Secret Mascot

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Back home I went straight to the computer and logged into my checking account. Even after sixteen months as my own man (and a reasonably independently wealthy one), checking the state of my finances still made me want to pinch myself.

Counting the last monthly transfer (it was the second week of October) I had just over thirty-six thousand dollars available. Since heat and electric and other household upkeep were automatically charged to another trust established for that purpose, my only real monthly expenses were for food and internet and cable TV service. Even Dani’s tutoring was paid for out of my educational trust. After splurging for a top-of-the-line computer, entertainment center and a new wardrobe I had continued to live frugally, taking the bus for example. Now, even setting aside say, a quarter of my savings to buy a reliable used car, I still had enough money saved up to lavish any number of expensive dinners and gifts on my beloved. And every month I added another two grand to my account.

Of course, I wanted to buy her something right away, but what? It not only had to be something she would like and could use; that would flatter her and have some particular significance, but discretion was paramount. She couldn’t just strut around school sporting some flashy new clothes or jewelry. People would talk, especially with Dani living in the fish bowl of a dormitory. At last I decided on a calculator specializing in statistical functions.

Naturally we had computer programs that would handle this stuff, but neither of us owned a laptop (yet) and this would allow her to work on assignments outside of class or her dorm room – specifically during our tutoring sessions together. This wasn’t exactly the kind of flattering, significant or (should I dare) romantic present I had in mind. But perhaps it was wise to start simple and pragmatic. Later, once I’d thought through the matter more and had a better idea of the way things were going I could move on to something more personal.

Wednesday Dani continued with her policy of completely ignoring me both around the psych department and in the classes we shared. Even when our papers were handed back to us in composition she merely glanced at her grade and tucked it away, giving me no indication how our collaboration had fared. It wasn’t until Thursday evening when I arrived to begin tutoring her that I got any idea where I stood with her.

This time Dani had arrived ahead of me. In fact, her book and papers were spread out on the big teacher’s desk, and she was poring over them, clearly acquainting herself with the areas she was having the most difficulty with. Wearing sandals, a denim skirt and simple paisley blouse, she was braless and as excitingly lovely as always. Looking up when I entered the room and shut the door behind me, she gave me a smoldering smile. Though it would be me doing the teaching from now on her pointer lay on the desk within easy reach.

“Close the shade, boy.”

Obediently I turned back and twisted shut the blinds over the window in the door. As we were on the third floor of a mostly empty building, this seemed sufficient to ensure our privacy. Too bad I couldn’t lock us in. When I proceeded into the room toward her Dani’s smile widened into a thing of toothy dimpled beauty.

“I got the best mark ever on that paper you helped me with, boy. Well done. I think a little positive reinforcement is in order.”

Still smiling, she reached up and slipped free a couple buttons of her shirt, exposing the upper slopes of her breasts and a bit of cleavage to me.

“Let’s hope you have a similar effect on my math grade.”

“Maybe this will help,” I croaked out of a suddenly dry throat. I produced the calculator I’d ordered for her (and paid extra for overnight shipping) and slid it onto the desk in front of her. “Just the tiniest token of my devotion, Miss Reilly.”

Dani’s smile brightened even further, an expression I’d have spent ten times as much to elicit. Then she undid another button, considerably improving the view.

“Well, you are a useful young mammal, aren’t you, boy? Well done again. Now, pull up a chair beside me here and let’s see if we can’t clear a few things up between us.”

Of course, in contrast to Dani my tutoring technique was supremely respectful and deferential to the point of timidity. There was also the constant maddening distraction of her gaping shirt. The top halves of her amazing breasts kept drawing my attention, and every shift in her position seemed to provide a glimpse of aureole, betraying the existence of some truly extraordinary n*****s. Fortunately however, math is one of my best subjects. While Dani still struggled with basic algebra and was bewildered by statistical theory I had breezed all the way through calculus while still in senior high. Such is the difference between suburban and inner city schools I suppose. Despite having a near constant hard-on – even the smell of her in such close proximity was ambrosial to me – I was able to indeed clear things up quite a bit for her over the course of an hour. We even worked a good ten minutes past the allotted time. I made no complaint of course – the very idea was laughable. And once Dani sighed and closed her book at last I was further rewarded beyond belief.

“Wonderful – this crap is finally making sense.” Suddenly her hand was in my lap, groping me through my slacks. She seized and squeezed my erection, only that thin bit of fabric between her strong grip and the organ she swore she would never touch.

“My, my – someone is rather excited this evening. Having you been enjoying your positive reinforcement boy?”

