Sometimes you get what you asked for and wish that perhaps you had asked for something a little bit differently. Such is the case with Paul. At nearly thirty years of age he had all ready made his fortune with one of those dot-com companies. Successful after the first year, he had sold it for a minor fortune. Now a sedate millionaire, he had most of what he wanted. Unfortunately during those hectic months of electronic finagling he had lost his wife's affections and was even now face with losing half his fortune through the upcoming divorce.
Not that Cathy had been unreasonable about his feverish work, but when he had taken the trip to California to meet his business partner, he had made an error. Knowing his partner was a female, and innocently informing his wife of such, he had thought it unnecessary to invite his own wife to come along. Not that she would have accepted, probably, but perhaps she might not have been so untrusting.
Though he hadn't actually seen Cindy, he couldn't believe his eyes when he stepped from the plane and the second most beautiful woman in the world, a close second to his own beloved wife, was holding a placard that bore his name. Walking towards the luscious brunette, Paul figured that surely this must be the partner's daughter or perhaps an employee. But of course he had been wrong and was soon talking about the business and its prosperity over a drink in a quiet pub.
Not only had Cindy's looks been a surprise, his impression of the City of San Francisco had also apparently been incorrect. Not that there weren't the unimaginable tangle of confusing mega-highways and the unbelievable stream of cars constantly surrounding them during the ride to the pub, he had expected to see the decadence and the, well, whores and faggots that seemed to be the characteristic portrayal of this pleasantly nice city. In his small rural town, there were no prostitutes. Well not that he really knew of. There were always the slanderous rumors of how this high school senior girl got her car, or how she made the payments on it, but he couldn't believe such a sweet innocent girl could ever be guilty of such a `dirty' sin. No, he didn't believe it, not for a minute.
Nor could he believe how wonderful this strange woman's hair smell as she leaned forward to point out the figures in her portfolio and her hair reflected the dim lights as it cascaded over her bare shoulder. He found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as he looked at the woman. She had a perfect body. Nicely tanned shoulders emerged from out of the light blue dress and there were no perceptible lines where her swimsuit might have been. Without straps or sleeves, the dress seemed to be molded to her body and he had to lick his lips as he let his eyes dwell on the twin swells of her breasts and the resulting inviting cleavage. Naturally he blushed in embarrassment when she looked up to see him nearly drooling at the sight of her. But she didn't get angry, she just gave a slight smile to him, sidled a little closer, and once more brought his attention to the papers she pushed before him, letting her arm brush accidentally against his.
Just then the waitress had appeared and asked them if they were ready to order. Since Paul was still nearly speechless from the woman's affect on him, it was Cindy that pushed the papers away from them and ordered the meals. While they drank the drinks Cindy had ordered, as they waited for the meals to be served, she put the papers away and suggested that they continue the discussion in his hotel room where they would not be disturbed. Paul nearly choked on his drink when her foot touched his leg and he thought he felt her high heel tapping against his shin. Having never strayed from Cathy, especially since there was no one in that small town he could even consider Her equal, this woman's advances were both threatening and arousing.
Through out the meal, the webs the partner was spinning around him more and more ensnared Paul. With eyes that glittered under the long eyelashes and lips that looked so pillowy soft, Paul listened with all of his senses as she spoke of her city and her hopes for the future. She spoke of her free afternoons, thanks in part from his astute business sense and quicksilver knowledge of the unfathomable Internet, when she could walk the beaches of the ocean and really enjoy the sight of hundreds, maybe thousands, of vacationing tourists. With humorous stories of young children's exploits in the sand and hushed whispers as she told of couples getting caught with their pants down, so to speak, Paul listened in rapture envisioning the scenes she portrayed to him. Ever foremost in his mind's eye was the sexy woman with a swimsuit that left no marks on her shoulders. And the way he imagined she would turn to her male escort and smile, with a slight tilt to her head and her naked long legs.
"Paul?" Paul nearly jumped from the table as Cindy put her hand on his thigh and shook him. "Am I that boring?"
"Oh, no! On the contrary! I guess I just got so involved in actually seeing the stories unfolding in the sands and you, I mean, the people getting so embarrassed!" Paul quickly took his napkin and wiped his lips, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Cindy laughed and gave a slight squeeze to his thigh. "It is really such a delight to walk the beaches. Maybe we could take a few minutes tomorrow and do that?"
Paul had a hard time concentrating on her enticing words as his leg seemed to burn under her hand, that was barely six inches from his straining erection in his trousers. His cock twitched in his boxers about the same instant Cindy removed her hand to take her napkin at wipe her own lips. His face surely must have been beet red, Paul thought. Had she felt his cock pulling through the thin loose boxers on his equally light trousers? How embarrassing to him had she discovered how aroused her story telling or beauty was to him! But she either hadn't noticed it or merely ignored it as she gathered her purse and the portfolio in preparations to leave.
Paul stammered, "Here, let me carry your things!" Still seated on the bench, the table hiding his tented pants, he needed something to hide behind!
"I can get it really." Cindy smiled down at him.
If the pub had been any lighter, surely Cindy would have seen the ruddy masculine features in even a deeper hue of blush. "Well, I, I just guess it is my smalltown nature to carry things for beautiful women!" Paul groaned inwardly to himself at the silly words he had spoken; yet they were actually truer than he might have guessed. Often he would help a woman from the store, carrying her packages, or offer assistance in nearly every situation, especially when a woman was involved, particularly a pretty woman. Paul was not thinking along those lines though; he was being totally selfish at the moment. He couldn't possibly stand up in public with his erection so obvious, especially in front of this heavenly creature. He would be just too embarrassed.
