let my head hang and caught my breath. I couldn't believe how friendly the women were around here. I could visualize a Garden of Eden, as I touched gently through my jeans, the area of freshly twisted flesh. I moaned under my breath and almost went to grab at my crotch; an old male habit!

I exited on the thirteenth floor and walked up to the doors of Ms. Handlesmen's office. I decided it was still best to knock before entering. The secretary's voice bade me enter.

"Joey!" the secretary said while standing and moving out from behind her desk. Once again I found her fitted into a sharply tailored suit. It was a collarless black two-piece, of sand washed crepe de chine, over a blazing pink silk blouse that clung to her small bosom like cellophane. I was sure she was without a bra. Her skirt came to just above her knees and she was without stockings. My eyes followed her tapering legs down to a pair of dainty feet fit into open toed black pumps, from which protruded a bit of her toes. The shoes must have had five inch heels. She walked up to me and put her hands on her hips, waiting for me to look at her. Then she began.

"Joey, I am to prepare you for today's initiation. You'll first be seen by a doctor because a complete physical is always the first order of business." That seemed reasonable enough and I stood looking at her as she continued. "Before we visit the doctor, I want you to disrobe." She stayed calm, cool and calculated. Her crisp voice and eyes glint caused me to shiver. I tried to keep from looking at her small chest thrust out in front of me. "You realize what hesitation will earn you," she reminded me. Her breasts were very pointy and I actually attempted to visualize them.

I understood what hesitation would get me and while she stood there staring at me, a cat leering at a mouse, I became a wall painting. I began by removing my tee shirt, but moved slowly. I discarded my shoes and socks easily enough, but when it came to my jeans I became nervous again. Once again my arousal became an embarrassing hurdle that shied me, but the secretary would have none of that. Her toe started tapping on the rug, a gloom darkened her face and the room. Suddenly her rage burst free and I froze immobile. Her anger landed like a salvo of bombs exploding in and from all directions.

"You get those disgusting jeans off! You get them off right now young man," she screamed in a loud bellowing voice that made me jump. She approached me quickly and like an irate mother commenced swatting my behind through my pants. I unzipped my fly and pulled them down as quickly as I could. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

I jumped to her hands barrage but stayed in place, offering her my ass even as I bent to kick the wadded mass from my ankles. Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. The secretary's hand was experienced and continued through the thin cotton protection of my briefs, which were no protection at all. I slipped them free as quickly as I could. The pain competed with my shame, to see which could bring me lower; it was a game I understood only too well. After several sound spanks on my bare behind she stopped and came to stand in front of me. She stood with her hands once more on her hips and her chest thrust forward, daring me to look at it. I stood crouched over, knees together, toes in, fighting to keep my hands at my sides. I was sniveling and didn't know where to look. I could barely steal glances in her direction. 

I could feel her anger and my glances found her furious, eyes opened wide and teeth clenched. Her breathing was labored and her chest heaved. I stood before her with my eyes lowered and my buns twitching from the sting. I found a spanking this early in the morning, more exhilarating then a cup of strong coffee. A few tears formed in the corners of my eyes and a few more ran down my cheeks. I didn't let them bother me and I certainly wasn't going to let a little thing like this ruin my career. A long thick strand of cum oozed from the head of my throbbing hard-on, following an earlier one that already bridged my thighs. The secretary spotted it and followed it with her eyes. I dared not move my hands from my sides and stood aquiver. I spotted her eyes watching the movement of my syrup and like a chastised child waited for her to calm down. I wished her to continue with the verbal instruction.

In a suddenly calmer tone, she ordered me to pick up my clothes and hang them on a coat tree situated by the door. I didn't want to aggravate her again and acted quickly, almost at a run. I was made very aware of my embarrassingly excited condition. It felt awkward, downright immoral and yet sensual, moving around an unfamiliar office naked. Especially with my boner bobbing around in front of me, strewing thin strands of secretion everywhere it looked. This was a first that left me absolutely giddy with anticipation and I pondered the possibilities. Maybe I would soon be 'making out' with Ms. Handlesmen or having sex with the secretary. For my mind, the possibilities were endless and then I heard the secretary's voice. She was ordering me to come stand near a chair, on which an open carton sat. I couldn't see the carton's contents and didn't care to.

From the carton she retrieved a ring, from which a pair of very tiny panties hung. They were the abbreviated bikini style, flesh toned and see-through, made of a space-age material. She handed them to me with instructions to put them on. I worked them in my fingers a few moments, attempting to figure them out, but it was like holding an invisible thread. I soon slipped my foot through what I hoped was the right hole. They fit snugly and I had a time sliding them up past my thighs. The rear consisted of a single string that fit uncomfortably into the crack of my ass. The front had just enough expandable material to hold my balls and to stretch out and over the head of my penis. On the point farthest out from my body, on that area of material constructed to house the head of an excited male's organ, hung the silver ring. It was large enough for the clasp of a leash, or a woman's finger. I had little understanding as to its purpose until the secretary demonstrated its use for me.

She slipped the index finger of her right hand through the ring and pulled. Like this she began moving me slowly around the room, guiding me like an object she wished to display. I felt the string dig into the crevice of my behind and looked down to see the material stretch both into and away from my penis. My balls felt a bit curious but could not slip out of their awkward confinement. My organ looked as though it were wading in a gravy bowl.

"Very impressive my little boy," the secretary said looking down into the gravy boat. In moments the panties became drenched in my arousal and the secretary let the ring go. "You certainly are a soppy one." The material snapped into place, forming to my penis like a latex glove to a hand, leaving a small top portion of my penis and bushy pubes exposed.

Next, the secretary pulled from the box what looked like a giant fan, only it was a collar and though darker, matched the color of my new undies. She came close but was careful to stand at my side, away from my wet panties. She opened the fan full and worked it around my neck. I realized the results immediately. Now my view was restricted to everything above the edge of the collar, which was almost two feet from my neck. Half the world was cut from my view, yet anyone could examine my body at their leisure. I was the object here, I was the only one who couldn't look down at myself and it made me very self-conscious. I also felt as if my head were sitting on a large serving platter, a turned out mold of pate de emasculus, soft, ripe and ready to serve.

The secretary stood back and smiled while surveying her work. She looked smug and self-satisfied, nodding to herself in approval while looking me up and down. Her eyes scanned carefully, with deliberation. I stood like a fool, unsure of what I was, waiting for her to tell me. I could feel my hard-on pulsating, more excited and thrilled then ever. It enjoyed being available to everyone but me. I felt compelled to thrust my pelvis forward, as if in offering to her. Her eyes saw my gesture and jumped up to meet mine. Mine dropped to the collar, which stretched out before me like an unending barren desert. I couldn't move, I was afraid to stir a breath's distance. I waited until she steered me to a corner of the room and made me stand facing into it. I was to wait there without moving or making a sound, until the nurse arrived to escort me to the doctor's office. I got into the corner as deep as my collar would allow, trying to hide from the secretary and the world. I wondered where Ms. Handlesmen was.

I had not seen or heard Ms. Handlesmen this morning. I wondered where she might be, though I knew it was none of my business. I thought back to yesterday and to the wonderfully painful experience she had shared with me and I couldn't think about the bonus enough. It was absolutely the best orgasm I'd ever experienced and now I couldn't wait to engage in sexual intercourse. I would never jag-off again, Ms. Handlesmen had ruined that for me. Her hand provided me an experience I'll never forget. 

It seemed Ms. Handlesmen had already helped me become a little more comfortable around women, though I was nowhere near to understanding them. I had no clue as to what women wanted, or what made them tick and I definitely didn't understand what turned them on. But with Ms. Handlesmen's help I felt sure to define a relationship with the opposite sex. I couldn't say whether or not any of it made sense, but Ms. Monroe had been right about working at Biprods Incorporated. It was helping me to break out of my shell and I enjoyed what I saw through the large cracks.

I suddenly saw my life as a wall-sized unfinished tapestry that I was stitching by hand. I saw it as a billion piece jig-saw puzzle that I'd just begun assembling. In both cases, I had an incomplete mental picture of the finished product, because neither came with instructions, or a photo to guide me.

Then again, I felt like a man in a fog so dense I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I was afraid to move, for fear of stepping in front of an approaching train or rushing auto. I feared dropping from a pier or into a deep hole. My insecurity was a product of childhood failure and all I could do was reach out in desperation. I reached into the thick white mist and groped for someone who would take me by the hand and lead me into the sunlight.

I found my eyes climbing up and down in the long edge formed by the meeting of the walls. I discovered it to be far more complex then expected. A corner is not simply a straight line; it's an infinite series of dot clusters that represent the absurdity of man's pseudo-accomplishments.

It was becoming difficult to stay motionless, to keep my butt from twitching and my mind from pulling on my penis. My mind found an itch and soon a dozen more. It picked up on a running drop of perspiration from hundreds beading across my forehead. This wasn't easy, not that I expected any job to be unchallenging. After all, a job should be demanding and it's meant to be equally rewarding and therein lays the satisfaction of work. I would have worked for the bonus only.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I tried to stay calm as I became antsy. Where had the secretary gone? Was she sitting at her desk? Yes, sitting and watching me suffer, hoping I'd make a slip so she could jump all over me. She was certainly as stern as she was lovely and for some reason I attempted to visualize her pregnant. As my lover, wife, and mother.

We were cuddling in a bed, but I kept pushing my eyes into the corner. I wedged them between the walls. I crawled in with them every time I slipped out, and I waited and waited, and waited. Even my balls sweat.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 04



Chapter Four: ...Doctor, Doctor Proctosis I Presume

My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the door opening and a new voice entering the room with the secretary's. Self-consciousness swept through me again, but I kept my eyes in the corner pretending to be invisible, not wishing to offend. I had come to realize, though I was laden with shame from being publicly humiliated all my life, I enjoyed the sensations caused by such experience. I thrilled to the spectacle of public humiliation. The feeling of strangers staring at me, their eyes crawling over my body, sent goose bumps and shivers up my spine. I often trembled to the point of appearing in dance, which guaranteed a smile from everyone.

I felt a hand roaming the cheeks of my ass. It was a cold, brisk and sure paw. It was small, with short fingers and nails, and grabbed handfuls of cheek, squeezed with little pressure and moved on. I listened to the voices discussing parts of my anatomy. Most of their comments were crude compliments, meant to belittle, I'm sure. They came with bites, and their severe accuracy humiliated me.

The secretary ordered me to turn and I came to see the top of someone's blond head of hair. She then ordered me to proceed with the nurse to the doctor's office. I then felt the nurse's finger slip through the ring of my panties and pull gently, the strings pulling tight, my balls lifting with the material. My cock actually floated in its strange prison as I began the weirdest journey of my life.

While moving I saw nothing but walls and ceiling. I felt like a freshly plucked flower as I followed the nurse's pull out of the door and into the hall. I was mortified silly and even my thoughts stammered. I was terrified by my submission and couldn't believe I was allowing this to happen. The blond was leading me into and down the hall of a major company. I was stark naked and didn't even attempt to cover myself, to hide my nudity. Under great pressure my hands stayed obediently at my sides, but twitched nervously as I walked with my head up, resting on its platter, visible to all. I had no idea men went through so much to find female companionship, or just hold down a job.

As we moved, I was compelled to contemplate the feelings generated by the material against my organ. When the material stretched, my penis felt as if it were floating on a bed of clouds. My penis vibrated against the delicate material and it drove me out of my mind with nail-biting sensuality, sensations I'd gladly suffer and die for. I was overly excited by all that was happening and the more shame I swallowed, the more rigid he became. Oh! How I wanted to grab my cock and jag-off right there and then for the women. I wanted to cum for them and for myself, while walking in the corridor. Like sowing a garden I'd send my seeds out in every direction, hoping to find an egg.

Pulled forward by the root of my being I was guided into an elevator. There were four female occupants who moved aside to allow me room. They were amused by my collar and strange garb, and their overly animated conversation turned immediately to me. Their disgusting use of crude words in describing parts of my body was shocking and brought tears to my eyes. All I was bold enough to do was continue shivering, while looking up at the ceiling and sniveling. I couldn't even wipe my tears if allowed. While my behind received more than its share of slaps and pinches, my penis received a considerable amount of close inspection. Along with wide eyes came pokes jabs and scrapes from the tips of long nails. Soon my panties were so wet the insides of my thighs to my knees were sopping, and don't think the ladies didn't notice.

It was strange being able to see only the tops of heads and faces without the bodies. But the harshest thing about the collar was not being able to see myself. I tried looking nowhere, but my eyes ran from failure to failure. I couldn't help straining to see the ladies as they pointed out and discussed different parts of my anatomy with each other. I was not in the room with them, and my body was no longer mine. As proof, though my hands were available, they did nothing in contradiction to those around me.

Trembling noticeably and mortified silly, I followed the nurse from the elevator. I was pulled from a cavern of hands and spite that followed my exit. We turned down a wide corridor lined with doors, most opened. She had a good hold of the panties' ring and was pulling up as hard as she could. The material must have been indestructible, because it took the abuse of her yanks more easily than my testicles did. Seemed she was intent at keeping me on my toes. Everyone we passed stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at me; heads were actually popping out of office doors. Between the tops of so many faces and the growing noise, I felt expected, and by the way the nurse paraded me about, it seemed almost staged. Every woman laughed, pointed and laughed again and again, and was not shy with their most vulgar comments. With an air of professionalism the nurse led me through a thin mob, to the doctor's door and we entered. Doctor Proctosis was waiting for me.

We found the doctor standing by a tall lab stool, reading from a folder. Sheepishly, I was moved to stand before her. The room was another weirdly modern office, fitted with computers and monitors. There was more electronics then I'd ever seen, or could understand. But there was also an old style roller desk to one side, a metal examination table to another, and an uncomfortable looking bed. Further, there were glass cabinets stuffed with red-cross items, probably medicines, remedies and drugs; even instruments and such. In the center of the room was a shiny metal pole that came up from the floor about three feet. Its end was finished with metal strips, coils that helped it look like a work of art. I was hot with shame, red as a beet and I couldn't stop the tears, nor quell the excitement.

"Ah ha, this must be Joey," the doctor said in a loud deep voice, putting down the folder. Dr. Proctosis was a short woman about forty. She had short brown hair and bloodshot brown eyes. She wore sequin studded black-rimmed glasses and dressed in a long white lab coat. A stethoscope hung from around her neck and she was smiling at me, watching me shiver as she picked up a pair of latex gloves and began stretching one over a hand. She worked them onto her hands, letting each one snap in place. Then with complete detachment she stepped up to me, her face disappearing under my collar, and she pulled my panties down from around my waist. She rolled them down around my thighs out of the way, then she grabbed my entire organ. She took me balls and all in her left hand and my body momentarily curled into itself, but I forced my hands to stay put. My juices gave the doctor's grip some problem, but she had a very sure grasp and soon had me under control. The doctor worked on my organ for a good long time, twisting and adjusting her clutch. Once confident of her hold, she squeezed tighter.

"What a fine organ, Little One. Mmmmm," I heard her mutter from under the ledge of my collar. "I don't think I've ever felt one quite this solid before. It must be a painful erection and I have never seen an organ that secretes in such profusion." Her fingernails dug into my scrotum and tested the underside of my hard-on. I spotted the top of the nurse's head nodding.

The doctor's nails dug into me as she talked, but I stayed mute. She marched me to the center of the room, to the short pole. It was not an object of art, in a 'museum' sense. She adjusted the height of the pole bringing it level with my crotch, and then strapped my organ to it with the pair of metal bands. One circled my scrotum, the other the neck of my hard-on and she wasn't shy about cinching them tight.

Both sets of eyes popped up over the edge of my collar in a curiously professional manner, working on mental calculations. The nurse held their edge lowered as the doctor cinched the bands tighter, their big smiles following crafty looks and snarled lips. Then I felt the doctor's hands grasp the length of my penis and squeeze softly.

"My, even when strapped tight, it stays hard... In fact, I'd swear it's gotten harder still," she said. One hand was moving back and forth, stroking my boner lightly. It milked me from base to head over and over again while her other hand worried my testicles, all of which caused me to let out a soft 'ohhhh'. In moments I was about to ejaculate. "My God," she said quietly.

The nurse was standing nearby, also working under my collar. She was wiping areas of my body with alcohol and dabbing the spots with jelly, to which she then attached electrodes. My entire body was shaking so hard I couldn't control it, I felt like a naked person caught out-of-doors in the winter. Neither woman said a word to me as they went about their business. They treated me like a lab experiment and I knew better then to utter a sound. It seemed amusing, the way I thought of silence and the wonders of expression, only after I'd been forbidden to speak or respond. When the nurse brought to my mouth a small clip she wished to attach to my tongue, she said nothing. I got to see her face again, as she tipped my collar enough to reach my mouth with her hand. She was a pretty young lady with a round face and soft bluish-green eyes that intrigued me. She had healthy cheeks and thick unpainted lips. She wore red-rimmed glasses and had a small know-it-all grin on her face. When her hand approached with the opened clip, I opened my mouth before she asked. I couldn't help flinching when she allowed the little alligator to close on the tip of my tongue. Its bite hurt, but it didn't hurt, because nothing mattered when I was this excited.

The nurse then passed behind me and I felt her fingers prying my ass cheeks apart. My eyes opened wide, wondering what she was up to. I tightened then relaxed as best I could when one of her fingers, now greased, found and penetrated my anus. It attacked in a series of slow short probes that took me up. I spread my feet and legs, attempting to allow her easier access while once again fighting to keep my hands out of her way. I tensed and closed my eyes, then felt her finger replaced by a wire. It turned into a long thin wire she ran quickly up my chute. I jumped in the air and squealed, fearing the wire would come out my throat. I would have hit the ceiling if I hadn't of been strapped down. Next, she was in front of me, holding my penis in one hand. I felt her probing at my pee-hole with something. The doctor was behind me, holding my wrists in her hands, ordering me to be still.

"Don't move and you won't even feel this," the doctor said and I panicked. Again I discovered her grip painfully sure and I let my body go as limp as my mind could allow, my contorted body fighting with the knotted iters of my brain.

The sensation forced me to bend at the waist, my knees to knock and my arms to move as far as the doctor would allow. I turned my head down, round, and then up. I let out a long moan, to what I felt was a long hose forced inside me through my penis hole. Suddenly, I felt the urine drain from my bladder as I lost its control to the nurse. Her hand began stroking me out of my misery and it worked. The doctor released my wrists.

"Good boy," she said in a proud tone. "Now stand as still as you have for the rest of the check-up and everything will go smoothly." I felt one of her gloved hands smooth over my ass cheeks and her other fondle my entire organ, while paying little attention to the catheter running through it. Dr. Proctosis nodded to the nurse, then turned to the console and began fidgeting with some dials. I wondered what would come next, and found out almost immediately.

WHACK! The nurse was at my behind with a leather paddle. Whap-a-whap-a-whap-a-whap! I squealed aloud and danced about, yanking on my balls and cock. Though I couldn't move I continued withering, secured to the pole as I was. The combination of the wires, clips, draining bladder, and now a spanking, drove my fingers into my thighs, hoping to root them to the spot so they wouldn't move in defense. My squeals quieted somewhat, after warnings from the doctor. 

"Shut Up Already," the doctor yelled, as she continued transcribing. She was recording the readings of various gauges onto the page of a book that sat on the desk before her.

Whap-a-whap-a-whap-a-whap! The nurse kept whacking away at my fanny, alternating between cheeks. The doctor then tapped data into the PC to her right. The nurse's paddling left me as little control over my screams as I had over my bladder. The doctor came near occasionally, to look at my tear stained face the same way she looked at the gauges, professionally. 

I was annoyed at needing to keep my tongue outside my mouth, with the clip and wire attached to it. It felt as if the clip on my tongue, the wire up my butt, and the catheter, were connected somewhere inside me. Somewhere deep, just below my heart and near the bottom of my stomach. I was fighting for control of my hands, which occasionally jumped to my behinds defense before I could stop them. For that they were beaten silly and slowly learned their lesson.

Whap-a-whap-a-whap-a-whap, the nurse continued. Harder, softer, harder, softer, harder, softer, again and again and again.

"Now, now Joey. I'm surprised," the doctor said condescendingly when I began to really bawl aloud. "Ms. Handlesmen has a good deal of confidence in you and I can see why. You wouldn't want to let her down, now would you?" The doctor was looking over the edge of my collar, her hand fiddling with the clip on my tongue. I thought she was about to rip my tongue out by its root. "No, of course not, so try to cry quietly and without shouting. I know you can do that for Ms. Handlesmen, it's important to her that you be strong," she said, turning back to the console. "You're a good boy Joey."

I tried to sob quietly from then on, but the whacks my behind took blew several loud, "Owws", out of me. The nurse kept my ass bouncing, my tears flowing and me trying to stand on my toes. My balls ached because I was twisting from them and my boner felt swollen, on the brink of exploding. Soon I was in so much pain I begged for a reprieve, which didn't come soon enough. I was left in a steady spasm and crying long after the spanking ended, while the doctor finished taking some notes.

After closing her book, the doctor slipped her stethoscope on and proceeded to check my lungs. She checked my heart and so forth, then she checked my blood pressure. She then examined my ears, nose and throat, with everything checking out fine. Then she released me from the pole, took a good hold on my organ and led me to a small steel table. It was then she withdrew the catheter, in one swift motion she yanked it free and spun me around while I screamed.

I had to stand in front of the short metal table and bend at the waist. It was cold on my belly and she held me down as I made to jump. I felt greatly relieved when she extracted the wire from my behind, but I had little idea what to expect. I opened my eyes wide in shocked disbelief and I was no longer relieved. The doctor began working four fingers into my rectum. She worked quickly, using a good lubricant and great force. In moments I felt her entire hand slip inside. I rose onto my toes and my legs spread, my body contorting with the intrusion. The doctor's hand took its time and probed around inside me for quite awhile. Its fingers reached some shocking places, places never touched before. She also tickled places that sent tidal waves of pleasure through me. As much as I tried, I couldn't relax, which only prolonged the agony and forced the doctor to work harder. My suffering served to provoke her enthusiasm as I once again endured an embarrassingly intimate examination, which I was learning to enjoy.

Finished, the doctor's hand pulled itself slowly free, almost as if not wanting to leave... what a thought. I stood and was led to in front of the nurse, who was seated and disappeared from my view completely. I was made to stand with my legs spread wide. I could feel the nurse's hands grasp and move over my organ, careful not to bring me off. I felt a warm cloth, then a coolness, and after a short while realized the nurse was lathering me. She then began shaving me and she was quite thorough, grabbing my balls in her hand to draw the skin taut as she attacked every hair. She too was meticulous and took her time. The doctor stood beside me, watching my expressions. She gripped my boner when needed, lifting it out of the way for the nurse. I was soon made to turn around, bend at the waist and offer the nurse my buttocks. I had to pull my cheeks apart and hold them while she shaved me from behind. I felt especially low after that.

Doctor Proctosis then replaced the nurse and I felt her take my genitals in her hands. Sniveling, I stood as still as I could while she examined me more carefully then before. Her hands were big, with long strong fingers and they were quite deliberate in their examination. She easily kept me on the brink of release, alive with all the turmoil and none of the reward. She wasn't satisfied until she'd counted every vessel and nerve connecting me to my testicles. Then she pulled my panties up around my waist, adjusted them around my organ and told the nurse to escort me back to Ms. Handlesmen's office. I found my entire life in a retroactive tale spin, every thought I'd ever generated, every molecule I represented, coalescing around my penis. There were no other parts to me; I was reliving the birth of a planet as all surrounding debris came swirling in. I found myself being shaped and defined as 'penis'. My mind was my penis, my penis my mind; I was defined by my sexual organ and under its domain.

My hairless groin added an entirely new dimension to the material's caress and I never believed I'd make it to Ms. Handlesmen's office without ejaculating into my panties. The strange material became an encouragement more overwhelming then Ms. Handlesmen's hand had been the evening before. Though the material was nearly non-existent, it felt like a feather's tickle and burlap's burnishing all in one. My shaved condition encouraged lewd demonstrations, hotly animated conversations and the snickering of every women we passed.

Once again safe in Ms. Handlesmen's office, I found the secretary waiting with another woman. She looked to be about twenty and she was here to escort me to the cafeteria. She was to feed me lunch, as the collar would make feeding myself impossible. The woman's name was Ms. Rocksand and she was another new employee. She was also a sister of PI LODA CUM. I imagined every one of the sorority sisters were raised to deal effectively with males and I expected no less from Ms. Rocksand. After saying hello to me, she nonchalantly took the ring of my panties from the nurse and pulled me along behind her.

I was not looking forward to dining in the nude, much less while spoon-fed. Actually I never looked forward too often, and yet I look forward to everything. It seemed as if everything was turning out more then fine so far. I convinced myself the weirdness of everything was due to my ignorance, and in reality, Ms. Handlesmen had me on a pedestal. This was simply her way of showing me off. I figured it to be a female thing, a game of one-upmanship, and in order to find a mate I needed to play along. In order to receive another bonus, I needed to play along. And for another bonus, ya know I will.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 05



Chapter Five: Fuckin' Luncheon 'Chump' Butt Steak

I found myself in the corridor again, jumped on and assaulted by bold stares and comments while awaiting another elevator. Ms. Rocksand was somewhat talkative, intimately inquisitive and foul-mouthed. In front of at least two other employees, there may have been some I couldn't see, she asked me how long it had been since I last ejaculated. She gave a strong tug on my panties, to help with my expected response.

I couldn't see Ms Rocksand, which forced me to speak as if orating from a stump. Try as I may, my words arrived in quiet sputters barely understood by anyone. I was made to repeat them louder and with more clarity. With great trepidation I announced to all... No, I confessed to my first 'authentic' secret to the world. I spoke of my first meaningful encounter as if it were a sleazy affair. I was coaxed into telling everyone about the wonderful bonus Ms. Handlesmen had awarded me yesterday. 

Ms. Rocksand, this mean rude lady, had me gurgling out all the details. She bombarded me with intimate questions I never answered loud enough. I sputtered out my short, but deeply personal story. I described the way Ms. Handlesmen allowed me to use her hand while I knelt on the floor before her. I realized these women would allow me no personal secrets, and with some hesitations talked on. I mumbled and repeated through the exclamations whispers and snickers that echoed about the room. My pretty admirers demanded self-degradation and extracted the desired results. They even swooned to my verbal renditions of, "pumping myself in her soft hand." I bore their charges and my confessions as hot flashes surging through my body as energy igniting me from head to toe. And I spoke to them again and again, of my first 'real' orgasm.

The corridor fell silent every time I came to recollecting that orgasm, and then on the final sigh, all the women burst out into laughter. I couldn't believe it. Disgraced, I was turning my head and my eyes every which way, not knowing where to look. I even tried seeing nothing but the depth of my tears. I was leaving a deep mosaic of those as they settled along with my saliva and sweat on the surface of my collar. Because the collars construction was more a bowl then a flat surface, the excretions collected around my neck as a moat.

