Chloe & Me

Chapter One-2

The lounge was ahead and to my right, the door was closed tight shut causing me a dilemma. I knelt up to reach out for the handle, intending to thrust open the door and enter, but something, a little ringing alarm bell sounded in my mind. Dare I just enter, dare I force my way unbidden into her presence? No, I dare not. I reached out, this time not for the handle, but towards the wood of the door. I knocked not once, but twice. Silence responded, I knocked again, my terror building; was I wrong, should I have entered?

“Enter!” Her voice rang through the closed wood echoing into my humbled thoughts. I entered, now committed to her presence, my head deliberately looking down at the carpet. I crawled forward head remaining down, I wanted to delay my inevitable exposure, and I wanted desperately to please her enough not to reveal me to the world. I crawled inside, wet and broken, subjected to her whim, her helpless toy.

My extended fingers touched something slick and cold, I looked up slightly, it was a plastic decorator’s sheet laid out on the carpet. Pointed black leather boots hove into view as my eyes looked up slightly.

“Move, you lazy bastard, do you think I have all day to waste on you!”

I crawled to the center of the poly sheet, halting before her towering shiny boots, not daring to look up at her. I could feel the scolding heat of her gaze as it burned into the flesh of my vulnerable back.

“Kneel!”

I knelt, lifting my head slowly. She stood before me, feet apart, with her hands rested on her white skirt covered hips, her boots disappearing beneath the loose material. Still further I raised my head. She wore a black bask, tightly fitted to her delicate chest, her breasts encompassed and squeezed together, forming a cleavage of sorts out of her small breasts. My eyes lingered on the mounds of her contained flesh, I had never seen her looking like this, so stern, so in control, so dominant. Finally, I plucked up the courage to look into her angelic face, with its bright red lipstick, something else I had never seen her wear before. She did not look angelic I realised; she looked more like the evil controlling b***h of all of my nightmares.

Her hands rested on her hips, yet she was holding something in her left hand, tightly clenched in a grip of steel.

“My my, how wet we are! Do we feel all cold and clammy?”

The voice teased, cajoled, dared me to answer. I looked down, humbled by her scorn. She lifted my head with the plastic object held in her hand; I recognised it now as a TV remote control.

“I have a lot to say to you little boy, but first I demand that you watch this very carefully. Note the exquisite detail portrayed in the footage, and think about how it might be used to affect your miserable life.”

She clicked the switch and the television burst into life. She had obviously set the recording up because the opening frame was a hand, my hand. I am holding a bunch of rods and swishing them through the air, prior to lashing them across the naked flesh of my own bared bottom. The stolen panties I was wearing are clear to see, though rolled down clear of my buttocks. The skirt I was wearing was tucked up across my back, the second stroke lashed against my flesh. The camera panned in then out, fully revealing the bound body of myself in perfect detail, as I continued to thrash at my own flesh. She even had pictures of my erect c**k, all swathed and struggling to escape the captivity of my panties. I was helpless, my eyes transfixed by the flickering images.

“Nice photography don’t you think?”

I didn’t think, couldn’t think, all I could see in my mind was the horror that her possession of that film generated.

“Now we come to the more interesting part of this conversation. What am I going to do with it?” She pointed the controller at the flickering screen; the image froze at the touch of a button. She could not have picked a better place to freeze it, if her intent was to torment me. The camera portrayed to the screen a close up of my thrashed skin, all puckered and lined, coated with goose bumps from the cold. I looked down and waited.

“I think that you should be mine, for me to do with exactly as I want, don’t you agree?”

I knelt, head bowed, hearing her words but only partially understanding them.

“So you don’t know, well that isn’t surprising, my sissy boy, you need some time to think before you decide!”

I nodded, hoping she would change her mind and give me the film, some hope.

“A good nights thinking will do you the world of good, perhaps by the morning you will have a clearer understanding of just how much your miserable life has been changed.” She reached out as she spoke, grasped my wet hair which she used to tilt my face upwards, as she forced me to look into her steely determined eyes.

“Come with me.” She clicked her fingers and walked from the room. I crawled after her, helpless, controlled, and very aroused. She led me to my bedroom, my inner sanctum and ordered me to strip out of my wet clothes, which of course were mostly hers. Helpless, forced by her control, I obeyed her, standing naked and humiliated in front of her. My humiliation was caused by my bodies’ obvious s****l arousal. Inside I shook like a leaf in a breeze, as I stood before my stepsister, erect and waiting for her next demand of me.

