Lunch with X, Part 2

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On the drive home from the restaurant we continued to exchange the events of our lives since we had last met. The torments over lunch had amused X and he was in an uncharacteristically playful mood. I had been Tweeting our afternoon out as we went along, at his request, and was updating the thread whilst he drove.

Rather foolishly I had assumed that the casual atmosphere in the car meant that I was safe and nothing more would be happening that day. Normally when X wanted to play with his Toy I was not allowed to engage in any chit-chat and there was a complex web of rules limiting my speech and my behaviour. He was telling me about a conference he was going to be attending later in the year and I sent off a few replies and comments on my phone while I listened. We were definitely interacting as friends, weren’t we?

“Read me out what you said about our lunch, Toy” he smiled. Evidently not all of the rules had been suspended if he was still calling me Toy. I dutifully read him out the message.

“What a bastard?” he chuckled. “You’re getting rather bold, aren’t you, Toy?”

He took the small, black remote control out of his pocket with one hand. Without taking his eyes off of the road he pressed the red button. It controlled the E-Stim Systems Remote box that was still clipped to my dress which was in turn connected to an electrode inserted into my ass during lunch. A strong, firm involuntary contraction gripped me from inside.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The situation was absurd. If I had been fully immersed in my Toy mindset the whole tone would have been different and I would not have dared to appear amused. He pressed the button a few more times.

“You’re enjoying that far too much, Toy.” We came to a junction where turning right would take us directly home. He went left. “I have another Tweet for you to write,” he said, and I typed it out:

Oh crap. This wasn’t good. It was the middle of the day on a Monday, which would help limit the damage, but a caning from X was never an easy affair. It is not delivered with any pleasurable intent; It is purely a punishment. The last time I had earned such reward there had only been five strokes but by the end I was in floods of tears and couldn’t sit down for days afterwards. For all my ability to endure pain by other means the stinging wrath of X’s cane could never be tolerated. I had taken much more at the hands of others, but that had not changed the effect that he had on me.

“Let’s enjoy a nice drive together and you can tell me about the new gadgets you’ve been making,” he grinned. “As soon as we go back over your door, however, I expect your full attention and compliance. Understood, Toy?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied quickly. I was already in enough trouble and taking too long to respond was a mistake I had regretted in the past.

As the drive continued he punctuated the conversation with further shocks. Whilst earlier they had been tormenting and embarassing, in the privacy of his car they took on a completely different character. I was getting turned on. Contrasting with the rising attention the internet was giving to my punishment I found myself both relishing and fearing returning home.

Crossing the threshold he took my phone and confirmed that my punishment was to be twenty two strokes. The most I had ever endured in a single punishment was only ten and he had drawn each single stroke out, prolonging my agony both mentally and physically. I couldn’t even imagine what he’d do with twenty two!

IMG_20190403_131513_resized_20190404_112219639“Take off your dress, Toy.” I unwrapped the tie at my waist and took the slip over my head revealing the corset underneath. It had been firm and mildly inconvenient so far in the day, but laced for comfort. Getting in and out of a car and eating lunch in an overly tight corset is not a pleasant experience, and not in any fun kind of way. I could usually lace this one down to about an inch from closing for short periods and have been out of the habit of wearing corsets on a regular basis for some time. Having had it laced more loosely for the afternoon would help with making it easier to tighten.  Instead of feeling X pull on the lacing however there was a different sensation.

IMG_20190403_151926_resized_20190404_112219446

I couldn’t see exactly how he managed it. X was removing the lacing, but it didn’t seem to get any looser. He discarded the ribbon lacing on the floor and the tugging sensation began. Working back and forth from the ends to the middle he cinched closer and closer, tighter and tighter. My breathing shallowed. I have always found the constriction of corsets and the feeling of being laced to be erotic; this time was no exception. When X finished forcing my waist to its limit he showed me a cable-tie in his hand and I realised what he had done.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for a while. It’s such an easy way to make sure a corset cannot be removed,” X said to himself as he put the dress back on me. “Just in case we need to go for another little walk.”

Forcibly erect I walked in anticipation as he gestured for me to follow up upstairs. “Show me the electric box you built, Toy.” I may get round one day to detailing its construction, but I had followed plans for a power box that was the equal of some of the best ones on the market. I took it from its shelf and gave it to X.

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“Sit” he said, gesturing to a nearby low stool. He took straps from his back and tightened them around my legs, locking them with small brass padlocks. He bound my arms behind my back then trapped them against me with a waist belt. I could move only a little and I didn’t think it was likely I’d be able to stand again without assistance.

A thin skin coloured latex hood was pulled roughly over my head. It was the re-breather type with one small mouth hole and a loose front so that every breath would inflate and deflate the pouch. With my arms bound I would not be able to remove it.