"Such a gallant and perfect gentleman!" Cindy said laughingly. It was impossible for him to decide if she was making fun of him, and his small town ways, or if she was actually pleased by his behavior. But one thing he did realize was that her hips swelled so enticingly under her slightly rounded tummy, and her breasts moved so pleasantly when she leaned forward and handed the leather case of papers to him. Paul felt almost like a horny young teenager as he shielded his groin with the portfolio, as he followed the delicious sway of her rounded buttocks that were so enticingly molded by the short dress. In the waning light of the evening sun, he watched her legs in her hosiery and loved the turn of her ankles perched on her narrow heeled shoes. He nearly literally bumped into her as she stopped beside the car door.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me get the door for you!" Paul stuttered as he grabbed for the door and yanked it open.
"Why thank you! You are one sweet guy!" Again Cindy's laugh unnerved him as he watched, his knuckles white as he gripped the door, as she lowered her self to the car's seat and the skirt slid up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of garters clipped to the tops of her nylons. Another flood of arousal and embarrassment washed over him as he quickly shut the door and started to walk around the back of the car.
Pressing the case to his groin, he groaned, "Please, don't let her see this!"
Cindy was settled, her skirt pulled low enough that Paul's eyes couldn't detect the white of her garter, though now he thought he could see the faint impressions in the material where the straps went up her thigh and to her rounded hips. Desperately trying to hide his erection, he kept the portfolio in his lap and stared out of his window, trying to will his own nature to not be so damn obvious. Thankfully Cindy spent the relatively short trip idly telling Paul about the various sights they were passing. And it was even a greater blessing that most of the sights were out his side of the car. He only had to control himself when she excitedly leaned towards him and he felt her lightly brushing her breasts just behind his shoulder as she pointed out the beach in the distance. It was almost refreshing to feel his cock subsiding, especially as the car turned into the drive of the beachfront hotel. He could almost get the car door open without hiding behind the case, though he found it quite necessary when he saw her legs swing out of the car and the skirt sliding a little higher. The flash of white, just before she rose from the car, was enough to have his pants rigidly tented once more. Nor did it lessen as he followed her up the front steps and into the hotel lobby.
Cindy calmly got the key to the room she had registered in Paul's name for his visit. Being familiar with the hotel, she led him to the elevator and punched the button for its upward ascent to his floor. The elevator came in seconds, or hours, depending on whether one used a watched or dreaded stepping into such a small cubicle, alone, with such a dazzling beauty and his vulgar nature so prominently on display. But the elevator was a blessing and a torment. Filled with elderly tourists, obviously on some group vacation, there was no other female that might possibly arouse him further. No sexy blond in short pants and negligible top that he would have to stand next too for the trip up. But there was the problem of the small car being nearly too full and he having to stand in place, fearful of stepping on some poor old lady, as Cindy turned her back to him and stepped back herself to let the elevator doors closed before her. With her bottom pressing against his hands gripping the portfolio, he couldn't help but feel their tightness and warmth. Nor could he help that his nostrils filled with the scent of her hair as she stood before him. Nor could he help his cock throbbing in his boxers when she moved just a little and her twin globes of ass flesh glided over the backs of his hands, first one firm mound and then the other, her rear cleavage returning to stop where his fingers nestled in the slight depression of the tight skirt.
"Humph!" A gray haired matron snorted when he tried to back against the wall of the cab to allow the others to exit on their own floor. She looked down at his crotch disdainfully, disgusted that she had accidentally touched the vulgar nasty man luridly thrusting his cock against that sweet young woman's backside. If looks could kill, or if a crack could have swallowed Paul, he would either have been dead, or escaped the elevator.
"Not all visitors are so grouchy." Cindy giggled as the doors closed behind the still scowling matron. "Really! Most of them are so very nice." Paul wasn't too worried about the old woman. Instead he was looking at the way she stood alone at the other side of the car with her shoulders leaning back that little bit as the handrail went behind and just above her buttocks. Over her folded arms, the tanned breasts jutted outward to him, as did her tummy and the slight mound of her mons. He jumped when the car surged to a stop on their floor not from the expected/unexpected jolting, but from the way Cindy reached back with her hands to the rail to push herself into motion and the way her breasts fell from her forearms and bounced just a little without the support.
Paul stopped for a brief second as he passed through the door to his room. Unconsciously his mind thought of Cathy and their comfortable little rural home. But Cindy's happy sigh when she opened the curtains and view the racing waves of the ocean to the beach, still filled with tourists. "Come here. Isn't it beautiful?" She said, her arms opening wide before her to encompass all that lay before her.
From Paul's viewpoint, everything was indeed spectacular. The way the sunlight shone through her hair as it dipped to the ocean, to the way her body became a silhouette as it was backlighted. From the way her legs were apart at the feet and rose towards each other before coming to the tightly stretched dress hem, around the swell of her hips and rounded globes of her ass to her narrow waist, then to the hint of her breasts as her up lifted arms rose as a native might dance as an offering towards the waning sun, a goddess for all that lives and breathes.
"Look!" Cindy turned, pretending to pout. "Don't you want to see?"
"Y-yesss!" Paul stammered, still gripping the necessary case as he stepped quickly to the window. Not that he wanted to get a wide view of the ocean before him, as spectacular as that might be, but to get around and in front of the grinning beauty and press himself against the window sill in his attempt to keep some modesty and hide the erection he could barely hide with the portfolio. Not that he had a large erection necessarily, but it was one of the greatest most erect erections he had ever had the misfortune to have at such an inopportune moment. Sticking straight out from his groin, the boxers and light trousers doing little to hinder its embarrassing thrust, he prayed that at least his cock wouldn't begin to drool and make a dark ring on his tan pants.
