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428 Words
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Not a bad cook. I eat casually having Douglas watch assuming a stress position, standing one foot raised. He instinctively places his folded hands on the back of his head and awaits the command to lower the right foot and raise the left. It should not be surprising that he is accustomed to the age old interrogation technique. And I imagine the good cop questioning him, cattle prod in hand should his p***s begin to firm, the likes of Douglas known to tumefy with the arousal of feminine governance.
In finishing, my watch suggests it is nearly seven o’clock, enough time for another interval of tight bondage and a long ride. But Douglas must be fed, and my intellectual curiosity somewhat smolders. In a way I look forward to his feeding time about as much as my pending ride.
“Down,” I command finally relieving him of the stress position.
I snap my fingers and point, the dishes needing removal and cleansing. Douglas jumps to respond, washes with alacrity while I finish coffee then knows to go to all fours to await my whim.
“You must be hungry, come,” I command detaching the cable.
Grasping the ends of his nostril tube, it requires only the gentlest of pulls to have Douglas follow me to the spare bedroom. My Sybian awaits, my favorite faux phallus prominently beckoning the folds of my love nest. There is a brief inquisitive look on Douglas’s face, but not for long as he instantly must follow my lead.
To the bed, supine position, Posey cuffs and connecting nylon straps removed, the more imposing Segufix straps and cuffs await. He lies docilely as I encircle ankles, thighs, wrists, and biceps. Then each cuff is attached to the broad straps traversing the calves, thighs, waist and chest. Lastly comes the head restraint, delicious in holding him such that his vision is limited to the ceiling and what he can see peripherally.
“I’m going to prepare something special for you, Douglas. Something you have not had in a while.”
So wicked of me, yes. But it must be kept in mind that with my leash blocking Douglas’s nostrils, the knotted tubing, his ability to smell is most impaired. I spent much time on Saturday selecting and finally purchasing that which most resembles excrement. The foulest cheapest dog food to be had. Yes, warmed, some equally foul smelling cheese mixed within, I have concocted a mush which I speculate very much replicates in sight and texture that which Douglas forcibly learned to relish, pleasing his captors and bringing forth his desired capitulation.
Oh, this will be fun.
- Writer
