“I am your keyholder, Patrick. Your c**k belongs to me. To use, or not, as I see fit.”
Patrick wrestled against the straps. “f*****g b***h!”
“Santo,” I said.
My slave stepped forward, in his hands was a full on leather hood, much more restrictive than the one Patrick wore at the recital.
Patrick just stared at it. His breathing got faster. He licked his lips. “Don’t, please...”
I nodded at Santo. He stood behind Patrick while I loosened the straps about his head. Santo pulled the leather prison down over Patrick. No eyeholes, just two small ringlets with tiny tubes for the nose and a very large, sewn in tube for the mouth. I positioned everything just so and Santo held it in place, hands on either side of Patrick’s quivering head. To tighten everything there was a zipper in back that