"You're a very lucky boy, Joey," Ms. Rocksand finally said sarcastically. Several mordant voices agreed with her immediately. "If you continue to fuckin' behave yourself, I believe you'll be receiving many such fukin' rewards," she said with a sly twist in her voice. Those thoughts caused my penis to twitch and jump out over the top of my extended panties in excitement. Ms. Rocksand and the others found its actions adorable. With continued acidity they commented about how handsome they found my cock to be. I smiled unseen and looked down at my waterproof collar, at the smooth, crisp, unbelievable fabric. Then I looked to the tops of heads and some eyes looking back, seeking to enjoy my shame. Ms. 'Foulmouth' went so far as to suggest Ms. Handlesmen may allow her the pleasure of providing me with my next bonus, if I merit one. Though it seemed everyone laughed, the thought made my eyebrow to rise and excited me terribly, I only wished I had the nerve to say something. I wouldn't have minded if a woman had come forward right there and then and whisked me away. I half expected that to be the way it would happen. The way I would find a mate.

Again the elevator was crowded with bold women, probing eyes and long nailed fingers that made my skin crawl and my cock drool. I was alone on the top of the world, living with the tops of heads. I was visited by dozens of curious ice-laden eyes, boldly peeking over the edge of my collar. Those eyes chased mine to the ceiling, from corner to corner and along the seams of the elevators walls. I listened to the lewd comments and humiliating conversation that easily kept blush in my face. Words and expectations that drove me to run and hide, which I couldn't do, even out of fear. And to my surprize enough of me found it wonderful; enough to keep me from rousing in indignation. For some reason my hands obeyed my penis, as did almost every other part of me. I was growing slowly accustomed to everything; well almost, I still had a way to go; my childhood guilt could not be erased in a day. 

I discovered my sore ass well fondled this morning and investigated as well as slapped. And this time I heard a woman spit and her finger, and the next thing I knew a finger's worming its way into my asshole and I'm on my toes bouncing between hands and elbows. I slapped my palms to my thighs and grit my teeth. I cringed while surrendering to another painful, very intimate attack. I could feel nothing but humiliation as the women concerned themselves with my organs vibrations. They discused its lubrication, which they encouraged with the tips of their fingers. I must have produced lubricant most prodigiously, because all women took notice of it and all were pleased. The entire elevator was soon laughing and I looked around in futility. Again, I darted to the ceiling for privacy and self-pity. I was dizzy, my head was very hot and decorated with long rivulets of perspiration I could do nothing about. 

Although I hadn't noticed before, the scents and perfumes worn by the women were quite stimulating. Quite unexpectedly my nose 'turned-on' and began its own process of feminine appreciation. I figured it was due to maturity and I'd cleared another hurdle. It only made sense, that there were many appreciation's for me to discover. Most likely natural steps in male development toward the opposite sex and I saw no reason to think otherwise. I had yet to detect a fragrance that offended and their combinations were amusement park rides for my olfactory nerves. They were truly captivating fragrances I sought to enjoy. I reacted to their chemical emissions by relaxing my body, forgetting my problems and floating in a cloud of abnormal arousal.

There must have been one hundred women in the cafeteria and every one of them must have stopped moving, eating and talking, to watch me enter. The two longest walls faced buildings across the street and were entirely of crystal clear glass. I almost felt as if I were out of doors and was hit with another dizzy spell. I could picture the windows of every building around us filling with faces. Mortification ripped me apart like two teams of elephants using me in a tug-of-war and I made the mistake of allowing my instincts to get the better of me. I flushed through a series of bright emergency reds and balked, hesitated, froze. Then out of stupidity, moved my hands in a childish attempt to cover some small part of my body. Ms. Rocksand transformed instantly, from a serious college graduate under control, to a raving battle-ax, a leather clad nun.

"Who the fuck do you think you, are touching yourself in public. How dare you fuckin' embarrass me in front of other women," she screamed between fuming and clenching her jaw. "Fellow sorority sisters at that, ya' little twat. How fuckin' dare you!"

Swat! Swat!...Swat! Swat! Ms. Rocksand slapped both my hands down and away from my crotch while screaming in my face.

"Fuckin' Look at me ya' little shit, fuckin' tip the collar and look at me when I'm talking to you." She waited for our eyes to connect before continuing. "I expect you to fuckin' behave yourself in public. Do you understand me, ya' fukin' sperm eating wimp. You can't believe how mortified I am and how deeply you've hurt me. You've hurt me in front of the people I have to face everyday," she continued with a carefully directed scream. It was the dynamic discharge given an unruly child, caught misbehaving by an irate mother. It came with a warning and a promise of a sound spanking immediately following lunch. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm sorry Ms. Rocksand, ma'am," I said in apology. "I...I...I...ju...," I began stuttering as best I could under the circumstances, but Ms. Rocksand would hear none of it.

She stood straight, with her arms at her sides, her fists clenched. Steam blew out of her ears and she looked mad enough to kill me. Her eyes tore mine to shreds and I could feel her devouring my insides. Then she took a couple deep breaths and composed herself, knowing the rooms silence was for our benefit. Every lady was staring at us and I felt especially humiliated standing naked before so many. I was in such a ridiculous outfit and with my penis so rigid, throbbing and drooling as never before.

"Listen, pussy! You will learn to fuckin' behave yourself in front of women and especially in front of me, dammit! You've fuckin' embarrassed me to no fukin' end, turd breath. I do not plan on fuckin' forgetting it ever! Just be fuckin' thankful I don't spank you right here and now," Ms. Rocksand hissed vehemently. She turned in a slow collected way.

"I'm sorry," I murmured in a whisper, one last time. I scurried along as she yanked me into a slow moving line.

"Little problem there," some woman asked of Ms. Rocksand. The voice came from somewhere nearby and Ms. Rocksand ignored it by yanking on the panties ring. She too knew that the material was indestructible and how to use it in controlling me.

"Need some help with that boy," another anonymous voice echoed. There followed a quick flurry of snide comments that reminded me of my high school days. I was always called names and picked on back then. I could tell Ms. Rocksand was not at all happy about them and I didn't need to see her face. I began to fret about the promised punishment.

Ms. Rocksand led me into a line moving along food tables, picked up a tray and placed it on the ledge. She showed my hand where it was so I could push it along. Then she used the panties ring to lift me to my toes and together we moved slowly along. She choose this afternoons fare as I performed ballet and was tormented by the woman behind me. 

The stranger kept running her spoon between my legs after dipping it in a glass filled with ice water. I was kept jumping and jerking around in Ms. Rocksands grasp, to everyone's amusement. Of course there was nothing I could do about it and after my last mistake, wouldn't even think of it. Others in line joined the woman behind me, with the pointed ends of cold vegetables, icecubes, and mushy things, all while I struggled with composure. They kept me in a very uncomfortable condition, but then, this day had been one long uncomfortable lifetime. An eternity I both hated and loved. When Ms. Monroe had told me the place would teach me all I'd need to know about women, I had no idea what she meant. I had no idea there was so much to learn. Women are so complex this must be something they put all their men through..., I was most convinced.

The smell of food was a heaven scent. I was starving and couldn't wait to be fed, even if it meant being spoon fed like a baby. My stomach was growling from the hunger.

I carried our tray as Ms. Rocksand steered us to an empty table for four. I placed the tray onto the table and then she instructed me on how to hold the chair when she sat. Then I sat down near her, dropping my hands to my sides, as ordered. I looked around and could see everyone looking back at me, hundreds of eyes. I took a couple deep breaths and pretended everything was fine. I was almost glad to be seated. "Sit up straight ya' stupid fuck!" Ms. Rocksand said sternly, loud enough for those around us to hear. I jumped and wiggled into the proper posture. "Straighter boy, get your fuckin' spine straight," she yelled. My eyes dashed around from gawking face, to gawking face and then back to her as I tried to comply. "Feet fuckin' flat on the ground and no fuckin' fidgeting, I fuckin' loathe fidgeting, fuckin' fidgeters! God! What a peanut you are," she ranted on and on. "And hold your fuckin' head high, keep your fuckin' chin up so everyone can have a good look at you. Act like a fuckin' proper boy. How do you ever hope to become a man, or find a lady friend?" You can be sure I moved to comply, it was unavoidable. It was so easy and so natural for me to obey. Though I still didn't really understand why Ms. Handlesmen was having me put through this, I knew she must have had a damn good reason. I knew I loved her and for me that was all that mattered.

"Really Joey, you gotta fuckin' learn to pay more attention to me. Or else I'll fuckin' tell Ms. Handlesmen about your fuckin' indiscretion and she wouldn't be very fuckin' happy with you. Huh! You wouldn't want to lose out on a fuckin' bonus. Would you poop face?" Her statement stopped me flat and I sunk like a barrel of cement in a lake. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I would rather die, then miss a bonus. How many men have gotten a bonus the first day of work?

Ms. Rocksand used a fork and knife to cut through her lettuce a couple of times. With the edge of a spoon she chopped my oatmeal into milk. She began with her salad, a small forkful of crispy greens coated with a creamy garlic dressing. She spoon-fed me a tepid wad of thick oatmeal, devoid of all but a drop of milk. She didn't mind smearing it on my chin. I was hungry enough to eat it, but I didn't enjoy it. Ms. Rocksand enjoyed a forkful of spaghetti wound delicately round her trident, then drenched in sauce and dipped in Parmesan cheese. I received another mouthful of, not quite as hot, oatmeal. It arrived as all others, in the same messy fashion. Because I was now sitting, I could easily see every woman passing by and wondered how I must look to them. 

My eyes were puffed and swollen, my face red, tear streaked and smeared with oatmeal. My head was centered on a flesh-toned platter, ready to be served like a turned out mold of Pate' de Foie Gras, or fresh headcheese. These women didn't need a spatula to serve me, I was a freshly opened baboon brain and they wielded their eyes like knives, forks and spoons. But, they all looked so unbelievably nice to me, so many beautiful women in one place, at one time. It was a terrible burden on my selfish and over active libido.

"So Joey, I hear you were a fuckin' virgin until recently, when Ms. Handlesmen provided you with your first sexual experience. I fukin' hear she took your fuckin' virginity with her fukin' one hand," Ms. 'Foulmouth' said looking up at me. She was placing another small forkful of pasta into her mouth. I'd never heard a woman swear so much and she chewed her food with her mouth open. I watched another fork of semolina disappeared between her lips, then reappeared over and over again. I figured she wanted to hear the story again as entertainment while she dined.

"Ah...yes ma'am...," I replied meekly. I noticed women at other tables listening. I began reiterating the story of my first sexual experience. I guessed everyone knew everything about me anyway and probably more than I did. Why was I not surprised? Had I really imagined adulthood would be any different then childhood? I'd foolishly hoped it would be. I washed down my exciting story with spoonfuls of oatmeal.

"I bet you're fuckin' in love with Ms. Handlesmen's hand Joey, aren't you," Ms. Rocksand butted in, continuing in sarcasm. I nearly choked on the gruel and her words. I swallowed without enjoying and made to answer her question. "Well, fuckin' answer me ya' little pussy!"

"Ah...yes...ma'am," I had to admit, to all the women around us.

"Let me hear you fuckin' say, 'I'm in love with Ms. Handlesmen's hand'," she coaxed. I swallowed hard, looked at the staring faces around me and then to the ceiling. How did I get into this and what was I to do? Was there no limit to degradation? I adjusted to the heat, looked into her eyes and found my voice.

"Oh please, must I," I pleaded quietly The lower my voice became, the quieter the cafeteria became. After my question, I turned to find all eyes on me and many of the women standing for a better view. Everyone wanted to hear me admit it.

"Now," Ms. Rocksand shouted in a way that made me jump out of the stillness.

"Oh..." My eyes scanned the vicinity, continually chased from person to person by cold bold stares. I came back to Ms. Rocksand resigned. "I'm in love with Ms. Handlesmen's hand," I stated quickly, in quiet resignation. I turned an even brighter red then I was and flooded with even hotter flashes. I brought my shoulders and knees together in a shiver and wished my chin could hide in the nook of my own arm. 

"You know Joey," Ms. Rocksand continued, pushing another small spoonful of mush into my reluctant mouth. "You'll make some fuckin' lucky lady a fine husband someday. You're a fuckin' dream come true. I mean it, as a women whose already gone through a couple dozen fuckin' males, I know what I'm fuckin' talking about. I'm talking from fuckin' experience." It seemed that many women at other tables were nodding their heads and I hoped it was because of me.

I pondered her crudely worded statement, while chewing the mush...Me married? Or was that 'fuckin' married'. I prayed it would happen and looked at what prayer had gotten me. I've heard it said, 'there's somebody for everybody',...But for me? I swallowed the thinned-out wad. It ran down my throat like a single wad of mucus and I momentarily pondered the meaning of fuckin'. I thought I knew the meaning and hoped I did, but wondered.

"After we've eaten I'll take you to the fuckin' washroom where I'll let you piss. Maybe take a fuckin' crap and then I'll administer the fuckin' spanking you've earned. You do understand that I'm doing this for your own fuckin' good," Ms. Rocksand said like my mom always had. Of course, I nodded in agreement.

She talked and fed me between her own mouthfuls, nodding or greeting other ladies who passed. I tried hard to avoid the heated stares of the women around us, but we had such an excellent view of each other it was impossible. My poor penis would not relax and I began to believe it never again would. Maybe it was the duty of a man to stay hard all of the time, in a state of ready for his woman. Then maybe I was a man. I remembered hearing there were other males employed at Biprods Incorporated, but I'd yet to see a single other.

At one point, a couple of ladies stopped to chat with Ms. Rocksand. The younger one had short light-brown hair and the older one's was frosted. Neither women had big breasts, but like all the others they were beautiful. They moved in on each side of me, both looking down at my head even while talking with Ms. Rocksand. Ms. 'Foulmouth' ate her lunch and conversed with the ladies, ignoring what they did to me. 

The older lady's hand arrived at my head first. It came to my mouth bathing my senses in a tart perfume laced with enchanting undertones. One of her long fingers wheedled itself inside, nail first. I parted my lips to allow it access and it slid easily between them, then it began moving in and out. I kept my eyes lowered, as the lady used my mouth with a finger I discovered to be coated in a dried substance. The crusty material soaked up my saliva and turned to a syrup I could then chew and swallow, which I did. It had a slightly tart, but bitter taste I could learn to enjoy, especially with a bowl of cold oatmeal. The younger lady snickered and followed the elders lead. Soon I had a pair of fingers in my mouth.

"Doesn't it look cute sucking on our fingers mama," she said. The drool elicited by their fingers ran down my chin and dripped to the moat accumulating in the collar around my neck. The younger ones fingers had definitely been in something filthy and just a short time ago. I looked up into the grinning faces, wondering what it was these ladies were up to.

I didn't care about their conversation and concentrated on their flavorful fingers. The older lady became bolder and pushed her finger to the back of my throat, causing me to gag around the digits. This caused me to secrete thick wads of saliva she pulled from my mouth with her fingers and rubbed onto my face. The younger one had to try it also and almost had me vomiting. Her hand sought to make me retch over and over again, till my face was red and my eyes were bulging to the discomfort. She wanted to see how close she could bring me to vomiting without allowing it. Her mom continued collecting my saliva and smearing it around on my face. By the time they were done, I was a sputtering cry baby, my face dripping in saliva and tears. Both women wiped their fingers off on my shoulders before leaving.




BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 05



"Lucky lady," I heard them agree while moving on. By now the moat around my neck made a sloshing noise. It was caused by the swirling fluids around my throat. I opened my mouth for another spoonful of oatmeal, while contemplating how wet the ladies left my face. At least as wet as my thighs. Ms. Rocksand was unconcerned with my faces soggy condition and paid it no mind. Wet was probably the way women preferred to find their men, but it was extremely uncomfortable. Everyone around me was smiling and I strained to act nonchalant. 

We soon finished with our lunches and made to leave. Ms. Rocksand dabbed her mouth her napkin and then dried off the ring, neglecting my spit laden face. I pushed back my chair, stood and moved to pull back the chair for Ms. Rocksand. After standing, she slipped her finger through the ring and we proceeded to the washroom. I did need to go badly and couldn't wait to get there, but my spirits sunk when she steered me into the ladies room and into the only stall without a door. I stood between white walls, facing her and watching women pass-by, watching me.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 06



Chapter Six: Defecational Instructions

There wasn't much room in the small stall, but Ms. Rocksand made do.

Ms. Rocksand worked my panties down to my knees and guided me back to the commode upon which she made me sit. In my condition I could neither piss, nor shit, but Ms. Rocksand understood my predicament and she also had the solution.

"Here! Let me fuckin' help you, ya' fuckin' worthless bag of horse diarrhea," she stated aloud, more for the benefit of those around us, then for me. With one hand she forced me back on the seat as far as the pipes would allow. I thrilled to her warm hand upon my chest and adapted to the cold steel in my back, as my elbows landed against the wall.

After some abusive gala and making a point of keeping to the side, out of the way, Ms. Rocksand leaned over me just far enough. She kept my back against the cold pipes and my abdomen pressed forward, making sure all her sisters had a clear view. Then she grabbed my hard-on between the thumb and two fingers of her free hand. She took it close to the base and dug in, till I could feel her fingers almost inside of me. It was a deliberately strong pinch that caused excruciating pain and my boner to wilt like a magician's wand, until I was able to urinate. Pissing felt strange while in someone else's hand, made more so with women laughing, watching from just outside the stall. I tried looking past the smiles, as Ms. Rocksand moved me about in clever designs that amused the crowd and brought me discomfort. She could even play a tune in the water that everyone seemed to know, simply by controlling my discharge with pinches. She was concerned with keeping my crotch in plain view and did a good job of holding me above the seats edge. I simply did my best to keep the collar from tipping and my head on it's platter for her friends.

Ms. Rocksand kept to the side so everyone could watch my flow, as she manipulated my organ. She did with my penis as she wished and when it was out of piss, she wrung it out with great deliberation, to the very last drop. Then she began treating it like a long thick wad of elastic latex. It became a Stretch-Penis doll that she pulled out of shape while everyone roared in laughter. I withered on the steel that dug into my spine as she lifted me from the commode. She pulled yanked and worked me around in the air from my stretched organ. She lifted me high and plopped me back down again and again, in an exciting bit of showmanship. Then like the expert she is, Ms. Rocksand caught my eyes when they were most distressed.

Then her hands became gentle, yet stayed sure, as her eyes became playful and climbed into mine. I was instantly sedated and quickly stroked into hardness. She made sure everyone watched her, as she caused my organ to swell and regain its stature. I was truly lost to that moment and I didn't care where I was, or how many women watched. I opened my mouth and emitted long moans of surrender to the pleasures Ms. Rocksand provided me. In no time she had me bucking into the air shamelessly, in the direction of her excited friends, driving myself to ejaculation. Just as the audience began falling over in laughter and I could feel my seeds boiling quickly to the surface, my rough antagonist interrupted me by suddenly squeezing, halting everything.

"Good, and now for your other fuckin' function," she said pulling me up by my cock. I was still in a daze as Ms. Rocksand turned me about in front of the women provocatively and then let go. With both hands she took me by the waist, turned me to face the toilet and made me bow. She made me bend forward at the waist until the moat ran like a river to the collars edge and away. My ass was brought into a disgraceful prominence and offered to all while I gazed into the toilet. I looked into a white porcelain commode of yellow water and waste that dripped from my collar, as everyone else made fun of my most private areas, my crinkled rosette.

As usual I had no idea what to expect and didn't have long to wait. I felt the long thin nozzle forced up into my behind, heard the women gibbering with more laughter and had my bowels filled with a cool fluid that kept arriving. Ms. Rocksand was giving me an enema. She kept me in that vulgar position, plugged and looking down into my urine until my discomfort became painfully distressing. Only after my swollen buttocks had twitched and tensed themselves into a condition of evident concern did my tormentor remove the nozzle. I was immediately spun around and plopped down with enough force to knock everything out of me. The results were an instantaneous explosion of the most debasing nature. At least a dozen more female faces jockeyed into view, all straining to see what was happening, to listen and maybe catch a whiff of my recital. I turned my head from side to side and didn't wish to see past the edge of my collar. I tried escaping, to close out the stares, until ordered to look up and ham things up.

I was without choice and could do nothing else but obey. I looked in the direction of my rabid fans while attempting to avoid their gazes, as I continued my loud and shameful show. I tried to see past them all, to pretend it was all make-believe, but my noises kept me rooted in reality. Those eruptions created from my dark avenue, were rousing orchestral pieces, providing the wildest in Servo-jazz. Adding insults to injury, most women stayed long enough to watch Ms. Rocksand make me stand, turn around and bend over again. This time so she could wipe my behind. 

There was a bit of a mess, but Ms. Rocksand took care of it. At one point she had me reach back with both hands and spread my ass cheeks apart. She had me jumping around, displaying my puckered aperture to those present and flashing it in their faces. She had me acting like an organ grinders monkey, trained to beg with a cup and tip of the fez.

"Good boy," she said of my outrageous performance. With a great flamboyance Ms. Rocksand made an undue spectacle of the affair and the ladies around us were more than impressed. Impressing one another was paramount to these females and I seemed to remember that being true of my mom and her friends also.

Located just outside the stall and to the right were a long row of chairs. They ran along the wall and Ms. Rocksand marched us over to one. She chose the one near the middle, because it offered the best view to those around us. Then she unceremoniously toppled me over her lap and I landed with my organ dangling to one side of her left knee. My right hand landed on the seat of the next chair, my left hand reached the floor and my legs spread. My left leg stayed straight, foot on the floor; my right leg draped across the seat of the chair to my chastiser's left. She made sure my legs were well parted and stroked me to the brink of an eruption. The ladies were ready and the spanking began.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! My ass was already so sore her first spank caused me burst into tears. The crowd of orally abusive ladies burst into a short round of applause and gathered as near as they could. I swear they fought for positions, with most wanting to view my face. There were even a few camera flashes, which made me feel very peculiar. These women liked nothing better than to watch and listen to a big boy struggling under the primordial sounds of the, 'whap, smack, whap, smack', of a hand against bun flesh. They dipped way back in time, for the sacred songs I now produced for their gratification. I called forth the tears of an archaic, impressive sacrifice. I was the sacrifice; it was my right and duty. I was the chosen, the rite of surrendering to the sorority's great goddess was mine and mine alone.

Ms. Rocksand had a powerful swing and her spanks had me screaming for mercy in no time. With grimaced face and clenched body, I realized she practiced often. Whap! Smack! Whap! Smack! Whap! She alternated cheeks and I could feel them bouncing and jiggling under her assault. Again I forced my hands to stay where they were and reason became a weight. Whap. Smack. Whap. Smack. Whap. My cheeks were kindled brushwood in the hands of an experienced scout. I didn't want any more spankings, I wanted to learn quickly, and I wanted to be a model employee. I wanted to find a wife.

"Look up at the women ya fukin' wimp! Look up and let them see your fuckin' face! Show them your tears, ya' little prick," Ms. Rocksand blurted out between swats. I turned my bawling face up, to the crowd and saw their excitement through a blur of rushing tears. 'How could another's suffering bring so many pleasure', I screamed to myself silently. Was it actually pleasure that drove Christians to burn their innocent neighbors as witches? I was ignorant of the world and of human nature, but I now knew the power of pleasure and the extremes to which human's will go in pursuit. I saw these days as an intense course in reality. I prayed they would prove as fruitful an education, as they were painful. It ended none too soon, with me wailing and in tears. Ms. Rocksand then made me stand and face the women while she readjusted my panties and the crowd looked on.

"Stand up straight ya' fuckin' ass wipe! Display yourself properly now," she ordered, while fitting my organ into the panties. With complete and utter ease she stroked my hard-on into a throbbing fit, before slipping it into the material. The other women were impressed with Ms. Rocksand's performance and with my submission. I received a number of encouraging comments, some even providing confidence. Although I was humiliated by everything, the commentary would have made Ms. Handlesmen proud.

In a state of shock it took me awhile to shake, I cried all the way back to Ms. Handlesmen's office. My mind was in turmoil, I was to receive yet another spanking from Ms. Handlesmen. Could I take another one? I did want another bonus!

I finally found myself where I wanted to be, alone and totally naked with Ms. Handlesmen. I stood before her as totally prepared as I could be, watching her drape the towel over her lap She looked more lovely then I remembered her. She was dressed in red and looked ready to paint the town a similar color. She looked sharp in a two piece suit and my eyes fell into the vee of her parted white blouse. She must have enjoyed showing her cleavage; the pride was evident in way she held her chest. Her body was something to be proud of and I was proud to be with her. Her breasts were ample, the cleavage deep and I enjoyed letting my mind drop between and snuggle into it.

With the towel in place she looked up to me and our eyes met. Hers were serious, mine were delighted. I knew what to do without needing to be told and draped myself across her lap. I was careful to guide myself onto the towel properly. I wanted to show this woman how quickly I learn. She smiled, obviously pleased by my actions and sat there watching as I stretched myself out. Then I offered her my behind, like a virgin might her chastity to the man she loves, with awakening desire and an innocents trepidation. 

After I was draped to perfection, my mistress took the time to examine my offering. She seemed taken by their bruised state and I hoped for a little mercy, a bit of clemency. But my lady wasn't gentle when opening my anus and with the aid of six fingers spread my pucker wide.

"My you have a nice behind, Joey and a very dainty rosette," she chimed. Her words thrilled me and I strained to hold my ass higher, but she let my cheeks shut and then...Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

Her hand rained down with a sweet fire from heaven and I jumped to its tune like a cat caught by its tail. She laid into me with all she had and I returned the favor in tears and screams, which weren't difficult. Considering how much abuse my behind had already received, I was all but hysterical. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! I cried and cried and wailed on, while forcing my hands to stay on the floor and my body to lie still. My wicked conductor understood the scales of hysteria well and led me in a wild, heavy symphony, with little sympathy.

Ms. Handlesmen got me crying so hard I could hardly beg for a moment to breathe. I was gasping, wheezing, choking and gagging to the onslaught. But on and on my tormentors hand walloped with complete abandon.

"I want to see these buns redder then my suit," my mistress spat in labored hisses through clenched teeth. "These are mine, my property and I want to see them in flames!" Her claims of ownership were every bit as exciting and more meaningful to me then the scourging was painful. She did love me, I was convinced of that now. It must have been what she meant and that was all I wanted to hear. To be wanted by a woman, to be loved and if this is what love was all about, so be it.

It was quite awhile before Ms. Handlesmen finished and I was positive she only stopped after succeeding in turning my behind the fire-engine red of her dreams. Afterwards she allowed me to stay as I was, over her lap. I laid there shaking in fits and tremors, my hard-on throbbing against her thigh. I was happy like this and simply thinking of her helped quell the pain. I was slowly calming down and couldn't yet fathom all that's happened. She now puffed on a fine cigar and read the newspaper, relaxing as my sobs became sniffles. Every once in a while, a cool soft hand stroked my sore behind or tickled my balls and soon my sniffles turned to deep breathing. I heard her humming contentedly to herself and I began to drift.

"Well now," she finally said, placing the paper aside. "You've once again proved yourself to me young man. I think you know what that means...Don't you Joey." She took another draw on her cigar. I looked back over my shoulder at her, like the hurt little boy I was and she let me fall from her lap. 

I was now on the floor, kneeling erect before Ms. Handlesmen. I knelt with my legs apart, my hands atop my head. I was moving my hips and pumping my hard-on through the soft, moist confines of her left hand. She held her hand before me with an unconcerned air, while puffing on her cigar and looking down at me only occasionally. She had me looking up, searching for suddenly cold eyes and admitting how much I'd enjoyed the day. I told her how much fun it had been for me and how much I delighted in doing things for her. I would do and be anything she asked because I adored her.

