The Plant Girl

September 2005

Norwich Boultwood looked at the clock. Quarter to three.

He leaned back in his chair. It was time to go. God, he'd been looking forward to this all week.

Beneath his Brooks Brothers twill trousers, Norwich's cock squirmed miserably, yet excitedly in the chastity tube.

It was almost time! It had been a week since Willy had been out, bouncing around happily in Lady Haley's teasing fingers, and 105 days since he'd been allowed to have a "Squirtie". God, that had been incredible.

Sure, Norwich had had to jerk off while bent over, and Lady Haley's black friend DeAndre had been whipping Norrie's bare ass as the poor corporate raider had jerked off...

Ooh, it had been so hard to concentrate on wanking his poor dick when his bare butt was being thrashed intensely with a steel Spencer paddle, the holes in the damn thing allowing the thick steel to slam his butt harder and harder.

But that time he'd gone without a "squirt" for 239 days, and so he'd been able to focus long enough to release within Lady Haley's time limit

. Lady Haley had leaned back in her chair, laughing, as DeAndre had finished whipping the weeping submissive...because of course he'd continued the thrashing even after Norwich had cum, and then it was especially painful!

Norwich stood up now, his pants bunched up around his chastity device. Miss Pringle, his personal assistant, came in.

"Mr. Boultwood, Havlik from Munich is on the line. He needs—"

Norwich shook his head, and tried not to grit his teeth. "Remember, I have my massage appointment, Miss Pringle."

God, even Lola Pringle, fifty years old, looks hot after all these months without an orgasm, he thought. Miss Pringle nodded.

She'd forgotten Mr. Boultwood's mysterious weekly massage appointment. He strangely always seemed even tenser after attending this thing, but it was religious with him. "

Yes sir. You'll be back by four-fifteen?" Norwich nodded briskly and hustled out the door, ignoring the rest of his staff.

Ten minutes later, Norwich jumped out of the cab in front of Miss Haley's demure brownstone on East 53rd Street, and jogged up the stairs.

He felt in his pocket to make sure he had her fee--$300 for weekly key holding and $700 for an hour of "maintenance"—and knocked on the door.

A moment later the door opened and Patrice, Miss Haley's voluptuous maid opened the door.

Her short, bouncing platinum blonde curls shook as she laughed, seeing the blushing Norwich Boultwood.

"Ah, Mr. Boultwood...good to see you here...hope you're feeling better." Norwich blushed hotly.

It was true, a week before, after an extensive session with Miss Haley, he'd begged Patrice to unlock his cuffs and allow him to jerk off...offered her money, in fact.

Patrice had taken the money from Norwich's wallet, then left his cuffs on before locking Norwich up in his chastity tube and then alerting Miss Haley to Norwich's bribe...and she'd come in with the cat o' nine tails...ten painful minutes which he'd had to add to the session's costs!

Now Patrice wrinkled her nose at Norwich, who looked abashed.

"You have to learn that there's no limit to my loyalty." Patrice touched her tongue to her teeth. "I've been with Lady Haley for seven years now...but I donated your bribe to Habitat for Humanity." Norwich coughed. "That's wonderful."

Patrice led him in, and he watched her adorable derriere bounce in the short skirt as she led him to this week's "room" which was apparently going to be Lady Haley's schoolroom, complete with blackboards , child-sized desks and of course a pointer and bullwhip behind the teacher's desk.

He wondered if Lady Haley was going to tie him over the teacher's desk and thrash him, and then toy with his poor suffering cock for an hour, as she'd done the week before in the dungeon...

Oh it had been oh, so painfully teasing as she'd sped up and slowed down. he'd been so close to cumming when lock-up time came! That was why he'd done that silly bribe...but he had to admit...chastity was an adventure!

Patrice giggled again...19 year olds laugh so much! Norwich thought.

"Now you have to strip, Mr. Boultwood, put your suit in the cloakroom." Norwich obeyed, flushing under the girl's eyes.

"I see you polished your chastity tube...

Lady Haley is strict about that." Norwich remembered...the bullwhip had come out more than once when the tube was dirty or tarnished.

It was hell having a chastity device. He couldn't sleep in the same room with his wife anymore, or let her see him in anything but pajamas...it didn't matter.

Norwich didn't have relations with his middle aged wife at all...he was absolutely in love with Lady Haley...she sent him pictures regularly of herself in various nighties and bikinis...