“Absolutely, ma’am!” I gasped. Of course, I hadn’t come in nearly a full week, easily a record for me, and what a week it had been! Dani immediately made reference to this.

“I’ll bet – I can feel you throbbing. Tell me, boy: are you still behaving yourself? Have you abstained from m**********g as I ordered?”

“Yes, Mistress, I have!” Helplessly I groaned as her squeezing hand tightened. “I’ve never gone this long before. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through Saturday. I feel like I might shoot in my pants any minute.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Dani grinned. She finally released me and shot a glance at the door. No one had even walked by it the entire time we were sequestered. It seemed our privacy was plenty secure. “Stand up and drop your pants. I’ve finally come up with a way to help you resist temptation – and ensure that my orders are obeyed.”

In seconds, my pants were around my ankles. I wasn’t wearing any underwear – these days it was the panties Dani had given me or nothing. My c**k strained urgently upright, bobbing a little as it pulsed. I had insane visions of Dani jerking it for me or even squeezing it between her breasts or her big thick lips. But when she pushed back her chair and rose herself she had a length of a little blue pastel ribbon in one hand and her new pointer in the other.

“That’s enough erection now, boy. Get limp for me!”

Naturally I goggled at this impossible demand. And naturally Dani knew it was impossible too, for she promptly took matters into her own hands.

“I said get limp!”

As she’d done the previous Friday night Mistress suddenly lashed her pointer viciously down on the up-questing shaft of my hard-on. Somehow I kept from screaming but it was an extremely close thing. The pain was so much worse! That longer, hard-but-limber graphite switch was orders of magnitude more devastating than simple wood. My first gift to Mistress was clearly one I was going to be paying far more than I ever imagined for and in interminable perpetuity. Yet despite the explosion of agony in my c**k it only strained harder upwards after waggling wildly around. In response, Mistress whipped it again and again, half a dozen times at least. Still my tortured s*x organ exulted in the abuse, and though tears streamed down my face and my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms I gasped as much in arousal as excruciation. At last Mistress’ impatience got the better of her.

“Damn you, boy, I said get limp! Someone could come barging in that door any minute. I guess we need to get serious about shriveling you up!”

Suddenly Dani stepped forward and swung one of those formidable soccer-player legs up, ramming her knee hard into my exposed balls. Instantly I gave a choked cry and collapsed back into my chair, the breath and all the strength (not to mention arousal) knocked out of me. While I sobbed and retched for breath, appalled at Mistress’ brutal cruelty, she forced my knees apart and bent over the bowling ball of agony that had taken the place of my groin.

Setting aside her pointer she took that ribbon and knotted one end securely about the base of my throbbing scrotum. Being careful not to touch me with her bare fingers, she then tied the other end about my p***s just below the head, leaving barely an inch or so of play in that ribbon.

“There!” she declared with consummate satisfaction. “The only way to remove that little d**k-hobble will be to cut it. And if you dare do that, the pain in your balls now is nothing like what I’ll dish out when I see you again. I’ll kick ‘em right up into your asshole for you! So, do you think you’ll be able to resist the temptation to play with yourself, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I groaned automatically, still too distressed to even consider the p***s-bondage she’d just put me in.

“Excellent! Then get your pants up, get squared away and get out of here. I’ll see you at my place Saturday night at eight.” Grinning smugly again Dani gathered up her things and left.

Of course, by the time I arrived home I could think of little but my tied-down d**k. I hurried into the closest bathroom, where the bright fluorescent lights would allow the most intimate inspection. There I dropped my pants again and gazed appalled at what had been done to me. To start with my shaft was raw and welted and already considerably puffy from the blows it had taken, but the bondage Mistress had put me in was truly fiendish.

The loop of thin yet sturdy silk ribbon about my d**k encircled me just above the glans, and was just snug enough to ensure that it couldn’t be slipped on and off (at least without telltale greasing and fraying). Yet it wasn’t so tight that it would inhibit urination or cut into the tender skin. The knot meanwhile was drawn extremely tight and redundantly wrapped, making picking it apart impossible. The loop about my balls was identically calibrated to be both impossible to remove and yet completely safe. Mistress was right: only a pair of scissors or another cutting implement would be able to set me free.

Staring aghast at my wounded and imprisoned p***s, I felt again the inexplicable and yet compulsory arousal that came with being subjected to my lovely beloved’s implacable authority.

