Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 1

Chapter Sixteen-4

Without another word she climbs out of the bed. Stiff and sore myself from my twelve or more hours of bondage – not to mention last night’s use and abuse – I can’t help but venture a ridiculous question against my better judgment.

“Aren’t you going to untie me now, Mistress Melissa?”

“Of course not,” she brusquely scoffs, without even looking around at me. “I told you yesterday, you are going to spend the rest of your entire life in cruelly tight bondage, except for those very brief times when I really need your body to be free. In fact, I’m going to tie you up every day and every night in the most devious ways I can devise!

“Believe me baby: that’s just play-time bondage you’re in right now. Eventually we’re going to get heavily into straitjackets, hogtying, ball gagging, blindfolding, handcuffs and tow chains; shackles and leg irons and even suspension: hanging you up by your arms and legs all bound up together behind you, maybe even completely upside down. Think about that while you lie there and struggle with my loving ropes!

“But I’m afraid that before all that I really must see to my own needs first. And as payment for asking me that question, slave, I’m going to take my own sweet time about it all. In fact, I was considering sitting you up, lying across your lap, and allowing you to give me a much-needed rubdown. But you can forget about that! I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much, and for that bit of impudence I damn well will! So you just lie there now all silent and submissive and behave yourself like a good little bondage slave. I’ll deal with you appropriately when I finally get around to it!”

With that, Mistress tosses her hair and marches into the bathroom.

Seconds later I hear her start the Jacuzzi filling, use the toilet, flush it, and then casually brush her teeth. With a sigh I resign myself to more bound boredom, more looking out at the sea and sky and hoping for another whale to breach or eagle to soar by. But then to my surprise the huge plasma screen TV right across from me clicks on. I see an up-close view of my naked Mistress leaving a control panel and moving to the tub.

Well this is an interesting feature to have installed in your home! How nice it is to be rich! Not only is my new mate and owner totally retired at the age of twenty-six, able to devote every single second of her time to tormenting me, it seems she can also afford all sorts of clever electronic and mechanical gadgets as well. Tied to the bed with a winch above my head, I watch dumbfounded as she adds bath salts, body oil and finally bubbles to the large, sunken, heart-shaped tub. Then slowly she sinks into the hot, churning water with an exquisite sigh.

What’s going on this time? Has she taken pity on me, or is this awesome offered voyeurism intended as a new torment? Perhaps, once again, the answer is either or both. In any case, the absolutely magnificent view out the sliding glass door is quickly forgotten. Mistress’ nudity is still such a novelty to me that I can’t help but watch avidly as she slowly, sensuously bathes her entire lusciously young body. Then for nearly an hour more she lounges and stretches and positions herself to enjoy the jets, slowly working the soreness out of her overstressed muscles.

The whole time my p***s is trying painfully, futilely to erect. And then of course Goddess makes this infinitely worse by finally using the hand-held massage unit to pleasure herself to a climax that is obviously as intense as it is autonomous. Finally, after another long interval of soaking and basking in aftermath, she turns off the Jacuzzi jets, pushes a different button, and stands up. Now a single thick cylindrical stream falls from the ceiling, and under it Melissa twice shampoos and rinses all of that incredibly long, beautifully shiny brown hair. After that she wraps it up in a towel, hits buttons to shut off the water and drain the tub, and climbs out at last.

Still achingly half-erect, I watch in torment as she dries herself and then dons a skimpy clinging robe of thinnest red silk that barely covers her ass and is so loosely belted that it gapes open most of the way to her belly. Another touch of a button turns off the camera and TV, and a moment later she emerges from the bathroom. Without sparing me the barest glance, she strides straight past and moves off into the kitchen.

Over the next forty minutes I hear and smell her cook and eat spicy sausage, scrambled eggs and home fries, along with buttered toast, grapefruit juice, and gourmet Columbian coffee. My own empty stomach rumbles and cramps uselessly. Next I hear smoke bubbling through water, and catch a whiff of clearly very high quality Canadian reefer. One, two, three bong hits. After that she goes out on the porch, to sit and watch the sea, savoring the breeze, the incredible scenery, and her blissful morning buzz.

Did I say morning? It’s not until well after noon that she finally comes back in to care for me. Her hair is now dried, all combed out, and braided into a more than meter-long ponytail. As usual she wears no makeup (she needs none to be breathtakingly beautiful), and is still dressed in only that unbearably sexy and skimpy silk robe. Still not saying a word to me (and of course I dare not speak to her until spoken to) Mistress Melissa draws a basin of hot water and brings it to the bed, along with a bar of scented soap, a sponge-glove, and a thick, soft, terrycloth towel.

Expertly she gives the front of my body a thorough sponge bath. Her sure, slow hands, and the way her loosely belted robe gapes open soon has me as achingly erect as I can get once again. But then just as she finishes my Mistress notices me peeking at her exposed left breast.