"I love you." The words slipped easily from between my lips. Ms. Handlesmen smiled warmly and I felt her now wet hand grip me tighter. I was losing control and increased my tempo. "I love you, I love you, I lov..."

Ms. Handlesmen was very happy with me and more pleased with the way I looked and felt without hair. She decided then I would have my entire body waxed the very next day. I began pumping faster, not wanting to end the pleasure but unable to forestall it.

"Cum on big boy, you can do it. Shoot your load for me Joey. Let me see you squirt," Ms. Handlesmen cooed and as was expected of me, I leaned against her arm, reached down with both hands and caught my own discharge. She didn't wish me to stain her rug.

The bonus clinched it for me, I was truly a bonus junky and Ms. Handlesmen was my pusher, my fix, my past, present, and future.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 07



Chapter Seven: Idolater, Taste Thyself

"I love you, I love you..., I love yu..."

It was like experiencing the invisible and reaching a realm of unending elevations. I felt I was seeing the sun for the first time. I was staring in awe, blinded by Ms. Handlesmen's beauty. Her thick red mane was down, wild and ready for battle. Or maybe she'd just completed battle and in either case, she was my victrix and I felt like the prize. She took another long slow drag on her cigar and looked down at me with her blue eyes from under relaxed lids. A quaint smile crossed her lips. She was the epitome of sculpted perfection, with skin so fair, smooth and unblemished, I accepted her as perfect. She was born with an inner strength so all-prevailing, I accepted her as a goddess and offered up all I had to give and all that was rightfully hers... everything. I was hers; organs, body and mind, if only she would accept me. I was ashamed I had so little to offer and yet Ms. Handlesmen made me feel good about everything. 

I knelt on the floor, knees wide, with body fully exposed, slightly to the left of Ms. Handlesmen's chair, near her feet. In the act of paying tribute I knelt erect, on kneecaps and toes with my back straight. My hands, with the help of my arms, were extended and elevated in her direction, palms up. My palms were a pair of shallow bowls that I kept aloft through love. In the hollow of each saucer, rested approximately one half of what my lover had extracted from me. I wondered how it was she had come to control and manage the quantity of my discharge with such ease. She regimented the pumping, controlled the pressure, and then regulated my release and flow. In reality, my lover controlled all of me by dominating my blazing libido. How and where had she obtained such wonderful knowledge? Surely it was but one of my lover's many talents, one of many I would one day enjoy. I was just fortunate enough to have met her and I would thank God each night for that. I had a feeling Ms. Handlesmen knew everything I needed to know about me and I knew I shouldn't be thinking of such things, or thinking at all. She smiled down on me, through another plume of dissipating blue smoke and her hand moved to pet my head.

"My, my, Joey, you are a ripe, juicy young boy," she said from behind yet another plume. She sat watching the head of my penis swell to a breath of passing air and exude yet another thick spherule. The monster was already responding after having ejaculated a load of sperm seconds ago and there was nothing I could do otherwise. Her eyes moved back to my palms and I watched them scan my offerings closely and with much interest. "Well, looks like I can squeeze a good quantity of gunk out of that tube. Two palms full and I didn't even milk it dry. You must be proud of me Joey, has any other women ever taken the time to teach you this?" she asked. She looked to me for an answer. "Well? Answer me boy!"

I was nodding my head yes and no. Yes, she could squeeze the daylights out of me and no woman had ever taken the time to teach me anything... Tease me, but never teach me. "Just look at all that slimy sperm stuff. Go 'head, look at it," she demanded.

I brought my hands down and let my eyes fall as she ordered. I looked at the thick off-white wads. A mixture of Elmer's glue, water and egg whites... Gobs of spermaceti. This was me? My living spermatozoa, produced for and extracted by the woman of my dreams. Like General George Armstrong Custer and the Seventh Cavalry at the battle of Little Bighorn, my hungry sperm were dying in my hands and becoming stickier by the moment.

"Remember who extracted that from you, look at it good. Go on," my mistress insisted as if I weren't already mesmerized by it. "Tomorrow at this time, if you've been a good boy, I promise to have drained twice that amount out of you. Just for the fun of it. What do you think of that, little boy?" My eyes darted up to hers, face plastered with a big shit-eating grin. I was shaking my head in tacit signals of agreement. I was afraid to begin stuttering and darted back to my DNA, awaiting further instructions.

Deep down inside I hoped that Ms. Handlesmen would eventually take me home with her, or at least that we could date. Maybe we could go out to dinner; I wasn't completely stupid. I realized couples went to restaurants and took in shows. In my childhood imagination they'd hold hands, maybe kiss and then go somewhere to get naked. After that, I was almost positive, but maybe not.

"Well Joey..." Ms. Handlesmen said with a slight turn of her lip and brow. Her quizzically serious words shook me and I looked up confounded. "...I was lenient with you again this evening and I don't understand why," she went on. She looked as perplexed as I, only about something different. After one, long, lingering thirteen seconds, she found herself and went on. "I'm usually very strict with new males and rarely allow them an orgasm until after the third week. But you're so different Joey, you're one of a kind, a first." Her eyes sang to me of Cupid's arrow, its sting and her own surrender. I was getting to her. "There's something very special about you and I can't quite put my finger on it, but Joey..." she said with a lowering voice. Her head moved, bringing our faces almost together. "...I hope it blossoms and bares fruit. I hope we can develop a real relationship, Joey... You and me." 

Ms. Handlesmen took a drag on her cigar. Yes! I screamed again and again in my mind. Under that stern exterior, I was shown the woman who loved me. I'd seen it in her eyes, felt it through her left hand and now I'd heard it in her own words. Those final words cinched it for me, I was prepared to be everything she wished and everything I thought she wished. I felt good about myself, renewed by the knowledge of our flourishing relationship. As I grew closer to her, she'd be growing closer to me and I was happy. I'd find a way of making her desire me, as much as I desired her and she'd want to keep me forever. The woman I loved was releasing another thick swirl of tobacco smoke

"Well Joey, I guess it's time for me to spell things out," she said in a humph. "It's time for you to earn your wage. I don't pay you to simply walk around the building naked, trying to make me jealous by showing your body off to every other women employee. As a secretary, one of your jobs is to clean up after me, when needed." She saw me look around for a sink or towel. "Oh Joey, you're so funny. Listen to me, you silly goose. You're to lap that sperm up with your tongue, take it into your mouth and swallow it." She moved forward on her chair, intent on enjoying my self-degradation. My eyes darted between hers and the pools of dying sperm.

"Go on, be a good boy, do it for your new friend, your buddy, your pal... My hand," she coaxed, holding her left hand up for me to see. She wiggled her fingers and I could feel her verging on laughter. "Here Joey, it's your lover. She doesn't want you to ruin the budding relationship because of some small hang-up. Do it for the two of you. Go on now... Right now!" She spoke in a deep voice, in soft sticky strands that caught me in their web and bound me in a silk cocoon.

I looked at her hand stunned, then I looked to her and back again. She was right, the hand was my friend. I was allowed to enjoy that small part of her and I would be content, yet pray for more. I bit my lower lip and looked back to the rapidly cooling wads. 'This is disgusting', I thought in dismay.

"Joey," my lover's voice interrupted. "Be a good boy... Lick that filthy mess up right now or I will never touch you again. You should understand that." That did it! It would be better that I die a thousand deaths then lose this woman's hand. I brought my hands close to my face and took in the aroma. It's a deep, rich, compelling scent, I yet find beyond description.

"With your tongue boy, with your tongue, take it in your mouth. But do not swallow until I give you permission." I looked up to her one last time and was chased back to my task. It only took one good swipe of my tongue and a bit of gagging, to wipe the sperm from my left palm. "Don't even swallow one of those little bastards until I say," Ms. Handlesmen reminded me. "You know they don't belong to you, they belong to me!" I shook my head yes, as my tongue situated the first wad into the pouch of my right cheek and went for the second. I soon had both oysters and looked up at my lover with my cheeks full. She looked down at me with a big grin.

"Now open your mouth Joey and show me where you've deposited that disgusting filth for me," she said sternly. Gagging, I brought the substance together as best I could, tipped my head back and opened my mouth as wide as possible. I saw her lean forward and her face come into view. She peered into my mouth, like into the mouth of an urn, with an unconcerned amusement. I couldn't believe this is what turned her on, but what the hell did I know. I was suddenly amazed to see a genuine look of satisfaction on her face, which only made me happy. I became more excited and concentrated on keeping my tongue down and out of the way, so it wouldn't interfere with her inspection.

I was a large goblet, a flesh and bones chalice, holding the fruits of my goddess' labor. I was her vineyard, from whence she cultivates her spirits and quenches her mighty thirst. And too, I was her spittoon, her swill pot, a living, breathing depository for her hedonistic pleasures. I was happily all these things and more, and I planned to function as she expected. Even now my penis swelled with pride over those thoughts and the pains I bore. I knew Ms. Handlesmen was the right woman for me.

"Joey, I want to see you chew your food one hundred times before you swallow. I want you to enjoy every bit of your cum," Ms. Handlesmen ordered. Her hand was on my head, her fingers massaging behind my ear now and I was actually purring to the caresses. With another gag I began chewing on the syrupy bolus. It quickly expanded with the addition of saliva and turned into a mouthful of frothy, slimy cream soup. I watched my lover go back to smoking, while I counted each and every chew, knowing she was too. I looked up at her in adoration, thrilled to be where I was, praying to be here forever.

When I saw Ms. Handlesmen nod, I tensed my jaw, closed my eyes and swallowed. I held my breath so as not to retch and tried to get it all down in one gulp. But it was far too sticky and ended up oozing slowly down my throat, coating my esophagus enroute. My mouth and throat were left with a thick film that would stay with me till the next day. I was both relieved and disgusted and kept swallowing all the saliva I could.

"Now clean those hands Joey," my lover cooed sensuously. "Lick them clean for me, show me how well you can do." I moved my tongue to the task and commenced licking each of my palms. I felt like a cat and must have looked like one in the process of bathing itself, but I didn't care now. I made sure Ms. Handlesmen saw me reaching between every finger and lapping clean every sticky spot.

"Good boy," she beamed when I finally held my hands up for her to inspect, I swelled with pride. Her hand left my head and moved down between my legs, to my master pego. It didn't take much, my lover's hand caught my restive organ in its palm and it responded, hardening like never before, as her hand wrapped around it. Instinctually I began humping, thrusting my boner within her warm grasp. In moments I was churning up an accumulating froth, as the hand allowed me to reach the brink of ejaculation.

"My, my, are we all excited again and so soon," she asked sitting up, her hand leaving my penis in the air. "Tsk, tsk, your little pee pee's gotten all hard again. But you look so much better that way. It's the way I always want to see you dear boy." I was nodding my head and still humping into the air where her hand had once been.

Ms. Handlesmen laughed while watching me hump at my dreams and I looked at her through a kaleidoscope of surrealistic imagery. She brought her hand to my face and I didn't need to be told why. I jumped on the lovely hand with mouth and tongue and began making love to it, while making it clean. It was the loveliest part of Ms. Handlesmen's anatomy and I was closer to it then to any other part. I worshipped the hand, I kissed it and tried everything I could think of to please it. I whispered to it, gave my heart and soul to it, to hold for Ms. Handlesmen. I wanted her to hold them in safe keeping. I wanted the hand to put in a good word for me.

After satisfactorily lapping her palm clean and collecting the remnants of myself, I caught one of her fingers between my lips and sucked the long delicate digit into my mouth. Then I let it slide slowly free, depositing its scent in my mouth as it traveled, I could never get enough of this. I sucked each and every one of her delightful fingers clean, one at a time, again and again and then went to her thumb. She allowed her thumb to linger in the warmth of my moist mouth and I ended up kneeling before her suckling contentedly. Never had I been so close to a woman before and I loved it. This was our sixty-nine position, everything I could have imagined it would be and I hoped I never woke from this dream.

Leaving me her thumb, Ms. Handlesmen sat back in her chair to relax. She puffed lightly on the last half of her cigar, releasing small clouds of fragrant smoke, dreaming about corporate deals and hopefully me. I sucked softly, releasing soft gurgling noises while dreaming of her because we were a team.

Every so often Ms. Handlesmen would look down between my legs to check on my condition. Seeing me in the ready made her smile and nod appreciatively. Soon I would be leaving for home, leaving work for the day, but I didn't wish to. I wanted to stay with Ms. Handlesmen forever, to worship at her feet all day and night. I wanted to be used by her, degraded, abused and humiliated. I wanted her to make me hers, I wanted to be owned, I needed the security only a true goddess could provide.

I tried making my wishes known to her, with my tongue and mouth and somehow I think she understood my desires, though it wasn't my desires that were important to her.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 08



Chapter Eight: S'mores

Ms. Handlesmen sent me home believing a body waxing was a painless operation and well worth the trouble. It would make me that much more desirable to her and women in general. With the aid of a spanking and her hand, I left prepared to do anything for her. Little did I realize I would eventually do things I never imagined possible.

I again woke early, to another beautiful morning. Since taking the job at Biprods, my mornings have become brighter and happier. I hadn't moved to a new residence and there were no more birds in the city then usual, but today I felt like a new person. I enjoyed the tunes of an avian chorus against the backdrop of autos, trains, the roar of the people and dogs barking. I sang in the shower for the first time in my life and even opened a window while getting dressed. I wanted to breathe fresh city air and hear the car horns, the sounds of a choked-up metropolis. As instructed, I slipped on a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt, sans underwear. While dressing, I was griped with a mad desire to touch myself. A desire to recreate the moments with Ms. Handlesmen, but her words of warning lingered in the back of my mind. She would be able to tell if I'd been playing with myself and she let me know that she dealt with such actions in the severest manner. I belonged to her and masturbation was forbidden.

I pulled the waistband of my pants out and looked down at my manhood. It was already as hard as a dowel rod, seeping with lubrication, and I moved my hand close. I looked but didn't touch and only lingered near in contemplation. Showering had been torture, but nothing I did could ever match the hand of the woman I loved and I had no intention of messing things up for myself. I kept myself at bay. I'd found a life in Ms. Handlesmen's hand and I hoped for the rest of my life. I was truly happy... humiliated, violated and dishonored, but truly happy. My mother had explained it to me this way: "There's always a price to pay". It was late and I had to get going.

I arrived at work five minutes of nine, waved to the receptionist and hurried to an elevator. Her unusually effervescent, giggly smile was an early morning charge that left me wondering. It sort of put me off, yet assured me that everything was okay and we'd be seeing each other soon. I couldn't wait to be with Ms. Handlesmen, regardless of all else. I took today's slaps and pinches in stride, 'owwing and eeking' in unison with each. I also found myself dancing about erotically in the elevator. Smart slaps kept me wiggling in fits and jumps around seven well dressed, very playful ladies. It became very hot in the cube, actually steamy. The fronts of my sweats were soon drenched and my ass was warmed up. I pretended to take it all in fun, all the way to thirteenth floor. I realized then that all the women missed their floors intentionally. I wiggled my way out of the giant spanking machine, planning on doing everything correctly today.

To my consternation, Ms. Handlesmen's secretary was waiting with another carton. Still skittish, I disrobed upon entering the office and hung my clothes on the tree. She stood in one spot staring at me and I saw little reason to wait until told. With my back turned, her eyes became weights around my neck and I took several deep breaths. I tried to stop trembling, tried to act brave and kept my hands to my sides as I turned to face her. I looked to the floor, took more breaths and walked over to stand before her. She had been standing beside the carton, taken by my demeanor. I thought I caught a smile dart across her face, though a tiny terse smirk, it was a smile nonetheless.

"Well Joey, I am very pleased by your behavior," she said while her eyes traveled. They scanned me up and down before settling in on my shaved organ. Her look still embarrassed me and probably always would. "You'll look much nicer after we've rid you of all your hair. Hair on a man is so Neanderthal and on a boy such as yourself, it's down right gross." I smiled nervously to her comment, unsure I could agree, but very sure I was afraid to do otherwise.

Yes ma'am," I offered in a quivering voice.

Today the secretary wore a three-piece pant suit of navy blue, over a white shirt and red tie. She wore a pair of matching glasses but otherwise was the same laconic lady. She reached into the carton and pulled out a strange apparatus. It was a white leather and rubber ensemble which she held in the air before me by a silver ring. It reminded me of an alien creature out of a cheap science fiction movie.

Dangling from the ring, it began as an eight inch slab of leather. From each long edge of that slab, dangled five narrow Velcro-lined straps. They were equally spaced and sewn into place. It reminded me of a spine. Attached to the end of the slab, opposite the metal ring was an expandable rubber 'O' ring. That in turn attached to a rubber disk, three inches in diameter. A large hard-rubber ring protruded from one side of the disk and a large rubber ball from the other. Sticking out from the rubber ball was a foot long rubber thread. The long antennae began thick as a thumb and tapered into a plumule. I stared at the terrifying lusus naturae and blinked in fretful curiosity, then looked to the secretary. She used her finger to push her glasses up her nose while instructing me to kneel in the center of a nearby chair, with my ass in the air.

I was shaking uncontrollably as I moved. I wondered if she had turned the air-conditioning on high, because it felt a lot colder than yesterday. I slowly swung my ass around, up to her and offered her my puckered rosette. I watched from over my shoulder as she donned a pair of latex surgical gloves and let them snap in place. Why did everyone let the latex snap? 'Always with perfection', I thought while watching her move. It was still degrading, offering a stranger my behind, my anus. No other part of my body seemed so intimate. My mouth opened when I saw her grease down the ball and its long tail. She looked into my eyes and finally smiled, while lubricating it in long washes.

"Now you hold perfectly still while I insert this Joey. Don't move so much as a muscle," she warned. The meaning of it hit home when she suddenly drove a couple well-lubricated fingers up into my rectum and wiggled them around. "Joey, relax your muscles. The ones around my fingers. You can do it, let me feel you," she went on instructing as our eyes pureed together. Our minds merged through our eyes, with the depth of her fingers. Here was another woman I loved and I wanted to do all she demanded, but my behind was still a bit tense and knotted up. She smiled knowingly and slipped her fingers free with a giggle.

First I exhaled to the liberation, and then my eyes bulged from their sockets in surprise. I gritted my teeth when I felt the contraption's tail forced up into my rectum. The secretary was turning it as she pressed it on and it felt like the sound of a long nail running down a blackboard somewhere inside of me. It was the strangest sensation I had yet experienced. The ball followed the tail, till the secretary found it up against my small hole. Having prepared the ball's way, she was now determined to succeed. She twisted and turned the rubber sphere, while pressing it into my expanding dimple. She rammed, plunged and punched it with a fist, as she toiled and troubled to fit it in. 'Twas only after a mighty workout and a displaced groan, that she succeeded and I felt the thread's point penetrate deep inside. I couldn't help crying to the pain of my sphincter's surrender as she opened me enough to squeeze the ball inside. I exhaled, as my sphincter snapped shut around the thin neck of the ball, the area between the ball and the disk. I immediately fretted its extraction.

She next worked my testicles, one at a time through the expandable 'O' ring. I'd decided, no other feelings came near to the one generated by a woman's hand manipulating a pair of testicles, whether playfully or painfully. Was it simply the combination of pleasure and pain, mixed with softness and conviction? Was it the thrill of knowing the engines of life, the furnaces of seed production were in the hands of the womb's caretaker, controlled by those who play the part of both sower and reaper, stoker and engineer? I didn't know, it was probably all of these and more, but my philosophy of life was inadequate. I guess to some men it is frightening, knowing they're inferior to women in so many respects. 

Two things dominated my mind at that moment and one was the secretary's manipulation of my balls. She used both hands and all ten fingers with cruelty and love. It was almost as if she knew every vessel, duct and pressure point contained therein, and she abused them all. The other, was the long thin spike buried in my butt. Sure it seemed to twist with me, but I still felt as if I'd been pinned to the ceiling. I was made to stand and turn to face her, so she could pull the rest of the contraption out from between my thighs.

The long barb buried in bottom put and kept me on my toes. I looked at the secretary, with tear flooded eyes, bemoaning that long thin nail and the ball in my behind. She looked at me, as if it was I causing her discomfort. All I could dwell on was that stem and ball, its depth, size and discomfort. That long itchy stem that irritated and tickled the deepest recesses of my bowels, and the neck of the plug I was now force to gnaw, wrestled my mind to its knees.

My eyes followed hers down, to the slab of leather on which my throbbing hard-on now rested. I watched her take each pair of the spiny straps in hand, one at a time and pull them tight over the top of my boner. She melded their velcroed ends together and left me entrapped. They gripped my organ tight and made me look as if I were in a brace. From the tip and under the head of my penis hung the ring to which the secretary attached the end of a long leash. She made me hold the other end of the leash while she reached into the carton.

I was still trembling in anticipation of the day's humiliation and tried giving up every idea I'd ever had. Every thought was sure to get in the way and interfere. I attempted to make my mind a blank slate, as unformed as my body and soul. I saw them all as mounds of clay awaiting the artist's hand. I could no longer distinguish between fear and excitement, and I craved both, in a heavy, 'gimmie a lot of it' kind of way. Anticipation alone was enough to keep my penis rigid, gorging on blood, but the stem and ball helped. The secretary's hand emerged with a white ball from which a pair of straps hung.

She had me move closer and brought the ball to my mouth. I opened my mouth mechanically and she began working it inside through my erupting 'hhhhmmmpph's'. She looked into my eyes as she worked at twisting and turning the ball. A big smile spread across her face when she accomplished fitting it past my teeth and inside. Then she reached behind my head with the strap ends and buckled them together. My mouth felt stretched uncomfortably and filled to bursting. Once again her hand dipped into the carton as I stood before her in tears. This was truly a most uncomfortable uniform.

The secretary's hand came out holding a white fan collar that she placed around my neck. I did not like these collars because I couldn't view myself, while everyone else could. There was something far too degrading about having one's head on a platter. This one had a very long radius and a small neck that she cinched uncomfortably tight. It fanned out at my shoulders, pressed up on my chin and then went out in all directions about two feet. 

The secretary stood before me looking over the edge of my fan, then she stepped back to view her work. I had to bend some, lowering the edge enough to see her standing in front of me nodding, with a big grin on her face and I felt so small. She went to the wall and switched on a lamp. It was a large professional studio flood and one entire corner of the office became as bright as a hot operating table.

"Joey, go stand in that light," she ordered me in her loud snappish voice. I jumped into the air and dashed onto stage as fast as I could. The secretary picked up a camera from her desk and began taking pictures of me. I stood in the light, watching her move closer with camera clicking and wondered if this was proper. She kept yelling for me to look into the camera, to look shy, to smile and pout. "The women like to see pitiful faces of sad-eyed boys," she said with another click. Then that beautiful lady had me turning my behind to the camera, bending over while holding my ass cheeks apart.

"Show me that butt plug. That's it, hold the ring up for me," she ordered while clicking away merrily. Next she had me sit back in a chair and put my legs up over its arms. I felt one of her hands engulf my entire left testicle and I went up shaking. I became tense and then quivered onto the pain, moving my ass forward with her pull and adjusting to every pressure. She guided my buttocks to the edge of the chair and released me when satisfied. After a dozen pictures of me like that and from as many angles, she made me kneel on the floor and crawl. She then had me lie on my back with legs spread, which was a bit difficult with the fan, and all while smiling from over its edge. The photo session lasted about thirty minutes and took up five rolls of film.

"Joey you're adorable, I'll have these developed immediately. I want to show my neighbors and I can't wait to show the girls," she said pointedly. She knew the photos bothered me and I worried about strangers seeing them. They were all disgusting and one was dirtier then the other. 

The secretary again grabbed me by a testicle and yanked me to my feet. She moved me to the coat tree, snatched the leash end from me and hung it on one of the hooks with a severe warning.

"Don't you dare pull this over!" She came near to me for a moment, very near, fabric against skin. I felt her breath. For a fleeting moment, I believed she would slip her long arms around me, pull me to her and we would kiss. But she left me standing alone and moved back to her desk.

I stood in another awkwardly embarrassing position, slowly adjusting to a new set of conditions, withering in the grasp of an alien contraption. How strange, to have one's mouth and rectum simultaneously crammed with a large object, neither of which could be swallowed, nor expelled. How bizarre, to find my mouth forced to gnaw on an object while my sphincter did the same. I felt as if I was eating and shitting at the same time, yet could accomplish neither.

Another thing came tiptoeing suddenly into my mind, another troubling aspect of my new job. It was something that would lead me to the brink of disobedience no matter how well I defended against it. It was acres of quickly spreading itchiness. I'd ignored it till now, possibly because of the overwhelming circumstances in my new life. With so much happening at one time, with my body and mind surrendering to so many ruthless passions, my thoughts have had little time for themselves. But suddenly... for some reason, my mind tripped over it.

I felt it between my legs, along the crack of my ass, pervading my groin, my balls and cock. Up and down my entire body, the itching was suddenly screaming for my attention. It had begun as a whisper I easily dismissed once the secretary had dressed me. But now it was shouting, demanding recognition and standing here without moving only hurried its evolution. My mind began conjuring up images of perspiration droplets, blotches of dried and drying juices, the flaking crustiness, tightness, damp nooks and crannies where itches love to congregate and multiply. 

I felt as if I'd been lanced, skewered through my bottom to mouth and laid out over an ant hole. Instinctively I worked my moist buttocks on the plug and my insides on the stem. Like a baby taking nourishment, I squeezed my sweaty cheeks together around the ring and gnawed on the neck of the contraption, which caused the itching to continue doubling in intensity. I dared not turn my head to see if the secretary was watching and I didn't know how long I could keep my arms and hands at bay. I must have begun to look like the snake charmer's pet, because she suddenly shouted a warning.

"Young man, I want to see you standing perfectly still. I do not wish to see you wiggling your behind at me or dancing about lewdly. This is not a night club, it's an office and I expect you to act properly. Let this be your last warning Joey, stand still and keep your hands limp at your sides. I do not want to see your ass so much as twitch or I'll take the cane to it." I clenched my jaw around the ball gag, trying to ignore the long strands of saliva flowing from the corners of my mouth. The rivers of saliva tickled my chin, as they dribbled onto the fan collar. I dropped my head and resigned myself to my fate, even as my mind fought to abandon a swiftly running droplet of perspiration down my back. It was on a journey through the valley of my behind, onto, around and down past the neck of the butt plug. It ran between my thighs, past my balls, then down, down, down the inside of my leg, till it reached my ankle. Oh... if I could reach down and scratch just this one, then everything would be fine. Thankfully the door opened and someone entered, capturing the attention of my mind. I'll bet that entrance meant my exit.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 09



Chapter Nine: OOOuuch!

"There it is," the secretary said to whomever it was. I saw a deeply tanned, long fingered hand reach for the end of my leash and slip it free of the hook. I turned as the tug pulled and caught a glimpse of a lady as she rolled the leash into her hand. She cinched it close and took me by a very short length. I caught another glimpse of her before she disappeared under my collar. She looked to be about thirty; she had ultra-bleach-blond hair, large deep blue eyes and obviously worshipped the sun. She was totally unconcerned about me and went for the door without looking at me twice.

My new uniform drew more than its share of gawkers and overly heated comments. It wasn't difficult to tell that their numbers were increasing, along with the overt actions and nasty expressions. The comments suggested I looked extremely amusing today, which drove a small portion of my ego to attempt rebellion. Part of me wanted to stop everything cold, it had had enough. Part of me wanted my hands to intervene, to finally resist any further humiliation.