"Don't you just love it?" Cindy whispered at his shoulder. Paul couldn't stop the shudder through his body when her body pressed up against him at the window. Her one arm reached around his arm and pointed to the rushing waves and patchwork of beach blankets below them, while her breasts rubbed solidly against his back and shoulder, a hint of pressure at his hips where hers touched him ever so lightly.
"My god!" Paul stammered, catching himself by sheer dint of determination not to immediately throw himself on this complete stranger. "It, it, its fantastic!"
"Would you mind if we took a walk on the beach before we have to start on the boring part of this business?"
"I guess so, " Paul swallowed as he fought to control himself.
"I forgot my swimsuit, but the hotel can provide suitable garments for a pleasurable stroll through the sand. Mind if I call them on your phone?"
"Er, no, of course not. I mean feel free to use the phone." Paul gulped in the air as he continued to stare out over the ocean, yet saw her walking past his bed to the phone. He could almost see her reaching for it, her breasts swaying ever so slightly, so seductively as she brought it to her ear with her hair cascading around the handset.
"I forgot my credit card, perhaps we could use yours?" Cindy's embarrassed voice said behind him.
"Yes, of course. I, " Paul quickly reached for his wallet and stepped to his bed as he blindingly sought for the plastic flat card, "I have it right here!"
"You are so sweet!" Cindy's smiled dazzled as her hair framed her face. "You are incredible nice!" After a few seconds of listening to a voice on the phone, Cindy, for the first time seeming a little shaken, asked, "Ah, what size do you wear?"
"I, ah, I wear, wear, I have a thirty-two inch waist."
"Yes, ma'am, I would like size six woman's and a, ah, thirty-two in a man's. Yes that is perfect. Me? Yellow I guess. One second." Cindy cupped the phone to her breast, "What color do you want?"
"Color, I, ah, I don't care, brown, er, blue, I guess." Paul answered.
"He would like a blue pair. Dark blue would be fine. That's great." After reading off the numbers from the card and the expiration date, Cindy nodded and hung up the phone. "They said the bathing suits will be delivered in about twenty minutes. Do you mind if I go get a soda before we go? I'm getting quite thirsty."
"I'll get them!" Paul quickly volunteered.
"Oh, don't be so silly!" Cindy chuckled. "I can walk twenty steps to the vending machine and carry back two heavy cans of soda." When Paul's face flushed a dark crimson, she giggle, "I'm sorry. What kind of pop do you drink?"
"A coke will be fine, anything really. My mouth is so dry!" Paul said as he picked up his card from the bed where Cindy had dropped it.
When Cindy took up her little black purse and swung around to walk to the door, Paul watched in amazement at the way her bottom swayed and tilted under the dress. It was also unbelievable in less than a half hour; he would be seeing her lovely body in a swimsuit.
Just barely after he had gotten his few things unpacked, Cindy returned with the sweating cans of soda. Before the cans were half empty, which was one gulping drink by Paul, and a few dainty sips by Cindy, the knock on the door and a female voice announced the suits had arrived.
A fairly pretty woman wearing a maid's outfit entered the room and set a package on the bed. "A yellow suit for the Mrs., and a blue suit for the Sir. There are also two towels for the drying and a larger towel to be your beach blanket. Please, enjoy them." Without waiting for a tip, the young woman turned and left the room.
"Don't you love the atmosphere of this hotel?" Cindy beamed as she watched the door close behind the maid. "No incessant begging for tips, though easily so polite and helpful the service here deserves generous tipping."
"We'll have to leave a complimentary note. Don't you think?" Cindy continued as she took up the package and opened it. Inside were the two swimming suits. Paul swallowed hard as she took up two small pieces of yellow material and left a dark blue garment on the white towels. "I'll just step into the bathroom and change. I'll knock when I am ready to return so that I won't catch you with your pants down!" With her excited giggle burning in his ears, he stared in disbelief as she scampered to the privacy of the restroom. "Now, hurry, we haven't much more daylight!" Those were the last words that registered as the door shut with a click following.
For a couple of minutes Paul couldn't have moved had he needed to move. Then when his hesitantly took up the suit he was to wear, he was even more hesitant to put it on! Smaller than any suit he could have imagined, it was little more than a pair of opaque under briefs. In fact there was little to distinguish the front from the back of the suit. Not quite forming strings from front to back, the two triangles of material came together at their points in equal widths. The part that went between his legs was no wider than the narrow parts that were to go around his hips.
"How you coming out there?" Cindy's voice called through the closed door, startling Paul.
"I, ah, I'm doing okay." Paul called out.
"I'm almost ready, are you?"
"Ah, give me a couple more minutes!" Paul stammered in confusion.
"Well, don't make me wait too long! I haven't been to the beach all week!" Her voice sounded through the door.
"Okay, Okay!" Paul answered, finally getting the courage necessary to unfasten his pants. Not only had the suit seemed skimpy to him, they were tight and too not there. Not only did his ass cheeks stick out the bottom of the suit, his swollen member, bent to fit into the crotch of the suit, seemed to bulge obscenely in the view he had in the mirror. "My god." He stammered.
Then came Cindy's announcing knock. "Ready or not, here I come!" The door was flung open and she stepped into the room with her arms lifted and she pirouetted on her toes to show off her suit. And the sight was almost too much for Paul. Her breasts filled the small triangles of material that clearly should the erect nipples thrusting against the thin cloth. And well below her belly button, another small triangle flashed between her upper thighs. When she turned away from him, the rear triangle covered even less of her bottom than the top had covered her breasts. His hand might have covered more of those delectable globes that moved and pressed tightly against the small patch of yellow.
