Tonight after a nasty couple of days, I thought I'd be able to relax. I knew I was being invited over for dinner and I thought it would be different this time. When I arrived, Marguerite made me take off everything, even my chastity belt.
"What's going on?" I asked. " I dressed for this party, and now you've undressed me." I kept wanting to touch my prick, as it was free and my hands were free…first time since New Year's Day…I wanted to cum…
Marguerite smiled and handed me an apron. Oh, no. Then high heels, and a repulsive, cheap curly red wig…and a weird Lone Ranger mask.
And then there was a knock at the door. I looked at Marguerite pleadingly.
"Darling lambie…" Marguerite smiled. "I am short on help tonight. Jasmine is away, and I need someone to pass trays…you won't know the people, but they're all very nice, some are my friends from the Black Rose (an S/M group she's in) Except for you, the dress is formal… go answer the door."
The next hour or so was incredibly unpleasant, I kept answering the door, and serving drinks, and passing canapés…After the party got a little giddy, some girl snatched off my apron, and the women began making me dance naked, while playing "Lola" from the Kinks…and Marguerite's bulldog, Clematis, kept coming up and sniffing my ass.
"He's going to take you from behind, lambie" Marguerite called heartily. Finally, she took me aside "Darling, I want to let you cum, but you must whack off in front of these people…kneel over there, please."
So I was kneeling in front of all the people at the party, naked except for high heels, the Lone Ranger mask and that ridiculous wig … I was horrified by this, but I'd not cum, as you all know, since January first.
But here I was, finally ready to humiliate myself, and begin wanking my wee-wee… and Marguerite wasn't quite ready to let me, and made me place my hands on my thighs as I knelt there, naked as a jaybird.
"All right, lambie.." Goddess said. "You can start touching yourself for us…slowly" Mortified but incredibly horny, I began pumping my erection.
"SLOWLY" Goddess reminded me. I relaxed my grip on the shaft and began rubbing it up and down in a slower motion.
"That's right, honey. Do you like I do…light strokes…you know how I rub it?" "Marguerite…you touch that disgusting thing?"
One of the women, an attractive thirty-five year old in a tight mock turtleneck shook her head.
"God he's such a disgusting little monster, like a gremlin you stole from a novelty shop." Marguerite laughed, and a guy who heads an association I've done work with said
"Jesus, who would be psycho enough to take off all his clothes and kneel in front of a group of strangers? Is he a schizo? I mean, S&M is one thing but…" They all laughed, the men the loudest. My cheeks burned with shame, as I tried not to rub my dick too fast.
After all those stimulating Penthouse Variations articles about being naked in front of a group of beautiful Amazons, it was much, much worse to be naked in the presence of mixed company…it's worse being naked in front of clothed men who are in front of clothed women…why is that?
As everyone else was dressed even somewhat formally, having come from work on Capitol Hill, I felt especially ridiculous.
I'd seen one or two of those people around in my work on the Hill, and shuddered to think what would happen if the mask fell off, and they realized that one of Washington's preeminent lobbyists had been serving them canapés and martinis all night.
Worse, I'd been walking around with this humiliating erection…the belt was off, and thanks to nearly five months of chastity and many tease/denial sessions with Goddess Marguerite, my penis was bursting with bottled up semen and bobbing about.
My ball sac was huge now with the pent-up stores of unfulfilled sperm cells. Marguerite had put a leather cock ring around the base "so you could enjoy your masturbation more, honey" but it just made my phallus more engorged.
"That's right, honey. Rub it slowly…now with your left hand." I looked at Marguerite. I was afraid to speak, as someone there might recognize my voice from C-Span, but my left HAND?
It was so weak. But I began rubbing it with my left hand, very clumsily bouncing the fingers up and down my shaft. Still it was throbbing…any stimulation would do.
"You can rub it a little faster since your southpaw isn't so effective." Marguerite said, and I began rubbing faster, grunting and bouncing around…I closed my eyes and moaned…my cock was pulsing against my palm.
" God, he's so creepy." A young stenographer-type with big hair had spoken. Doesn't he ever get laid?" I ignored it and began to shake, my orgasm was approaching. I clenched my teeth. Here it came…
"Lambie stop." I opened my eyes. Marguerite looked at me threateningly. "Hand off the pee-pee, please." I couldn't remove my hand from my dick, it had been so long.
"Ken, could you hand me that fly swatter?" One of the guys laughed and gave the swatter to Marguerite, but I'd gotten the message, and my hands were back on my knees. A tear rolled down my mask.
