It had been two weeks since the Brothel Inspector had been around. The guy had issues, but they were harmless to anyone except his own sexual partner - in which case they would be very frustrating to someone without a kindly level of understanding. Now, he didn't have a regular sexual partner, which was also part of the problem. He wasn't going to improve if he didn't get practice. Without practice and training, he might find a woman, but he wouldn't keep her - at least, not for long. Not in these times. An attractive appearance, flashy grin and pleasing personality is only the beginning. Dinner and a movie might get you a date, but that's just the opening interview. In the Battle of the Sexes, it's what happens in the bedroom that decides victory or defeat. Even so, it's only considered a victory when both participants win.
Women today aren't the same as they were before the days of the so-called, sexual revolution. They want more and they demand more for themselves, their careers and especially from their men. They deserve more. Sexually, they are the superior race and can have sex and orgasms as often as they like. Men, not so much. Although there may be good sexual performers, after one or two orgasms, they were finished for a while. The older men get, the longer in between those recovery periods. Also, unlike women, after orgasm, a male body's blood stream is infused with a hormone that drops his sexual desire to nearly zero which causes the refractory period and sudden disinterest in being involved with any sex at all. It's nothing personal, it's a male thing with all animals. Even a boar hog will climb down off a sow and lumber over to a shady spot in the pasture and flop down for a nap after a good porking. They deposit their seed and then their job is finished. The species continues within the female. Only humans have sex for pleasure.
It was 2:10 PM and the Inspector was late for his second scheduled appointment. Christi, or Madam Wanton, wasn't sure why. He was already pre-paid through his psychotherapist and the arrangements for this return visit with Madam Wanton were confirmed. The Red Room was ready and his appropriate clothing was laid out on the little wooden bench over in the darkest corner. Where was he? Then, she remembered. He was told to be late by his therapist. In that way, Madam Wanton would have cause to give him more punishment should she deem it necessary. That was it.
The doorbell rang and Christi alone answered the door. It was the Inspector. He flashed his phony pewter metal badge like it actually meant something of real authority, but it didn't. Christi spoke as she stepped back and allowed him to enter. "Good afternoon, Inspector. I've been expecting you. Thank-you for coming." She took his arm in hers and began to direct him back to the Red Room. "I was worried that something might have happened to you since you were late. I'm so glad to see you well." He remained quiet. He wasn't sure if his "training" had begun yet, so he played it safe. She continued pleasantries as she led him into the room until they were inside with the door closed and locked behind them.
Within seconds, sweet Christi had turned into the stern taskmaster, Madam Wanton. "Where the fuck were you? HUH? It's not polite to be late for your appointment. In fact, it's rude and it's disrespectful. You caused me to have to wait for my pleasure. Get over to the corner and get your clothes off and put on your special little panties, Weasel. And hurry up about it!"
The Inspector did as he was told as quickly as possible. Was it because she told him to or was it because he didn't want to delay his own pleasure either? His special panties, this time were made of vinyl and featured a thong back with a hole in the front where his penis would extend while holding his balls, safe and snug, inside a special hugging pouch. He returned to the center of the room under the ceiling-mounted spotlight and waited for Madam Wanton's next command.
Madam Wanton had dimmed the ambient room lights except for the center spotlight and changed her clothes into a black vinyl corset with laces loosely tied between her breasts accenting the fullness of their shape which narrowed into a V between them. Her matching thong panty was crotchless and her pussy lips were clearly visible. Weasel couldn't keep his eyes off her. She walked over and licked and sucked his nipples as she did once before until his cock started becoming rigid. "Well, I see your body remembers me at least that much." She remarked as she wrapped her hand around his cock and pumped it a few times pulling it fully through the hole in front and giving it a final yank while spanking his naked ass cheeks with her other hand.
She walked over to the wall and pulled down some restraining cuffs and pulled his hands around behind his back and fastened them. She brought over a thick cushion and placed it beneath him on the floor and pushed him down to his knees. "Are you comfortable, Weasel?"
"Yes, Madam Wanton."
"Good. Because you're going to be there a while. Does that bother you?"
"No, Madam Wanton."
"Well that's a good thing." She pulled a well-padded black leather chair close to him and settled down in front of his face. "If I'm going to use you to my maximum benefit. I'm going to need to teach you. It seems to me that you're at least partially, sexually retarded. I don't mean that you're slow-minded, but maybe a better term would be that you're a clear case of arrested development instead. I'll bet you're the kind of guy who reads sex manuals, thinks those things might be fun, but you never actually DO any of them. Do you? I'll bet you only look at the pictures and drawings then get out your dick lube for a whack-off session. Don't you?"
"Sometimes, Madam Wanton. My ex-wife was too busy... "
Christi raised her hand in stop fashion and interrupted, "I've heard all that all before. Everybody tells that story. Excuses are like assholes. Everybody has one. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Madam Wanton."