X connected the lead from the electric plug to the new box. As he adjusted the settings I could feel small low contractions in my ass that only increased my arousal. I was trying to concentrate on breathing slowly and deeply. Too deep a breath and the corset gripped me painfully, too shallow and I would get less new air.

Every time he made my body grip around the electrode I couldn’t help but breathe harder. He had adjusted to a setting that delivered unpredictable pulses which were getting stronger each time. They moved deeper, causing my muscles to betray me into moaning.

“I’ve missed my little anal slut. I remember back when this would have been one of the worst things I could do to you. I’m glad my efforts to train you have been successful.”

His voice was muffled through the hood and the sound of my breathing. He had indeed shaped my revulsion at being invaded anally into an act of submissive desire in the early part of our relationship.

“I wonder how high the levels on this thing go. Have you gone to the top before, Toy?”

I shook my head quickly. I had played very little with this box and never beyond the mid-range of its power. More power didn’t necessarily give a stronger effect, but I had tried some higher settings briefly and found them too intense.

The next pulse exploded in my ass and I cried out, panting heavily into the hood and against the corset. Weaker anal contractions followed mixing the intense sensations with guilty pleasure. Another wave hit me. It wasn’t painful, but the intensity and lack of control of my own body made me feel helpless.

“That’s not even close to the top setting. I think we can do more. Nod your head, Toy.”

He would often make me agree to increasing my own torment. It was his reminder to me that I didn’t have any real choices in what happened. If I asked him to stop I knew he would, but I have held a strong, deep seated need to endure every challenge he set. I nodded twice.

Struggling to breathe, my ass and body convulsing fiercely, he left me there somewhere between agony and bliss. When he pulled off the hood I took dizzying breaths as the insistent intense impulses continued. I had forgotten about the vibrating egg that rumbled into life in my pussy and the small bullet still nestled against my clit. The pleasurable vibrations increased the erotic shame of now embracing my anal anguish. X was observing me casually from across the room. Each time moaned fiercely he smiled to himself.

“You look like you might be about to have too much fun, Toy.” He had returned to the box and was turning it up again. The shocks that followed were too intense. Tears welled up in my eyes as they turned into almost continuous clusters of confusing sensations and X cradled my chin in his hand, fixing me with his dark eyes. “I suppose it’s a shame I’m a bastard.”

And with that, it stopped. No more vibrations. No more contractions. My arousal was peaked and I was desperate to cum. A wide grin crept across his face.

“If you had shown a little more respect I may have been more generous, Toy.”

He took off the straps on my arms and legs then pulled me to my feet. He led me to the edge of the bed and had me kneel on the floor with my body bent forwards onto the mattress. He lifted my skirt and pulled down the underwear to expose my ass cheeks. He pulled sharply on the base of the plus and I winced as it left my ass. He ran his fingers through the folds of my labia and retrieved the egg by its cable.

“You’re such a wet and slutty little Toy with those little hips of yours trying to entice me into fucking you.” He was right. I had not even realised, but I had been gently thrusting my hips towards him. “Another time and I may have considered it, but I can’t reward your behaviour, Toy.”

He moved my arms so that they were stretched forward of my head with the palms upturned. I felt the thin cane being placed across them for me to hold. “Wait here, Toy.”

In the hallway I could hear him having a conversation on the phone but could not make out the details. There could be no mistake now that there was nothing pleasurable left in our meeting. X would leave me wanting and begging for a different kind of release. Not that begging was allowed; a Toy does not get to ask for anything from its Owner.

“It would appear that you have something of a reprieve, Toy” he announced as he came back into the room. “My meeting this evening cannot be postponed and so I will not have even nearly enough time to see to your punishment.” I knew better than to allow myself to feel relieved. “I would normally have insisted that you present yourself at my hotel room later tonight, but I wouldn’t want to disturb the other guests with your screaming.”

He sat on the bed next to me and brushed the skirt of my dress back into place.

“I’ll see if I can add an extra day to the end of my trip. I think it might take us all day to really get the best out of those twenty-two strokes.”


And so, when it was over it wasn’t over. Anticipation of a punishment is a torment in itself. Subscribe to find out what happens next or follow me on Twitter for the behind the scenes chatter.

If you enjoyed my adventures please leave me your thoughts and comments.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. Robin Flockton says:

    I love this. Your writing is really erotic. You leave me with memories of waiting outside the headmasters study awaiting a caning for a long-forgotten transgression. Twenty two will be a challenge!

    Like

    1. toydolly says:

      And then some! He seriously nearly broke me with only five before!

      Like

  2. Slave Phoenix says:

    Another complete gem of an account of what developed. Thanks again!

    Like

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