Chloe & Me

Chapter Two-2

“Turn around you disgusting wanker!”

I turned, to face her, my c**k still wrapped up in wet tissue.

“Remove that!”

I removed the tissue, little post orgasmic drips of semen fell from my c**k. Splattering across the clean kitchen floor, she ignored them. Holding out her hand, she offered me a pan-scrubber. One of those sponges with a course green covering on one side. She picked up the washing-up-liquid and squirted a dollop onto the green abrasive before handing it to me.

“Clean it properly!”

I took the pad, then slowly pulling back my foreskin, ejecting a last dollop of my semen to the kitchen floor. Nervous of the impending pain, I slowly lowered my hand and the pad to my half-flaccid c**k, slowly, carefully; I began to scrub at it.

My bloody c**k began to erect again but that didn’t last long. Pain erupted in my sensitive skin, overwhelming any possibility of expansion. Chloe grinned at my discomfort.

“Harder or I will do it for you, that’s it scrub it wanker, get it nice and clean!”

Terrified, I dug the sponge into the creases caused by my retracted foreskin, cleaning every possible part, whilst she stood watching me and enjoying her power over me. She handed me a piece of clean kitchen roll, then taking me by my new collar, she led me back to the table.

She sat whilst I remained standing, now looking down at her hair. My c**k was perfectly positioned for her inspection. I could see that the open box on the tabletop contained a crazy jumble of plastic parts, which frankly meant nothing to me then, though they soon would. She reached out and tipped the contents of the box onto the tabletop, sorting through them with a finger; the smile of anticipation on her face bode badly for me. Picking up a large plastic ring, she then stretched out her hand, cupped my balls tightly whilst feeding the ring around them. As she squeezed the ring, it closed, much like a Policeman’s handcuffs, tightening around my scrotum, but above my balls.

Hastily she picked up another ring, pushing it over my c**k then pulling my foreskin tight and fed it through until the new ring nestled at the base of my c**k. She tightened this one up in the same way. Six more rings were fitted and tightened around my mostly deflated c**k. She then picked up some strips of plastic, which she fed through small loops fitted to each ring, joining them together, but separated by a series of small gaps. My c**k was fast becoming wrapped in an outer coating of plastic, whilst remaining flexible.

A strange rubber hood was added, it was fitted by stretching my foreskin backward as the hood was slipped down until it nestled below my c**k head. She then worked my foreskin forward until the hood rested against the lower swelling of my c**k. With the foreskin now gathered up in a roll behind it, she tightened the cuff lock. Pulling the rubber forward to replace my foreskin, which was now trapped. This ring she joined to the plastic strips. She took a padlock off the table, opened it, and locating two ring lined little holes to either side of the rubber hood; she slipped the metal lock through them, then with a glance into my face she snapped the mechanism shut.

My c**k was now secured by her contraption, my having an erection whilst wearing this gizmo appeared to be impossible. Rubbing my c**k-head is possible I think, but if I came, the jism would be obvious to her, so it would appear that further wanking, at least without her express permission, was now an unobtainable option for me.

“Now isn’t that better?” She said, all snug comfy and secure, very secure.

How do I answer that I wondered. It didn’t feel better to me that was for sure.

“No more touchy feely for you my boy, that’s my first rule. She held out the key, it was fitted to a nice chain, which she placed over her head to hang between her breasts.

“Oh yes, I expect you to come to me to request removal of the lock to clean your c**k, which of course I will watch you do, just to be sure that, that is all you do to it.”

Even the most personal private parts of my life are now under her control. I realised. I had better be careful when I go to the loo. I can just imagine standing at a urinal, my c**k in my hand and having someone next to me seeing this chastity device: no chance I was going to allow that to happen, from now on I would be going to the loo like a girl, pissing in a cubical, in private.

“From now on boy you are going to obey me, you are going to learn to comply totally. You might, if you are very, very good and please me immensely, receive an odd reward, but mostly your life will consist of obeying and serving me, is that clear?”

I nodded, subjected and helpless before my owner, a pawn to her desires, with no life of my own, and no choice but to accept and serve her demands whatever they might be. I didn’t know it just then, but I was about to get my first lesson directly from her in obedience. A lesson and test combined, and for no other reason than she thought it would be fun; for her, not necessarily for me. For me it would be torment and fear, combined with a little pain thrown in for entertainment value.

“Kneel boy.”

I knelt, falling to my knees, my head down, my nose almost touching the floor.

“Stay there, don’t you dare move or so help me, I will flay you alive!”

I stayed frozen into immobility by her threat. She was not gone very long but when she returned, she had her arms full of things.

