Chapter Eleven
The hour is late. My bladder empties. The Queen, having caressed, kneaded and tenderly pulled about my sensitive but empty scrotal sac, tires. Despite the cane her fingers have brought forth a desperate need to climax. The frustration from the inability to achieve some form of ecstatic relief has never been stronger. But such is my plight. My feelings are subordinate.
She unhooks my leash. With a vicious stroke she swings the cane from shoulder height. The sound is frightening and with the crisp crack planted just below my rings, I know that an overwhelming wave of pain will crash within my nervous system.
“The bed...now!”
When my Queen ends a game, there is no questioning her authority. I force myself to ignore the disabling agony and rise to my feet with an alacrity t