Poor Norwich had to satisfy himself by just staring at them while his poor cock struggled against the evil tube!

But then recently, Miss Haley had gotten her black servant DeAndre to meet Edwina, Norwich's wife, and had paid him to instigate an affair with Edwina, who Miss Haley frankly felt sorry for...

So now Edwina was having wild sex with DeAndre while poor Norwich was hopelessly locked in his cage! This more than emphasized Norwich's involuntary chastity...well it was voluntary, but Norwich couldn't believe it sometimes!

Norwich finished folding his clothes, feeling very white and naked under Patrice's amused glance, and got on his knees, to wait for Miss Haley.

"No, wait, did you get all those hairs off your butt?" Patrice asked him skeptically. Norwich turned and showed her his buttocks.

He'd paid a hairdresser to bikini wax his rear end, because Miss Haley had been so annoyed with all the hairs on his butt...she and Patrice had taken turns ripping the hairs out with pincers one session while poor Norwich had screamed and screamed.

That had been a horrible session, she hadn't even teased him....oh the agony. Patrice looked at Norwich's sad eyes, and smiled sympathetically.

"Don't worry, baby...you look nice and hairless, and Miss Haley will be here in a minute...and she may just unlock you and give you a squirtie today...a nice orgasm...but I doubt it!"

Norwich looked sadder...but after all, he was giving Miss Haley a thousand dollars, just like every week, and it might put her in a good mood.

Patrice laughed inwardly, reading Norwich's mind. Lady Haley had fifteen regular chastity customers who she unlocked today, as well as all the others.

Not quite thirty, Lady Haley was a millionaire, and unimpressed with individual clients...she probably wouldn't let poor Norwich cum til next June! And he'd keep paying her!!!!

HOW DID LADY HALEY GET TO BE SO DAMN POWERFUL? March 1979

Haley had become a successful femdom key holder in the most curious way...

Employed as a "plant maintenance technician" Haley really felt her life was on a downward spiral.

What could be worse than going into law firms and corporate offices and watering plants for rich assholes who were too lazy to do it themselves? But Haley had had a difficult time...

Bastard child of a Vietnamese mother and drunken Army "military advisor" to Saigon...Haley, a foster care graduate had had a difficult upbringing, and had not done particularly well in the money department...

But then one day she felt her pony tail being tugged as she was bending over to pour fertilizer into an Executive Ficus Nitida Tree...

And she'd turned around and grinned at Copeland Smithers, the young corporation law associate who she'd been kinda flirting with for some time. "Want to do dinner?" he'd asked her, producing a bag of Chinese take-out.

Copeland was incredibly patient and a fabulous listener, Haley found, and gave her lots of great job-training contacts.

Sympathetic as he was, Haley also knew that Cope, like all other men, had that primary interest...

He always seemed to be working late when she came in to water the plants in his office, and there was usually a warm pizza or French food in a Styrofoam container...

Cope would massage Haley's shoulders and feet, and tell her how lovely she was. Although he was careful not to touch the large bumps under her Flor-Office shirt, Cope was staring at them constantly, and rubbing as much of her as he possibly could...without being too creepy. This was nice.

"I'd love to touch you back, Cope." Haley said one night,

"But I feel like every time I get into a relationship with a guy, and he gets his hands on my butt and boobs, the friendship and the favors seem to go away...and I'm like, a whore to him."

Haley was frightened, because she didn't want to lose Cope's friendship.

All over the walls were signed pictures of Republican luminaries--he'd been a high school page intern for Ronald Reagan, and had worked for several Senators and Congressmen before going corporate...and he was a great guy, too...But Cope was smiling!

" I understand, Haley, and a big part of me wants to put my hands all over you, I must confess! But we guys, we're all octopuses...or octopi?"

They laughed together. "What about if you touched me but I COULDN'T touch you?"

Cope had kissed Haley's neck, and she'd thought about it. Haley had been unaware of it, but Cope had had experience, extensive, actually, in being tied down and teased by a woman.

Cope had had bondage fantasies going back to when he'd been a junior at Yale on a very good allowance, he'd spent much of it not on luring campus lovelies back to the five room house his father had rented for him, but instead on a call girl named Lucinda.

Luci had a cold demeanor, a mane of strawberry blonde hair tied in a bun, and full, pink luscious breasts usually wrapped in a snug satin top.

