"All right, Lyle, when I whistle in F sharp, Reginald's thingie is supposed to wilt. If it doesn't, you strike it with the thorny rose branch."
"P-please, darling Blaze-"
"Shut up, Reg. We've been working on this all week. I need you to be ready at the play party, or Mistress Salem will be laughing at me, the bitch."
"Yes ma'am."
Lyle shook his head as he stared at the disconsolate Reg. Reg's dick was rock hard, though.
"Okay Blaze." Lyle said. "Are you ready, Reg?" Lyle looked anxiously at Reg, who o was kneeling naked in front of Blaze, the beautiful girl cheerily about to whistle.
Reg nodded a bit mutely. But God, how his cock was straining. Would it go limp? It was so strange, he was the only one nude in the room, and watching him kneel...
Blaze bent over, giving Reg a long look up her peasant blouse. She rubbed Reg's dick for about thirty seconds, and then stood up and blew.
All three stared at Reg's penis, which wavered, but did not shrink or deflate in any way.
Blaze cocked her honey blonde head at Lyle, who took a deep breath and lifted the thorny stick and swatted Reg hard across his cock.
Reg howled, but looked, in a way, enthralled. Incredibly, pre-ejaculate dribbled out of the end of his cock.
Blaze's instructions to Lyle were to hit the cock until it went down, and this occurred in less than six swats, but watching Reg's face contort was a trial.
As Reg's member went from proud and hard to red and stinging, his face was a study.
Why wasn't he screaming? Lyle watched Reg struggle against the cuffs binding his wrists behind his neck.
Shaking on his knees, Reg stayed silent as the thorns slashed his wee-wee again and again. Reg seemed to tremble and quiver, but his bit his lower lip and spoke not at all.
When Reg's penis was absolutely tiny, and the thorns had done their good work, Lyle dropped the thorny rose branch. "Reg, I'm sorry, man. But, she...I don't...you know."
Reg nodded absentmindedly at Lyle. There were a few tears rolling down Reg's pudgy cheeks, but he looked up at Blaze with complete adoration and acceptance.
And Sweet Jesus, his penis is getting stiff again!
Blaze dropped down one knee, her curls tousled. She gently stroked Reg's cheek.
"I'm so proud of you, Reg. It's disappointing that you won't go down when I whistle yet, but it's just like when I caned you in the bathtub when you lost urine on your chest as I peed in your mouth. After a month of whippings, you didn't lose any."
"Yes ma'am." Reg's eyes wandered from Blaze's full lips and soft cheeks to her breasts, straining against the peasant blouse.
"Having a good time staring at my tits, Reg? My soft white orbs pushing out against the thin material?"
Reg nodded, blushing.
"Think of all the fun Lyle has sucking on my nipples, biting them, you'll never get to do that because I don't want some sissy slobbering on my cleavage. My bosom is for real men."
Lyle began weeping softly amid Blaze's light, castrating laughter.
"Let's face it, Reg. I am so aware of your admiration for my rack, you buy me all these expensive dresses and tight angora sweaters. Anything to make my honeys more awesome."
Reg nodded again, bitterly. It was so frustrating for him. He was only allowed to orgasm every now and then, and couldn't kiss or touch the beautiful breasts that he spent so much money on.
"And when you procure me great tickets to sports games and theater...I use the tickets with Lyle or other real man, and you are tied up in your attic with a huge dildo in your mouth and a plug in your butt. Not much fun for Reginald."
Blaze looked at Lyle, who was standing there, looking a bit foolish with the thorny branch.
"I am training Reg so he can make me proud, at the big gala, where he will be stroked and teased, and will go limp at my order!"
"It will be awesome if Reg gets titillated by all those gorgeous dominas and he's so overcome with desire, and then I just whistle, and his penis will drop."
She paused. "Then I'll hand out police whistles, and every time his dick goes up, someone can tweet and it must go down, what a riot that will be."
Blaze giggled. " I want to get Reggie to the point where he can stay limp while he's stroked, all the time. That will deflate the egos of the other dominas who haven't trained their subs that well, don't you think, Lyle?"
Lyle wasn't sure. He and Blaze had been dating only a short time, and he really liked her. Even when he found out that Blaze had a peculiar lifestyle, she still seemed very compelling.
But hitting dicks, staring at dicks all the time, stroking them? Lyle was kind of wishing Blaze was a waitress or a manicurist.
But Blaze had a lot of money-Lyle rarely had to pick up the check when they went out.