But my hands simply hovered in the air beside me, palms down, fingers wide. They refused every request for intervention, even as the body struggled, skewered from both ends. My arms went up in the air and pulled in tight as I toppled forward on my toes, but my hands never interceded on the body's behalf. Though I needed to keep jumping from one big toe to the other, while struggling in adjustment to the harness, my hands did little else then slap my own thighs in resignation. They never moved in defense, in defiance, or simply to insulate. Fortunately I was slowly learning to ride the tip of the long needle as it twisted, twitched and drilled into me. The point of that stem would have me bouncing into the air and wiggling like an eel all day. It would keep me on my toes, dancing erotically and I realized the sensation would take a lot of getting use to. My escort used the leash to hold me up and keep me moving forward in tiny jerks. The women who spotted me couldn't decide on which they preferred, my butt plug or penis splint. They all loved the ball gag and the consensus was I should never be without it. I dreaded the thought.

I was led on a humiliating journey through the building, to more than a dozen different floors in a random fashion. On each one, I was pulled from the elevator and paraded down a hallway or two and through offices of many sizes. Whether heading through large rooms lined with desks, labs with counters, or shops with drafting tables, my guide always stopped near a water cooler to chat. Immediately I was swarmed by women, who came to do more than just look. I found myself slapped and pinched, even kicked and spit upon. But at other times I was petted, stroked, and teased to the brink of an ejaculation I danced for lewdly. That always incurred a roar of laughter. I was belittled verbally, constantly debased and my body physically violated. By the end of this tour I was so mixed up and out of my mind, out of control with arousal, I only vaguely remember my guide slapping me into consciousness. She seemed suddenly very concerned about my awareness and helped me regain it quickly. She waited for me to come around fully, for me to land on earth again. I spotted a fool in the corner of my eye and looked up to see some clown's reflection in a stainless steel wall.

I didn't recognize the wiggling body standing before me, but it made me smile. I couldn't make out the figure twitching in the air on its toes, and I almost made to laugh. I took its glistening spit laden body, all blotchy from slaps and belt whippings, to be that of a circus performer. He had his balls hanging through a ring, his cock in harness and he was controlled by a lovely ringmaster. She held the reins and she kept him taut, in a severe manner. He danced for her and fluttered like a graceful insect I found most interesting. I dipped my collar to see who it might be, I blinked my eyes to press away the moisture and focus. Then I turned away as if remembering my darkest secret for the first time, mortified by the notion of what I thought I had seen. I had no other choice but to take another peek. I turned away in shame... It was me.

We were outside a door that looked like any other, and my guide had brought me back to my senses. She had been screaming in my face and reminding me to behave, while accenting her words with well-placed slaps. She warned me not to fail this test or I'd be released immediately and that meant right there and then. She informed me I would be walked to the main door and thrown out as I was. While that sunk in, she gave me the end of the leash to hold and straightened her own clothing.

Riding on the stem's point was getting easier, the tip had settled in somewhere and I needed to dance less. It was now more an ache that bent me over intermittently and kept my entire body shivering. Once more aware, I looked around the strangely barren hallway and then at the door. It wasn't the same. It was unlike any of the others, completely different. What happened to the marble and wood? We now stood in a stone stairwell facing a big steel door and I began fretting about the other side. Moments like these were meant to frighten. I increased my gnawing on both pieces of rubber and started shaking to a very cold prospect. I bounced my fingers on my hips in nervousness and my guide slapped at my girded boner in reprisal. I was allowed to dance in place only and without moving my hands. After my escort had reapplied a bit of lipstick and brushed her hair, she must have felt right, because she snatched the leash from me, looked me in the eye and laughed. She took a short hold of the leather, working her hand to the ring and pulled me close. She corrected both our postures, brought me up on my two big toes and turned the doorknob. 

She pushed the door open and yanked me into the building's main lobby before I realized what happened. There, directly in front of me, behind the black marble desk, was the blond receptionist and several friends. They all looked at me with stunned expressions that quickly turned to giggling. The door slammed shut and the place went quiet. The lobby was jammed with hundreds of well dressed business women standing around staring and no doubt, talking about me. I flushed with hot pink, became very dizzy and almost passed out, but a yank kept me conscious. The look on the receptionist's face brought a shame I could barely swallow, even as it was forced down my throat. At that moment, mortification hit me like a forty-five slug and ripped me open. My fingers clutched at my thighs and I turned redder and redder and redder, while reduced to tears. I didn't know which way to turn, but I needed to turn somewhere and my dance became agitated. My attendant turned her head with a warning.

"Decide now boy! Disobey and like I said, I'll let you go here and now. You'll be escorted to those doors and thrown out into the street," she whispered, pointing to the city through the large glass panes. "Ms. Handlesmen will find another. You will not be allowed upstairs again and your clothes will be mailed to you. So! I'm getting tired of this, what will it be," she continued with a tug I obediently followed.

The lobby was mobbed and the murmuring became a rumble. I sent my eyes aloft, to stare at the ceiling, while guided through a virtual maze of business women. These ruffians thought nothing of poking me with things, jabbing and making fun. This was truly the most humiliating moment of my entire life and I almost felt as if I were in the street. I wondered if that was next and if I could survive it, would survive it. The reflection in the ceiling was of a great many females, important figures I'm sure, to the business world. It seemed as if they were gathered for a particular reason, a grand opening of sorts. Champagne was being served by roving waitresses and to one side of the lobby were several tables piled high with brochures. The weight of this event magnified every comment and leer I couldn't elude. When I wiggled in adjustment to my stem and plug, the mortification automatically stoked roars of laughter and a flood of my tears. I sailed along on choppy seas, in an ark built from fear of losing my first and only lover, in a refuge from the world around me. It was navigated by an old salt, with the aid of a painful rudder. I watched myself led across the lobby, through the crowds and into a beauty salon.

The room was large, well lit and contained plenty of mirrors. Unfortunately, I could see my reflection from any direction I looked and found that worse then being seen. The room was painted pastel blue and a row of chairs ran along one long wall. Many chairs were occupied by women reading magazines and waiting. All the magazines and newspapers went down, all clipping and yaking stopped, when they got a load of me. I could feel every set of eyes congregating on my most private parts and I continued blushing from head to toe. I flashed like a Christmas tree-full of flickering red bulbs and clamped down on my intruders in frustration. I caught several eyefuls as my collar would allow, but I really didn't care to, at this point. There were several barber chairs, some occupied by ladies having their hair fixed, or what ever it is they do. I was led to a chair and my collar removed. Yes, my guide was very pretty and I wondered why she hadn't taken an interest in me. I then saw a multitude of women staring at me and I let my head drop in disgrace. I've learned to wear the 'embarrassed little boy' look well.

Now that I could see all the eyes looking at me, I wanted my collar back. At least that shielded me some. There were so many eyes from so many directions I felt under siege. The eyes pushed and pulled on me from across the room, yet I couldn't look up at one.

My chair was quite different from the others, and looked more like a chair belonging to a mad scientist then a hair stylist. It wasn't as big or comfortable as the others, but it wasn't dainty. It was constructed of steel, a pair of contoured metal two-by-fours, two metal discs for seats, and four adjustable metal poles. There was one pole in each of the chair's corners, two went straight up and two came off at an angle toward me. The pair of poles that came off at an angle ended with stirrups. The girl with the deep blue eyes helped me onto the chair by grabbing hold of my harness ring and maneuvering me backwards. I landed on the metal discs, which became my seat, and half what I expected. Each piece was barely large enough to support one ass cheek. My spine settled against the chair, formed to the curves of the narrow support and my head dropped over a smooth rolled metal edge. Another lady stepped forward.

The women lifted my arms above me, until my wrists could be attached with leather straps, to the top of poles directly behind and to the sides of me. Then my legs were stretched along the poles that went off at an angle, my heels fit into the stirrups and my ankles strapped down. Each pole was adjusted, bent and made longer and then readjusted, bent and made longer again. Once stretched, my ass cheeks barely tickled the metal discs, my head hung back uselessly, and I was forced to look behind me at the top of a counter. I tried relaxing and floating away, while my body lay splayed for the enjoyment of all around me.

I laid back, listening inattentively to conversations around me. I watched the lady with the deep blue eyes stirring something that was heating in a small cauldron. She turned to me with a pair of scissors and a wicked grin that chased me into a familiar corner. Then she winked, licked her lips and blew me a kiss, a tease I swallowed like a fish. She moved for me. Saliva oozed from the corners of my mouth, ran down the sides of my face, over cheeks and into my ears, which soon filled and made hearing difficult. With scissors in one hand and a big grin, her free hand grabbed a fistful of my hair. It took her less then a minute to hack it all off, a little longer to shave my scalp with a razor and then she went back to her cauldron.

"Now just relax sweet thing, this may sting a little, but I know you can take it. I hear you're a big boy," she said from over her shoulder, with another wink and blown kiss. She turned and applied a thick brush-full of hot wax to my right wrist, slathering down my entire arm without the least concern for my pain. It was the largest brush I had ever seen, almost a mop and the burning pain caused me to scream at the top of my lungs, cramp up and strain against my binds. My screams erupted as gurgles, violent ebullitions. Like tiny volcanoes the corners of my mouth spewed as I pulled and yanked hopelessly at my restraints like a pinned animal. I discovered the waxing worse than I had been led to believe, but I wouldn't hold that against Ms. Handlesmen; how could I. Even after this, I could never lay blame at her feet, for that was my place, at her feet and at her feet is where I longed to be.

"Fran," my tormentor yelled. "Please begin picking off the wax as it dries, while I continue coating its body. Ms. H wants every hair removed, except for eyebrows and lashes." I heard them both laugh at that. "Only heaven knows why she's allowing it to keep its brows and lashes. It would look much better without them."

"Ya' got that right. Sure Barb, no problem, I'd love to," I heard a voice respond. A new face popped into view and its owner began testing the wax, picking at small pieces of it. I twisted to the added discomfort and looked to my tormentor for pity. Barb, the lady who escorted me here, moved around to between my legs. Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap! I closed my eyes and squealed as she wailed against the insides of my thighs. I jerked to every swat and withered erotically. "Be still young man or I'll slap you silly... understand," she hissed in a barrage. I had been crying and salivating for so long by then, my head was dripping wet. I shook my head yes and tried to tell her I understood, but the pain was too great. My words kept erupting from behind my gag as a frothy splattering of bubbles. She then came around to my left arm with another brush-full of hot wax.

I tried desperately to keep still for her and I actually think she appreciated my efforts. Through my tears I saw her smiling down on me while she finished coating the arm.

I was jumping to the removal of the wax from my right arm, as it took my hairs with it, roots and all. Fran, the lady performing that task, took real pleasure in my pain and pulled at the pieces of wax slowly, with the intent of prolonging my agony. By now my spit and tears ran freely down the sides of my face, rinsing each other away in alternating waves that fell like rain to the floor.

Barb was between my legs again, this time slathering the wax onto my chest. The torture forced me back onto the narrow support as far as my restraints would allow. I twisted from side to side, bounced my cheeks up and down on their seats and yanked from all four limbs. My useless efforts earned me several more slaps on my thighs. One of Barbs hands finally wrapped itself around my balls, fingers and thumb meeting in an effort to hold me still. Then she slathered my belly and down my abdomen. She made some comments to Fran as she went to dip her brush again, about how hard I stayed and how cute I looked throbbing from the leather restraints. She returned to lay a brush-full of wax onto my right ankle and slather it over my foot. She moved the brush from my toes to my knees and beyond. By the time her brush reached my waist, she'd coated my entire leg, up to my butt cheek. She turned to her cauldron and then to my other leg.

I, in the meantime, continued unabated, straining and crying uncontrollably as both women performed their functions. I neither saw nor cared about the other women as they came to watch. I could feel them gathered around in small mobs; suited, snobby executives enjoying misery. I couldn't hear anything through flooded ears, or over my own screams, the ones reverberating about in my head, but I sensed the substance of all around me. They thrilled at watching me peeled and skinned alive. Never had I felt such pain and never have I put on such a show. I believed any pain would seem minor after that and that must have been why Ms. Handlesmen put me through it. Was it an hour or two, a day or three, a week, I didn't know or care.

"You've been a good boy so far, don't spoil things now," Barb said over my wailing. After the waxing and rewaxing of some stubborn areas, I found myself turned over by four pair of rough and ready hands and fastened face down on the chair. After minor adjustments I was strapped into place and the waxing of my back began. Again I withered under intense agony and strained till sore. My behind received all the discipline now, which came as several sound spankings.

"Calm down Joey, calm down boy... Everything's fine," Barb was yelling over my shoulder as she continued beating my behind with her open palm, and a leathery palm it was. 

After Barb finished with the waxing, she came to stand between my legs again. Again she grabbed my balls in one hand and began spanking me with the other. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! God, she loved to spank me and the results reverberated about the salon. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! It was easy to tell she enjoyed pummeling my behind, by the way she got into it and she continued until she had every sinew in my body stretched taut. I was a canvas drawn skintight for an artist's rendition of suffering or captain's quarter, and I was kept so. As Barb continued, Fran moved along my body, peeling away my hair with the dried wax. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

I don't know when I'd cried harder or longer. Was spanking a game of competition between women? Now that I was facing down, my ears drained a little and I could see my tears fall from my eyes and splatter about the floor. I was a raging storm, an overfilled thunder cloud suddenly burst open and I soon produced a pool of salt water on the floor below me. Through it all, it was Barb's manipulation of my balls that dominated my mind and kept me humping as if in revelry. That alone helped me tolerate the pains of her spanking and Fran's peeling.

The most wonderful moments came when the ladies worked between my thighs together, on the areas around the contraption I was strapped into. They didn't remove anything, they simply grabbed and manipulated my organ as needed, to suit their purposes and my libido's ferment. The most painfully, pleasurable moment, came when they attacked my balls together. Ohhhh, the sensation of being taken in hand and completely enveloped, is heavenly. They each took one in a strong grip and pulled in their own direction. They lifted me from the chair and held me in the air, even as they continued working.

When they were finally finished, they once again flipped me over, face up and strapped me in place. They slathered my body with a cooling ointment that relieved some of the sting, and then left me to calm down. They braced my head up, so the ladies who passed could see me and I them. Alone, in pairs and groups, the women came and went. I felt like the frog, stretched in the high school students specimen tray, dissected, probed and my parts labeled. I felt like a side show freak that people paid to stare and laugh at and yet, I felt as if I'd finally fit in somewhere.

With the painful oscillations came my newly discovered eroticism. I was dominated by my penis, which enjoyed my discomfort very, very much. It hardened and took its gratification in proportion to my body's humiliation and pain. An odd couple are we. How was it so? In all my years I'd never accepted humiliation and pain to be my weaknesses, but Ms. Monroe must have known. As ever more women came to view me, I let my mind relax and my body become more limp, in hopes of allowing myself to open for their pleasures. I wished to open like an early morning flower awakening to the day's first rays of sunlight. The passing women represented many of the rays emanating from the powerful source under which I was blossoming.




BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 09



I only spent half a day in that chair, fondled repeatedly and spanked occasionally. Every employee must have dropped in; it seemed in the hundreds, with many returning more then twice. I was some type of outlandish curio, made more so by the leather contraption eating into me. Much later, I was escorted back to Ms. Handlesmen's office and we traveled along the same humiliating route we used to get here. I'll never forget the receptionist's eyes when she spotted the new, hairless me. They nearly popped out of her head, but I could no longer mind. I wanted her to see me like this and I couldn't wait for the woman I loved to see me now.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 10



Chapter Ten: Back in Baby's Hand

The foot long stem buried in my butt kept me on my toes.

I found myself alone with Ms. Handlesmen, in her office. I was standing to her left, at the corner of her desk, looking at the wall in front of me. I blended in with one of her pictures, as she pored over business reports and signed documents, acting as though I wasn't there. I was collared, still in my harness, and gagged. I was yet trembling and sniffling softly from the waxing. My body stung and the harness had developed into a troublesome intrusion, to say the least. But, I stood before my lady with pride, proud to know I was 'her man', awaiting my reward.

While my lover finished her work, I calmed down enough to bring my tears under control. My slurps, snivels, and moans became hisses and quiet fizzes, from the corners of my ball-gag. I heard her pushing her chair back and would have squealed when I felt her pinch my left testicle between a thumb and finger. She pinched me hard and I went up on my toes higher, tiptoeing close as she pulled. My toes were getting stronger and more agile. When she released me, it was to pull a trashcan near and remove my fan collar. She laughed when she saw how wet I'd gotten it after drooling and crying on it all day.

"My you're quite the drooler too, aren't you? Ahh, yes indeed. You're just one big juicy fruit... Aren't you? And I just know you taste as good as you look," she said, speaking in a low, sexy voice. Her voice and warm smile made me stamp my feet in excitement. She held the fan over the can and let the fluids drip from it, then she folded it and placed it aside. Her description of me had my imagination conjuring up melons, pears and plums. 

I looked down at my hairless body and at my penis that bulged from the confines of its strange prison. Gripped in an untamed rage, it boldly jutted out in front of me, aroused, ready and spirited. It was wrapped in its straight jacket; a loony bin's girdle, a Saxon's iron maiden, and yet... And yet, my organ actually wore the leather as if it were the armor and weapons of Zeus, with pride and a regal conceit that made my intellect sick. But then Ms. Handlesmen looked me over with an air of complete satisfaction and stoked fires already swollen with anticipation. As usual, reason was consumed by infatuation and I was left wondering why contrary notions ever arose at all.

"You're perfect Joey..." Ms. Handlesmen stated, pulling me into reality. Her every utterance kept me alive and beaming with the self-confidence I required, so I stayed impetuously receptive to each and every one of her quiet breaths. I oozed with tenacity for all the self-desecration my lover demanded, that sprang from learning I had succeeded at love at last; at least I thought so. Yes, love, and a very pretty lady coveted me in return, which was more than I had hoped for. "...And though you've come a long way Joey, I'm going to bring you a lot further. I realize now that you're a quick learner, and I appreciate that in a male, I really do, and I think you can tell." Her eyes had a dreamy look to them and I stared at her dumbfounded, shaking my head 'yes... Of course I understood'.

She reached for a cigar, bit and chewed its end, then spit the dark brown wad at me. The wet bolus hit me high up on the belly and stuck, bringing a chuckle from her. It was a thick Cuban Romeo Y Julieta and she took the end in her mouth. I immediately reached for the lighter sitting on the desk and sparked it, then moved quickly to hold the flame under the cigar's tip, in a respectful manner. I could see in her eyes she was pleased by my service and I had succeeded again. I struggled to keep my hands steady as she rolled the cigar's tip in the flame. I know she appreciated the way I kept my soiled body away from her clean clothes.

I watched fascinated by the sensuous movements of her lips and cheeks, as she drew the flame to the tobacco. She rolled the cigar in her fingers and I impertinently replaced it with an image of my boner. Immediately I caught and chastised myself for such indecent thoughts and then went on. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Isn't that exactly why I'm here, to develop a relationship with someone of the opposite sex? Yes!

The room filled with the wonderful aromas of coffee, chocolate and spice. They were smells that tickled and pleased the palette and easily stimulated my penis, which pulsated to just about every damn thing. With the cigar lit, I placed the lighter aside and once again came to attention before her. I hoped she would free my organ, prayed she could see how uncomfortable the restraints continued becoming. But she just smiled and seemed pleased, so I edged closer to her. I wished she would at least reach out and touch me, even if simply to swat, as that would be kinder than no touching at all. The wad of tobacco had surrendered a thin stream of juice that reached my navel. The brown runlet of muck had dripped into and around the shallow crater, accumulating and then traveling lower.

With a finger's movement she bade me bend over, placed her cigar aside and reached behind my head for the straps to the gag. I let out a grateful moan after she'd succeeded in working the ball from my mouth and had tossed it into the waste pail. I worked my jaw in circular motions, clenched my teeth and sucked on my own tongue, attempting to get some feeling back. She caught me under the chin with the tip of a forefinger and brought my head before hers. I became dizzier and almost fainted while penetrating her aura. I was entranced, immersed in her warm breaths and warmer scents. I didn't allow my eyes to close, nor even blink, as I wanted to see her up close and not miss a thing. I needed to examine every square micro-millimeter of her body as she continued getting closer. Suddenly I could feel it in my gut; it began deep and welled to the surface quickly, and in one swift surge it overflowed. For some reason, even I'd been able to tell it was going to happen, I actually felt it coming... And it did... Our lips touched. My first real kiss.

It was but a peck that almost didn't exist, but it produced a spark capable of generating life. It was a lightening bolt that shot through me and electrified the stem buried in my behind. I jumped to the sudden shock, to the explosive tingle that heralded another realized dream. Oh how I fought with my well-bridled desires, my underdeveloped male instincts, to attack and gobble Ms. Handlesmen up. I wanted to bite her, to lick her entire body and make her scream if I could. I wanted to act out a chapter from some naughty book. My heart was pounding its way out of my chest trying harder then ever to escape, and I found my breath more labored and deeper then ever. When her lips bounced away, it was the removal of life support, the end of a universe. I had lived from alpha to omega in but a moment, and found myself standing tall before her once more. My mind stayed knotted around that first kiss, taped into the reverberating sensations and establishing roots for the first time.

"It's been a terribly frustrating day for me, Joey," Ms. Handlesmen said with an exasperated huff, once again reaching for her cigar. I noticed that she put her cigars down often yet they never extinguished. I stood quivering in the aftermath of the kiss and under the weight of today's degradation, as she lay back in the comfort of her chair exhaling a thick cloud of rich smoke in my direction. I inhaled, catching her exhaust as she went on. "Joey, I hired you because I'm a bit selfish, actually I'm spoiled, a spoiled brat and a queen bitch..." She saw my surprised look while continuing. "...It's true Joey, it's in my blood, in my genes, and it's the way I was raised, as unbelievable to you as that may seem." Everything seemed relevant to me and everything my lover did unblemished, free of stain. I adored her, and stood there digesting each of her words as if commandments from God. "Now, because I'm spoiled, I always get what I want. Always have and always will, one way or another. In this case Joey, I need an outlet for my frustrations..." Ms. Handlesmen's voice suddenly became somewhat girlish, and its tone tickled me in a warm way, as did so many things about her. "...After all, I'm just a human being." Her words were followed by a profound silence, a quick puff on her cigar and my quizzical daze. It was as if we'd unearthed the greatest of discoveries, but she went on immediately. "I need something to work my rage out upon, something through which I can expel the accumulation of the day's malice and spite. Daily, I am left filled with wrath demanding release, hatred brought on by the tensions and stupidity of those lice-bitten..." She suddenly stopped again to puff and exhale thoughtfully. I realized it was all irrelevant to me even as she went on. "...Be that as it may... I need a set of worry beads Joey, a punching bag if you will... You understand dear, I know you do. I need something like you." We looked at each other. "Understand Joey, frustration and satisfaction is what big business, marriage, and all life is about. Frustration and release, not love and hate, is the engine of all human relationships. It is the foundation and guiding principle for all religions, political parties, marriages, and all sexual affairs, as you are about to learn. You best forget any of that equality crap you've heard of in newspapers and television. Believe me, no two females are ever equal." She began uttering many of her words with sharp, stirring pronunciations, and I was trying to stand straight and not shift my weight from foot to foot. She took another couple drags, a critical look at my penis and looked to my eyes. "There is always someone bigger, stronger, smarter and even dumber, be that the case. In your case Joey, and for those as fortunate as you, God made women in her own image and for you, one woman like me." She continued staring at me and I was unable, unwilling to turn my eyes away. "There is a universal wind sweeping across the landscape and with it comes change, retribution and rectification. The era of the woman is at hand Joey, and men will cede authority."

I would never argue with Ms. Handlesmen, I believed everything she said, I just wanted to take her home, for her to take me home, but she kept talking. "The responsibility, though a great burden foisted on the backs of every determined woman, brings our species its only chance for survival. We at Biprods Inc. are a beacon from the future... But I do carry on so," she suddenly conceded looking up to me thoughtfully, with a little smirk; yet she needed to fit in a few extra words. "Joey, every great leader needs something she can use as an escape, so to speak. Something available, capable of inducing calm and accepting the release of pressures that would otherwise destroy." She took another drag on her cigar and looked at me with eyes so achromatic and clear, I could have dove into them, and in away I actually had. 

I swam in her warm blue lakes as another plume of rich blue smoke, a pennant of sheer blue fabric, rose through the air between us heading to the ceiling. But the stem's point again called to me from deep inside, with an ache that had me pleading with my eyes. I prayed and screamed internally for the removal of the butt plug. I couldn't take the bung's constant pressure any longer, it was an object of such painful dimensions it drove me to the point of demanding its removal... That damn stem! Sure it was thin, but it reached so damn deep it still caused me to retch. Her words snapped me back.

"Joey, I want you to be my safety valve. I want you, Joey. You're the first male to have come this far and I find myself drawn to you as to no other. I hope I never frighten you away Joey, I do that sometimes," my lover continued speaking as I began crying again. She turned on her chair a little and moved forward.

She must have heard my mental pleas finally, because she placed her cigar aside and reached for my restraints. She peeled open the straps running across my penis one at a time and each eighth-inch of freedom brought a rush of fresh blood to my throbbing hard-on. Another simple liberty I had taken for granted, I now prayed to never lose again. Of course my prayer was for naught, because all circumstances were out of my control. My hard-on sprang free and came to attention before his mistress, pulsating blue veins bigger, thicker, and pumping more blood then ever.

While looking up at me, Ms. Handlesmen's cool sophistication suddenly vanished. She now looked upon me with a warmth I felt could protect me through an arctic night and it reinforced what I had known all along... I was in love. I watched her use a large towel to cover her lap and needed no more than a glance from her. I draped myself over her thighs and adjusted, well aware of what she expected and even without seeing her expression I could tell she was pleased.

Not wishing to get her hands dirty, my mistress took her time working my balls out through the rubber 'O' ring. She was pleased by my quiet acceptance of the pain she caused. She was quite rough with my gems, using the tips of her fingers and nails only. She took more time when it came to the plug. She seemed fascinated by the way my sphincter gripped its neck and several times worked it to the brink of popping free, the point at which I was opened the furthest. Then, when my eyes were bulging in anticipation of the plug's removal, when my breath had been held beyond its limit, she'd let go. My rectum would snap shut and swallow the plug in a gulp, filling my rear portal with pain. The far end of the stem poked at a new spot somewhere just outside my stomach, from inside my bowels.

"Oooohhhhh..." I exhaled in a long sigh when Ms. Handlesmen finally pulled the plug free and allowed my sphincter to close. Being Ms. Handlesmen, she kept the stem lingering in my behind. I heard her chuckle as she began riding it in and out of my rectum. She moved it in long deep strokes that drove me out of my mind. It scraped at my insides with each full plunge, of which there were plenty. When she did remove the stem, she placed it on the floor for me to see and I couldn't believe I had spent the entire day with all that inside me. My lover then began relieving her tensions.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Ms. Handlesmen began slowly, and gently. It was the beginning of another long sweet tune and I accompanied her with choruses of 'oooohs and ahhhhhs'.