“Put these on!”

She dumped a pile of clothes on the floor as I looked up eager to please her. The clothes were instantly familiar but in a strange way; they would appear to be a uniform of some kind.

I crawled towards the pile, commencing to sort it into a semblance of order. There was a green tunic with a white blouse, bottle green heavy knickers and a pair of long white socks. I started to dress. The clothes were very tight, of the blouse I could only do up the top three buttons, but the tunic, that, with a struggle, pulled over my head and down. The knickers held no such problem for me. I slipped them on, pulled them up until they gripped my bottom tightly. My balls felt compressed as the now tight material gripped. The lump seemed odd to me, I normally feed my c**k between my legs, trapping it in place to make me look more like a girl, but with the chastity device now in place, I could not do that.

I sneaked a swift look towards Chloe, she was grinning away to herself whilst watching my reverse striptease. Once the knickers were pulled up properly, I yanked at the tunic to get it down over the knickers before smoothing everything into place. With my hands clasped behind my back, little girl like, I turned to face my Mistress. She looked me up and down, nodding in approval at my feminisation.

Chloe stood up, reached out towards my head and grasped my ear tightly between her thumb and finger.

“This way slut, time to pay for being what you are!”

She led me out of the kitchen and through the garage area, then out onto our patio. She turned from me telling me, in a ferociously dominant tone of voice, to face the wall and stand still, and then she left me. I am a quick learner; I faced the wall without hesitation, wondering what she had in mind to do with me?

She could not have been gone for more than a couple of minutes, but standing dressed as I was, in the darkening of early evening; outside on our patio, made it feel more like an hour. Already my feet were getting cold, only having the white socks on; she had insisted that I wear only them, no shoes for me. The hard stone felt uncomfortable and slightly damp, making the material feel like it was glued to my sole’s. The desire to move grew in me, but the fear of the consequences of acting on that desire overruled it. I stood stock-still, feeling humiliated effectively, and just by her having decided how and then having placed me here.

Chloe returned. She took hold of my left wrist snapped something hard and metal around it, the ratchet mechanism clicked slowly as she tightened it up. Then my other wrist was drawn back to join the first, again a ratchet clicked, I was being handcuffed by her. Where the hell did she get handcuffs I wondered? The answer of course is obvious, so obvious that even I, in the confused and excited state that she has created for me, finally realised the answer. She had gone shopping with my money; she had purchased the restraint now fitted so tightly to my c**k, therefore, i***t, I told myself, why she couldn’t have also purchased the cuffs. The real question raging through my head just then was, ‘had she purchased anything else, and if so what?’ With my hands suitably secured to her satisfaction, she grasped my ear again; she turned me away from the wall, leading me from the patio further into the garden.

Our parent’s home is quite private; mostly it has high hedges and is very long and narrow. At the top is the apple orchard that Chloe had caught me playing in. To get there meant a walk of maybe two hundred yards, with some of it in plain view to any of our neighbors who might be looking out of their upper windows. Chloe must realise that we might be seen, but she ignored the fact; when I indulged in my little fantasies, I literally run up the garden to reduce the possibility of being seen. Chloe, leading me the whole time by my ear, walked me up to the orchard and not even in the shadows but right up the center of the lawn, in plain sight.

Much to my relief we arrived in the orchard area, thankfully we were now out of sight and probably safe from discovery. She didn’t lead me as I thought that she might to my low hanging branch, instead she took me towards the right fence. There is a tall crab-apple tree, which nestled tight against the garden fence. It acted as a part of the support for the wood fence panels and frame, which make up the fence, there Chloe made me kneel. If I had thought that my feet had been cold down on the patio, I now know what they feel like when they are freezing. The grass and soil were damp, and my socks were already filthy. I knelt; feeling cold disgusting mud as it squidged, then became shaped around my knees as I sunk slightly because of my weight pressing down into the soft earth.

Chloe was doing something with the lowest tree branch; she had thrown something over it. I kept my head down, waiting. Rope hit my back as it fell from the branch. Chloe removed it and with a distinctive click, latched its end to the separating chain links of my cuffs. She took the other end of the rope and hauled; the rope drew tight, and then pulled against my arms, lifting them high. I had no choice but to bend at the waist, which allowed my arms to be tugged even higher. She must have knotted the rope off because I felt her hands at my ankles next. She fitted a wide leather restraint around my left sock, then tapping the inner part of my thighs, she instructed me to open my legs; some awkward shuffling followed as I complied. Another cuff was fitted, my legs were splayed wider. Luckily the hem of my dress was wide enough to allow for my new position.