Quickly I instinctively avert my eyes. Just as quickly however Melissa slaps the swollen side of my face with all her strength, causing an absolute explosion of agony. Stars whirl about my addled head, and in my pathetic extremity I struggle to remain conscious and coherent.

“I’m so sorry my Goddess!” I finally sob when I have the ability. “I just can’t help looking at you; I love and want you so damn much!”

Surprisingly her hand now gently strokes my brow.

“You don’t understand,” she speaks so sweetly to me that I can’t believe it’s the same woman who just so violently struck me.

“That’s not why I hit you just now. I’d never hit you for looking at my body. I hit you for trying to pretend that you weren’t looking at it. You just tried to deceive me, and that’s something you must never, ever, ever do. I do not tolerate lies of any kind. Do you understand me slave?”

“Yes, Mistress Melissa,” I snivel, as the pain slowly subsides.

“Good,” she smiles, and then with a mischievous grin she loosens the belt of her robe even more.

“I want you to look at me. Why do you think I turned on the camera in the bath, and the TV in here? I want you to always be aroused by me, to always be suffering your incredibly intense, and yet eternally impotent lust. In fact, just wait until you see some of the steaming hot dominatrix outfits I’ve got: leather and chains and silver studs, rubber and vinyl, straps and buckles and rings and collars, and incredibly skimpy body harnesses – not to mention several pairs of thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots, which you are going to spend a lot of time licking!” Now her hand squeezes my trapped semi-erection hard, bringing an eloquent groan of pain and need from me.

“Jonny, I spent the last eight years living with a man who climaxed at the drop of a hat, while I remained forever unfulfilled. Well now the tables are well and truly turned! Now I have a man who has no choice but to suffer what I suffered and so much more. Now I can climax all I want, and it’s my poor, helpless, submissive little husband who is stuck being eternally unfulfilled.

“Slave, I have to spell this right out for you: you are going to spend the rest of your entire life in a state of constant, maddening, ever-growing and yet forever unrelievable arousal. You are always going to be a ravening, mad dog in heat for me, foaming at the mouth and lusting hopelessly to climax every single minute of every single day of your insane, wonderfully miserable existence, until you finally wear out on me and pass into my eternal service. And I am going to love every single second, every micro-second, every pico-second of your terrible eternal torment. So you go ahead and ogle me all you want, my deliciously impotent little husband-slave. I’m flattered. I love it. And it really, really turns me on. In fact, that situation is going to be the defining characteristic of our relationship.” Mistress Melissa gleams excitedly at me. But then she sighs, and her victorious arousal subsides.

“But I’m afraid that you’ll have to get back to ogling my fabulous body a little bit later. Right now, I’m going to have to roll you over and see to your soft, sweet, beautifully vulnerable backside!”

Finally, almost sixteen hours after tying them unnecessarily (or so we thought at the time) together, Mistress at last unbinds my legs. Then, leaving the ropes still bound to my wrists, she at least releases these from the cleats, allowing me to work my stiff, stretched arms around.

While I do so, she places a gaily-patterned, rectangular rubber pad next to my waist, which I recognize as a big inflatable pillow. Leaving it empty for the time being, she pulls my piss-bag and tube down, bending my attempted erection back flat. Then she rolls me over onto the pad, where my back-bent c**k throbs and swells and hurts even worse. Then she proceeds to professionally wash the back side of me, finally finishing my sponge bath. After drying me, she dumps the water and returns the various other items to the bathroom.

“Now!” she declares on her return. “Now it’s your turn! Now I finally start fulfilling all of your filthy perverted fantasies by training you into the perfectly subservient little pain slave!”

Eyes shining with excitement, her marble-hard n*****s poking through the thin red silk of her robe, she climbs back onto the bed. Without a moment’s hesitation she bends my arms around behind me, so that my forearms overlap and each wrist meets its opposite elbow. Then Mistress uses the long ropes still trailing from each hand to tie them up this way. First my wrists are lashed tightly to my upper arms just below the bicep. Then the remaining lengths of rope are used to construct a complex, cruelly tight harness all about my shoulders and torso, thoroughly securing and imprisoning my wimpy little sissy-boy upper body.

When she’s finished with this, I can barely even wriggle a bit. Nevertheless I try, struggling as violently as my limited mobility allows. Groaning not so much at the strain on my shoulder sockets as at the darkly compelling arousal I feel at being put into such pitiless bondage, I writhe and twist deliciously.

Oh, my gloriously gorgeous Goddess, how I’ve desperately dreamed of this minute! How I love being tied up! Mistress Melissa obviously knows what I need, and my c**k burns harder than ever beneath me.

Then suddenly my Mistress presses a switch and the pillow under my waist begins to inflate. My ass rises up perhaps a foot from the bed before stopping, making it a perfectly inviting target. And then Mistress Melissa goes to access her trunk.