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! My cheeks got into the rhythm immediately, bouncing and quivering to the rapidly developing beat. My penis chaffed against the terry cloth towel, drooling and secreting gobs of lubrication. Together, Ms. Handlesmen and I played to one another. Like lovers, our erotic symphony filled the otherwise quiet room; my distress counter-balancing her satisfaction. She stopped occasionally to draw from her cigar and contemplate her next notes, then she'd continue.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! My lover soon had me crying and I cried and cried for her to spare me, to stop but a moment. But my pleas were water to the magma that dwelt within, oxygen that turned her flames into a raging firestorm. Everything I produced stoked her passions, stroked it and kept it explosive. She occasionally stopped simply to allow her hands a moment to roam and explore. She seemed to be searching for some new spot of my body, an unexplored pore, and to me her every touch was a new touch. She was certainly excited by my hairless body and after all, it was her idea.

"Mine all mine," I heard her murmur as her spankings increased in severity. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Her hand descended like a barrage of meteorites and I squirmed in her lap under the torrent, begging for forgiveness, atoning for things I hadn't done; but she continued ever harder.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! My poor ass was afire, how much more could it take, could I take, and how much more could my mistress' hand take.

"M...M...Ms...Han...dle...esm...en... ple...ase," I sobbed into the air. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, ...ple...ease... let... me... res... st...t...t...t..." I blubbered, suddenly becoming dizzy and weak. When I came around, I was still over Ms. Handlesmen's lap. She was finishing her cigar and humming a happy tune to herself. The first thing I felt was my ass, which burned terribly. "Come along now Joey, on your knees," she was saying. She was waiting for me to awaken and slip from my perch. I awoke as excited as ever and dropped before her still blubbering like a baby. "Take this Joey," she said handing me a small black saucer. I took it in my left hand. "Now Joey, kneel up straight, place your right hand behind your head and hold that saucer under your little pee pee... That's a good boy," she said as I conformed. I was still shaking and crying from the pain of the spanking, but knelt before her as if awaiting the Medal of Honor. I caught my breath and tears when she bent forward enough for her hand to reach my penis. I almost came on the spot, but Ms. Handlesmen was in control and held me at bay with a little pressure from a few fingers. My lover could control an active volcano.

"Now Joey," she said in a jovial way. She was looking my penis over and adjusting to her own comfort. She looked up. "Let's see how well I do today, shall we. Today I plan providing my little toy a full ejaculation, which should prove very enlightening for both of us," she sparkled, while her fingers teased me and prodded the pressures building up deep inside. I now knelt sweating, shaking and tensing to the imminent explosion awaiting Ms. Handlesmen's go-ahead. Just like that, the tears vanished and I no longer considered my burning behind or discomfort, debasement or humiliation. "You be sure to hold that saucer still, Joey. Keep it just like you have it now, so I can empty the entire load onto it. If any of your filth lands on my carpet, I will consider it your fault and I will be very, very upset with you, understand?" I shook my head yes, as Ms. Handlesmen helped me position the saucer to her liking.

"Remember what I told you Joey," she warned again. I continued nodding yes, while panting. I looked down at our meeting place. She was stroking my boner between the thumb and index finger of her left hand, its palm faced up. She moved in slow, gentle back and forth motions. I struggled to hold the saucer still, as she drew my eruption near and my knees fell into sink holes. "Hold the saucer still, Joey. Hold it steady damn it. Now watch Joey dear, I'm about to drain those balls onto it. Remember, this is your offering to me." I heard her words as a blur, but with those words she pumped me onto the plate. I could see nothing but flashes of lightening and felt the surge of a bursting dam.

I looked into space, lights sparkling across my mind, explosions rampart. I did all I could to keep from falling over, as the feeling of her soft fingers wringing the seeds from my organ wracked through my body. She stroked me in a controlled fashion, allowing her to empty me like a tube of toothpaste. My eyes fluttered, closed and I struggled to hold the plate in its position, while cuming in great gushes that Ms. Handlesmen controlled with two digits of her left hand.

When I calmed down enough to see, I was still in Ms. Handlesmen's hand, in her palm and I had successfully kept a grip on the saucer. The small black china paten was coated with gobs of warm accumulations. She let me go, slid back in her chair, picked up her cigar and looked at me quizzically.

"Well," she asked as if surprised by my hesitation. I knew what was expected of me and held my offering up to my lover.

"I really did a good job this time Joey and that's just the beginning," she said, acknowledging my gift with a special nod. I brought the saucer down to my view. Again the strong indescribable odor attacked me when it reached my face. It still made me gag, but I was getting accustomed to it. I sent my gaze up to Ms. Handlesmen and she made me aware of her impatience. I brought the saucer to my mouth and did her bidding. In a few deep slurps I cleaned the plate and opened my mouth to show her. "Good boy. Now chew your food, swallow it and clean your plate," she said. It took awhile to chew the required one hundred times and a few big swallows, but then I licked the plate clean. My lover finished her cigar and used the toe of her shoe to bring me back to life, as if her look was not enough.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 11



Chapter Eleven: A Softhearted Dose of Strap Oil

I woke up this morning with a song on my lips, a lyrical heart and loins ablaze. My thoughts were of love and Ms. Handlesmen. I was a new man, no... a boy, born just three days ago. I was alive for the first time in twenty years. One whiff of life was all I'd needed, but I'd been allowed to hear it, see it, and taste it. I felt it with all my being and it was wonderful, beyond anything I could have imagined. I never appreciated how small I was until I discovered women and the universe. Now I soared without care, swept up in an obscene chaos that transcended time and space.

I was in love with Ms. Handlesmen and I felt, no, I hoped, she was in love with me. No other woman had ever treated me in the way she had. She made me feel like something special and I could tell she cared about me. For sure she was a bit heavy handed, but everyone has little idiosyncrasies; some of us fetishes or heavy obsessions, but... She was soft handed too. True, we had not engaged in sexual intercourse yet, whatever that meant. But even I understood that love is not dependent on sexual union. She had used her hand on me, allowed me the pleasure of using her hand and this alone endeared me to her. Oh, sure she balanced those pleasures with a good amount of pain and tons of humiliation, but these were small prices to pay the one you love.

I kept mulling these ideas over in my mind, like bad dreams I couldn't shake and good dreams I sought to continue. When allowed, my mind grappled with my sudden change in life style and profound self-discoveries. Consequently, because my mind needed to sort and analyze, it was at odds with the rest of me. The rest of me existed on the threshold of satiation and couldn't give a flying fuck about sorting and analyzing; what ever a 'flying fuck' is. My mind needed to take me aside and rationalize everything, so I kept pushing it into a closet and locking it away.

I found it somewhat easier to not play with myself this morning. Though the urge was forever gripping me, I simply subdued it with thoughts of her, Ms. Handlesmen, her words and warnings, her promises. Once again I virtually bounced to work, as happy as a lark.

Today I would be provided yet another office uniform. Maybe not my official uniform, because Ms. Handlesmen had several to choose from and was having a difficult time deciding. I guessed I would be modeling a new uniform daily until she found one that suited her, but I didn't mind.

Always prompt, I was in the secretary's office at nine sharp, disrobing. Once naked and with street clothes hung neatly, I turned and faced the secretary. I stood erect with my chest out and my hard-on in a solid salute before a lady who hadn't so much as glanced in my direction. All my actions were no more then she expected. I brought my feet and legs closer together, forcing my extremely tight scrotum into prominence. It still felt strange to be hairless, almost inhuman. When the secretary finally looked up, she couldn't help but smile. Her smile became a grin as she pushed her glasses up on her nose and ordered me into Ms. Handlesmen's office. Feeling sissified and proud at the same time in her presence, I walked with poise and grace to the door and entered, hoping my lover would be there. I found the lights low, and what I would call, romantic. I sighed with relief when I saw Ms. Handlesmen next to a beam of sunlight. It traveled from between parted drapes in a most dramatic display. I closed the door and came to attention facing her.

"Good morning ma'am," I offered in my meek inoffensive way. There was a solid beam of sunshine settled beside her and it dazzled. My hands twitched with the rest of my body and my throbbing hard-on drooled like a teething baby, but in a salute this woman had come to expect. Ms. Handlesmen picked up a cup of coffee from her desk and took a sip. I could see it was black, probably unsweetened and its aroma was as strong as her cigars. My lady was a paradox. She looked the complete opposite of the way she acted.

"Come around the desk Joey, come stand in front of me. I want you in the sunlight so I can get a good look at you," she said with a snap of her fingers. "The brightness doesn't last forever, so hurry!" She was pointing to the floor, in the center of that uneven circle of light that beamed through her window. The drapes were parted, separated and tied off, allowing for another lit stage I was expected to enter. She slid her chair back and to the side, just outside of the light. I moved quickly around the desk and into the spot, bringing my penis to stand before her. It was a puppet I prepared to put into action for her; or more to the point, a puppet she was about give life to for me.

I watched her eyes crawling up slowly along my body, carefully scanning. I stood straight as I could, pulled in my gut, stuck out my chest and then my groin. I looked down at my cruel lover in adoration, my eyes moving over the swell of her bosom, hoping I pleased her. When I spotted her left hand moving closer I pushed my pelvis forward, and in her favorite way, she grabbed my left testicle with her thumb and index finger. She worked her digits into me until an ice tong-like grip was obtained, a sure strong hold. She sent me onto my toes, the ones I learned to balance on yesterday. She got me to bend at the waist and my arms to bang against my thighs in an act of self-control. Instinctively my hands moved occasionally in defense, but I easily caught them and forced them back to my sides. A large smile spread across Ms. Handlesmen's face and I knew she was pleased, and so was I. 

"Stand," Ms. Handlesmen shouted only once and I brought myself up, even as she used her fingers to make me bend. My attempts made her chuckle and I was convinced she was simply testing my love. I turned as her fingers pulled me around on my toes, in a pirouette. She continued scanning my surface with the fingertips of her free hand, tracing along with her eyes. They gently skimmed my skin and I surmised, in search of single hair that may have evaded the waxing. My mind followed the slow moving phalange as it tickled and caused me to twist about from my left testicle. With my lover holding my testicle so high in the air I felt like a freshly caught fish that continued fighting playfully, uselessly, or was it panic? My mind bounced between the fingers of both her hands and my toes' agony. By the time I finished half a rotation, I was whimpering aloud and as high up on my toes as I'd ever been. At that point, her right hand took over for her left. By the time I came full circle I was sobbing aloud. She moved me a step back and released my testicle.

"Honey, stand straight," she ordered, while watching me fight to accomplish just that. It was near impossible after what my testis had been through, but suddenly I was 'honey', and I was ecstatic. "Stand with your feet six inches apart, toes in and put your hands behind your head. Pull your elbows back and stick that little toy out for me," she ordered. I brought myself into a shaky rendition of her request, as she slipped back in her chair and relaxed. I looked down at her and found her more beautiful then ever, and I was her 'honey'. I wanted to use the word also.

My lover was poured into a form fitted business suit. A three-piece gray and white pinstriped suit, over a severely starched white dress shirt and solid burgundy colored tie. Her thick red hair was down, in a wild seductive cascade about her shoulders. Her lips and nails were done to match her tie and when she looked up at me, I melted like a snowman on a hot summer day. I wanted to roar, I wanted to beg, I wanted to command, fall to my knees and grovel; I wanted to assert myself and debase myself as never before. I still wanted her to take me home with her.

My eyes lit up when I saw her reach for the towel, I couldn't wait to get over her lap, but she draped the towel over the desk edge nearest her. I needed no explanations; at least I was in her presence. I faced the towel and bent over the desk, waiting for her to show me the proper way. Her hands came to my hips and I followed their lead. She wanted my belly on the towel, my arms outstretched, gripping the far edge. She wanted my head back, chin up and feet flat on the floor, legs well spread. My back was to stay well arched, "that I should feel the air at my asshole and about my balls". My penis was to touch nothing, just bob about under me and dribble. She brought her mouth to the entrance of my right ear and blew into it quietly.

"Joey, there's so many nice things about you. I feel you understand me completely; it shows in your performances. You obey so quickly and without question, it's as if we were meant for each other. It's hard to believe we've only known each other for three days. I know I can tell you this, because you're a big boy Joey." Boy did I feel big! About ten foot tall and closer to her then anyone I'd ever known.

"Joey dear, I know executives that would kill to own you," Ms. Handlesmen said. I stared at her from over my shoulder and smiled nervously at the thought, but more thrilled by what she thought of me. We were, 'meant for each other'. Was I dreaming, or what? Her words proved to me I wasn't. "Kill! Do you understand me Joey? That should give you an idea of how valuable a commodity you are around here."

She stood unexpectedly and adjusted her jacket, then passed around to my left side. Why would she tell me about such things? I wouldn't leave her now, for anyone. Maybe she was preparing me for her departure, but that was absurd. Still the thought gripped at my heart. I would never have willingly belonged to another, never. And I would kill myself instantly if anything happened to Ms. Handlesmen. Like Romeo I could never live without my Juliet.

"Of course Joey, I would never kill, I can't stand the sight of blood," Ms. Handlesmen said with a smirk. "Spit and hockers, cum, vomit, urine and even shit, yes, but not blood. You know, I would tan the hide off anyone I caught attempting to steal you from me."

My head spun to my left and caught her as she arrived. I felt one of her soft hands land gently on my back, and its long delicate fingers skim the surface of my skin, causing goosebumps over my entire body. Her tips landed in the hollow and I arched to their suggestion, straining to make my ass cheeks higher and rear portal open. I felt my balls stirring between my legs, swaying to the rhythm of my boner's excitement. This would be my first early morning spanking by the hand of Ms. Handlesmen. I felt the tension and looked across the room, to a picture on one side of the doors. It could have been a mirror, because it was 'me' that I saw on that canvas, me. I saw no need to pity the pigment fellow, nor myself. We were about to receive pleasures through the pains of passion. Ms. Handlesmen's hand suddenly started in with a series of quick sharp slaps.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Her hand moved to cover my entire behind. I crunched in my neck and looked back over my shoulder like the hurt little boy I'd become. She was only warming up, but I gripped the far edge tight. I looked down at the pink towel, the word 'HERS', stared back at me.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. I grimaced and clenched my teeth as the pace of the spanking quickened and became harder. My lover was increasing the force. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! From where does so much femininity draw such power. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. I was looking into the air, at the painting, the ceiling, looking for nothing. I was crying out loud in no time, as her hand continued its assault and my tears flowed in streams. Smack- smack- smack- smack-smack- smack- smack! I was wiggling my behind frantically and my boner was whipping back and forth under me, spewing excitement. I craned my neck to heaven and screamed on. My entire body stayed rigid and my knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the desk, as if for my life. I was in a crashing roller coaster on my way to hell and was begging for my tormentor to stop but for a brief moment, yet continue into eternity.

I howled and begged for redemption from each swat... Yet I thrilled to them. They had become pleasurable, in a perverted way. The more I was punished, the harder my cock became and I was in a lot of pain. I was a raving pervert slut and I'd bet everyone at the company thought so too. My tears had drenched the 'HERS' and were spreading out. I felt my tears running down my cheeks and over my chin, many ended up in my mouth. I lapped at them with my tongue and for a brief moment, I was reminded of the first time I had ever been to the ocean. 

I was twelve years old at the time and my mother'd reluctantly taken me to California. Her sister had died and it was a family thing. It was our first night at my aunt's house on a beach, facing the ocean. The people from the next house were dear friends of my aunt and they had a daughter, Karri. She was two years older then me. The girl offered her services as a baby sitter, while her parents drove my mother to the funeral parlor. My mother took her up on it and the next thing I knew, I was standing ankle deep in water watching the sun disappear with this strange girl beside me. The beach was deserted and she stood very close to me, causing me all these strange feelings, warm hormonal feelings.

Anyway, I hadn't a clue as to what I should do and suddenly Karri reached her arms around me. I closed my eyes fully expecting my first kiss and then they almost popped out of their sockets. Karri had grabbed the waistband of my swimming trunks and pulled them down. She pulled and yanked me back and forth until she got them free of my feet. Then she held them in the air triumphantly, while I fumbled in front of her to cover my embarrassment, and begged. I was red faced and shamed, struggling to hide myself.

"Please, oh please," I wailed in pitifully wimpish drivel. "Someone will see me like this. Why did you do this to me," I asked woefully. But she stood there roaring in laughter. She was laughing so hard she bent at the waist and covered her mouth while tumbling about. With her free hand and before I realized what was happening, she reached down and grabbed a fistful of my pubic hairs. 

"Shut up! Shut up, or I'll slap you silly boy," she spit in my face with a laugh. She pulled on my pubes and brought me up before her, but never stopped chuckling. I took her wrist in my hands, but did little else then hold it gently and tremble before her in fear. I saw something strange in that girl's eyes, intriguing, evil and yet intoxicating. Out of shyness I left it unexplored, as I had and have almost every other opportunity in my life, but now I've rediscovered it in Ms. Handlesmen. Nervously I looked around the beach and over her shoulder. I hoped no one was passing and swallowed with relief when I found the beach still deserted.

"Just calm down boy, I'm not going to hurt you, if you're a good boy that is," Karri warned, emphasizing her point by pulling me even closer. She brought our faces together.

"Get your hands down, get them off me and keep them away from that little pud of yours," she snarled. She threw my trunks away and sat down, causing me to come tumbling after, landing across her thighs. It was then my face dipping under water and I got my first taste of the saline sea. How shocking the taste, made more so by the sudden assault.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Ms. Handlesmen continued as the ocean sea sunk from view. Since I was facing the door I saw it open and through my tears I recognized the secretary approaching. Although I hadn't noticed before, she was wearing blue. It was a bright peacock blue that seemed rather out of character for such a stern lady. I couldn't remember why I ignored such a blatant transformation. For some reason I crimsoned in shame knowing she had caught me like this. I couldn't understand why, as she had seen me naked so often. It must be my station in life, to bare humiliation and wear shame like an ermine wrap. It was degradation I needed and what my mistress provided. I sniveled and whimpered when possible, whenever my lover slowed down enough to give me a moment from screaming.

"My goodness, I could hear it screaming out in the hall," the secretary stated as sharply as the smacks my ass received. "Meeting's in ten minutes." I was on my toes, with my knees bouncing off the wooden desk drawers. Their rhythm sent out a gentle code, an erotic rap-a-tap-tap message for lovers everywhere. My ass was kept in the air by a sure, strong, rapidly moving mitt.

"Yes..." my vicious lover answered without missing a beat. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! "Yes... I'm... leaving... right... now," she exhaled in a satisfied gust of air. With reluctance, she ceased spanking me and adjusted her suit. "Please be so kind as to finish poor Joey's spanking for me and then dress him in the uniform laying on that chair." She was talking with the secretary and they looked to the chair, but I couldn't see it.

"Very good," the efficient secretary said, moving to replace the woman I loved. Oddly enough, the secretary first scooped my balls up in her palms, rolled them a bit and seemed to test their weight. Could she actually be interested in me?

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The secretary's hand started in and I watched the lady I love exit through a freshly charged salt-water mist. Then the secretary started to really wallop my behind.

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Ow." "Ow." "Ow." "Ow." "Ow."

"Be a good boy, Joey," Ms. Handlesmen shouted to me before closing the door between us. By now the sunlight illuminated the entire room, the theater was between performances and the star practiced his lines to the beat of a very stern drama teacher. His lover had just exited, blowing him a kiss on her way out.

Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap. The secretary's spanking was harder and her flurry quicker then Ms. Handlesmen. Her hand was hot and her skin tougher too. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. She had me standing on my two big toes, lifted into the air by her hand's sharp upper movements against the lower portions of my bottom cheeks. Her hand landed again and again with devastating consequences and I was sobbing so hard and screaming so loud, my voice became strained.

"Come on, let's hear you scream. Tell the ladies down the hall what you're made of," she yelled through gritted teeth. "I want to hear you scream! I want to hear you beg, little boy! Everyone wants to hear you!" Her hand traveled around and over both hemispheres, attempting to spread the punishment evenly. My ass cheeks were on fire and I did beg, I did plead for my life. 

"P...Pl...Pleas...se...ma'...am..." I wailed over and over again, to my cold Sybarite. Through the pain and loud wallops, through tears and my own sobbing, I could sense her satisfaction. I had seen it in my lover's eyes and now in the secretary's, the inevitable delight my suffering provided both.

I was left on my toes, ass high and still lurching after the spankings ceased. The secretary had gone to the couch to fetch today's uniform. I was left with my head lowered, crying bitterly, my body shivering and spasming uncontrollably. My fingers were chalk white from gripping the desk edge and I still grimaced with teeth clenched. I hadn't seen her walk away, nor approach.

"Come on now, stop that sniveling, it's time to prepare you for work," she said in a harsh voice. She took me by the lobe of my left ear and hauled me up to stand before her. I stood trembling, crouched slightly at the waist, still sobbing. My hands were at my sides with fingers splayed, near but not touching my sore behind. I could feel the heat radiating from my buttocks, and knew my globes glowed a bright red. The tears poured from my eyes, running in long streams down the front of my body. I was gasping in fits, sniveling like a beaten child attempting to catch his breath and then the knowing woman poked my penis with the tip of her finger. It was the nail and its meaty tip, but that was all it took.




BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 11



She had reached down with her left hand and was moving the tip of one nail lightly along the underside of my throbbing hard-on. It worked and while she laughed in my face, the finger's tip acted like a powerful aphrodisiac, a narcotic that blocked the pains emanating from my rump. I sniffled some and caught my breath. Then I sighed and expelled a long, deep lung full of pent up passions.

"Th..th..a...ank you...ma...ma'am," I offered through quivering lips and another deep breath.

"That's a good boy," she whispered in mocking encouragement. She then left me standing alone, looking like a deaf, dumb and blind fool. She took a deep breath also, but one of accomplishment and picked up a long piece of material. It looked like a woman's body stocking, white and transparent. It had mounds of ruffles and padded footies.

"Here's your new uniform," she said taking it in her two hands to hold open for me. It was another humiliating outfit, small enough for an infant and yet a lot more then anything else I'd been allowed to wear. It consisted of several buttonholes connected by another space-age material. The buttonholes were elastic openings. It looked as shear as shear could be, but white enough to almost see.

"Let's get you into this so you can begin earning your wages," the secretary said while working her fingers through a couple buttonholes. I looked on in astonishment, as the holes expanded to accept her two hands.  She then began gathering the almost invisible film together. She pulled and rolled it into her hands until one foot was available, then she sat down on a chair and had me bring my foot up.

I steadied myself with a hand on the desk and lifted my leg so the secretary could slip the footed part on. The foot had a thinly padded bottom. The white material stretched unbelievably about me and she worked it carefully up my leg. She stopped to bring the other padded bottom to my other foot. The material disappeared as it traveled, clinging to my body like a watercolor, a second skin.

Soon she was working my second skin up over my thighs and when she'd worked the material to my waist, she needed stop only long enough to work my testicles through an appropriately positioned hole. The hole looked to be the size of a belly button and I couldn't believe she'd even attempt forcing my balls through it.

"Now don't fight me boy! Just relax and I wont hurt you," she said. She was looking up at me and I nervously shook my head, unable to catch my breath again. The secretary's fingers slipped in through the expandable hole and grabbed one of my testicles.  Her fingernails dug into my sack and then she squeezed until I went up on my toes where I belonged, with a squeal. "That's a good boy! That's a good little guy, I got you. Just relax Joey, I've got you. You're safe, trust me, trust me," she said looking up at me, looking down at her. She wore a grin inversely proportional to my alarm. What a sight I must have made, dancing before her like a one legged ballerina as she worked. She worked first one testicle and then the other out through the tiny hole. My entire sack soon hung free and rested in the palm of her hand. The hole, which had grudgingly expanded to accept the passage of my testicles, snapped tight, constricting around the narrowest part of my sack.

"See, that didn't hurt you, you big baby," the secretary said while adjusting the vessels and tubes pinched by the elastic. She put my tubes into a comfortable order and finished by slapping my scrotum around. Looking down, I noticed the rim of the hole was trimmed in long white lace that encircled my scrotum like a miniature tutu. "Are they pretty, or what? Come on now, let's finish getting you into this," she blurted out, breaking into an amazing interest. The secretary continued stretching and working the material up my body, till I needed to slip my hands and arms through the narrowest sleeves I'd ever seen. They were the same size holes as all the others and took a lot of work. Feeling a bit strange, I looked behind me and then down. I noticed my buttocks were not covered.  My swollen, bright red cheeks, stuck out through a hole also edged in white lace.

"Yes my dear boy and I suggested it, the lace that is. I believe you were made to wear lace... You should be taken out in public dressed in lace and wear it at all times. If your mother were alive, I'd take you home to her decked out in so much lace she'd have a heart attack," the secretary said in a quietly evil way. I couldn't get mad at her.

In this uniform, my boner was left pressed up against my stomach. It was forced into an uncomfortable position, with its head just below my belly button. It was drooling and oozing as much as ever, saturating the material with my arousal. I couldn't believe how well the material held me, tighter than yesterday's leather straps and the wetter the material became, the tighter it seemed to become and it wasn't my imagination.

"Almost in it big boy, come on you can do it," the secretary sang, as she finished stretching the material up along my arms, over my shoulders and finally let the neck snap shut. The lace-trimmed hole I'd passed my entire body through, suddenly snapped shut around my neck, as tightly as the others. "Isn't it a wondrous material, right out of an alien technology, wouldn't you say," she stated with a turned up brow. She was standing in front of me with a smirk on her face and a handful of lace pieces. I didn't understand her, but I had never before felt material like that.

She secured a fluffy lace frill about my wrist and toyed with it, as women are apt to do, until it looked light and feminine. She nodded to herself in satisfaction, did the same with my other wrist and then slipped an extra fluffy lace frill around my neck. "Oh and aren't we looking scrumptious today," she whispered in my face. Her breath hit me with the force of a canon ball and I smiled deliriously. The layers of lace came up all around my head and should have been enough, especially after the way she fussed at fluffing them apart. But the next thing I knew, she was holding one of those terrible fanned collars. Sooner still she was fixing it around my neck. She made sure to allow plenty of lace to protrude from both above and below the collar. Of course, this collar was white, concave and a little deeper then a champagne glass, with a radius of a mere foot. She then took me by the ear and led me to in front of a full-length mirror.

'Some type of futuristic, comic book character-clown', I thought when I saw my refection. I was too ashamed to look and too excited not to. The one-piece outfit was stretched so thinly about my body and was so tight, I looked like a freshly made veal bratwurst and it was uncomfortable. The secretary turned me slowly, so I could take in the entire humiliating picture.

"Go on, take a good look boy, that's you," she gloated.  She forced me to turn slower and made me watch. My head, hands, buttocks and testicles, were the only parts of me not encased in this bizarre, space-age pig intestine, a casing that was getting tighter by the second. By the time I'd finished my rotation, both the secretary and I saw the froth clinging to the material. The entire front of my uniform was saturated in secretions. The material was highlighted by the syrupy moisture I churned out, which became suspended against my skin and turned to froth. In this case, I was churning out a large quantity. "I've never seen a cock drool like this, boy. It says a lot about the organ you're caring around between your legs for Ms. Handlesmen," she said. Her mind seemed to drift off, on and away for a short trip.

Taking me by the ear again, the secretary led me to her office and had me stand in her floodlight. As before, she picked up a camera and began snapping pictures of me. Once more I was a model moving from pose to pose. I stretched and twisted, I pouted and stared with opened mouth, then I showed her my tongue.  I knelt with my head on the floor, my buns up and legs spread. Again she made me spread my own ass cheeks, this time to show off my asshole in all its mortification.

