Cindy's Humble Servant

At work the next day, Peter couldn't get his thoughts together to focus on his tasks. He kept glancing at Cindy's grayed out name on the internal messenger service. He spent most of the day by the window of his office, staring out, his thoughts winding and weaving, terminating again and again in the same knotted images that he could not push past. Once, he had dreamed of being a poet, and now this is what he faced: only emptiness, and the distant, receding image of Cindy.

In the late afternoon, he received a text message from Master. It said: "Be at my apartment at 10 tomorrow morning. It is building 7, apt 0601. Make sure that you are clean shaven." That evening, Peter shaved his body thoroughly. Then he practiced the dance Laura had taught him. He regretted that he had not practiced it before now, as there was much of it that he could not remember, and he could not remember all of the numbered poses that Steve had shown him. He didn't know what to expect of tomorrow, but he knew that it would be a disaster if Laura and Steve were there, and if he was asked to perform Laura's dance in front of Cindy. Again, he had a hard time sleeping, as he was full of nerves.

He arrived outside the door of Brian's apartment at 9:45 the next morning. He waited in the stairwell, and then rapped the door at exactly 10:00. He stepped back against the opposite wall, hands behind his back. He could hear that someone was looking at him through the peephole, and then the door opened and Cindy stood looking at him, her expression blank and cold.

"Good morning, Cindy."

"Good morning, come in," she said without warmth. She stepped back from the door to let him enter, and then closed the door behind him.

He smiled at her softly, hoping for a glimmer of recognition from her eyes, but there was none. Her expression was totally closed to him. She was always warm and charming with all people: he had never seen her look this way at anyone. Then, with a searing wave of loss in his heart, he realized that she was not looking at him as a person, but as a slave.

She handed him a piece of paper, and said "Brian give you this. These are your jobs for today." She was dressed casually, in her reading glasses, leggings, slippers and a long T-shirt, probably Brian's. Even such clothes though, could not hide her perfect figure, and Peter felt his cock begin to waken and rise at the nearness of her presence.

Cindy walked through the apartment, and he followed her. She opened a door and said, "You change in here, and start the jobs on your list. Brian be back later." Her voice was business like. She stood holding the door of a small room open. When he hesitated, she raised one eyebrow and said "OK?" with some impatience.

"Thank you Cindy," he said as he entered the room. She said nothing, and closed the door behind him.

The maid's outfit he had worn at Laura's apartment was on the bed, along with the bottle of oil, and an envelope on which "faggot" was written by hand. He presumed the envelope was for him and he opened it. Inside was a Viagra tablet, and a note which said "take this now." He took the Viagra tablet, and then spread oil generously over his body. He put on the white garter, and then rolled the stockings up his smooth legs and connected the dangling straps from the garter belt to the stocking tops. He pulled on the skimpy, white silk panties. He pulled the maid's outfit over his head, and down over as much of his ass as he could. He fixed the blonde bob wig on his head. He looked over his list of chores. He would have to hand wash socks and underwear, wash the dishes, mop the floor, vacuum, clean countertops and dust.

He decided to wash the dishes first. He passed through the living room on his way to the kitchen. Cindy was seated at the dining table reading a book. He did not dare to glance at her as he passed, and he did not know if she looked at him or not. He washed the dishes, dried them and put them away. As he was scrubbing the kitchen counters, he heard Cindy's phone ring, and she answered it. He heard her speaking to someone in her charming and bubbly voice, but she was speaking in Chinese, and he could not make out what she was saying. His cock began to swell beneath his panties in response to the music of her voice.

Suddenly he heard her call out loudly and harshly: "Peter!" He put down the dishrag and hurried in to her.

She stayed seated at the dining room table, and held out the phone toward him. "Brian want speak to you."

He approached her, took the phone and said, "Good morning, master."

"Are you kneeling?"

"No Master, sorry Master. I am kneeling now." Peter knelt down in front of Cindy, who remained seated at the dining table, one foot crossed over her shin. He admired the swelling, chalky whiteness of her calf. He glanced up at her gazing down at him through her librarian glasses, her lip curled in scorn. How he loved her! She was perfect! His cock was fully erect, and leaking pre cum. The tiny white panties only cupped his balls. His mouth was dry, and he felt as if his cock might shoot spontaneously, without a touch. There was a crazy, deep, nostalgic weight of lust in his belly, which reminded him of the feeling he had had when he was twelve years old, and had only just discovered masturbation.

