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Chapter 2

Our conversation was somewhat repetitive. But it was not reiterating previously exchanged information that was key. It was for the first time hearing her voice, finding that her looks... handsome, not stunning... matched her internet demeanor... stern... forthright... no nonsense. I have always found it difficult to imagine a power exchange... a s****l power exchange... with a gorgeous woman. Something about the little head desiring to copulate... thus interfering with a psyche which desires to acquiesce.

After strongly suggesting that I drink glasses of water, Elsa explaining to the waiter that my ‘stomach condition’ mandated tepid tap water, I rose to visit the men’s room. This was forbidden and I learned how quickly Elsa’s demeanor can transform from stern to sterner.

“Sit down, Leroy... Lionel... whatever!”

Her sharp misspeaking of my name became my moniker. Leroy the boy.

I sat down.

“Permission. Always ask permission.”

“May I go to the men’s room?”

“No. Now you have to wait. Disobedience will be punished.”

An amazing exchange... least I thought so at the time. And wait I did, my bladder brimming while Elsa leisurely finished her meal.

She paid the check and fighting the dire urge to go, I was heartened by one simple word...

“Come.”

I met her approval, my in-person comportment correlating with both my humiliating photos and my humble replies to all her emailed questions.

Into a cab, Elsa decided I should learn something about her. Born into a well-to-do family, trust monies offered financial freedom. She worked at a charitable foundation, more a hobby and filler of time than a pecuniary need. And she made films. Avant garde stuff. A documentary on Samuel Gompers, the labor leader, had consumed much time, too much time. And I was given the impression that such seriousness of purpose had somewhat jaded her.

“Now I film for me,” she explained in a casually flippant tone. “And for those who appreciate more preternatural stuff.”

While speaking she brazenly slid her hand to my thigh and worked toward my pubes. In the darkness of the cab she found what she had deemed ‘barely adequate’ and quite surprisingly offered a firm grip, pinching the p***s tip between thumb and forefinger.

“You’re jittery.”

“I really need to go,” my tone of voice rather beseeching.

“So I have a solution to relax you. We’re a few blocks from my apartment so you’ll just need to calm yourself. I have your p***s. Let me take control. Just relax your PC muscles... as if you were in the men’s room, and let my fingers keep you dry. Be a good boy for Miss Elsa.”

Something about the timbre of her voice, the coolness, and I suppose something within that so much desired to indeed relinquish control. So I followed her instruction, feeling her grip become even more firm to convince me that should I relax, opening myself as if standing before a urinal, nothing would happen.

And nothing did. The jitters ceased. She felt it too and smiled that aforementioned cat smile.

“Good boy. Hands on head”

The sensation was bizarre. Physically something should have gushed forth, but her fingers denied it. Psychologically, to have a woman assume governance over such a basic function, there was a strange thrill.

“I’ll want to film you. Samuel Gompers was a boring endeavor.”

And so we traveled the streets of New York, in the back of a cab, her fingers assuming control of the many glasses of warm water which, at her behest, had flooded my system.

***

Well of course Elsa was well ahead of me... curious, her knowledge of the male anatomy. But in my trepidation I was not thinking clearly. The embarrassment of wetting myself before this woman I was just getting to know... and in the back of a cab... Yes, truly not thinking clearly.

So I let her maintain control... and as one can suspect when the cat plays... the mouse is in a precarious position.

She abruptly let go... unannounced... ostensibly to reach for her purse. And there is no way a guy can that quickly tighten, pull on the pubo coccygeus muscle and return to self control.

“Keep your hands on your head,” she admonished as she drew out a twenty dollar bill.

Yes, I began to wet myself and when a smiling Elsa reached back with her hand, the warm darkening patch of trousers was slowly expanding as I struggled to cut off the flow. Her smile broadened... yes that cat smile. And I cursed myself for wearing beige khakis... the zipper area transforming to a dark brown, noticeable even in the darkness of the cab.

“You’re wetting yourself.”

Stating the obvious increases the level of disconcertion, and I panicked in thinking that the cab driver would hear, his imagined reaction adding to the mental turmoil.

He did not. And as I struggled to pull, Elsa ignored the peril of soiling her fingers and instead began to tenderly stroke my pubes region, seemingly unconcerned over the nature of the growing odorous wetness.

“We have a few more blocks and a few more traffic lights. I have another solution for you. Just keep your hands out of the way like a good boy.”

I managed to somewhat diminish the flow as Elsa massaged me sensuously. And I was a good boy, hands folded at the back of my head.

Her touch and the warm wetness, probably the intense humiliation as well, ultimately brought the desired result. Yes, I slowly tumefied... both relieved and horrified to display myself in such a manner.

She was amused. And though my bladder remained bursting, the flow stopped just as her ‘solution’ intended.

Wet trousers now tented by my erection, yet her solution was effective. My stiffness curtailed the need. She knew it. Yes, curious indeed, her knowledge of the male anatomy.

So we arrived at her apartment and I had another need. I was soaked. My trousers were bulging, and the doorman approached.

“I think you should carry my purse,” Elsa calmly suggested, withdrawing her right hand and handing me her sizable satchel of leather with her unsoiled left.

Embarrassing, toting a fashionable woman’s item, but I used it as a shield. The doorman repressed a look of disdain, glimpsing at the bag but noticing neither the condition of my attire nor the condition of my p***s beneath.