My mouth grew dry, my heart raced, and right on cue my d**k began to swell and stiffen, foolishly pitting itself against that ribbon. Of course, this was useless: no matter how madly it strained at its tether my glans was unable to raise itself. Instead I was inflicted with an exquisitely personal pain in my balls and prick both, as well as an acute sense of carnal frustration. Until Mistress saw fit to release me beating off was going to be a complete impossibility. Washing was going to be awkward as well, and I’d even have to pee sitting down. Dismaying as all this was however it remained distinctly arousing. Even the pain and frustration were turning me on, leading to greater pain and frustration leading to further arousal and so on in a self-perpetuating escalation. Wallowing in this perversely rewarding torment I stripped off the rest of my clothes and spent the remainder of the evening and even the entire night naked, feeling victimized and submissive, and dwelling constantly on thoughts of my fabulously exciting Mistress: miles away and yet constantly with me in the presence of her silk p***s tether. Oh, how I couldn’t wait for Saturday night, when she would again deign to beat me, and then free me so that I might beat myself in frantic devotion to her!

Friday dragged on forever of course. The sole bright spot was that Dani actually made eye contact with me a couple of times, giving me brief, sly looks that reminded us both of the inescapable hold she had on me. Saturday proved interminable too, the torture worsened by the fact that for once everything didn’t go Cade State’s way on the soccer field.

Our opponent clearly came into the match with the intention of stymieing us by throwing Dani off her game. Not only did they bunker in defensively, keeping all eleven players behind the ball and playing negative, unattractive soccer, but they took every opportunity to foul her. Again and again Dani was shoved over or hacked down, until it seemed half their team had been cautioned. This rough treatment of our star player (and my beautiful beloved) enraged me along with the rest of our team and fans, and I seemed to feel each accumulated bruise and vicious tackle acutely myself. But the cynical tactics paid off. Eventually Dani grew so frustrated and pissed off that she threw a retaliatory elbow, which by either chance or design connected squarely with the opposing defender’s nose, sending blood spouting in a gush. To a chorus of partisan boos, Dani was given a straight red card – ejected from the game. Watching her storm angrily off the pitch and head for the showers I felt a premonitory shiver of unease in addition to the sense of outraged injustice shared by the rest of the crowd.

Down to ten players and without our sparkplug to boot, it became even more difficult to break down the opposing defense. Worse, taking advantage of their superior numbers the other team at last began to break on the counterattack, seeking to bag a goal against the run of play and come away with an unlikely victory. Finally, with less than ten minutes left and our girls pressing furiously (and a bit inadvisably) forward in hopes of maintaining our record winning streak, disaster occurred. There was a clash of heads, a wicked ricochet, and the ball squirted free in an unlikely direction, sending the opposition racing down into our end in a three-on-one. A couple passes later the lone striker, an ugly, hulking brute whose face should have been on mug shots all over the country finished with an easy tap-in to put us down one-nil.

That was it. Despite more desperate pressure than ever our undermanned squad was unable to equalize, and Cade State’s historic run of victories was ended at the hands of our bitterest rival. Seething with injustice and hurling invective at both the ref’s decision to eject Dani and the opposition’s despicable strategy – ‘the beautiful game’ that had certainly been not – I made my way to the exit with the rest of the crowd. Again, I was feeling a measure of personal trepidation along with the communal outrage. Lovely Dani was unlikely to be in a good or playful mood for our domination date just a few hours away.

Back at my ridiculously expansive house the weekly domestic crew was just finishing up. Since his death, my grandfather’s trust had employed a housekeeping service to dust and vacuum the interior every Saturday and a groundskeeper to mow the lawn, trim the hedges and ornamental trees and shrubs, skim and maintain the swimming pool and see to any other upkeep. Though the trust also provided for a live-in maid I preferred not to engage one. I was perfectly capable of making my own bed, doing my own laundry, cooking my own meals and loading the damn dishwasher after all, and considered it a matter of pride to look after myself. I exchanged brief pleasantries with these people as they left, took dinner alone and then showered meticulously, being careful as always not to disturb that pale blue ribbon. This was being sorely tested yet again as the anticipation of my approaching appointment with Mistress grew, and I felt more than a little crazed with frustrated lust. At last I dressed in simple moccasins, a pair of tan cargo pants and a nice white shirt, eschewing socks and underwear as usual. To maintain the illusion that this was a mere study session I gathered up my notebook and math text and took the bus back to campus.

Once again Dani’s dormitory was weekend-empty, populated only by those too bookish or antisocial to avail themselves of the college nightlife. I took the elevator to her floor and arrived at her door precisely on time. Then, taking a deep breath to try to quell my tremulousness, I raised a hand and knocked.