"Do you like it?"
Paul stared, his jaw nearly resting on his hairy chest. "You, I mean, it is beautiful!"
"I'll take that as a compliment! Thank you." Cindy went to the bed and tossed one of the smaller towels to Paul and kept the other small towel and the beach blanket. "Let's go!"
Paul unfolded the towel, thinking to wrap it around his hips, but it was not much more than a hand towel. Nor did Cindy give him more than a few seconds before she had the door open and was heading to the elevator, calling him, holding the towel draped over her shoulder. "Come one!" She called laughingly.
The walk through the hotel had been embarrassing, but Cindy's voice and unperturbed nature kept driving him on. She ignored the older women's dirty looks, and Paul tried to ignore them, and she winked at the gray-haired gentlemen that smiled as they watched her pass by. A smile, by the way, quickly rewarded with an elbow jabbed to their ribs by their displeased mates.
But the walk on the beach was pure unadulterated pleasure. Paul had expected young men, or any man for that matter to stare at the girl walking with him, and he was not disappointed in that. Nearly every male head turned to watch her pass by. What was more unnerving for Paul was that women were watching him. He could feel their eyes, as they looked him over uninhibitedly. Glad he had kept on at least a bit of a diet and a little exercise, he wasn't too over weight, but he didn't have the physique of a body builder either. Nor did it help that his cock would not subside in its arousal, filling the triangle at his groin, feeling as though it might escape if her were not very careful. Nor could he refuse to take her hand as she walked beside him, leaving him with nothing to hide behind, unless he wanted to look as though he was too embarrassed to be seen with the beautiful woman.
As the sun settled on the ocean water, they passed by fewer and fewer blankets. More and more of the blankets were being used by young ladies, their tops untied and the strings laying on the blankets while their young male friends rubbed lotion on their tanned backs, the men's crotches bulging from their obvious interests. A few were no longer pretending to be using the oils for protection, male hands slipped under small suits to caress the firm bottom of their girls as fingers explored in the dimming light. Other couples didn't even bother with the oil, instead they hungrily kissed in the sand, their bodies molding tightly together as their passions rose. At no time did Paul's own cock pretend not to be aroused. His cock threatened with every step to leap straight and erect from the confines of the suit.
"Well, guess we have to go back to the room." Cindy pouted.
"No, I, well, lets walk just a little further." Desperately in need of something to quell his raging erection before going back into the hotel where people might not understand why his cock was throbbing so hard, he tried to get it to lessen at least a little bit.
"No. We have work to do." Cindy turned; pulling him by his hand past couples that looked up from their blankets and them and smiled knowing smiles. Paul feeling like a young child, towed by a young mother, flushed a deep scarlet as the women openly appraised the package this woman had for the night. Unfortunately, just prior to entering the hotel, a young man, effeminate in his countenance, smiled at him after looking down at his suit.
The walk through the hotel was not too very much different than the walk to the beach. In fact he didn't recall very much of what actually transpired through out the rest of the evening. He remembered unlocking the room door and pushing it open, waiting for the woman to step back into his room. He also remembered how she had remained in her swimsuit and he in his as they sat at a small table under a hanging light in the window and read over the work she had prepared. But mostly what he remembered was the way her skin felt when her naked thigh brushed against his and the way her full breasts had rubbed on his arm when she had draped an arm over his shoulder reading words he could no longer even see. And her vaguely remembered her bringing out the actual contract from the portfolio he had been carrying earlier and signed four separate copies on the lines her perfect fingers touched. One of the last sights he could see in his memory was her rising, she letting her breast once more slid on his skin and the yellow triangle dancing slowly on her cheeks as she walked to a tray and returned with wine and glasses. Nor could he ever forget how she stood beside him, her hips inches from his shoulders, the naked bare tanned skin of her thigh and the way her muscles moved in her bronzed buttock. She turned to him, smiling down at his hair since he couldn't pull his eyes from the sight of her belly button and the slight hair that formed a transparent line from the button to disappear into the suit. His eyes studied the yellow triangle seeing the hems on her bare skin coming together, surrounding twin lines of swelling and a slight darkening between them. His nose smelled her scent as she moved ever so slowly closer to his face. Only inches from him it stopped and he had felt her fingers under his chin lifting his eyes from the sight only to be left staring at yet another fantastic sight seeing her breasts over his face, yellow cloth to rigid nipples, pointing to her smiling face and beautiful hair.
"A toast to the new future: May your mind be always filled with dreams of pleasure." Cindy motioned for him to rise and stand before her as she held a glass of sparkling white wine, another waiting on the table. He could remember his breathing and his breath seemed so short. He could remember how she'd remained in place and his rising body touching hers. He could almost still feel the way her arm wrapped around his as though a bride and groom would take their nuptial toast at a reception in their honor, the same as Cathy had entwined her arm through his. Paul never felt the glass she put in his numb fingers, though he felt the slight bitterness of the wine on his tongue when they tilted the glasses in unison. And then he felt the softness of her lips and tasted sweet wine as his tongue press between them. And he felt her hand touching his buttocks and the pulling of him to her. Breasts, with a heat unforgotten, a sound of shattering glasses, and her body molding into his as he gathered her to him, all these were forever etched in the fibers of his body.
And then.. Nothing.
Paul awoke the next morning to the harsh sound of an alarm clock. A flood of memories flowed through him, as did a dull throb of pain. In frustration he slapped the clock to the floor silencing it forever as he fought to return to the most fantastic dream he had ever had. But dreams end. As his eyes opened, sunlight shone harshly through the window of his hotel room. He stared around him uncomprehending the strange room, and then the remote possibility that he hadn't been dreaming. As his hands moved over him and he stretched to remove the numbness of deep sleep from his limps, he saw a cassette player and card at the same time his fingers happened on a strange coldness at his groin, the site of a continuous throb of dull, aching pain. With his mind in a daze, he tried to read the card and also make out what his fingers now wildly felt over his penis and testicles.