“I need to get you out of those pants,” Elsa proclaimed loudly enough for the doorman to hear.

I am not sure whether that betrayed the awkward camouflage or not. But I was never before so eager to enter the privacy of a woman’s lair and subject myself to... well to whatever.

Elsa had not told me of her specific plans, but I recalled the words of her Craigslist ad.

I seek a male for weekend entertainment.

And it was Friday night.

***

“Strip for me.”

A command. Pleasantly but firmly uttered. I did not need to be told twice. My wet trousers were becoming uncomfortably cool. Because I had shaved below, just hours before in knowing that Elsa likes a boy to be glabrous there, the skin about the pubes area was more than normally sensitive due to the razor irritation. Thus the acidic urine brought rapid discomfort... not to mention the smell.

I surprised myself. I stripped for her in the tiled foyer, not hesitating.

My erection had somewhat waned, but it bobbed about bringing another smile from Elsa before turning to a closet door.

“I really could use the bathroom,” a rather childish sounding plea.

“You shall,” the words condescending as she reached into the closet.

“Posey cuffs. Comfortable and secure. You’ll wear them for me whenever you’re here. Put them on after removing your clothing... wrists and ankles.”

My nakedness, though somewhat awkward for me, did not faze Elsa. She encircled my right wrist to demonstrate how the velcro of the double straps folds over to make the restraint ineluctable. Nylon, padded beneath, four sturdy ringlets stitched about the circumference, quite the institutional restraints. She stood and supervised while I replicated the deed on the left wrist and the ankle.

I was eager to use the bathroom and complied quickly.

“Hands behind.”

She stepped to my rear and her hands guided my wrists together, her fingers momentarily rummaging about. She secured my wrists, apparently connecting two of the ringlets.

“Bondage becomes special boys like you, Lionel... Leroy... whatever.”

My hands were secured behind my back.

“A cable tie. Easily trimmed away at weekend’s end. Cheaper than a lock... and I don’t have to worry about keys. Be a good boy and I won’t tether your elbows together.”

Her arm extended before me to exhibit a thick cable tie, long enough to indeed encircle both arms. Then she pressed my elbows together, to convincingly demonstrate that being bound in such a manner was to be avoided. Many ligaments were stressed, bringing a stab of pain.

With that she stepped to my front and grasped my p***s, more brazenly then pinching the tip when in the cab, utilizing her full hand to take hold of the entire shaft.

“You’ll do the laundry tomorrow. Come. I want you to perform for me,” leaving all my clothing in a heap on the floor.

She led me to a sizable bathroom, much larger than anything I had before seen in a New York apartment. I do believe the space was a bedroom she had converted. It appeared to be a spa. Well drained floor, huge bathtub, oddly placed in the center of the room, all types of plumbing and fixtures. But my visual inspection was brief. My bladder was bringing a notable dull ache. And Elsa’s handiwork was returning my p***s to tumescence!

I was shocked when she guided me to the oversized tub.

“You can relieve yourself here. With wrists immobile you’ll not be able to do any aiming. This you can’t miss.”

Elsa was correct, of course. But in being erect, I was not sure I could summon a flow, despite the urgency. Plus, Elsa did not politely step away to offer privacy. Instead she remained most proximate, arms akimbo in a rather commanding pose.

After some mortifying moments, there came a laugh.

“Thought you had to go so bad.”

“I’ve never before done it... like this,” the words so sheepishly offered.

“You’ll become accustomed to the restraints.”

“But I am in front of... in front of a woman.”

“Remember you’re here to entertain. And boys like you enjoy pleasing. I know your type.”

More pause. More aching. No flow, despite the dire need.

Elsa stepped to the head of the tub and turned the valve to begin a flow of water.

“This will help. Plus I’ll want you to get the stench off you before I film you.”

Penis semi hard, I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to wander and my urinary tract to relax.

I performed.

***

Assuring my excretions flowed to the drain; Elsa began to fill the tub. Meanwhile, in completing the humiliating task, I opened my eyes and more fully inspected the curiously large bathroom.

Should I have been shocked to see mounted on dozens of wall hooks paraphernalia normally closeted away in dresser drawers and medicine cabinets?

Either Elsa had few visitors or those offered access did not easily blush. So many dildos, numerous harnesses, enema bags and hoses, catheters. On a separate wall dangled instruments of correction... crops, whips, canes. As if say to the occupant... accept what is on wall number one or endure the anguish to be offered by wall number two.

The spa-like room was not a torture chamber per se, but was certainly equipped to coerce a visiting subject into extremely intimate medicinal therapies.

Elsa noted my focused gaze.

“I like filming a boy undergoing a variety of things. The facial expressions can be quite telling... the moaning... the begging... assuming I don’t have him gagged,” laughing flippantly as hands guided me to kneel in the rising water.

She bathed me, with surprising tenderness, complimenting me on a well shaven scrotum as I blushed in being touched there. She was thorough in assuring that no follicle had escaped the razor.

“You’ll get used to being handled by a woman. In time you’ll think of this as mine when you’re serving here,” patting my scrotum with affection.

A soapy finger was thrust well into my anus. My protest brought another laugh as the digit explored freely.

“Tight,” she observed. “And you protest... but you enjoy.”

True. I cursed the reaction of my p***s. Elsa expertly continued to knead my prostate, her eyes glued to my rising manhood, engorging despite the relaxing warmth of the water. It amused her.