It was weird. Reg was heir to the South River Cutlery Combine. South River rented knives to hospitals, restaurants, and any place that had a public kitchen.
When the knives grew dull, the cooks sent them back to South River to be sharpened, and then sent back out again. Lyle and two of his siblings had worked as knife sharpeners there years, and Lyle's father had run the shipping department of South River for many decades.
Liam, Lyle's uncle, was a truck driver for the site. They all worked for the company, it seemed. Weird, now that he had this relationship with the owner's son.
And now he was whipping Reg's dick?
Certainly, Reg and Blaze had an odd relationship. One night, when they were out with friends and everyone had come back to Reg's big place for a nightcap, Blaze had said to Reggie, "Seven-thirty, time for you to go to bed, hon."
The girls giggled and the guys snickered. Reg whispered to Blaze that it wasn't fair, he was the owner of the house, and providing the booze ( and blow) why did he have to be treated like a child?
Finally, Blaze had given Reg a steely glance and he'd gone upstairs and come back down in his pink teddy-bear pajamas (the type with foodies) to say good night.
And then Blaze had accused Reggie of having a poor attitude and taken his PJ bottoms down and whipped his bare butt with a hairbrush until he'd screamed and sobbed.
Then he'd been forced to step out of his bottoms and "Reggie, make everyone a new drink before you go up to bed."
And boy, did the men and women laugh as Reg, his penis wobbling under the button down PJ tops, handed out the drinks, put out more blow...
And then, because he was "Surly" Blaze whipped him yet again, this time with a cane in the corner!
Watching Reg run up the stairs, sobbing, his red cheeks on display as Blaze chased him had been quite the experience.
But Reg's dick had been rock hard!
Another "friend" of Blazes had been the town intellectual, Wyeth Erskine, who had run the computers and done IT for one of Buttermilk Falls's biggest pharmaceutical companies.
Wyeth had been a longtime chastity slave of Blaze's. He had visited her weekly for paid tease and denial sessions before being locked back in his cage and sent home...once every 2 months, Wyeth had been allowed to spurt as Blaze pounded his nuts with her high heel.
Wyeth was multi-talented, and had a habit of writing and publishing femdom/malesub stories for magazines and newsgroups.
Blaze found other places that paid even more for Wyeth's stories and she pocketed quite a nice profit from it.
As Blaze kept Wyeth unable to masturbate, his mind got hornier and the stories got better...
And she thought of such clever things...dressing Wyeth up as Shirley Temple (a profoundly ugly one) and having him do oral service to her gay biker pals...
And she teased him unmercifully, and Lyle shivered as he heard the conversations between Wyeth and Blaze...made his hair curl!
"Wyeth, do you like how my manicured burgundy nails are tickling the underside of your little cock? I did enjoy your last bit of writing, but it really wasn't long enough, at a penny a word, we didn't clear much...
"I'm so sorry, Mistress Blaze, but this does feel good."
"Now I'm going to withdraw my soft little hand and give your wee-wee a few swats with my short cane."
"Nuh-no, please."
"I remember the last time I did this, I think I got a splinter in your glans."
"Please don't whip my cock, I'll try harder to make long stories, Blaze."
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Oh, stop crying, Wyeth. You're such a little begging queer. Your sister Elkanah told me that you steal underwear from your mom's laundry basket. Imagine that, a thirty-three year old man."
"I-I-"
WHACK!
"Shameful. And then your mother takes you over her knee, you still haven't outgrown that. Whips you with her slipper, Elkie says."
"P-please-"
WHACK! WHACK!
"I understand Elkie also whips you, she's only twenty-four, and gives you enemas. What a bizarre household you must have."
"Please, don't talk about this stuff. Family-"
WHACK! WHACK!
"Be happy, Blaze, aren't you glad you're out of the cock cage? I know what it must be like, sitting in the park and watching the coeds and secretaries pass, and of course you watch all that pornography, too."
"I just-"
WHACK! "There we go, that's a nice shade of red, isn't it?"
Wyeth sobbed.
"Elkie tells me that you provide orally for her, and also your 20 year old cousins, Chiffon and Chablis. As frustrated as you are, that must make you be so good at licking and sucking their youthful twats."
WHACK!
Oh, poor Wyeth can't cum, no release. Now I'm playing with your mangled penis again, and my other hand can pinch your nipple. Good thing we pierced it, and put the ring in, I love pulling your nipple ring.
"It's painful but-"
"You love it."