"Lets see that asshole spread wide! Rip it open for the camera! Come on pussy! I want to photograph your intestines, show them to me! Spread that hole boy!" the secretary kept ordering in loud bursts, while she zoomed in and moved around me with camera clicking. She made me sit on the chair with my legs spread and draped over the arms again, one of her favorite positions. She photographed me from every conceivable angle and quit only after finishing another five rolls of film and a long humiliating session. She seemed somewhat satisfied, but I could tell she planned even more of these sessions. I couldn't help wondering what came of all the photos. Did she show them to her friends and did they swap them amongst themselves, like boys do baseball cards?

"Come along with me boy," the secretary said, taking me by my elbow this time. We reentered Ms. Handlesmen's office and moved behind her desk. The secretary escorted me up to a stainless steel stool that was short and had three legs. It was against the wall and to the right of a potted plant. It was an extremely shiny stool and without the customary flat round seat. This seat was fashioned like a cone, with its pointed end up. 

"Sit down here boy," the secretary ordered. Not waiting for me to move, she spun me around and plopped me down.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 12



Chapter Twelve: Sit On It!

The secretary aimed me well and had me land on the stool's point.

"Let's fit you on in the first try, shall we," she whispered. Immediately, I realized her intentions were to balance me on the stool's apex and force my rear portal open around the steel peak, until I wore the chair as I had the butt plug. She went to great lengths, grabbing fistfuls of my ass cheeks and spreading them apart, while pressing me open on the warming pinnacle. While she worked, she stood in front of me, bent at the waist. I couldn't help staring into her cleavage, it was almost in my face and I'd recently found myself looking at all the cleavages I could find. Though a lot shallower then Ms. Handlesmen's, it intrigued me as all others. I would bet it was a warm luscious place and I was almost tempted to reach it with my tongue, damn the consequence. I was light-headed from our proximity, her skin, her scent and her cheek brushing against my forehead. I stayed faint from her breath on my neck and shoulder, her hands working on my behind. With the aid of so many indescribably exciting things, I was kept from my misery. I was drifting on a cloud and wanted to kiss this rough vixen, to touch my lips to her skin, just once.

Quite innocently, I was breathing on the secretary's neck in return, hoping I guessed that it would somehow turn her on. As if a novice such as myself could excite a real woman such as this. She continued in a strictly business manner, her fingers clutching handfuls of my butt flesh and yanking. She tugged and pulled with all her might, spreading my rectum open around the giant spike. I began to think she had every intention of ripping me open and splitting me in two, but fortunately she stopped. She ceased struggling and stood, then straightened her outfit with a wiggle. I could tell she wasn't completely satisfied with her work and accepted it with a grudge. I didn't understand how she expected me to stay like this. If I leaned even the tiniest bit in any direction or so much as twitched my behind, the point of the cone caused me pain. It was every bit as uncomfortable as the stem, just not as deep. She looked me in the eye and raised a finger in warning.

"Listen to me boy. The point of the cone will not bother you, as long as you stay centered and upright. In that way, you're opened around it properly and it will work gently deeper. It will provide you pain if you move or slouch, even a little. You are to wait here as I've put you and you are not to move. I don't want to even see a wiggle," she stated in an authoritative voice. She was bent slightly at the waist, shaking the finger in my face and seemed perturbed. Her face was tight, eyebrows arched. "No fidgeting, no looking around, no deep breaths or coughing. You are to keep your feet flat on the floor, knees well parted and your hands are to lie on your thighs, palms up." I was adjusting as she spoke, resigned to having less freedom then the palm tree sitting beside me. I started and almost ejaculated when she grabbed me. She situated my balls by pulling on them rudely, until they hung to her satisfaction. "Don't even move a finger, understand me?" She finished with a wave of her hand, then stood and straightened herself out, as I sighed to pleasures of pain. 

"Yes ma'am," I moaned politely.

I watched the secretary move to Ms. Handlesmen's desk and begin tidying up, stacking papers and moving doodads about. Suddenly, as if for the first time, I saw it, I zeroed in on her behind. She was endowed with small round cheeks that appeared ready to burst free, to rip out of their fitted bluish-green confinement. I watched her fanny move to her work, as my own continued oozing open, on the summit of the china cap. My weight and gravity pushed and pulled me down slowly, providing me a very strange sensation in an equally grotesque situation.

It probably wasn't as long a time as my imagination led me to believe, but it seemed as if I'd been sitting on the very point of a pyramid for hours. Every so often the secretary would stop whatever it was she was doing and step up to me, come stand between my legs. She would grab my ass cheeks and spread them as far as she could. She would exercise until the strain radiated as sound, and then she would stop. She always provided me a view of her cleavage as she pulled my buns apart and twisted me further onto the point. The area around my rectum had become so damp with perspiration and natural body secretions, that it had become easy for her to screw me back and forth. For some reason it bothered me when she laughed to herself, as she twisted me. I truly believed she meant to fit that chair into my rectum, but I didn't care, because every time she lowered her chest before me, my satyriasis jumped into the driver's seat and spun me out of control. It boiled my insides and through the process of convection, purified everything else from of my mind. All I could think of was her; her proximity, her scent, her warm rough hands and that intriguing cleavage.

There were no available timepieces for me to use as reference, no conventional way for me to judge the passing of events. My pains, my throbbing heart and slowly spreading sphincter acted as an hourglass measured in eons. I was a man-dial, a person piece... What a career I'd begun. Just when I'd almost slipped entirely away, I was brought back.

To my surprise the door bolted open and Ms. Handlesmen stormed in. Startled by her abrupt entrance my eyes grabbed her instantaneously, like my arms desired. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Damn those sperm shooting bitches!"

"Oh, oh," the secretary said under her breath in warning. Ms. Handlesmen slammed the door behind her and hissed aloud. With a follow through from a great entrance, she stood looking at the ceiling, legs spread, fists clenched and on her hips.

"They're so damn stubborn, just like fuckin' men," she yelled through clenched teeth. She raised her arms into the air, to heaven and spirits outside my reach. When she finally discovered me her eyes sliced through me like a laser beam, then burst into fire and flashes of lightening that made me afraid. She stormed in my direction, discarding her jacket on a chair as she moved. She rolled up her shirtsleeves and took off her tie, and suddenly I was witnessing another side to my woman.

My lover hesitated when she spotted me sitting on the stool I would later learn she invented. She slowed somewhat and began looking me over carefully as she approached. When her eyes came for mine I lowered mine shyly, as if looking at her for the first time. I could feel the rage that yet ruled the moment and considered her earlier words. This is where I fit in.

"Well..." she bellowed with anger. "...At least you're where you belong!" She came around the desk with another pink towel and draped it over the same edge of her desk as before. She sat down in her chair and turned to me, lighter in hand, arm extended.

I took the lighter from her and held a flame under the cigar she prepared to enjoy. She used her draw to stoke the tip into a small flame, then took the lighter from me and sunk into her chair. She sat back while exhaling into the air above us. Her eyes began scanning me and I straightened my spine with a smile, while awaiting instructions. I pretended everything was fine, but couldn't adjust to the chair's point so deep inside me, and pressing deeper. The woman I loved put her cigar aside and stood.

"Stand up you sniveling wimp," this grand woman demanded of me. She was standing near the towel with her legs apart, hands on hips and the greatest of arias upon her lips. The fire was still in her eyes and a look of hatred was painted across her face. Her thick wild fiery red hair added to an exciting show; Brunnhilde encircled by flames, though I be no Siegfried. I was but a lowly servant slave, here to obey. I stood, producing a loud wet 'POP' as my asshole released the stainless steel point, breaking the suction I had formed. I thought sure I would lift the chair when I stood, but fortunately the weight of the chair was too much for my sigmoid flexure. My lover looked me up and down and a small smile interfered with the anger, just as she said it would.

"Well aren't we pretty today. I definitely like that uniform on you Joey," she said appreciatively, but I could sense something troubled her and it wasn't me, though that's why I was here.

"Get over here now," Ms. Handlesmen demanded in a smooth deep voice, pointing at the towel with the finger of one hand. I obeyed in a snap and jumped the step required to reach the towel, then draped myself over it. I knew how she wished me; I never needed to be reminded. My hands reached the other side of the desk and gripped the edge. I planted my feet flat, steadied myself and gritted my teeth. I closed my eyes and raised my ass high for her. I was bracing for the worst, hurricane Handlesmen was just off my coast and coming in fast.

How much more abuse could my poor behind take, how much more internal and external punishment could I tolerate. Was my lover planning on ripping me into shreds in search of contentment? Was I to die in the service of Ms. Handlesmen? Would that bring me anything but pride?

To my surprise, Ms. Handlesmen's hand came to my ass gently and opened wide around one of my cheeks. It provided me both pain and a warm wonderful feeling as it began caressing me tenderly. In a display of wanton desire, I went up on my toes to push my ass back against her hand and for a moment I was caressing my lover. Suddenly we were caressing each other, like a husband and wife, or wife and wife. Her fingers teased me in circular motions, running themselves around the outer frills of my uniform, then she slid her middle finger into and along my moist crevice. I swooned to her hands touch and thrilled to its intimidating search, but then the inevitable arrived.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! The hand jumped into overdrive. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! The sounds reverberated around the room as my lover commenced taking her hostility and anger out on my posterior. I jumped, yelped, wiggled, screamed and bounced around in an energetic dance meant to help my poor lady relax. Not once did I attempt to escape or elude, though her assault drove me to the far edges of space. My endurance and energetic surrender was a heat-sink for my high-strung lover and right now I was dispelling tensions and heat at an enormous rate.

"Damn those sniveling twats, I'll get their attention," my boss hissed through gritted teeth. Her hand animated her words with a, whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Her words both demanded and received my undivided attention. "Why can't I get them to understand," she yelled further. My tears flowed freely and I struggled to keep from screaming, or blurting out. I wasn't here to upset my lover further. I could hear my ass cheeks trembling to the results of a mighty swing and maddening tune, gyrating in an erotic performance meant to provide the necessary diversion. I was there to provide my lover release and rapture and I hoped she'd soon find them. My ass just couldn't take any more, and the pain had me on the brink of unconsciousness. I didn't know how much longer I could stay still, be obedient and not be tied down. Could I stay in place another moment, letting my ass be beaten to the point of laceration? I could for the love of my lover, I could... I could... I would.

All of a sudden I felt my chin scooped up into her palm and opened my eyes to find the secretary standing in front of me, cradling my head in her left hand. She was holding my head up as if it were a priceless antique, a mystical orb into which she was peering for answers. Her soft hand was gentle, kind, but expectedly firm and in control. In a moment, it was coated with my tears.

"Louder little one, you're a big boy, with a good set of lungs," she chided. She brought her face close to mine and though I couldn't see through my veil of tears, I could feel her breath on my face. I yet enjoyed her sweet fragrance as she blew it to me with her words. She was becoming increasingly aggressive. "Go ahead and cry... Let it all out, Joey."

"Keep your back arched and your ass up! Come on now... Let's hear our little pussy cry," my boss yelled during a mad flurry of swift smacks. My head now thrashed about in the hollow of the secretary's warm wet hand, as my lover continued her relentless onslaught. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The verbose pandemonium resounded through my head and the secretary sang the words.

"Good puppy dog. Come on. Cry for us little puppy... Cry for us... Louder. Louder! Louder!"

I begged them to stop while wailing and crying like an infant at the top of my lungs, without shame. My ass bounced in time with my head, yet my entire body stayed taut and tense. I became a tightly knotted coil of wire, vibrating between these two lovely women. I was providing them with a riotous show, complete with arias they both adored. Not soon enough, my irate lover calmed down a bit and stopped spanking me. She collapsed into her chair and sighed to a long release of air. With a screech of relief I stayed as I was, in the secretary's hand, sobbing uncontrollably. I still begged and pleaded for her to make it all end, to make it all better. I couldn't hear the ladies talking, laughing and belittling me over the sounds of the spanking yet reverberating around in my head like an unforgotten melody you want desperately to forget. The secretary lifted my chin higher and I was forced to follow.

"It's over Joey, the spanking's over," she whispered to me in a snicker, between words with Ms. Handlesmen. "Just relax boy, your spanking is over for now, but the day isn't over yet." Her words never provided me total comfort. My buttocks burned with more fire and pain from recent spankings then ever before, but it seemed to be growing accustomed to them. Never had I been spanked quite so hard, or as often. This morning I walked to work and though I pretended otherwise, it was because I couldn't sit. I only hoped I had the fortitude necessary to be Ms. Handlesmen's personal secretary. That was still my plan, but how much could my flesh endure?

"Joey, come here Joey," Ms. Handlesmen called, her voice calmer. "Come to me Joey, come to me and I will make it all better." Though painful to even move, I forced myself to rise, to take my head from the comfort of the secretary's now puddled hand. I was a blubbering, sniveling, puffy-eyed wreck, but I turned to my lover in a staggering motion and fell on my knees before her. I had to keep my ass from moving, because even the air was now abrasive. Ms. Handlesmen placed her spanking hand before me, palm up.

I couldn't see well, but I could sense the hand was that of my lover, the one she used to spank me. It radiated heat and drew me near, like fire does the frigid camper, or flame the moth. I brought my lips close and kissed it, then kissed it with passion. I could hear the women's voices, talking about me no doubt, but my mind was here with her hand. With lips, mouth, mind and soul, I paid the hand the respect it was due and for the effort it put into my discipline.

"Joey, Joey, Joey," I heard Ms. Handlesmen sing out. Her hand began responding to my mouth's caresses. To me her hands were intimate friends; one my closest friend, the other my lover. While this one brought me discipline, gave me direction and showed me the way to the other, the other provided me with sexual experiences beyond my wildest dreams, with heaven. I worshipped and I loved both; one out of fear, the other out of carnal desire. Never had I loved any part of anyone so much. I've heard it said some males are leg-men, others are breast-men, and still others are into asses... but I was a hand-boy, Ms. Handlesmen's hand-boy, and loved it.

"Come closer Joey, let me see how you look," Ms. Handlesmen said in a relaxing tone, indicative of my importance. Gone was the rancor and frustration from her voice, the Ms. Handlesmen who hired me had returned. Here once again was the calm, collected, warm but heavy-handed woman. "Stand for me Joey... Let me see you in today's uniform." My lover had returned, and I had succeeded at my job.

With knees shaking and weak, I slowly worked my way up, as the ladies conversed in laughter. The secretary rattled on about some other executives who had an interest in me and Ms. Handlesmen thanked her for the information. My lover wanted the secretary to call a trainer and she knew whom she wanted. Standing wasn't easy, burdened with so much pain, but with caution and care I made my way to my feet. I came to stand before my lady, still bent slightly at the waist, trying my best to collect my senses, as if I needed them. Ms. Handlesmen had a cure, as usual.

"Stand up straight boy!" She ordered and I obeyed as best I could. Then, as always, she brought the index finger of her right hand to my balls and traced gently in and over a few wrinkles. Blood surged through my gorging penis and then she looked up at me. She smiled and then looked to her secretary. "Very nice indeed," she complemented the secretary. "You were correct on this one. I like the lace ruffles, they give it a certain je ne sais quoi. I think it should always wear lace." My penis twitched and drooled happily to Ms. Handlesmen's indescribable touch and indecent proposal.

"Come, let's all go to lunch," Ms. Handlesmen said.

Obediently and as if nothing happened, I wobbled like a freshly whipped puppy, following the ladies out of the door. The front of my uniform was drenched from neck to knee in bodily moisture. As usual, this morning I was the talk of the hallway. Conversations centered on my frill-lined buttocks that 'glowed like a bright red light, or the big red nose of a clown'. We stopped in the washroom and I was made to stand facing into a corner as the ladies freshened up. It was an executive washroom that needed a key-card. While waiting for them to finish, Ms. Handlesmen allowed a couple of elderly dames to look me over with their hands, which were quite cruel to say the least.

"What do you think Georgette, Joan? It's quite a find, wouldn't you say," Ms. Handlesmen asked finally coming up on us. Georgette, who was about seventy, had hold of my balls. She had one in each hand and she was fisting them like one would a couple wads of warm clay. She looked me in the eye and I got the strangest feeling she was contemplating theft. Joan, who wasn't any younger, wanted to spank me, but my lover thought it unwise. She claimed she didn't wish to spoil me, and I was due another spanking very soon. The thought of another spanking brought more tears to my still wet eyes and another round of sniffles.

"A very fine discovery. You're a lucky lady, Harriot," Georgette said as she released me and went for the door, smelling her hands and smiling to herself. "Those buttocks would make a nice Christmas tree ornament," she said as an after thought. 

"Those cute little balls too, with the ruffles. How adorable," Joan said while moving. "Look out for Betty," she said before they both disappeared out the door.

"I will," my lover said with a smile and a look to the secretary. "Come here, Joey. Let me help you urinate."

During lunch I knelt on the floor beside Ms. Handlesmen while being fed by the secretary. We dined in the executive dining room, which was less crowded and less noisy than the employee dining area. The rest of my day was spent either pressed onto the pointed stool which I hated, though it made me my lover's sculpture, which I loved; or at Ms. Handlesmen's feet, which I loved most of all. I adored serving as this woman's footstool, spittoon or relaxant. I hung on her every word and jumped to her every blink. I existed in a state of perpetual arousal, my entire being groveling under the weight of her super-ego, the constant humiliation, and her manipulative ways. My penis pulsated to her every breath of air and blink of eye. I lived for her, for the close of business and her left hand, but this evening brought an added treat.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 13



Ms. Handlesmen's right hand brought me pain while her left brought me pleasure, 'twas a teeter-totter of love I rode, in complete abandon.

Yesterday the job began as one of the roughest and ended as one of the most memorable. For the first time in my life I beheld a woman's breast. Not just any woman's breast, Ms. Handlesmen's breast. It was after hours and I was in the process of receiving yet another bonus. I was proud to have earned one every day so far and planned on earning one every day from then on.

I was where I belong on the floor kneeling before Ms. Handlesmen. She sat with her legs crossed while enjoying one of her favorite cigars, the spicy aroma of which only served to tickle the air about the moment. She was without jacket or blouse and sat conversing with the secretary, who sat in the chair behind me. They carried on in a professional business fashion, while encouraging me to act out my most disgusting fantasies. To their delight and after only three days, I was degrading myself in ways I'd never imagined possible. I acted like a small horny puppy that'd just found a leg to hump, only it was a hand and it didn't push me away. Everyone encouraged my prostitution, my self-mortification whenever it began, and I never let them down.

I was in Ms. Handlesmen's slickened left hand, with my body draped up her arm. Both my arms and hands clutched her slender limb, as I might a lover's body and I kissed her shoulder tenderly, tempting privileges I'd not been granted. I couldn't help staring at the breast nearest me, and it's neighbor, which I could see through the well-stretched material of a flimsy bra. The transparent fabric was stretched to it's limit around each mammary and I could actually see both nipples. They were long and they were thin, they were pink for sure and they looked very swollen, very hard. They were threatening to poke through the silk skins, their ultra-thin prisons.

I will always remember and cherish that evening with Ms. Handlesmen. She was talking with the secretary as I continued humping her hand in an escalating frenzy. I attempted not to hurry the experience, not to rush what I wished never to end. She put down her cigar, caught and looked down into my eyes. She pierced through the haze of enchantment that clouded my vision and corralled my egolessness. Her free hand, led by her long fingers, dipped into her bra.

"Have you been a good boy, Joey," she asked. With rapid miniature movements I jiggled my head up and down 'yes'. I could see her hand begin squeezing her tit, playing with it and preparing it for my dreams. I felt ready for its possible exposure, but I dared not move my eyes while hers held mine as they did. 

Ms. Handlesmen's expression didn't allow me to move, to look away or even glance at her breast, but my peripheral vision, steered by passion, eluded her control. During the past three days I'd become adept at interpreting visions outside my direct line of sight, it developed as a natural byproduct of obedience. While my eyes stayed transfixed to hers, my mind watched her hand fondle the breast.

Seemed to me she was mauling the breast and it was swelling in her hand as a result. Her self-manipulations made me hotter and provided me a better idea of the tit's size and resiliency. I also noticed she was working the cup of her bra down, over her hand and away from the mammary. Suddenly my heart stopped along with my breath and time, as she scooped the mound of flesh out over the top of her bra and moved her hand aside. My cock swelled in her grip as my mind grappled with interpretations of subliminal images. I was concerned with my heart and catching my breath, but could do little about either while attempting to regain my tempo. Though the magnificent orb was now displayed, my eyes had yet to explore it in any direct way. They had yet to escape Ms. Handlesmen, but their desires showed only too well.

"Joey, don't be vulgar, keep your eyes where they belong and right now that's with mine, like this," my cruel lover said. It was true, she could read my thoughts as well as dominate them. I broke down with a sorrowful frown, because more than anything else I wanted to look at that most wondrous part of my lover's anatomy. For the first time in my life a breast was there for me to see, right in front of my face, yet its owner had forbidden me to look at it. It wasn't easy, keeping my eyes from disobeying, but Ms. Handlesmen's foreboding look helped keep me in check. "By rights Joey, your eyes should never travel above my waist without permission, but like I've said, for some reason I'm more lenient with you then I've been with any other male. Possibly too lenient, but that's another matter. You'd like to look at my breast wouldn't you?" I looked at her in awe, with my mouth open.

"Yes ma'am," I barely blubbered in return. My mouth was full of cotton, arid and scratchy. I pressed my lips to her shoulder.

"Will you always stay an obedient little boy for me? Can I count on you to always submit without question, Joey," she asked. I knelt before this superb female, our eyes attached. Her eyes came with grappling hooks on the ends of long hemp lines. She'd dropped the hooks into mine, snared my Id and held me rapt. Meekly, I accepted her boot-stomping siege of my heart, never concerned as to why she hadn't simply opened the door. All the while, my enflamed mine imagined what my peripheral vision thought it saw and I of course shook my head 'yes'. "Then you may look at my breast Joey, you may look to your hearts content. If you're a good boy Joey and I mean a very good boy, then I may allow you to see it often. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" My head continued shaking 'yes' after my eyes sailed from the eyes of a snickering Ms. Handlesmen.

In a rush to gaze upon the opulent object, my eyes tore and severed the lines between us asunder. Ms. Handlesmen went back talking with the secretary, as if some meaningless insignificant transaction had just taken place. It was as if I'd become invisible, an inconsequential nuisance successfully shooed away, but I couldn't care less. I had what I wanted and it was again more then I'd hoped for.

I ogled the great orb, the most beautiful object I had ever seen, while my breath slowly returned with a great sigh and my heart began pumping again, along with my boner. The breast vibrated from my lover's chest to the cadence of my gyrating hips. It jiggled like a gigantic flesh-colored over-filled water balloon on the verge of exploding, while suspended from its knotted end. I stared, captivated by its size, its delicately veined surface and its thin, but meaty nipple. I parted my knees well and dug them into the rug, then wiggled my behind, accidentally stirring my hard-on in a new sensual way I enjoyed. For long periods of time the only sounds in the room were my panting and those of my self-lubricating boner squishing and sloshing around in the sopping confines of Ms. Handlesmen's soft, but exciting fist. My actions kept the ladies in tears of laughter.

On the floor, directly below Ms. Handlesmen's fist was a small round dish of clear glass. It was protecting the rug by collecting the juices that dripped from her hand as I worked within it. Her hand looked as if it had been submerged in a vat of syrup, a white creamy syrup and left dripping, like a freshly dipped taffy apple. It was connected to the plate with long thick strands of juice I continued secreting by the ounce. It didn't seem to bother my lover. Like a great maestro she played me by adjusting the pressure of her fist, inciting me and controlling me as she wished.

I certainly didn't mind when I heard them laughing at me, laughing at the way I acted, and over the things they'd gotten me to do, but nothing could bother me now. What I had lived to behold was now swaying before my eyes and I prayed Ms. Handlesmen would allow me to touch it, which I highly doubted.

"Isn't it adorable? If only every male could accept its place so readily. I think its buns are very cute," Ms. Handlesmen said. I felt their looks, but couldn't take my eyes off the breast. I was pistoning in my lovers hand with quickening long strokes, bringing myself to that moment of ecstasy.

"It is nice, and I have to admit it's a hot one," the secretary responded thoughtfully. I barely felt the weight of her words, or their eyes upon me while in my present condition. I gripped my lovers arm tighter and hugged it to me while starring at the beautiful tit.

"Yes he's quite the little stud, just look at the way he keeps those hips moving. I have a dynamo here, and with a fair sized piston. I've got it producing enough juice to choke a horse and you know something, if I'm right, we can successfully bottle these fluids and pass it off as an expensive cologne for males owned by cuckolds and dykes. The company will reap a fortune," Ms. Handlesmen said with a laugh and then they both laughed. I felt her soft wet hand constrict slightly, adding friction to my endeavor. She pressed her shoulder against my lips and brought her breast lower, within inches of my face. Both women laughed when I stopped moving to stare at the nearing mammary. I was sweating hard and looked as if I just stepped from days in a hot sauna.

"I think he'd like to get his hands on that," the secretary said with another laugh. "He's such a horny little fucker." My knees were weak and quivering uncontrollably. Ms. Handlesmen's hand was squeezing me gently, milking my cock and holding me erect.

"Oh I'm sure he would, his dirty little hands and his mouth too, if I'd let him," Ms. Handlesmen answered. She watched me carefully, while shaking her tit gently before me. "I'm sure there's nothing he would rather do right now then touch it. He wants to grab it and suck on my nipple like the baby he is." Though my eyes stayed faithful to their mission of examining the breast, I mulled the truthfulness of those words. I could hear the snickering of both women, their insulting verbiage serving to spur me on. The more they degraded me, the hornier I became.

I was in my own world, in my own dream-scape, with the objects I had come to adore. I watched the breast stir with each breath Ms. Handlesmen took and kept returning to the nipple. I imagined it ready for a pair of lips and the suction of desire, my cravings. Again, I began pistoning my hard-on in her fist as fast as I could, unable to forestall the inevitable any longer. 'What would she do if I just reached up to grab her nipple with my mouth' I thought. I didn't wish to find out. Perspiration rolled from every pore in my body, long streams of sweat dribbled down my frame from everywhere. Suddenly the crisis was upon me, and my homage was due. I grabbed my lovers arm tighter and pressed my open mouth to her soft round shoulder. I used my tongue to lick her skin, my wet lips to kiss and my words of commitment to gurgle. My endeavor produced loud slurps and bubbles that melded with my hard-on's sloshing. My music made both women fall into a snickering silence until Ms. Handlesmen announced my arrival.

"Shhh... He's about to ejaculate and you don't want to miss this, it's adorable," I thought I heard Ms. Handlesmen tell the secretary. She then came close to me and whispered in my ear, loud enough for the secretary to hear also. "Don't forget to catch all of your mess on the saucer." She handed me a slightly off-white saucer that had a pink heart painted in its center. Her breast came closer yet and I thought surely the nipple was going to touch me. I was sweating hard, suspended between time and space, between heaven and hell. I started twitching as the nipple came closer and closer, but it was too late and my time had arrived.

With my right arm extended, I held the small plate by my thumb and two fingers, under the head of my penis, just the other side of my boss's hand. I kept my left arm and hand around her limb for stability.