"I just want you to take a break now, dear, and refresh drinks, and pass the canapés around again."Marguerite smiled.
"You want to be a good host, don't you?" I stood up, almost weeping, and did my rounds with the tray again, it was so awful, because none of the guests really wanted more hors d'ouevres, though some did take another drink…but at least they noticed me…earlier when I'd been walking around with the tray, they'd ignored me.
I mean, I'd been tottering around all night with my tray, and though it'd been a novelty watching me, earlier in the evening the guests had relaxed and had begun just talking with each other about work.
I'd hear references to bills being passed that I was influential on, but when I went by with the tray, the women would step out of the way, looking sort of revolted and amused.
It must have been a sight, this naked, masked transvestite with the bobbing, dripping, nearly purple organ. It's not a particularly big dick, but it looked grotesque all the same… like the poor guy on the Whizzer Black cartoons.
And now during the second round of drinks and food, they just stared, and a couple snorted with contempt.
"Jesus, what's that cottage cheese on his ass?" one of the guys asked. "It's cellulite, didn't you know men get that too?" the stenographer snorted. I bit my lip, and kept moving.
All my accomplishments up until now meant nothing—I was just a naked pervert at a Washington cocktail party.
I felt a flick on the now bloated tip of my penis, and the stenographer girl kind of looked away with a smile…I think she'd done it as I was passing.
This did not assist in lessening the pressure around my groin. I went back and put the tray down—no one wanted anything else.
"Come here, darling." Marguerite crooked a long nail. "Excuse us." She said to the others, and took me into the kitchen. Clovis, Marguerite's husband was dropping cut onions in a pan to make pasta for the guests.
Her husband, just a kitchen-boy at his own party. Marguerite ignored him.
"Hands behind your back, please." As I obeyed, she reached out and began stroking me…"Poor thing….God, it's a horny cock…"
I looked over at Clovis, who was gritting his teeth. He poured olive oil in the pan, and went to work with the garlic press, muttering. Clovis told me once that though he'd gotten over being jealous of her lovers, Marguerite's attentions to other slaves made him livid.
As humiliated as I was, at least I was involved at the party—he was stuck here in the kitchen.
"Clovis dear?" Marguerite looked at her resentful husband.
"Yes, Goddess?" Clovis looked at Marguerite with love in his eyes. Though it was she who was cheating on him with me slave-wise, he held none of it against her. Marguerite was his world.
"Could you give me the olive oil, please?" Clovis realized her intent, and pouted, but he handed her the bottle.
Marguerite smiled thanks and shook some into her hand, and began rubbing it up and down my shaft." God, it's like a stick-shift."
Marguerite leaned over and blew in my ear. She whispered loud enough for Clovis to hear "It's a lot bigger than Clovis' too…though way too small to do a girl like me any good."
Her soft fingers began rubbing olive oil into the sensitive spot just under the head of my penis.
"Don't come, now, baby." Marguerite looked seriously at me, as she continued to rub. At this point I could've used my orgasm to put out a forest fire.
My thighs began to tremble and shake. I almost took my hands out from behind my back, but I remembered that holding them together was "honor handcuffs"
Marguerite kept rubbing around my frenum, and my cock alternated between numbness and extreme sensitivity.
" Don't cum yet…if you cum now, I'll make Clovis whip your weiner with a belt." I looked over at her frustrated, jealous husband and he was smiling gleefully. He'd love getting back at me for all the attentions I'd received from his wife in the last few months.
All the friendship he and I had, all the confidences, the fishing trips we'd been on and the ball games we'd gone to when Goddess allowed it, all that bonding meant nothing in the battle for Marguerite's attentions.
She saw what I was thinking, and as she stroked my cock harder, toying with one of the more purplish veins she said
"Clovis can hit quite hard darling, he's wielded the belt on a few of my slaves..but if you wait til I let you cum in front of the guests, there will be no punishments, and I'll even let you jerk off a second time."
A second time. Not since I was fifteen had I valued jerking off so much…but this incredible handjob she was giving me was causing me to want to cum NOW.
Marguerite wasn't slowing her hand down, either, if anything, she was even worse, now tickling my shaft and tugging the cock ring to get me harder…it was up to me. I had to re-gain mental control over my cock.
I closed my eyes and thought about Niagra Falls, about the time my friends and I had taken a weekend there, and gone under the falls in raincoats with a guide, and how cold it was…oooh was it cold.