"After I ask you to give the phone back to Cindy, I want you to go to the drawer beneath the TV, take out what you find there, and put it on the coffee table. Then, I want you to stand in the middle of the room, with your back to the sofa and your face to the TV. Slip off your maid's outfit, so that you are wearing only stockings, garters belt and panties. Kneel down, pull the front of your panties down under your balls. Then start stroking your cock, and don't stop stroking it until I tell you to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master. I understand."

"Let me speak with Cindy now."

"Yes Master."

Cindy was looking down at her book, feigning indifference. Peter held the phone toward her and said "Brian wants to speak with you Cindy."

She glanced at him from behind her librarian glasses, still giving no sign of recognition, took the phone, looked again away from Peter and began to speak with Brian.

Peter went and opened the drawer beneath the TV. He was mortified to see a very small, bright pink cock cage, complete with padlock and key. He placed this on the coffee table, and then turned his back to the coffee table and his face to the TV, took a step forward to the centre of the room, and pulled the maid's outfit over his head. He knelt down on the hardwood floor, pulled his panties down under his balls, and began slowly stroking his already painfully hard cock.

Cindy had moved to the sofa behind him, and from the small sound of rattling, he realized that she had taken up the cock cage and was examining it. She was still speaking to Brian. "Shi shenma dongxi?" -- what is this thing.

She laughed at Brian's reply, and said "Aiyo! Wo de ma ya!"

Brian spoke, and she replied "Yes. . .Yes, he's doing. . . Disgusting! Like animal. Like a pig. . .Hao, yi hour jian" -- good, see you later. Her voice was warm and bubbly. He heard the sound of her putting the phone down on the coffee table.

Brian kept stroking his cock, so slowly, so carefully, and with such a weak grip. His right hand and his cock head, were gluey with oozing pre cum. A squelching liquid sound came from his cock as he stroked it. He had never been so hard in his life: he had never been so near to coming without being able; he was torn between agony and ecstasy. He could not help but wriggling his hips and ass with pleasure, despite the fact that Cindy, the love of his life, was there behind him, witnessing his lewd and sluttish exhibition. He could not see Cindy behind him. After a few minutes, she turned on the TV, and flicked through channels until she found a Korean soap opera.

Peter had abandoned himself to lust; he could hardly control the actions of his body. All of his self control was focused on resisting the urge to cum. His ass cheeks bounced up and down on his heels, and with his free hand he rubbed his balls and pinched his nipples; he began to whimper softly, until Cindy impatiently hissed "Shhhhh!" behind him. He tried then to control the whimpers and the panting, and he slipped his hand so loosely and slowly up and down his stiff and saturated cock. He could do nothing about the small squelching sound of his hand running over his cock, and this continued after he'd stopped whimpering, like the relentless squeaking of a mouse.

Peter was reduced to nothing but his awareness of Cindy's presence behind him, her eyes free to linger on his wantonness in secret, and the cyclone raging in his balls; the willpower required to hold back the rising tsunami of cum in his painfully tight nutsack. Cindy stood and passed him on her way to the kitchen. He felt the breeze from her passing stroke the nerves of his near naked body, which had risen up like sensitive sunflowers from all the pores of his body. He gazed after her buttocks, which were amazing even under an oversized T-shirt, and a string of spittle escaped his lips and hung from the bottom of his chin.

Cindy came back into the room with a mug of green tea. She walked slowly toward him, looking down from behind her librarian glasses at his hand slowly stroking his cock. Her eyes were Siddhartha eyes, and her jaw was forward proudly. The sight of her there standing looking down at him brought him too close to cumming, and he released his cock. A string of pre cum connected his hand to his cock. His cock jumped around in front of him, its spasms continuing to force out of its eye the ooze of pre cum. Cindy stood staring down at his cock. Her cheeks began to flush. She looked up into Peter's eyes then, and said coolly, but with an edge of threat, "Brian tell you don't stop."

Peter groaned piteously. "Yes Cindy. Sorry Cindy," he panted, and resumed stroking, but with his hand limp and applying no grip, as he teetered on the brink of eruption. He was dizzy, and he thought he might faint. Cindy strolled casually past him, and resumed her seat on the sofa behind him.