Throwing his blankets off the bed, his eyes left the card and the words written there, to stare in disbelief at the glint of steel on his body.
"What the fucking hell?" Paul said in a quiet voice of confusion, while in his mind there was a scream of fear.
He was trying to figure out what it was and what it meant; now using fingers and eyes, when the phone took him completely by surprise.
"Mr. Paul?"
"Yes? Wha-" Paul tried to speak into the phone.
"Good Morning! I am instructed to inform you that it is time to rise. Also I was instructed to inform you that you were left a message. But I do not have any indication as to what the message was, since there is not a message here for you that I can find. Have a pleasant holiday. Good Morning."
Paul stared at the dead telephone he held. Then his eyes returned to the card and the recorder on the bedside stand. The card said: "Press Play."
"Paul." In the pause that followed, Paul's mind filled with the vision of his dream. The voice sounded like the goddess in a glimmering swimsuit of sunlight.
"The contracts you signed have been duly processed. As per your request, an unvoidable contract was written, signed, witnessed, and notarized stating that you have given all of your earthly possessions to your adored wife and mistress, named Cathy. A second contract pertains to your wish to have her be the sole guardian of all your future legal needs, including, but not limited to any surgeries, operations, or donations, you may give now or in the future. This contract is also completely sealed. Meaning you can never revoke, contest, nor void any part or intent of the contract. Another contract, quite unnecessary by the powers given by you to said Cathy in the preceding contracts, gives her full rights of ownership to your half of the business, and any other business that you, a subject of the company, might per happenstance become involved in.
"Well, enough of that. I am sure you have more, should I say pressing, questions that I might venture a guess at answering.
"But first I want to ask you if you have ever seen a television show called "Mission: Impossible"? I am sure you have seen the series or perhaps the movie, either way I am sure you know what the phrase: "this tape will self-destruct in five seconds" means. Since this tape will also self-destruct at the appropriate time, you would be advised to follow directions explicitly. When this tape does destruct, it will produce a toxic fume of dense smoke, quite similar to a mixture of pepper and tear gas. Not only will you find it difficult, if not impossible, to remain in the room, the smoke will set of the fire alarm. The fire alarm will also lock the elevators at the nearest floors so guests will not be trapped in the burning hotel. You will find the exit and staircase to the right of the elevator lobby. Do not go through the lobby, as security guards will be on the lookout for the perpetrator of this criminal act. Their description is quite detailed and I am sure they will recognize you at once and detain you for prosecution. However there is a side door to the right of the elevator on the ground floor that you may use to exit the building. You will, or hopefully in your situation, be able to race to a taxi waiting for you with the number 53 on the door. With the door's opening an alarm will notify security of someone, probably the criminal they seek, escaping through that exit. Should you succeed to get into the taxi, the driver will take you to the airport.
"Your return ticket has been processed and you need only go through security and board your plane to get to your home destination. From there I imagine your owner will have arranged for your transport to the final destination."
Paul listened in disbelief to the tape, the small spools turning in hypnotic fashion.
"Upon your penis, you will have discovered a chastity device securely locked in place. Not to bore you too terribly much, I only wish to inform you that it has a high content of tungsten and titanium. It is quite similar to surgical stainless steel, non-toxic or corrosive, but is much harder and its melting point is similarly quite high.
"Enough of that. Suffice it to say that the owner holds the key to the lock, nor can the key be duplicated, or the lock opened by the most expert of locksmiths.
"Remember your bathing suit. Yes, the one you wore as you paraded your swollen little cock on the beach? Pick it up now and examine it more closely. Please follow instructions, I'd hate for you to spend the next ten to twenty years in prison and then experience what will then happen."
Paul picked up the suit numbly, obeying the voice, understanding words, and yet understanding nothing.
"In the material of the crotch you will find a small slit and a vertical upside-down pocket. Inside this pocket is money necessary for your trip to your owner's desired destination. Should you be foolish enough to remove it and spend it unwisely, you will not of course be assured safe passage. Since it is merely a dollar bill, torn and ragged, it not only will be worthless applied to your freedom, it will not even work in a vending machine to buy a soda. So just leave it there and put the suit on.
"Oh, I guess I should have informed you that the tape will destruct should you shut of the cassette. I know, such a pity, isn't it?"
Paul's finger was just pushing down on the stop button; his body froze rigid at the words.
"As far as using the potty, I am sure you will find ample time on the flight home to relieve yourself, so we will not waste precious moments, will we?
"By now you, ever the obedient slave, are standing wearing the suit, eager for the next command. If not, you should be. Now put on the pants you wore and your shirt. Your socks, as are the rest of your earthly possessions, are presently flying to their new owner, as you soon shall be. You should however find your shoes and be tying them on your feet."
Paul's fingers had not left the cassette player.
"You should now be dressed. However in all fairness I will give you an additional sixty seconds to prepare yourself for your exit. Starting right now. Mark, sixty. Fifty-five.. You have now only fifty seconds before you must, rather will, leave the room. Forty-five seconds."
Paul suddenly reacted. Yanking the suit up his legs, he heard "Thirty seconds." Tears flowing down his cheek he struggled to get his trousers up and zipped over his aching genitals. "Twenty five. Twenty."
By now Paul's fingers were not responding correctly, he fought the zipper and the button of his pants, the belt still swinging unfastened at his waist.
