Willie
With Miss Judys incessant tapping, I force myself to perform. I close my eyes and press, my abdominal muscles contracting to begin the commanded flow. So humiliating, yet I obey. Is it my bonds? My nakedness? Her stern hand holding up my collar? The mental trauma of having spent the afternoon crawling about to amuse a gaggle of odd women? What brings such obeisance?
And yet I feel a glow in responding to her, meeting her challenge, performing like a trained animal. What is this sensation?
The walking stick presses against my erection, adjusting the direction of my excretion. With eyes closed I did not realize the flow was streaming down the concrete wall of the garage. In feeling the effect of her hand, however indirectly, I open to gaze into the twinkling eyes of this curious