After about fifteen minutes, the door opened and Brian entered. Cindy walked toward him, and Peter stopped stroking his cock. "Keep going," Brian commanded crossly, and Peter resumed moving his loose grip over his shaft. Cindy approached Brian and lifted herself up on her toes as he lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. He put his arm around her waist and they both stood looking at Peter.

Cindy said, in her rich, sweet, throaty voice, "He stop once. I tell him keep going."

Brian chuckled, and then cleared his throat, so that Peter looked up at him. He was pointing at his shoes. Peter crawled over toward Brian's shoes. "Don't stop!" Brian scolded harshly, and Peter resumed stroking his cock as he crawled toward Master's shoes. Cindy giggled. Peter kept tugging himself as he kissed Master's shoes passionately, watching Cindy's shoes beside Brian's out of the corner of his eyes, and kissing Brian's shoes amorously in the way that he wished he could kiss Cindy's shoes. He was so horny, fucking his white panty clad ass back against the air, as he licked and kissed at Master's shoes.

"Enough. Stand up," Brian commanded.

Peter stood and faced Brian and Cindy. He continued to stroke at his cock, and he could not help but squirm his hips wantonly as he did so. Cindy's face was happy and radiant again, and it was all for Brian. From behind her glasses her happy eyes watched Peter with curiosity. Her rich, sexy lips, lips made for kissing, were smiling. All for Brian.

Brian took from his pocket a thin pink collar, a large version of the type of collar that cats wear. There was rhinestone lettering on this, but Peter could not make out what it said before Brian stepped behind him and fastened it to his neck. Peter kept tugging himself slowly as Brian again stood beside Cindy, and she stepped closer to him and read out "cocksucker." Her pronunciation was strange and cute, and Brian chuckled to hear her say it. She giggled to hear him chuckle. Brian lifted the name tag that dangled from the front of the collar, and she stepped closer and squinted through her librarian glasses to read what it said.

"Faggot?" she asked.

"Faggot," he said, correcting her pronunciation.

Cindy was so close to Peter now. He could smell her, and he could see all the wondrous details of her features. He noticed that she had tiny freckles at either side of her nose. The slow steady squelching of his cock slowed and stopped as he ceased stroking at it, afraid that he would shoot at the puff of a breeze. With Master and Cindy standing there so close in front of him, his sperm would get all over them. Master glared at him menacingly, so Peter ran one finger slowly up and down his shaft. Cindy looked down at his cock, and she prolonged her gaze as her cheeks flushed. Master gave Peter as nasty sneer as he noticed this.

Cindy, realizing that she had prolonged her gaze at Peter's cock too long, looked away, smiled at Brian and said, "'faggot' shi shenma yisi?" -- what does faggot mean.

Brian explained in Chinese, and Cindy hmmphed and said "Yes, that's right," with finality.

"Back to your spot and keep tugging," Master said to Peter.

Peter crawled back to his place in the center of the room, facing the TV, and continued stroking his cock delicately. Cindy and Brian went and sat on the sofa behind him. Cindy was asking about the cock cage in Chinese, and Peter was explaining this to her in Chinese, but Brian could not understand much of what was said.

"Ok, faggot," Brian said. "Get your nose in the corner."

Peter, still running his fingers lightly over his stiff cock, crawled over to the corner, put his nose into the corner, and kept stroking his cock. His ass was humping back against the air, his hips were squirming wantonly.

"I am going to let you come in a minute, faggot. After that, you take your maid's outfit and the cock cage down to your room, and put them both on. Use cold water and oil on your cock. Do what you have to do to get it in. When you have the maid's outfit and the cock cage on, come back out and give me the key.

"Oh yes sir, thank you sir," he gasped desperately. He was squirming in the corner like a snake, running his free hand over his balls, down through the crack of his ass, over his nipples. Cindy and Master both giggled to see his wanton, sluttish display.

"Cindy, get the faggot some toilet paper, would you."

Peter heard Cindy pass behind him. She returned a few minutes later with a length of toilet paper wrapped neatly around her hand. "Here you are," she said without warmth.

"Put that down and cum on it," Master said.