"Oh, the metal detector at the airport will alarm as you pass through."
"No! You fucking BITCH!" Paul screamed as his hands grabbed the cassette player and he and he squeezed as though he could choke the life from the voice.
"Ten seconds grab your shoes and run!"
"No! God, please, no." Paul sobbed in defeat.
Her sweet, sweet laughter, like a bubbling of water cascading over the rocks of a small garden waterfall sang from the cassette.
Paul barely grabbed his shoes and shirt and yanked open the door when he turned and saw the thick smoke begin to billow from the player. Before he reached the elevators, the fire claxon was clanging its dire warning in a deafening din. He heard doors and excited voices behind him as he crashed through the door of the stairway. Scared beyond words he raced down the steps, bare-chested, bare-footed, leaping landing to landing. On the lower stairs he not only had to contend with the switchback flights of steps, excited tourists began stream through the doors. His chest heaving fighting for air and his uncontrolled sobbing, he charged his way through the throng of people.
A small gray-haired woman kindly tried to stop the man's flight of panic. "Young man, we'll be okay. Don't be scared, honey, everything is all right."
Paul stared at the gentle old woman, his eyes wild in his fear. He screamed in uncontrolled terror before crashing into the wall in his attempt to get around the woman. His bare feet slipped on the cold tiles as he lurched and bolted the last few levels to find the stream of people pushing him to the lobby and supposed safety.
His mouth open in a rigid silent scream, he fought against the flow of humanity. Always striving to go to the right and his only exit to freedom, Paul finally spied the door. A single door with a red warning bar. He slammed full speed into the door, its opening swing causing him to fall headlong into the grass of the side lawn. His ears filled with the sound of the new alarm. He desperately fought to rise, his knees churning in the soft green sod, his toes digging to the grass's roots to propel him onward. As he turned the building's corner, he spied the line of cabs. He also heard a shout to his right from the front entrance of the hotel: "Look! There!"
His eyes blurred in his terror, searched for a number he could not recall. Subconsciously his mind drove him on. A person walking from the hotel to the cabs took his attention. A young man, dressed in a dark suit, a brief case at his knee, a rich man with no worries, calmly walking to a cab.
"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" The unearthly scream echoed from the building and the rest of the world.
The rich man barely turned to look in annoyance at the intrusion of his leisurely morning.
Paul gave his entire being to the race for the cab. That particular cab, the one with 53 on its door. He shuddered and sobbed as the cab sped from the curb, his fingers digging into its rear seat cushion.
The rich man pulled of his glasses calmly, then took off his hat and shook his hair in the freshness of the morning. The remarkably beautiful woman with hair shining in the sunlight smiled as she watched the cab turn the corner and disappear amid the bustle of traffic, known in San Francisco. "Good bye my sweet fool may you forever dream of pleasures unrelieved."
Paul did manage to get dressed in the cab. The driver, a gruff, seedy man, didn't even acknowledge his presence, though he obviously knew the fare's desired destination. Paul meanwhile was lost in his terror that morph sized into complete confusion. His hands searched his empty pockets. He had nothing, save the clothes he wore. No watch, no wallet, nothing, not even a ticket for his home flight. There could and would be no help for him in the angry city behind him, a city so beautiful yet with an ugliness just below its perfect skin. He wept openly, his life, as he knew it altered forever. Yet the mind remembers more. Subconscious thoughts interrupt even the deepest pains. Metal detector.
Paul's experience in the airport was as he had expected, perhaps worse. Like the sound of her laughter filling his ears from the tape, remembered laughter ate at him during the flight home.
The detector had indeed gone off as warned. He found himself surrounded by such nice people, courteous to a fault, their determination just as strong. Escorted to a small room, he sat before a desk and tried to answer a young blond woman's questions. He truthfully wanted to explain, to tell someone how terrible he was treated, how his life was ruined completely. But they wouldn't have understood. No they couldn't imagine something happening to a man that was this bizarre.
"I'm sorry, Sir." The woman said almost contritely. "We have to follow the rules. If you do not produce the device that triggered the alarm, we must of necessity preserve the safety of our patrons."
Paul stared mutely at her, his chest tightening viciously threatening to stop his wildly beating heart.
"Very well." The blond sighed as though she dreaded what she must do next. A push of a button, an opening door, Paul soon stood in a small room with only a small wooden three-legged stool, and a burly man frowning at him.
"Strip." The word cold, an order given not to be disobeyed. A nightclub moving from a belt to become a mesmerizing cadence as baton struck an open palm. Defeated Paul once more fumbled at his belt, fingers, too thick with fear to grip the talon of the zipper, sought to obey the waiting man's demand.
Sobbing once more, his emotions frayed to the limit. He finally handed the trousers and shirt to the out stretched hand. "Completely."
Paul stared at the man. His eyes once more mirroring the terror he felt inside him, saw the glint of laughter in the man's brown eyes, and the slight sneering curl of his upper lip.
"Turn around, boy." His voice sounded derisively, when Paul managed to hand him the last of his garments save the shining steel he could not remove. "Put your feet on both sides of the stool. Now bend over and grab the rungs of the chair. A specialist will be here shortly to give you a cavity search."
So Paul remained, tears of humiliation dripping from his face to land on the floor under him. He remained as positioned, his hairy ass sticking up, his asshole blatantly exposed in the most humiliating of postures with the stranger now grinning wickedly behind him. He almost collapsed in weakness as the door opened and a pair of women's shoes came into view. Not dainty high heels or sexy loafers, work shoes stopped at the stool. An older woman, larger than most from what he could see, placed her cold hand on the small of his back.
"What is this?" Her voice a grating roughness as her other hand closed around the restrained mound of balls and penis between his legs.