"Here It cums," Ms. Handlesmen announced and my penis swelled with the first surge. I had to do some quick maneuvering to catch that first blast, which hit the plate with a splatter. My hard-on exploded with each in-stroke, with the head of my penis sticking out from her fist. My sperm exploded in a series of hot, successively diminishing splatters.

Both women had kept silent during my rendition of the oldest love song, as I groaned to my releases and used my lovers hand to pump my load onto the saucer. It was only my lover's grip of my hard-on that kept me from toppling over. 

"That's my boy. Do a good job for me Joey," Ms. Handlesmen said to me in encouragement. "You go ahead and pump yourself dry. Empty yourself completely." The ladies laughed together as I slowly finished. In the end, I used tiny jerks as the fist wrung the last drop from my tube. I stayed draped against Ms. Handlesmen's arm, panting and subsiding into relaxation, struggling to keep hold of my offering. My eyes stayed fixed on the breast and my fingers on the saucer.

"Okay Joey, kneel up here and bring me your offering to inspect. Let me see how much sperm I've cultivated today," Ms. Handlesmen said. I brought the plate up slowly in both hands, as if lifting the chalice of everlasting life. I lifted it aloft, above my own vision, to where my lover could see it comfortably.

"You must admit Joey, that I've brought you a long way. Turn around and show my secretary what I've extracted from your balls this evening," Ms. Handlesmen went on. My eyes were still glued to her breast, watching it dance from her chest as she talked and moved. I reluctantly turned my body and lifted the plate up to the secretary so she could view my gift. I impressed her with my obedience and amused her with my fixation.

"My, you certainly have this one producing a good quantity of cum. Good job Ms. Handlesmen," the secretary said while nonchalantly looking over my essence. Both women started laughing again, as they had the entire evening. The secretary needed to wipe the corner of her eye again, while fighting for self-control and calm.

"And now for the piece de resistance," Ms. Handlesmen said like a ring master. Her head came to my left shoulder to watch. "Joey, clean your plate the way I taught you, then clean my hand. Show the secretary how you do it."

I looked at the thick splattering of warm jism and considered the strange odor as I brought the saucer and my mouth together. The secretary was suddenly engrossed by my actions and watched intently as my tongue emerged to wipe up warm thick globules of sperm.

"Look at me while you clean your plate boy," the secretary ordered.

"Yes Joey, look up at her, show my secretary how much you enjoy the taste of your own spunk," Ms. Handlesmen pursued with a snicker.

"Such a good boy," the secretary said in awe as my tongue sopped up another thick wad that caused me to gag a little. I was soon chewing on the thick jism, providing the music, the only sounds in the entire room.

After making the plate spotless, chewing my jism well and swallowing it, I turned to happily clean Ms. Handlesmen's hand. I went for the one that pleased me, the one I had sex with, my lover. I was saddened that she then put her breast away, but lapped at her hand with complete abandon, until it too was spotless. I would earn the right to see her breast again and work at being allowed to touch it. I was too close to my goal to give up now.

Just before I thought it time to leave I was made to clean the other plate, the one that collected my juices as I pumped. Afterwards, my lover asked me to stay and I did. I was kept on the floor between the women for a couple hours, providing them with whatever entertainment popped into their minds. I never realized women could be so licentious, or having a job so rewarding. 

I went home that night on a dirty cloud composed of lint, concerned with only one thing. I was worried about something Ms. Handlesmen said. She mentioned that I was being sent away, for further training. It was the type of heartache I had little time for, as I was finally a happy boy. I had pleasant dreams, dreams of love and romance, and tonight of Ms. Handlesmen's breast. By morning, I was determined to earn a chance to see it again, that very day.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 14



Chapter Fourteen: Home, Bitter Home

Evenings were hell, a return to loneliness, a self-imposed solitary confinement. Returning home was the equivalent of lowering myself into a dark insect infested pit. It was a deep well with a dank and slimy interior. I had no interests or hobbies and now no appetite outside Biprods Incorporated. I existed solely for Ms. Handlesmen and no one, nor anything else mattered. I didn't want anything else to occupy my mind. I tried to leave my thoughts at the company whenever my body returned to this mausoleum, the coffin of Dracula. I left my mind kneeling at the feet of my new found lover where it could do no harm. Evenings were a purgatory the Catholic Church could not purge from existence, even by edict.

Every evening became a carbon copy of the last. I returned home about seven o'clock, or after midnight if I was lucky. I always undressed and stepped into an alternating hot and cold shower. I took long showers, bathing myself as best I could, and Ms. Handlesmen was always there with me, watching from over my shoulder. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing her. She had developed into my conscience, my superego, and thankfully ruled over me while we were separated.

Bathing was a challenge, a trial by fire. Controlling my hands as they soaped my body down was an ordeal in self-control, the troubled acceptance of denial and bouts with madness. Once I'd been rendered hairless the madness became an arduous free fall into insanity's vertigo, a never ending tail-spin.

Like the vision of an icon imprinted on a mystics mind, I was zeroing in on a clear and concise vision of Ms. Handlesmen. An ethereal representation of the one I adore, my guiding principle and regulator of my self-control. So clear became my thoughts of her I could see and feel her standing near me at almost all times, and the lapses, those quick moments of indiscretion were diminishing rapidly. I soon took to conversing with my icon, talking aloud, asking her permission before I acted. 

My smooth hairless condition accented the awareness I had of myself and exaggerated my sensations. It was exhilarating, as if I were touching myself for the first time, but when it came to my behind the extreme discomfort slowed me down. Here the pain yet battered me with memories I wanted to forget, those intense preludes to perfect endings.

I turned so the water hit my back and cascaded down over my buttocks, but even that proved painful beyond measure. Being extremely gentle, I landed my palms on the burning cheeks of my sore behind. My hot buttocks sizzled and turned the water cold in comparison. Never had any part of me been so inflamed. I lathered my cheeks carefully, with tediously slow round motions, as tears welled in my eyes. Like the pounding of several wild rock drummers gone berserk, the memories of the spankings hammered away in my head.

I had to reset the temperature of the water a couple of times. I had to have colder and colder water washing over my cheeks. As they fizzed and hissed I looked down at my cock. It was as hard as ever and I dreaded having to bathe it. I feared the thought of touching it. In its presence, I was a doubtful unsure little boy. I barely had the courage to look at it, much less lather it without stroking it. Like a naughty satyr, it called me to play with the mystical tune of a Pied Piper. It demanded pleasure, screamed to be petted, yanked, whacked and brought to completion. Like a frightened child I looked down at it in awe and respect, a large pearl of arousal even now beading from its head.

Thank goodness Ms. Handlesmen was there to help, in my minds eye, with me, with her suggestions and warnings. She reminded me of the claim she had laid on me. How could I even consider upsetting things now and why? I was allowed to bathe and dry her toy, but nothing more. It was not my organ, but the toy of my lover. I simply carried it around for her, or should I say, it had me carry it around for her. Even it had more control over me then I did.

I lathered my hands while watching it twitch and vibrate in anticipation. Long strands of lubrication oozed from it's head and swung to the tub. 'This wasn't going to be easy' I thought. I placed the soap aside and bit on my lower lip nervously. With a vibrant mental picture of Ms. Handlesmen firmly established I moved my soaped hands down and caught my restive organ. I engulfed the machine, balls and all and stood still for a moment. I had the tavern bull by the horns and called to Ms. Handlesmen for help.

Even in my mind, Ms. Handlesmen proved a strong forceful mistress who took control. Under her tutelage, I gingerly soaped and lathered my entire hard-on. Everything seemed to be going fine until I accidentally felt what my hands were doing. It rapidly became so difficult to tell between scrubbing and stroking, I slipped mentally. But my mental mistress came roaring back like a tidal wave and reminded me about the rules, and about being careful. She reminded me that I carried something dear to her. Yes, I was to do a good job. I was to wash its head, around its neck, along its length and between every wrinkle of my scrotum. I was to think of her while I bathed, to think of what it was I held in my hands. I was not to play with her toy, and it was driving me crazy.

Her toy swelled with a surge of fresh blood while in my hands, bloated with an illicit excitement I knew better then to enjoy or even contemplate. I needed to work fast, before my mind found itself entrapped, before my mind surrendered to my libido and base instincts. I adjusted so the water hit my abdomen and I could rinse. Before I knew it, I was free of soap and I caught myself dawdling. 'Was I tuning an instrument?' I thought in a fit of whimsy. I pulled up and away, like a boy who'd just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. I could see and feel Ms. Handlesmen's stern look and apologized to my minds rendition. I begged aloud, bringing my heart-felt meaning to life. My words echoed about the stall in recurring reinforcement, an energy-collecting mantra.

I finished rinsing the rest of my body, turned off the water and stepped from the shower. Stepping onto a towel I came face to face with my reflection. It starred back at me from a full length mirror tacked to my bathroom door. I stood starring with mouth open, bewildered by what I saw and completely unable to believe it. My reflection reminded me of a painting decorating the wall of Ms. Handlesmen's office.

I was nude and hairless, with tears yet seeping from the corners of my eyes and a hard-on jutting out from between my legs like a pole in need of a flag. It was the saddest of scenes, it was the most exciting of scenes. I saw myself as a fragile creature, an animal recently swept from the jungle. I had been freshly bagged and quickly tamed by a great white huntress, and now I belonged to her. She didn't keep me in a cage or spread on a floor before a fireplace, though I wished she had. My enslavement was even more inhibiting, a refined self-destruction.

I fetched a towel and commenced drying myself. I was careful to stay away from my penis, and went to pains insuring the towel ends didn't brush against it. Everything excited him, even looking at myself in the mirror. I lived balancing on a tight rope stretched taut over a deep chasm, the floor of which I imagined to be cluttered with the remains of dead lovers, those that failed Ms. Handlesmen.

I walked out into my living room, towel around my waist and stopped to look around. The home I'd grown up in seemed strangely alien. It was a place without meaning, where I no longer belonged. Spending time here, away from Ms. Handlesmen, had become distressing to say the least and after so few days. My home was a vestige of the past I wanted to forget. Looking around, scanning a room that had changed little since my mom's departure, was a stark reminder of sadder times. I was working frantically at erasing those memories. I needed to rid the dwelling of all her things, of all the sorrowful mementos. I needed to crate and carton it all, then throw it all in the trash, the lake, or an incinerator would be better.

Nothing in this house was of any interest to me now, I only cared for Ms. Handlesmen. I no longer enjoyed reading or watching television, which for years was my sole companion, my sole means of solace. I no longer cared for the radio, which also comforted me in my bleakest hours. I walked across the room and into my kitchen.

It was only ten o'clock, meaning it was eleven hours before I'd be seeing Ms. Handlesmen again, eleven hours in Gehenna. I went to the refrigerator and opened the door. There before me lay all the foods I had enjoyed for so many years, milk, peanut butter, strawberry jam, half a loaf of white bread, and a half eaten plate of canned Spaghetti-O's. An open can of freestone peaches, a pint of now shriveled blueberries, a stick of butter, and other delicacies. At one time I would have opened this door and began eating, but food could no longer satisfy my hunger, it could no longer fill my guts emptiness. The hunger that now gnawed at my body was beyond foods help. I suffered in the grips of a hunger that ripped at my heart and sucked on my manhood. It was an unquenchable thirst that kept me up at night, tossing and turning in a restless half sleep that no amount of cold water could pacify.

I slammed the door and stood wondering what to do next. I couldn't think of a thing, except begin tomorrow. I wished there was some way for me to bypass the nights, the hours between midnight and five a.m.. I moved out of the kitchen in thought and through my living room, turning out lights as I traveled. I entered my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. My boner caused me to flip over onto my back.

I could reach my television and clicked it on. It's flickering light had always been a good friend. I didn't care what was on, whether it was Lie Witness News or an inane talk show, because I didn't turn the sound loud enough to hear anyway. I enjoyed the warmth of the flickering light, the sudden flashes, sudden darkness, the intervals that helped the shadows dance like frisky sheep all around me. These were old friends who stayed with me as I cried myself to sleep and they were often here when I awoke. Like with so many other things, they represented a habit I accepted without reason.

My bed was its comfortable mess, a nest shaped to hold me. I rolled under my covers and into its center, on my side, buried and ready to travel. I grabbed my worn torn down pillow in my arms, firmed it into a ball and sunk my head into it, while visions of Ms. Handlesmen bobbed around in my head.

I felt the bed move as she slipped into it, as she slid under the covers to be near me. I felt her warmth and breathed in her scent. I moaned in pleasure as she snuggled up to me, her chest and belly pressing to mine, our thighs and lips coming together. One arm slipped around me, her hand landing on my back, its fingers walking up and down my spine. Her other arm lay between us, its hand taking me, its fingers curling themselves around my organ. Both hands pulled me closer and our bodies melted together. I was in heaven, gripped by an angel.

Our lips united in a most luscious way, mouths open, tongues swirling together. I inhaled her breathes and drank down her saliva as our bodies played against each other. I slipped both my arms around her and grasped her tight. She rolled onto her back, taking me along with her.

She held my hard-on in a tight grip and pulled me over, on top of her. Her legs parted and I slipped between them as she guided my member to it's proper place. She moved the head of my cock up and down against her, between her sweet nether lips. I could feel their moisture as they parted in acceptance. I enjoyed the sensuous music our squishing union produced. Up and down deeper and deeper she drew my cock on and in. It was ecstasy, as her mouth sucked on my tongue, her sex suck on my cocks head.

I bucked in a wild involuntary way, but she stayed in control, allowing me little. I wallowed on top of her like a captured male butterfly seeking to mate. I was trying to take advantage, but unable to do little more then flutter in her grasp. Her breasts and belly were a soft bed I rolled upon, her lips a maddening duo cooing and chewing on me from both ends. I was lost in the mystery of our embrace, a willing student and eager pupil, ready... willing... able?

I flapped my tongue about in her mouth and fantasized about forcing it down her throat. I tried working my boner into her sex, pressing to enter the place I belonged. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her lips around my tongue and a hand around my manhood. I was on the brink of my first sexual union and Ms. Handlesmen began screaming. Louder and louder her screams became as I withered in her grip. Her screams became a loud bell, a high pitched ringing until my eyes snapped open to the sounds of my alarm clock.

I was lying on my pillow, a thumb from one hand in my mouth, my other hand wrapped around my hard-on. I was humping in my fist, but stopped the instant I realized my indiscretion. I reached for and hit the button of my alarm clock, then collapsed in a heaving delirious sweat. My dreams were exceeding reality and I no longer could distinguish one from the other.

I gripped my pillow with both my arms and called to Ms. Handlesmen for help. My desires were emotions so horrendous I was reduced to sobbing under their influence. My hard-on throbbed, my balls were swollen and ached for relief, but there was nothing I dared do. I took some deep breaths, caught my sobs and forced myself to rouse. I shook the slumber off and struggled up, swinging my legs from the bed. My feet hit the floor and I sat there looking around. I was still in the Bastille, still alone, still in heat.

I'd left another large wet spot on the sheets, under where my waist had rested. The spot had grown larger every day, but by evening it would be dry. I thought sure one day I would awaken in a river of lubrication, drowning because I couldn't swim. I stretched, with my arms in the air and my legs kicking. I yawned and shook myself in an attempt to chase my stupor. I survived another night and it looked like another beautiful morning, which was sure to equate into another wonderful day. With only two hours before seeing the woman I loved, things were looking brighter. I wondered if Ms. Handlesmen dreamt of me, if she was as eager to see me as I was to see her. I wondered what she had in store for me today.



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 15



Chapter Fifteen: Screech

Today I found a strange woman waiting along with the secretary. At least I thought it was a woman and under the circumstances I imagined little else. She was a rough looking individual with almost no physique, no tits or ass, all legs, arms and a head, the thinnest creature I had ever seen. She had a short bob of black hair, more black then the secretary's. The secretary's black hair reflected both light and life, because it was both vibrant and vital. This woman's hair absorbed the light from everything, sucked it up in long waves that raced before my eyes on a journey to oblivion. Where they disappeared to was beyond me, another world altogether, another dimension. She had almost no lips, but they were painted matte black. She stared at me through large piercing orbs that provided me the illusion of staring back through holes into a black unlit area. In sharp contrast, she had a pale, washed out, unpainted, almost snow-white complexion. She wore a skin-tight black leotard style body suit, that left nothing to an imagination I didn't need with a being so wiry, and I don't mean thin. She was fitted into a pair of contoured chrome-silver boots. They were knee high and had medium heels. She wore a pair of elbow length gloves that matched the boots. The gloves and boots were virtually mirrors that reflected everything, while sparkling and gleaning from what ever light source. What a paradoxical being. She absorbed and reflected light in magnitudes that were almost painful to those around her.

No words were exchanged, both women simply watched me as I nervously disrobed and hung my clothes on the tree. Soon I was naked as if for the very first time in my life, more nervous than on my first day of work, and I turned to face them. I stood with my eyes lowered, unable to look at either of them while awaiting permission to move. There seemed to be some murmuring between the ladies, maybe about my excitement, which was always so damn evident. 

Today the secretary was dressed in a sharp three piece gabardine suit the color of white sand, over a dark blue blouse that seemed uncharacteristically rumpled. The blouse was opened enough to reveal her small cleavage. I could tell that she was without bra and surprised to see a pretty blue one crumpled on the seat of her chair. Both ladies stood and came around the desk, moving to another opened carton. I stopped my knees from knocking sometime after the fiftieth bounce and stood trembling. It was the stranger who took over. She reached into the carton and pulled out a silver metal band.

"Give me your wrist male," she ordered in a high pitched screech that made me grind my teeth. I noticed too that it bothered the secretary. I did as instructed and stood waiting as she placed the band around my left wrist. She simply bent the metal strip around my wrist and brought the two ends together. Like magic it formed into a perfect band. 

I couldn't turn my wrist in it, yet it wasn't cumbersome and didn't bother. She reached into the carton for another band and I obediently had my right wrist waiting. She then slipped one around my neck, which was most ominous, because I could feel the metal so well, or at least I thought so. I swore it adhered to my skin like the glued area of a bandage. It was two inches wide and moved with my every pulse.

The secretary had a smile on her face when the strange lady's hand emerged with a silver fan collar, and I frowned. I sensed a certain respect being shown this strange lady by the secretary, but I couldn't understand it. I think both the secretary and I were happy that the lady said nothing while placing the collar around my neck. It fit around my throat just above my new collar, leaving my entire neck covered. It had a one foot radius and a reflective surface so intense I almost couldn't see through the light. My head was a glowing lamp bulb and once secure, the women stepped back to survey their accomplishment.

They stood side by side looking me over. I had the edge of my fan conveniently lowered and could see them appraising me. The secretary seemed somewhat frightened of this woman, I could tell by the way her eyes kept stealing glances and then looking away quickly. She seemed unusually nervous and her old spark was not there. Well maybe the spark was there, but it was being kept under control for some reason. Suddenly the stranger spoke and I winced to the screeching sounds, as did the secretary.

"You will keep your feet six inches apart on the floor," she squealed in a frightening voice that caused me to spring into position. "I'm here to prepare you for a new trainer. Ms. Handlesmen has recommended you for advanced training. From the little I've seen so far, I can understand why. Once you begin this phase of your training there can be no turning back, you will belong to Pi Loda Cum forever and Ms. Handlesmen of course. Therefore I am obliged, under universal law, to be sure you wish to belong to the sorority, and that you wish to continue with your training. Remember there will be no turning back." The secretary stepped up to me with a clip board, on which forms rested. She handed me a pen and held the board so I could sign. There were almost a dozen legal documents and I signed each and every one without flinching, or being able to see them.

'Belong to Ms. Handlesmen? Hell yes! Was I crazy or what, there was no one I'd rather belong to' I screamed to myself over and over again. The stranger made my commitment sound more permanent then marriage, God, if that could only be true.

"Turn around," the stranger screeched. I obeyed, not wanting to hear her utter another sound. She used yet another metal band to cinch my elbows together, after connecting my wrist bands. 

"Yes, ma'am," I stammered for some reason, failing to be as bold and sure as intended. The stranger circled me slowly, while screeching.

"Ms. Handlesmen told you that you wouldn't be going home for awhile?" I shook my head in accent. "Good, then there's no reason not to begin." She came to stand before me, with a smaller version of the other bands I already wore. "Eyes front," she screeched.

I stood in a familiar stance, at attention, while she caught my balls in the shiny band. She then cinched it tight until I cried out in alarm and my eyes bulged from their sockets. It formed to my organs girth and locked in place. Then she picked up a short chain leash and fastened its end to an eye of the small band, keeping the other end looped in her hand.

Fortunately nothing more was said, the lady simply headed to the door hauling me along behind her. I could feel my organ lift, stretch and bob in the air. The metal strap was so tight my balls felt swollen to twice their normal size. I could picture the leash and the way it pulled on me, the way it strained and altered my shape. She pulled me along without saying a word and for some uncanny reason the corridor was unusually empty, void of my regular crowd. Missing, were my female admirers, the gawkers, hecklers and grabbers; but they were there. I saw them in offices, through slightly opened doors. The usually rambunctious ladies were there, but they were unusually subdued. I brushed it off as something I yet didn't understand about this strange company. 

Where was Ms. Handlesmen, my cruel lover, why wasn't she here this morning to see me off? Would I see her again before the day was up? Did that matter, now that I was going to belong to her? Where was I being taken, what would happen to me and what business was that of mine? And who the hell cared as long as I belonged to Ms. Handlesmen. Why was it so quiet, where were the snickers, slurs and vulgar comments? Ms. Handlesmen was all that mattered. We were rapidly approaching a waiting elevator, its doors open. It was an odd elevator located at the very end of the corridor, a single elevator which I'd never noticed before. I was ushered into a bright cube of polished metal, the same metal as my bands and my guide's accouterments. There were no buttons or lights and when the door closed, they disappeared without leaving a seam. I guessed we were moving but I couldn't tell in what direction.

We could have been traveling up, down, or in any number of directions for all I could tell. I was mesmerized by the metal, how strange it felt to my feet. It was almost as if it wasn't really there and when I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was floating, standing in mid air. When we reached our destination, I was led from the elevator and up to a curious piece of furniture. I looked up at an orb.

It was a metal sphere about two feet in diameter. It was the same metal as everything else, except for the strange lady and me. It was head high and connected to a metal pole that jutted out a foot and elbowed down, to the floor. The pole was connected to a metal tile situated near the floor. The only reason I could see the tile was because it was above the floor, but it was very thin and I couldn't say what it rested upon. Maybe it had legs, rollers, or nothing at all? I'm not implying that this piece of furniture was constructed of several individual parts welded together; to the contrary, it was a single solid piece, cast from a mold, maybe.

As the strange lady led me to stand on the metal tile, the side of orb facing me opened and I saw it was hollow. She removed my fan collar and I slid my neck through a slot until I reached the center, then the sphere closed and the slot disappeared, leaving my neck in another tight collar of metal. I was in darkness unlike any I'd ever experienced, with my head incapable of turning. Never had I been in such blackness, engulfed by a void so deep, so loud, blinding and mind numbing, my head separated from my body and tumbled into its vastness.

That short lived journey was interrupted by the realization of becoming cold. I felt my ankles and feet fastened in place and my knees banded together about the time I began shivering. I felt the sphere moving up, stretching me ever so slowly. At first it felt good, like a well-needed exercise. But in this uncomfortable position, with my hands behind my back, my elbows and knees both cinched together and the temperature now near freezing, it became painful. Soon I was stretched as tight as a violin string, a frazzled wire, awaiting bow and finger.

Next the entire orb lit up like a movie screen and I found a holographic image of some kind projected before me. I found it impossible for my eyes to escape it, as it permeated my brain. The image was of me, or at least my body. There I was, bound, standing with my hard-on exposed and my head in the sphere. I was in a very strange room made entirely of metal, the same shiny metal. The room seemed to be a cube and I noticed a shelf, or work table along the far wall. It was piled with instruments and scientific gadgets all constructed of the same metal. I couldn't understand how it was I saw them, how I could discern between instruments, when they were all of the same silvery, reflective metal.

I saw no windows or doors of any type. I saw no conventional lighting, yet the room was extremely well lit. The walls, ceiling and floor all seemed to glow with varying intensities. The intensities shifted as the strange woman required, while she moved around me. The lighting stayed most intense wherever she looked or worked, yet the walls, ceiling and floor stayed smooth and clear as a mirror. I could notice the light only when not looking at the metal directly.

The holographic video, or what ever it was, suddenly zoomed in on my penis and the strange woman's ungloved hands. The women's hands were long narrow and fibrous. They had long fingers and longer nails that curled in near the tips, to form barbs. Her hands looked like the claws of an ancient flying beast.

From somewhere below, a thin metal arm appeared. Its end was a metal band, a loop and it stopped before my left testicle, Ms. Handlesmen's favorite. The woman's hands moved to fit my testicle through the loop. Her thumb of one hand and two of its bony fingers passed through the loop from her side and wrapped themselves around the testicle. I cringed and my body tensed to the pressure, as her lunch hooks dug into and snagged my sack. Then she pulled me back through the loop and the metal band contracted. It closed slowly, gathering all my thin vessels and ducts into a narrow cylindrical shape.

The camera's output, or whatever was providing me with the optics, flickered away on the rods and cones of my retinae. It took me zooming in on my testicle while circling it slowly, almost like a surveying satellite around a planet. The close-ups of my imprisoned gland, only served to multiply the distress I labored under. It was having to watch my bulging testicle constrained, that forced the connection between the neurons in my alienated brain and those in my now alienated balls. That connection fed the pain I was forbidden to avoid, yet could have otherwise eluded. I almost felt as if someone had entered my brain, to lie down beside me, and was getting comfortable. We watched a movie of torture and I was the movie. I let out a moan that almost left me deaf.

I learned quickly not to scream or utter a sound, because the sphere in which my head was confined amplified and magnified thousands of times, any and all of my articulations. Anything louder than a quiet swallow became the deafening roar of a jet engine in my face. Keeping myself from making sounds seemed an impossible task, but with this added incentive I had to try.

I was sweating because my head was kept very, very warm, as were the very bottoms of my feet. Yet I was a shivering mass of goose bumps because the air in the room was now close to zero. My entire body itched again and I would have given anything for the opportunity to scratch some tiny spot.

The neural photography zoomed in on the head of my penis, which was swollen and drooling profusely because the damn thing enjoyed all of this. Like an imp from the nether world, my penis thrived on the sadistic tendencies of the opposite sex and I could do nothing about it. I could not close Pandora's Box and I could not reseal the gates I'd foolishly unlocked, I could do nothing. The beast was forever free and the portal gates, the one's I had opened in my boyish curiosity were gone, ripped from their hinges. One of the woman's claws grabbed my pole out of the air, gnarled fingers gripping tight, nails digging into the meat of my tough organ. Her other hand held the end of a tube that began off camera and I recognized it immediately. It was relatively thin, very flexible and shiny, and she brought the end of it to my piss hole.

I turned my eyes hoping to escape into the void, but the visual impressions were in my head and like constant sound, I couldn't evade them. The camera zoomed in on the tip of the hose when the hand brought it to my piss hole and began stirring it slowly. It took me in closer as the tip began mashing, pressing and drilling into my small opening. My body tensed and yanked against its restraints and I broke down and began screaming to the pain. My shrieks became louder and louder, their volumes multiplying and echoing around and around in the sphere, increasing in some logarithmic fashion.

