and in the shower
tiled with golden mother-of-pearl. X sipped at her drink, finished it, and then
returned to the bar where she poured herself another.
A few
minutes later, X made her way back to Compton.
The dimmed
recessed lights above them cast peculiar arrays of shadows through the room,
and these dark distorted outlines of the furnishings and chains that hung here
and there increased the gothic feel of the space while adding to it a sense of
something looming. Whether sadness, emptiness, or absurdity, X was unsure.
Maybe it was all the aforementioned.
X removed
the nipple clamp and let it drop to the floor. From her glass, she removed an
ice cube and ran it first over Compton’s freshly unclasped nipple before
repeating the act to the opposite one. Compton’s small pink nipples reddened
from the ice, the little hairs around them folding over, saturated from the
water. As X rubbed them and teased them, rivulets ran down Compton’s abdomen
before dripping in fat drops onto the floor.
Compton’s
codpiece was held together with simple snaps which X undid before letting it
fall between his legs to the floor. From her bag, she retrieved a wooden ruler
which she took with her back into the cage. By the time X had returned,
Compton’s penis was erect, and the little organ stood straight out in front of
him. After opening the little door at the front of his head cage, X popped in
one of the ice cubes from her glass. The cube would sit at the bottom of the
head cage next to his neck, she knew, and gradually melt. In just a few
moments, little streams of water began to make their way out from underneath
the bottom of the globe and trickle down his torso. She popped in another cube
and let the door remain slightly ajar.
“You have a
pathetically small penis,” she said, giving her assessment, “even when you are
erect.” After scooping another ice cube from her glass, X ran it along
Compton’s short shaft, hoping that his erection would retreat, but it did not.
Instead, he let out a groan of pleasure from within his sphere.
“And while
I’m at it, I might as well tell you that even though you are a moderately
handsome man, and in that I mean that you are not disgusting, your mustache is
absolutely atrocious. You look like you have a caterpillar crawling on your
lip. It disgusts me.”
X dunked
the fingers of her right hand into the drink and let the clinging drops of
alcohol and tonic drip onto his penis. The muscles of his abdomen clenched as
the liquid touched him. The alcohol wouldn’t burn him, she knew. Other times,
she had put wine or vodka onto a man’s penis and then licked it off. The woman placed her glass onto the floor.
“Let’s see
what you have here, get an exact measurement. There isn’t really much to see,”
X said, placing the wooden ruler along the underside of his penis. Compton ’s member had a slight
curve to it, making it turn up a little at the tip as if it wanted to stare back
up at him, and because of this X had to push the head of it next to the ruler
in order to get an accurate measurement.
“Your penis
is four-and-one-half inches,” she reported. X gave it a quick whack with her
ruler and he yelped in pain. “That’s sad, really. I feel sorry for you. I guess
there are some things that money can’t buy.”
“Forgive
me, Mistress,” he said.
His
statement irritated her. “You have no short-term memory, do you?”
“Forgive
me, Domina .”
“I thought a
man like you would be more intelligent, really, an assumption that was clearly
in error.”
X walked to
the pegboard in the back and pulled off a restraining device. On this device,
five metal rings were connected by a leather strap, and then with it in her
right hand and Compton’s penis in the other, X slid the contraption over his
member, pushing each ring over the glans until the
back ring had reached the whole way to his base, and once there, she pulled his
testicles through the hoop with a slight but not
tiled with golden mother-of-pearl. X sipped at her drink, finished it, and then
returned to the bar where she poured herself another.
A few
minutes later, X made her way back to Compton.
The dimmed
recessed lights above them cast peculiar arrays of shadows through the room,
and these dark distorted outlines of the furnishings and chains that hung here
and there increased the gothic feel of the space while adding to it a sense of
something looming. Whether sadness, emptiness, or absurdity, X was unsure.
Maybe it was all the aforementioned.
X removed
the nipple clamp and let it drop to the floor. From her glass, she removed an
ice cube and ran it first over Compton’s freshly unclasped nipple before
repeating the act to the opposite one. Compton’s small pink nipples reddened
from the ice, the little hairs around them folding over, saturated from the
water. As X rubbed them and teased them, rivulets ran down Compton’s abdomen
before dripping in fat drops onto the floor.
Compton’s
codpiece was held together with simple snaps which X undid before letting it
fall between his legs to the floor. From her bag, she retrieved a wooden ruler
which she took with her back into the cage. By the time X had returned,
Compton’s penis was erect, and the little organ stood straight out in front of
him. After opening the little door at the front of his head cage, X popped in
one of the ice cubes from her glass. The cube would sit at the bottom of the
head cage next to his neck, she knew, and gradually melt. In just a few
moments, little streams of water began to make their way out from underneath
the bottom of the globe and trickle down his torso. She popped in another cube
and let the door remain slightly ajar.
“You have a
pathetically small penis,” she said, giving her assessment, “even when you are
erect.” After scooping another ice cube from her glass, X ran it along
Compton’s short shaft, hoping that his erection would retreat, but it did not.
Instead, he let out a groan of pleasure from within his sphere.
“And while
I’m at it, I might as well tell you that even though you are a moderately
handsome man, and in that I mean that you are not disgusting, your mustache is
absolutely atrocious. You look like you have a caterpillar crawling on your
lip. It disgusts me.”
X dunked
the fingers of her right hand into the drink and let the clinging drops of
alcohol and tonic drip onto his penis. The muscles of his abdomen clenched as
the liquid touched him. The alcohol wouldn’t burn him, she knew. Other times,
she had put wine or vodka onto a man’s penis and then licked it off. The woman placed her glass onto the floor.
“Let’s see
what you have here, get an exact measurement. There isn’t really much to see,”
X said, placing the wooden ruler along the underside of his penis. Compton ’s member had a slight
curve to it, making it turn up a little at the tip as if it wanted to stare back
up at him, and because of this X had to push the head of it next to the ruler
in order to get an accurate measurement.
“Your penis
is four-and-one-half inches,” she reported. X gave it a quick whack with her
ruler and he yelped in pain. “That’s sad, really. I feel sorry for you. I guess
there are some things that money can’t buy.”
“Forgive
me, Mistress,” he said.
His
statement irritated her. “You have no short-term memory, do you?”
“Forgive
me, Domina .”
“I thought a
man like you would be more intelligent, really, an assumption that was clearly
in error.”
X walked to
the pegboard in the back and pulled off a restraining device. On this device,
five metal rings were connected by a leather strap, and then with it in her
right hand and Compton’s penis in the other, X slid the contraption over his
member, pushing each ring over the glans until the
back ring had reached the whole way to his base, and once there, she pulled his
testicles through the hoop with a slight but not
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