"I, I, I d-don't n-know." Paul's voice was meek and he stuttered in fear and humiliation as the fingers probed around his penis and his aching balls.
"You have something on your body, on your obviously small prick, and you expect me to believe you do not know what it is?" The woman's voice was cold as the fingers grew rougher and more blatantly exploring the man's penis held to his scrotum by rings and steel cables. A band of shining steel lifted, rather kept the balls from being near the body, forcing them outwards. Her finger, despite Paul's groans of pain and humiliation found more metal under his penis, apparently a y-shaped piece that separated penis from balls, and forced the balls further apart. A lock of some sort closed it all under his balls.
"And what does this mean?" The woman's voice questioned, gruffly, her hand now touching Paul's white ass cheek.
"W-what?" Paul stammered not having any idea as to what the woman was referring.
"This tattoo. The word, slave, tattooed on your white ass, boy!"
"I, I, I d-don't n-know!" Paul said in shocking disbelief.
"Don't know, eh?" Paul felt the woman's hands move from his body and the sound of snapping rubber let him see unknown hands pulling rubber gloves on an unseen wick woman's hands. "Are you a slave?"
Paul cried out in pain and humiliation, as the woman thrusting one of her fingers deep into his tight, virgin asshole followed the words. "Are you a slave, boy? Some perverted toy or something?"
Paul gripped the chair as the finger searched around in his rectum. He fought for breath and some meaning of all that was happening to him. How was it possible that he was bent over a stool and being sodomized by a woman's finger?
"Well? ARE you a fucking slave boy or not?" She pulled out the one finger, only to stretch his tender, tight asshole by plunging two fingers as deep as she could into his ass.
Groans of pain welled through him, as his head flew up and back, his body trying to escape the raping fingers causing such agony.
"Stay put, slave." The woman sneered and the man laughed cruelly behind him. Her free hand once more grabbed around the aching cock and balls yanking his body back down, opening his ass further to her pleasure. "A fuck slave, aren't you?"
As Paul's head rose up and down, his pain wracking through his body as the woman began to piston her fingers in and out of his ass. His ears heard the roar of laughter behind him, helplessly he sobbed and cried out in his pain and humiliation. Several minutes of pain filled his life as the woman took pleasure in stretching his tender sphincter, opening him completely as she willed, finally, with a grunt of obscene pleasure, the woman pulled her fingers from his asshole and loosened her grasp on his aching nuts.
"Shut the fuck up, slave. Turn your pansy ass around and sit on the chair. I want you to bend your legs back behind you and lay the top of your feet on the floor behind you. I want you to grasp hold of the seat on which your candy ass is sitting and hold it. Open your mouth real wide and don't say a god-damn word."
Paul, his body shuddering uncontrollably, obeyed the woman's demands on him. Forced to sit fully on his tender asshole, his thighs unable to lift him from the hard cold seat, he opened his mouth. He could see the laughing guard pointing at his aching cock and balls as he was forced to display them between his widespread legs. Paul eyes kept crying when the woman, older, about forty-five years old with her stern, nearly masculine face grinning at him in derision, stepped up to him.
"And I suppose you don't understand the tattoos on your shoulders either do you?" Paul was given no chance to answer as the fingers of the gloves entered his open mouth. He nearly vomited as much from the thought and taste of his own shit in his mouth as he did from what the woman was saying as she rubbed the soiled fingers all around his mouth, under his tongue, completely cleaning the gloves in his shocked mouth.
"'CATHY'S SLAVE' tattooed here," the woman put her other hand on his right shoulder, "and `SISSY BOY' here." The woman's hand went to his other shoulder. Each tattoo apparently just at the rounded muscles of his shoulders, above the site of his vaccination.
Paul merely bowed his head in misery when the woman pulled her fingers from his mouth and stepped back to throw them away.
"The money?" The man's voice sounded coldly.
"In the swimsuit." Paul was almost outside of himself. Looking down to see fresh tattoos on his skin forever marking him as a slave, some one owned by another, and a sissy, a girlish man, often used by men for their pleasure.
"What the fuck? A dollar? You call this money?" Paul eyes stared unseeing as the man unfolded the aged dollar bill, tattered and stained by the hands of many strangers, not worth much monetarily, or other wise, soon to be shredded and destroyed as another bit of worthless trash. His head bobbed up and down, his body let out whimpers of pain and fright.
"Are you a faggot?"
Paul shook his head, limply from side-to-side.
"Then shove this fucking money up your ass and get the hell out of here."
The man held the money. Paul watched his own fingers reaching outwards, taking the money. He rose from the seat, and still staring unseeing as the guard rubbed his crotch, pushed the dollar into his ass, deeper and deeper until he could no longer feel the limp soggy paper wadded in his rectum.
Paul numb and mindless rose and took his clothes, silently pulling them up his legs and threading his hands through the shirtsleeves, dressed as the laughter tore into his very being. Kneeling subserviently before them, he put on his shoes and tied the narrow laces. His sight blurred and foggy, he stepped from the room, not seeing the dark suit and beautiful brunette watching him, a smile on her beautiful face. She entered the small room, closing the door quietly behind her, then soon reappeared, confidently strolling in her high heels following a man, broken and weeping, heading towards his new life of dreams.
Paul couldn't have cared whether the plane rose or fell in the midst of the fleecy white clouds. His mind began the slow process of rebuilding a shatter shell of a man. His tears stopped unnoticed, though inwardly the boy in him wept tears of unrelenting sorrow. A dark suit and a pair of sunglasses, a person sat thoughtfully on the back seat, observing and watching.