Peter turned to take the paper and looked up into Cindy's eyes beseechingly. Her eyes were shining, but they were closed to him, and showed him no recognition. He quickly put the paper beneath his cock and, still holding Cindy's gaze, groaned from the depth of his being, and began to shudder and erupt from his cock. Cindy stayed long enough to see the first powerful squirt, and then turned and went back to the table.

"Nose to the corner!" Master shouted, and Peter pushed his face back in into the corner, as his body shuddered, jolted, twitched and shook. Master and Cindy giggled, and exchanged comments in Chinese that Peter could not understand, that he did not even try to understand. He seemed to cum ceaselessly for at least a minute, and then he knelt there limply, panting.

"Go and get changed now," Master said impatiently, "and dispose of the tissue."

Peter could not look up at them as he gathered the soaked tissue, the maid's outfit and the cock cage from the coffee table in front of them. His face was scarlet with shame.

He went to the washroom, and looked at the bright pink cock cage. There was a yellow happy face prominent on its front. He felt sick to think that an object with such cruel intentions could look so cute, like a child's toy. He undid the lock, and took it apart. His cock was soft now, but still very thick and heavy. He took the shower faucet, and ran cold water over his cock and balls until they shrank. He closed the ring of the devise at the root of his cock, behind his shaven balls. He rubbed oil on his cock, and then pushed the tube of the device up over it. He connected the top of the ring to the top of the tube with the pin, and then locked these together with the padlock. He looked down at his cock, and he felt so sorry for himself. His big cock, his pride and joy, the cock that had made Cindy's cheeks flush, was gone now: in its place was this cute and harmless pink flower. Brian's victory was complete.

He put on the maid's outfit, tidied it, and refastened his garter straps. He went back into the living room. Cindy and Brian were sitting on the sofa, and they stopped talking as he entered the room, and stood in front of them with his head down.

"Give me the keys," Brian said.

Peter flung himself to his knees, and lowered his forehead to the floor in the traditional Chinese posture of supplication. "Please, master, let me give the keys to Cindy. I beg you Master."

"Bu yao!" -- don't want, Cindy stated harshly.

"Stand up," Brian said strictly. Peter stood, and then Brian said, with insistence, "Keys."

Peter reached under his apron and skirt, and took the keys from the padlock. He handed these to Master. Master took them, threaded them on to his keychain, and then put his keychain back in his pocket.

"Let's see it," Master said.

Peter raised his apron and skirt, and stood there meekly exposing himself to them. He continued looking down, and he could see the pink device with its yellow smiley face, nestled sweetly between his frilly stockings and garter straps. Cindy giggled, and moved forward on the sofa to get a better look. He glanced at her face, and she seemed curious and amused, but her cheeks were not flushed. Clearly she had been taken in by the pink color and the smiley face, and she did not recognize the menace of this device. With a rich, giggling voice, she asked Brian excited questions about the device in Chinese, which Peter could not understand. She reached out and touched it once, and Peter groaned. The combination of the Viagra in his system, Cindy's proximity, and the music of her giggling voice had made his poor cock attempt to grow. He felt physical pain, and sense of spiritual futility to recognize that he was no longer a man. He wanted so much to start tugging at his cock again, to weave a sheet of pleasure around himself by stroking his cock, but he could not. He felt so sorry for himself, so utterly defeated.

On hearing his groan, Cindy began to ask Brian more amused questions in Chinese, and he offered her explanations, as Peter stood there holding up his skirt and his apron, presenting himself meekly to the woman he loved, and the man who now controlled him. From what Brian said, Peter could only understand the Chinese name for the eunuchs who served the masters wives. Cindy nodded her head and smiled when he said this, exquisite dimples appearing in her cheeks, revealing the secret understandings of her otherness.

He continued to hold up his skirt and apron, presenting himself to them, as Cindy again sat back in the sofa, her curiosity satisfied, and Brian addressed him. "Peter, you have made a few mistakes this weekend. . .You look at me when I'm speaking to you. . . If you recall, you begged me to let you be my slave. Cindy was there when you begged me, and she saw this, didn't you Cindy?"

Cindy was watching Brian as he spoke, and only occasionally glancing at Peter's cock cage, and at his shamed face. Her expression was serious and formal. "Yes, I did. He begged you." She looked up at Peter as she said this, and though her expression remained mostly blank, she lifted one eyebrow just a bit, as if to say: "This is what you wanted, this is what you get."