I hated the visual representation, the damn close-ups and slow motion instant replays, and tried hiding my eyes, but couldn't. Loud resounding screams forced me to clench my teeth and try controlling myself against the wrath of all insanity, which wasn't fair. Though I fought with all my might, I couldn't keep totally silent and succeeded in whimpering, at best. In off and on waves, I found myself surrounded by a crescendo of moans and groans blaring in cascading reverberation. Maybe the tube's insertion wasn't as painful as imagined, but having to watch it up close moved it into my gut, belly and throat, centralizing all my most frightening thoughts.

It looked as if she drove over three feet of tube into me and it certainly felt like it, but I hoped it was a lot less. Like yesterday, control of my bladder was taken from me. A finger of one hand stroked the underside of my quivering boner and my cock responded like the dog it was. It vibrated in the air, swinging hose and all, in a wanton display of male depravity. It pulsated and salivated as my bladder emptied. 

The next thing my eerie antagonist did was pick at and then grab my prepuce, the loose fold of skin hanging from the neck of my penis. It's that hunk of epidermis, that wad of foreskin remaining after circumcision. She grabbed it between the nails of her thumb and index finger and played with it, pulled on it and stretched it tight. My boner danced in the air, supporting and encouraging her activities. Her other hand returned with what appeared to be a marlin spike, made of the same shiny metal as everything else in this place. It had a needle's point and thickened to the size of a wrist.

She brought the finely honed point of the spike to my stretched, prepared prepuce and moved it about, hunting for a spot. I could see myself shivering before the camera zoomed in on her find, as if I wanted to see this. It zoomed in on the instrument's point as it pressed into my skin, and I could feel it only to well. Now I saw both sides of my foreskin and watched it surrender to the marlin spikes metal nib. I watched my skin become a transparent point of stretched flesh just before ripping asunder and tearing to the spikes slow run.

I closed my eyes yet watched it all, while struggling not to scream or gasp aloud. In a state of uncontrollable shivering, I watched the woman's hand drive the point of the spike through my skin until satisfied. I broke down and cried again, while watching and feeling the spike tear through me, enlarging the hole as it traveled. Blood coated the tip of the spike and a couple of drops fell from the picture, but there was very little. She stopped when the spike was a couple of inches deep and then she spun it, twirled it in her fingers and the hole. I was deaf from the reverberating screams and screaming because of the pain caused by the screaming. She pulled the marlin spike free and I was no less relieved.

The hands stretched my foreskin apart so I could see the extent of the damage. It was a giant hole, still bloody and not something I wished to see. One hand disappeared and returned with a large gold ring. It was thick and had a thin gap through which my skin was worked. Once the ring was threaded through the hole she brought the ring ends together and they became one piece, one solid seamless ring. The ring was at least an inch in diameter and at least a quarter inch thick. My hard-on seemed unaffected by the added weight and stayed as straight and as excited as ever. The head of my penis now reminded me of a bull's nose and I wondered if he was happy.

The camera moved around my body, giving me an opportunity to see how abused and cold I was before it settled into the crack of my ass. The lady's hands came to my crack from both sides, with fingers spread wide. Her hands landed on my globes, each gripping a cheek tight, nails dug into my crevice and then she spread my moons apart until my anus appeared. I couldn't move anywhere with my body bound and testicle imprisoned, so I endured the paroxysm while in a state of denial. Another pair of hands appeared, with one of them moving to my buttocks, it's long middle finger soaring to my butt hole. I watched in shock and discomfort as the gnarled finger wormed its way inside me, long curved nail first. I whimpered, squirmed and tensed while watching it dig into me until fully embedded. My ass cheeks were a pair of goose bump moons, strained, in more ways than one, to the invasion.

When the finger yanked free, the hand disappeared and reappeared with the gold end of a long stem which it brought to my puckered aperture. The stem was only about as wide as a baby's finger and a foot long, but there appeared to be a mane of hair attached to it. She nudged the rounded point of metal against my orifice and worked the tight hole open. My rectum ceded to her endeavor without resistance. Then she ran the stem into my behind until she came to a golden ball. I was there with eyes wide because the camera forced me to witness the spectacle, the rape of my abused rectum. Once again it was surrendering to a stem of metal, inserted up to a ball that my sphincter was now expected to open around and swallow. I had been primed for this, yet screamed and put up a quickly lost fight. The gold ball did support a mane of hair, a long blond mane of hair that seemed to grow out of my butt.




BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 15



Here was another new sensation to deal with. How demanding the weaker sex was and whoever came up with that term? Damn, if my penis didn't find the entire affair exciting, and I'd go so far as to say, 'rewarding'. Especially the deeply imbedded stem, which my insides were forced to support and chew. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but my penis thrilled to its unsavory placement. Then the stem began wiggling around inside of me as if it were alive, and my penis, the master of my masochistic tendencies, exploded with passion. And Passion murdered his brother, Reason.

The next thing I knew, I found my elbows and wrists released, my ankles and knees freed my testicle then unshackled and the sphere opened. The temperature of the room had become tolerably chilly and as one lady looped a finger through my cock ring and helped me step from the tile, the other waited to the side. She stood by four metal containers situated on the floor. Two of the containers were actually cylinders, each about one cubic foot and they were situated on end, about two feet apart. The other two, which were closer to me, where three-foot long, by one foot wide rectangles, about two feet apart. Their long ends faced the cylinders and they were about one foot from them. 

As I stepped from the tile I looked down on myself. My penis stood out before me as proud as ever and it still carried the hose, which I could feel moving around inside of me. The tube ran from my penis, across the room and attached to one of the instruments located on the shelf. I could only see parts of my ring from this angle but couldn't feel it at all. I walked up to the closest ends of the rectangular box's and stepped into them, as instructed by looks and gestures.

I dropped to my knees, fitting my lower legs inside the boxes and found them perfectly dimensioned for my limbs. They were made for my legs and I felt no discomfort as I went forward and placed my hands into the forward cylinders. My hands found themselves resting on small domes my fingers spread around. The wrist cylinders and the boxes closed. My hands and wrists, and my lower legs just below the knees, were entrapped. I looked around in a panic totally ignored by the ladies, but did nothing to escape. One of them fussed with the mane my rectum supported, the tail I now carried around behind and above me. The other lady went to the instrument table and adjusted dials. I kept turning my head and eyes between them, dancing and bouncing in hopes of getting attention, wondering what was to come next.

The lady preening my tale occasionally reached a hand under me and allowed a finger to tease my hard-on. It was just a jab, or scrap of her nail, but my cock went crazy. In the mean time, my limbs began to feel strange. First enflamed, then freezing, then coated with substances that reminded me of gunk, something weird was happening. I knelt as I was for over an hour I'm sure, trying to relax and keep my mind on Ms. Handlesmen's breast, away from all of this. After all, my lover wouldn't allow any harm to befall me.

While strange things happened to my limbs, one of the ladies knelt before me with the marlin spike in hand. A couple of finger nail tips came to my nose and began scratching at my septum. It dawned on me that I could smell nothing, not a single odor, or whiff of any kind. What I meant was I couldn't taste anything, and how weird it all seemed, unlike any other time I can recall. Neither the lady, nor this room had an effluence I could detect and I got the emptiest feeling in my gut, or was it my bladder that surrendered endlessly to the urine sucking tape worm. I knew better than to turn away or attempt avoiding her. I looked into her well-black eyes and saw a world as dark as the inside of the cube. It was void of light or life and drew me in. Though I never moved, I was swiftly enveloped in the blackness of her eyes. I was sucked up and into the void as her nothingness permeated my mind, engulfing my conscious. It was the tip of the marlin spike being driven through my septum that brought me back to the edge of the void. But by the time I returned, the lady was threading the hole with another gold ring that resembled my cocks ring, but a little smaller.

The thumb and all four fingers of one hand suddenly forced their way into my mouth and five nails grabbed for my tongue. Once the barbed ends snagged the organ, it was under the weird ones control and she yanked it from my mouth. Before I realized it, she had driven the spike through it's tip and was working the post of a metal pearl through the hole. I struggled from my tongue a little, until her nails pulled and made me fast. I thought she meant to tear it out, and had no doubt she could, though I hoped she wouldn't. I felt her yank from deep inside me, from my stomach and from the end of the tails stem which wiggled around inside. Now both my butt and mouth carried some of this strange metal. She twisted the post through and capped its underside with another pearl, then she attached the end of a leash to my nose ring. The boxes opened.

"Come along puppy," she screeched. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth while stepping from the metal containers. She allowed me to look down at myself as I moved. I found my hands and lower legs encased in corporeality that matched my skin tone perfectly. The material blended in so well with my own skin, I couldn't tell where it was I ended and the material began.

The coverings were not the least bit uncomfortable and were actually very pleasant. I was frightened by how natural they felt and tried imagining where it was my hands and legs were. It didn't feel as if I were wearing anything and yet I must have been. Though thoroughly encased, my limbs suffered from neither heat nor itching, while the rest of my body still screamed for that single scratch.

I lifted one of my hands so I could see what had happened and panicked, not knowing what had become of my limbs. Could they have been transformed into this new shape, and could they be returned to normal? One of the ladies stooped down before me and scooped my chin up in her hand, lifting my head until our eyes met. I felt the other woman's finger nail tips begin scratching at my sphincter, relieving me of itches I could only have prayed for salvation from. I arched my back and raised my ass in pursuit of more and her nails kept obliging me, scratching around and around the plug. I then gasped to the sudden actions of her other hand, which attacked both my balls and boner with fingers, nails and palm. Between these hands I found myself coaxed into an erotic dance, a humping frenzy that she controlled with utter ease and relish.

The other lady attacked my eyes with hers. She coveted, then engulfed my consciousness and took me soaring blissfully through the heat of their siege and into the comfort of their most bizarre universe. I licked at the strange darkness, at the nothing that was everything; I kissed it and tried to bite it from the air. I really tasted it, humped it and wanted to ejaculate into it, but I didn't even know what it was, or where it was.

As the ladies kept me suspended between dimensions, I quickly came to accept everything and really let go. But suddenly I realized I was humping into the heavens, to the feeling of the lady's hands, which kept me chasing an illusion into oblivion... I loved it more then life itself. I saw the silver room again. I was looking up into the sky because my nose was held in the air by a chain. Slowly and in pieces, I successfully fit together my awareness of the ladies and my return. I found them standing above me looking down. I must have put on a good show, because they wore big grins plastered across their thin faces. Slowly a strange girl came into view and then to my delight, Ms. Handlesmen.

Ms. Handlesmen was almost without clothes and my penis bolted to the scene, surrendering a thick wad of wishful lubrication. She was looking down at me through the ravine of her large breasts and I looked up between them at her. My eyes crawled all over her bared breasts and traveled down past a deep belly button, to a pair of pretty pink panties. They were so wet I thought sure I could see through them; see what ever it was women had. I let my eyes ski past her thighs, down her well turned legs and past very pretty knees. Down to her delicate ankles that turned into a pair of opened toed pink pumps, the same color as her panties; her nails were colored a bright pink. My eyes climbed back up her body unable to take in all they wanted to see.

"Come with me Joey," Ms. Handlesmen said in the voice I longed to hear. She turned to leave and the new girl took my leash from the stranger. I had to move quick in order to catch up with my mistress and this new girl's impatience. I plodded along beside her, still a bit dizzy, yet in heaven, hoping it was all for real. 



BUNSNUB: Another Love Story Ch. 16



Chapter Sixteen: Life at the Altar

I found it very difficult, crawling instead of walking, and strange for my penis to be pierced with a ring that helped my boner bob excessively. My nose ring was bizarre and the metal pearls in my mouth weirder still, and yet the strangest sensation of all came from my tail. I knew then and there it would take a long time, many days, many many days, months, maybe a year of practicing, before I became accustomed to carrying a mane of hair with my anus. It wasn't easy and it wasn't comfortable, having to carry something so heavy with just my asshole. It was another distasteful sensation I couldn't elude, a feeling deep inside of me. As I wiggled along it pulled me from side to side, both inside and out. The stem was tapered thick to thin, but softly unyielding and its end squiggled intermittently. The wiggling tip brought me to stop and become tense, wince, crouch over and sometimes jump in fits of shocking discomfort, and you know who loved that.

My curiosity compelled me to look briefly at the new female. She seemed proud, arrogant, stood very tall and held my nose very high. She was a chubby girl, but exciting to look at, with an olive complexion, dark hair and light brown eyes, the color of sand. She had small round titties that vibrated rapidly as she walked, nothing compared to Ms. Handlesmen's heavy breasts, which swung back and forth like a pair of partially filled sand bags.

The girl had a very round delicious looking behind, but not quite as orbicular as Ms. Handlesmen's. My lover's twin globes were so round, so well-proportioned and so perfectly separated they kept my every thought reverberating around in the crevice they formed. The girl carried herself on a pair of short legs encased in a pair of long high-heeled black boots, that ended just under her ass cheeks. She wore a pair of skin-tight black leather gloves that came to her shoulders, to under her arm pits. I caught her staring down at me, ogling actually, with a hot leering glare. She had a very juicy mouth that glistened in the light, of which there was a cozy amount. The light was provided by candles along the walls. Hundreds of candelabrums ran the length of the corridor above my mistresses head, down both sides. I'd seen all I needed to see and my eyes rushed back to Ms. Handlesmen, the woman I loved.

I padded along beside the girl, while struggling to keep my tail high and bouncing just like a puppy's. I figured that must have been why they'd fitted me with one, and besides the tail left me no choice. I kept both eyes on Ms. Handlesmen, and like a hungry French chef foraging for truffles, I used them to begin digging into the moistening crevice created by Ms. Handlesmen's cheeks. I was mesmerized by the way her globes moved in tandem with her stride, lost in their seductive rhythm. Her long legs were perfectly turned and moved more gracefully then anyone's I'd ever seen. Her back was the work of Michelangelo and it brought back childhood memories of my high school library. I can still remember leafing through the old books of very early European art, at the erotic paintings produced by the masters.

I knew ms. Handlesmen's breasts were swinging back and forth on her chest, I even caught fleeting glimpses of one, as it swung with the other, far to the right. Not being able to see my lovers breasts fed my madness and knowing they laid bare only made matters worse, and at one point caused me to pull on my chain, in a mistake that received a warning. I would follow Ms. Handlesmen anywhere and at any price.

The corridor was long and narrow with high ceilings, and the only other door, other then the one we'd exited, was at the other end. Ms. Handlesmen slowed her pace and started moving in a more leisurely manner, giving my mind the opportunity to catch up. It came to play in erotic daydreams while climbing with my eyes about on her body. I was also afforded a moment to ponder the metallic pearls I'd been rubbing on the roof and bottom of my mouth. I kept sucking on them, but hadn't a clue as to why I'd been given them. We eventually reached the other door and I followed Ms. Handlesmen into a room. 

It was a warm softly lit room with a giant bed in its center. It was the biggest bed I had ever seen. It had a heavy wooden frame, a giant headboard and massive corner posts. The mattress was outrageously thick as was the comforter and pillows. Candles provided the light in this room too, which gave the chamber a warm cozy glow in complement to the rooms warm wooden interior. There was little furniture about, a couple of tables at most. The rug was thick and I could feel my hands, or should I say paws, sink into its deep pile.

I watched Ms. Handlesmen intently, as she walked to the bed and crawled onto it. I caught a glimpse of her breasts as they swung under her. She let herself fall and roll over onto her back. Her body went into a great arch and her hands moved behind her head. In that position her breasts stuck in the air in an exciting display my eyes devoured. I was led to the bed, then allowed to kneel up and place my paws on it. Like this I got an excellent view of my lover, the woman of my dreams, the one I adored. I watched her chest move to her every breath, watched her stretch till her breasts wobbled in a most delicious display. Her smooth peaches and cream complexion and fiery red hair, in the light of the flickering candles was devilishly inviting against the deep blue satin comforter. Her long arms and legs were vines I wished to become entangled and rolled up within. Her legs stretched out, her toes wiggled and then her head turned in my direction.

"Don't forget It's pouch dear," she said to the girl with my leash.

"Oh yes ma'am," the girl replied in a deep voice, with an eager overtone that worried me. She picked up a small cotton sheath from the foot of the bed and knelt down beside me. "Be still," she ordered.

I glanced to her for only a second, before rushing my eyes back to my dreams. I had never seen a woman naked before and I never imagined it would be one so beautiful. Like with super sweet frosting, just looking at Ms. Handlesmen hurt my teeth. I knelt by her bed, caught-up in and consumed by passions eating away at my insides. My gray matter and brain cells were soup, boiling rapidly in an olio of desires. From her hair, to her eyes, her lips, breasts, over belly, thighs, legs, feet, toes and back, over and over again, my eyes surveyed, settled and raced to survey again. Over hill, into dale, and along valley my eyes traveled, always discovering new, unable to find enough, or some small part of her body that didn't excite. The girl worked a cotton tube over my penis and the ring through a conveniently located button hole. It was a sleeve she inched up my entire length and then fastened in place, by tying the ends of two strings together the other side of my balls. She cinched it tight of course.

"It's on ma'am," the girl said. She detached the leash from my nose ring and stood.

I felt as if my heart were about to explode from the excitement, burst from my chest. All of the itching I had been laboring under for almost the entire day suddenly migrated to my throbbing hard-on. My eyes, though never at rest, never strayed from my lovers body. The flickering candle light caused her breasts to dance, their long thick nipples to gyrate erotically and me to swoon. Already the cotton sheath secured about my penis was soaking wet and it alternated between hot and cold. The girl stood near the bed, to my left, stooped over slightly and smiling wickedly. Her right hand was playing gently with my testicles while her thumb pressed up and into my tails plug. The sensations inside of me caused by the end of the stem wiggling in short rapid oscillations, teamed up with the girls playfulness and together caused me to churn out seed as never before. She kept my balls so hard and so tight it was beyond painful.

My penis had a problem... Mmmmmm, it couldn't decide which part of Ms. Handlesmen's body it wished the eyes to settle on. The very thought of settling on one area meant excluding another, which bothered my intoxicated other-self, who was rapidly becoming more me, then what was left of me. The old me could articulate, but the new me was lucky if it could spell. Did I wish to deter myself from becoming my penis? Could I? Wasn't I simply admitting the truth! Aren't almost all men simply penises? Penis-brained?!

What long pretty toes Ms. Handlesmen has, both sleek and chubby all at once and how much more titillating with nails painted a bright pink to match her panties, lips and fingers. What pretty feet she has and such pretty hands. She has long slender fingers and long nails ready for war and love. Her hands are learned in the art of male anatomy and prepared to take possession, torment and gratify. They're long graceful hands, but damn sure hands, part of an entire female package that understands her responsibilities, especially in dealing with males. The arm nearest me fell across the bed in my direction and landed palm up. Her head turned to me and our eyes met. Now I knew better than to let my eyes wander from hers once snagged. Or should I say, my penis knew better. My handlers hand was alternating between my balls, pinching first one until I jumped and then the other. She had me hopping in tiny starts and uttering.

"Ow... Ow... Ow... Ow... Ow... " in tiny barks, that made my lover smile. Ms. Handlesmen's index finger arose, calling me come hither.

"Come here, Joey. Bring those little balls of yours here and place them gently in my palm. Come on Joey, like a good little puppy dog. Come on little pussy," she whispered in long, passionate, well-rounded words. Like the room, her articulations were deeply embellished and struck at my very root. I shook my head yes and eagerly obeyed.

I complied without hesitation and jumped up onto the bed. My tail pulled my buttocks back and forth as I fought for control. My entire behind wobbled with the situation and waved the tail in the air above me, as my butt carried it along with my leap. I landed true, with a knee on either side of my lovers hand. Looking down between my legs, I guided my balls and set them to berth as gently as I could onto her warm palm. I watched her fingers close around my scrotum and thought about the Venus fly trap. Her hand turned in self-facilitation, in order to obtain a better grip and then she brought me down, stretching me out along her arm.

I rested my chin nervously on her shoulder, my eyes staying with hers obediently, and then she rolled over on her side to face me. She brought her breasts between us, lined them up with mine and pressed them into my chest. I almost screamed to the branding as my flesh was seared and cauterized by the white-hot irons of Eros. I would wear Ms. Handlesmen's nipple brands forever, like a corralled and herded calf, a slab of beef on a hook. They penetrated deep, burned into my astral-self and soul.

I could take no more and was about to orgasm when she pushed my head back into her soft down pillow. She had known of my limits and crisis long before me, I could see it in her smirk, her air of confidence and by the way her hand moved. Ms. Handlesmen had stemmed my discharge long before I'd become conscious of it and easily manipulated me in that way.

Periphery viewing was insufficient here, totally unsatisfactory. I needed to look directly at my mistresses breasts, to stare, to study and hold one in my hands. Here they were, the finest treasures a man could hope to hold, so near and yet so distant I couldn't yet see them. And when allowed to see them, I wouldn't be able to touch them with my hands... Ms. Handlesmen rolled her mounds of hot flesh against me, driving me crazier and crazier and she knew it, reveled in it. She glanced past me, to the younger lady, grinned, then came back to me with a snicker and shake of the head.

"You look adorable with a tail Joey, just perfect. I do hope you learn to appreciate it as much as I do. I want you to carry it for me proudly, like my little man, little male doggy that is," Ms. Handlesmen whispered with a nodding smile and a softly blown kiss through rounded moist lips. To me this woman could do no wrong and I smiled to her in a simply gleeful way, from ear to ear. My lover and the lady both burst out in laughter and of course I chuckled quietly along.

At that moment I surrendered to temptation and moved to steal that quick glance at one breast, but I found Ms. Handlesmen waiting. She held my eyes in check and used hers to begin scolding. She pinched my left testicle till I whimpered and began worrying it. When sure of my submission and her control, my mistress became gentle again. She even allowed me to move my body against her hand and arm.

Ms. Handlesmen rolled me up, over and closer, capturing my shoulder and chest between her breasts. Then she draped her right leg onto my lower back, over my left ass cheek and her side of my tail. I could feel all of my lover now and struggled to breathe slowly, so I could stay conscious. All of her was naked beside me, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen was naked beside me and our bodies were pressed together. I was in heaven, yet concerned about what to do with my left paw, the one between us, not wishing to upset the moment. Her body was unbelievably firm, yet soft, well-toned, warm and cuddly. I felt more secure and more excited then ever before.

"Joey," she said quietly, but in a way meant to get my attention. She was looking at me in a very serious way and I sensed we had indeed entered a special relationship. I couldn't quite understood our attachment, but understood why I enjoyed it and never wanted to lose it.

Ms. Handlesmen had my attention, she had all my concentration all of the time. I no longer could stand against myself, I was resigned to reality. What I'd dreamt of all these years is turning out to be more than I could have envisioned, and I thanked God for that. As her fingers moved to pinch one of my testicles I felt myself surrender another thick wad of lubrication, quickly sopped up by my cotton sheath. I decided once and for all to cease my self-resistance and return to my pre-bicameral past. To when my mind did not think about itself or differentiate. I bowed before my prick, the recently unleashed monster, my organ of barbaric thirsts and desires, which I had kept subdued for so long, for so many, many years. The bottle was uncorked and my prick was freed to demand its due, its reparations for Reasons' years of intolerance. My soul obliged my pandemic self and with six feet of fertile psychic-soil filled the grave containing Reason. Then it joined my Prick and his pals, Dionysus, Bacchus and all the Sybarites in unending revelry and debauchery.

My hips jumped a little whenever Ms. Handlesmen pinched a testicle, but that gave me opportunities to move closer, to wallow between her breasts and wiggle deeper. I bathed in our perspiration's and thrilled to her scent, her breath, the feel of her nipples. I could never get enough of them and wanted nothing better then to pinch one and suck it into my mouth. As always it began involuntarily, but I was soon humping, this time against my lovers wrist. I was rubbing the wet sheath and ring on her, as my tail bobbed in the air above us, in a shameful display of sexual addiction.

"Be still Joey," was all she needed to whisper and I brought my throbbing hard-on to an uneasy rest against her wrist. I was the space shuttle with all systems go, at full throttle, aiming for orbit around the earth, but I was chained in place. I was held fast, as flames scorched my face and I tested the threshold of self-annihilation. "Do not be vulgar, Joey." 

Our eyes never left one another's, yet we traveled over each other's body, hers to use and abuse, mine to beg and collapse in ecstasy. The girl rolled over me and knelt on the bed to my right. From there she leaned forward and kissed Ms. Handlesmen. I watched my lover respond, her lips meeting and yielding to the girls. Moisture bubbled up from the joining of their soft fillets and Ms. Handlesmen tightened her grip of my testicles. I moaned aloud, as they slobbered in a heated exchange. The girl then climbed over Ms. Handlesmen and the next thing I knew, I had both of them looking down at me. I had hoped this would have been a romantic evening, whatever that actually means. My eyes now darted between both dominatrix and Ms. Handlesmen, who released my balls.

"Show me your tongue Joey," she demanded and I extended the organ in her direction, sticking it out from between my lips as far as I could. Both woman smiled, giggled to one another and reached for my tongue with one of their hands. Both hands came to my face, blocking my view as their fingers grabbed me. One was soft and sweetly scented, the other smelled of leather and filth. The filthy fingers forced their way down my throat and clutched my tongue as near to it's base as they could get, causing me to retch.

The girl held my soft tongue between leathered thumb and fingers, in an intentionally tight pinch. Ms. Handlesmen's fingers toyed gently with the black metallic pearls now secured to its tip. My mistress went on speaking as she continued exploring. Unable to swallow, my drool flowed freely from my mouth, down my chin to the bed.

Soon the girl released my tongue and went for Ms. Handlesmen's breast, I could feel her lift the soft orb from me and slip her hand under it. She purposely took the breast away from me, into her own hot mitt and snickered while doing so. This girl had to be at least a year younger than me, but she knew I was afraid of her and she knew how to hurt me.

I was left with Ms. Handlesmen's left breast and leaned on it for support and comfort, coveting it jealously, as if it were all mine. I watched the girl nibble on my lovers ear, causing shivers in Ms. Handlesmen even I felt. She kissed Ms. Handlesmen's cheek and my lover's eyes closed, then she moved with tongue extended. Their delicate pink organs soon fenced and slobbered together in a passionate duel that caused my balls to tighten up in more spermatic production. Ms. Handlesmen stopped and spoke to me quietly.

"Joey. I want you for my own. I want to own you." She spoke while releasing the tongue and reaching once more for a testicle. She was looking at me seriously again, yet reached in play to accept the girls tongue as it came with a dollop of saliva. I could feel the girls hand working on my lover, her leather tough mitt mauling my lovers tit and I couldn't believe it. I jumped to Ms. Handlesmen's squeezes and then nuzzled in as I could, looking to both ladies in askance. "I know you love me Joey and want to be owned by me. These artificial limbs, the tail you now wear and will wear from now on, are just the beginning."

'Artificial', my limbs were artificial. I was so happy to hear that.

"I also want you to wear my tattoo and my brand. But for right now, I want you to begin your career and earn that salary I promised you." As always, her words left me perplexed, worried and happy beyond my wildest dreams. The girl moved to allow room for Ms. Handlesmen to roll onto her back and from the corner of my eye I watched my mistresses breasts wobble into mounds upon her chest.

"Explain to it what to do, dear," my lover said looking up at the girl. The girl lowered her lips to Ms. Handlesmen's while reaching for my nose ring. It only took a slight tug.