Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bound and spiked on an immovable pedestal I listen to the clicking of Mistress’ boots as she hurries from the room. Alone in impenetrable blackness then I can hear car doors slamming and female voices raised in greeting. Very soon I will be the center of attention, the object of communal hilarity and derision and no doubt soon after that subjected to teasing, torment, impossibly arousing discipline and double-drilling like I can barely conceive of. Squirming miserably as gravity drags inexorably upon me in so many ways, listening to the jingling of bells and feeling my relentlessly stimulated erection burn and ache with need and pain, I can only whimper and wait for my first public use to get underway. The delay is nearly as torturous as everything else. But at last I