There was indeed a car waiting for Paul when his plan landed. Silently, without a word spoke, he got into the car and rode whereever the driver choose to take him. He didn't care. Though a rush of relief welled deep within him when the car turned towards his town. His heart lightened as the road carried him closer to the safety and security of his small innocent, beautiful town. His eyes once more filled with tears, not of sorrow or pain, happiness was flooding over him, nearly causing him to giggle insanely as the tree in his yard, his very own yard, waved its leaves in the wind as though welcoming him home.
And Cathy, his adorable, beautiful Cathy waited for him at the front door. She was too beautiful to be his, her face a cherished treasure as his love bounded in his chest. He sobbed in joy as her beautiful lithe body held the door open to him; a smile on her lips filled his soul with hope and dreams.
The cab driver took off the cap and shook her pretty brown hair in cascades over the uniform barely concealing the full breasts and the turgid nipples. A sweet smile. A soft voice. "Sweet dreams my little fool. Dream of all that you once had in the circle of your arms. For that is all that you will ever have." The cab backed from the drive, as Paul reached out and hugged his beautiful wife, sobbing in heartfelt elation at once more being safe in her company. Safe from that terrible forbidding, awful city.
"How was your trip?"
"Terrible, I never want to leave you again, ever."
"Tell me about it." Cathy said quietly, concern a balm to his tender wounded psyche.
Paul had a terrible time trying to describe what had happened. How do you tell someone that you lusted after another woman? But, despite the pain and humiliation, he managed to convey a tiny parcel of the evening with his former partner. He told in more detail of his harrowing morning. How he awoke and found himself lock in the terrible device and the terror he felt as he ran for his life to return to her.
Cathy listened quietly, her eyes looking with love, swabbing his open wounds with a healing that only she could apply to his soul.
"Show me." Cathy asked quietly.
Hesitant, yet needing her love and pity, he stripped out of his clothes and let her see the terrible thing that was locked on his poor helpless body.
"I, too, have something to show you. Come with me." Gently she guided him to the front room, until he stood in the center of the room. Taking a seat, she held out her hand and let him come to her, tears flowing down his cheek.
"Shh, Paulie." Cathy said soothingly. "Kneel before me." Tenderly she helped him to his knees. "I want you." Cathy purred as she opened her legs, her skirt riding higher and higher. "But first, look down. See that chain and the lock? Put it on."
Paul stared at the filigree of chain hanging from a ring bolted to the underside of the chair. A ring and lock, open and hanging, glinted through his tears. He looked up to her smiling face, his lips trembling. Bowing his head, he reached for the chain and locked it in place under his balls, chaining himself most intimately to his Mistress's seat.
"Tell me how beautiful she was. Tell me how you felt in her arms. Tell me how her soft lips tasted like honey. Tell me as you clean my pussy filled with another man's cum." Paul shook and sobbed as her legs parted and her lips opened to reveal glistening lips of a pussy with vestiges of a man's orgasm still leaking from her upturned vagina. He wept silently.
"Tom, come here." Cathy called out. "While you are busy, let me introduce the new man of my house."
Tom entered, wearing his tight bikini briefs, his cock a round swell of protruding material, his legs hairy and stout as he stood and leaned to kiss Paul's beautiful wife.
"Please, Tom. Let me taste your cock again as Paulie tastes the pleasures I've all ready experienced." Cathy's fingers pulled the briefs down off the rising shaft of a cock inches longer than Paul's and so much thicker. "Paulie, look at his wonderful cock." She forced his tear-streaked face to look upwards, to see the shaft growing in her fingers, his nuts as large as prunes hanging and swaying under his cock. Still making him watch, Cathy brought her soft full lips to his meaty shaft. "Hum, so very tasty. Perhaps you would love to taste him?" She smiled as her pink tongue circled around the smooth helmet of his throbbing cock. "If you don't want to eat me, I can get up, he can take my place, and you can feast on this fantastic male cock. Well?"
Paul sobbed, his head lowered, and he began to taste the taste of another man's cock in his beloved wife's pussy. He licked along the velvety lips he adored, tainted with the strange salty taste. He pressed his tongue to the familiar protrusion between the smaller folds of the sacred woman's cunt. His tongue pressed into her warm, safe flesh, as her hips rocked, and her moans of pleasure, gagged by the stranger's great cock, grew in intensity.
Paul spent many an hour chained to the chair. His days were filled with the chores of the house, floors to be mopped, and clothes to be washed, dried, and carefully folded. His hands, folded larger men's briefs than he would ever need and laid them with his wife's in the top dresser drawer.
His nights were either spent chained at the foot his Mistress's bed, listening to the throes she made as the man rammed his gigantic cock in and out of her pussy. Leaving behind the taste Paul would carry for the rest of the night. Sometimes, he wasn't even allowed that much pleasure; instead the couple would decide to allow the sissy slave her own pleasures. Wearing a brief teddy, Paulie would be made to kneel at Tom's feet and reap his pleasure from the huge balls jerking in the sac under the cock that filled his mouth as huge hands pulled his head back and forth.
Sometimes he was left alone, naked, chained by his balls inside a cold steel cage, he was left alone. To dream of a beautiful goddess, sunlight radiating from her beauty, a body warm and pliant in his arms, and lips that tasted of honey. A dream unrealized.
Another car was purchased in that small town. A cash payment in full and another disbelieved terrible rumor of that poor innocent brunette doing such terrible, unspeakable acts, obviously started by women and girls jealous of her beauty and her brunette hair that waved in the wind as she drove her convertible on the streets of the town.
"I would give anything, everything, for one evening with that beautiful girl."
End
[ Back to chastity fiction page ]
Page last updated 00-Apr-23 by: Altairboy@aol.com