I tried to cover my engorged reaction to my situation, which only caused her to laugh, then she order me to place my hands behind my back. She picked up something from the bed, something that had not been there when I had changed earlier for my little erotic adventure. The role of black repair tape had come from our father’s garage; I recognised it immediately. She pulled off a long strip, telling me to turn round and hold out my hands, fingers intertwined. The tape stuck fast, griped tight against my wrists, it pulled my hairs tight painfully as she wound it round and round. Satisfied she turned me about to face her once more, my arousal now exploded upward against my belly, plain to see, not possible to misinterpret.

“That, I will have to do something about. You will take someone’s eye out with it!”

My c**k bounced, doing imaginary press ups in the air, beating a tattoo against my stomach. I hated myself for adding to my own humiliation, but my c**k had developed a mind of its own. My cheeks felt hot to me, I was blushing at my inability to control my own body. She just stood in front of me smiling, and watched my pathetic aerobics.

She reached out toward me, though not for my c**k, to fit a tatty looking old leather dog collar tightly around my neck. Then she reached up and clipped on a leather lead, which was equally as old and frayed, but still effective. She tugged once, nothing parted or snapped, she tugged again and then she turned and walked off. I followed, a helpless lamb led by a she wolf, one with intent and power over me. She led me to the bathroom, which is a large and roomy place.

“In the bath slave.” She ordered.

I stepped carefully over the high sides, scared of falling flat on my face or worse backward onto her. Once inside the bath she turned me to face her, pushing me back against the ice-cold tiles, making me squirm at her and their touch.

“Stand still, it’s only a shower. I would have thought that you would like a nice shower after all that cold rain.” She picked up the showerhead unclipping it from its bracket, and then she reached out to flip the temperature dial, before finally turning on the water at full spray. Ice-cold water blasted at me, her grin told me that she had deliberately selected it, that she wanted it to be freezing cold. I yelped in shock as she had aimed the jet perfectly, it hit my erection, battering it upwards against my stomach and had an instant effect. Ice-cold rivulets of water first coated and then trailed down around and past my balls, adding to the shock the jet had invoked.

There is one thing guaranteed in most cases to shrivel an erection, and that is the application of ice-cold water to the balls. I was no different than most, if not all males. My balls contracted, my c**k lost interest and softened. Chloe just grinned as she reached out towards the black roll of tape she had brought with her. She ripped a length off then hurriedly began to wrap it tightly around my now deflated manhood. Causing a slight, but temporary reaction from it, a reaction she had no intention of tolerating apparently. She gripped tight, pulling the cloth material taught, crushing and constricting my flesh prior to binding it. Once she had finished, I looked down to see a black tube of wrapping poking out from my hips, now held horizontal by its own strength, not my bodies. She had tamed my arousal and in seconds. She had obviously expected something of the sort and had planned out how to deal with it.

Once showered and then dried by her I was led back to my bedroom, and there made to lie down. She cut free my taped wrists but my freedom was to last only for a few brief seconds, as she place one hand by each metal column of my bed head. She, taking care not to cut off my blood-flow, re-taped each wrist firmly into place. Seconds later I was tightly bound, with both hands stretched above my head, and little option but to remain where she had taped me. She looped the lead around the beds cross-bar, not to tight, but enough to stop me lifting my head far. Then she vanished from my sight.

My reprieve was short lived; she was back quickly and held a roll of bandage, this she slowly began to wrap around my taped c**k. With each tightening turn she got nearer to my balls, finally, she looped the bandage around them, then she tugged upward between them, binding and separating each fleshy sphere. Next, she bound tight green garden wire around the bandage before knotting it in places, creating a cage of inflexible plastic coated metal. Another loop cut from the reel she wound around my separated balls, then forcing my c**k to bend she stretched the wire to just below my bell end and began to wind again. Throughout, her smile of glee never left her face, I could tell she was concentrating very hard, because her tongue protruded wetly from between her lips.

She vanished again, this time taking longer before she returned. I didn’t see what she carried but I felt her pinch my bottom, indicating that she wanted me to lift it clear of the bed-sheets. Coarse but at the same time soft material slipped beneath me, she pulled it tight around my hips. My inner thighs felt her pinch this time, causing me to jerk my legs open.

“Wider brat,” was all that she said. She tugged at the material, jerking it up between my parted thighs, then with a knot and pin she fastened the three tails together. She had put me into a homemade nappy! I struggled as the realisation of the humiliation she had brought to me sank home. All that happened was a she gave me a sharp slap to my parted thighs, which brought my struggles to a hasty end.

She picked up the tape once more, having pulled my right leg outward, she wrapped tape around my ankle and around the bottom bar of the bed, securing my leg in an uncomfortable stretched out position. Quickly the other followed the first but to the opposite corner, and there I was secured, naked except for a nappy, and fitted with a c**k restraint. It was once I was secured, then I realised that she had also brought her digital camera with her. She took picture after picture of my torment, adding more blackmail evidence to her collection, my resistance crumbled totally.