Copeland had had a number of different girls from a variety of services who'd visited him in his freshman and sophomore years before he'd met Lucinda...and then she'd showed up one evening, looking at him boredly. "So, preppie boy...what do you want?"

Cope had been warned about Lucinda by the dispatcher at the service. "She's kind of a bitch, not like the sweeties we've sent you before," the voice had gone on apologetically, "But she's good lookin' enough."

Copeland had snickered, thinking he could deal with a bitchy type. After all, he'd seduced more than his share of tough-talking blue-collar waitresses, barmaids and factory girls.

But Lucinda had given Copeland the aura, the feeling that he himself was being interviewed...as if he had to please her.

She sat in his mother's antique Louis XIV giltwood lyre-backed dining chair and crossed her legs, giving Copeland a splendid view of fishnets and pink skin.

A leather stiletto heel shoe with a T-strap of mesh chain dangled off her toes.

The sex the first few times had been great...Luci knew tricks with her mouth and her twat that had blown Cope's mind, making her well worth her $400 hourly rate.

And he'd feverishly gone over her full voluptuous body after sex, kissing her full breasts and full bottom, and quite often licking his own semen out of her vagina, before massaging her to sleep a few minutes before Lucinda would leave for the next encounter.

There had been a thunderstorm by the time Cope pulled his Lexus up the driveway, and he confronted a soggy, infuriated Lucinda.

"You pathetic sonuvabitch!" she'd screamed at him, and as he'd apologized profusely, Lucinda had slapped Cope's face hard, her scarlet talons ripping the side of his cheek.

"No one, but no one keeps me waiting!" And then she'd kicked him in the nuts

She never seemed to be very thrilled with Cope's tongue work either—Lucinda would just puff on her Viceroy casually as Cope went to work between her legs, unlike the many girls who'd tell him what a hot guy he was.

It irritated Cope as well that as a repeat customer, Luci never gave him cut rates or freebies as many of the other prostitutes did...but he couldn't stop calling her.

One night, though, Cope had been quite horny at the library where he was supposedly studying...he'd called Lucy and asked her to meet him at his house, promising to meet her there in twenty minutes.

But a fellow student had waylaid Copeland about discrepancies in the Rowing Team's treasury, and he'd had to tell a few hasty lies, that led to an hour long explanation.

Because, for Cope's appetite for cocaine and prostitutes had quite often exceeded Papa's allowance and Grampy's trust fund!

There had been a thunderstorm by the time Cope pulled his Lexus up the driveway, and he confronted a soggy, infuriated Lucinda.

"You pathetic sonuvabitch!" she'd screamed at him, and as he'd apologized profusely, Lucinda had slapped Cope's face hard, her scarlet talons ripping the side of his cheek.

"No one, but no one keeps Lucinda waiting!"

And then she'd kicked him in the nuts. Luci had turned to walk off, but Cope had jumped up and offered her twice her hourly amount just to stay. (Fortunately, he was also the treasurer for the fencing, lacrosse, field hockey tennis, rugby and sailing teams).

But when they'd gotten inside and Copeland had given Lucinda a towel for her hair and a cup of tea, she was still furious.

"We're doin' things my way tonight, dirt bag." Lucinda had shrieked. "Usually I only go this way for clients who ask for it, but you need it. Take off your clothes!"

Lucinda had taken handcuffs from her little purse and locked Copeland to the bed, and she'd thrashed him with his own belt, for a good forty-five minutes.

Cope had been in acute pain, but the sight of Luci dancing around, swinging the thing, her breasts bouncing in a gray turtleneck had thrilled him to no end.

Then Luci had spun the welted, sobbing Cope over so he was lying on his manacled hands, and she sat down next to his crotch, and began idly toying with his stiff penis.

Cope was astonished. Why was his dick so hard? It was true that he had been a reader of S/M magazines since eighth grade, but wasn't it just a pastime?

Luci'd looked so gorgeous, her long legs crossed as she gazed at the bound undergraduate contemptuously.

At one point she'd leaned back and rubbed the high heel of her five inch side lace stiletto boots up and down his naked cock, pushing the heel sharply into Cope's groin as he moaned.

"Luci don't like it when she's stood up, especially in the fuckin' rain, queer boy." Lucinda had lit a Viceroy, and blown smoke rings. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, I'll make you suck my manager's dick."

Then, Lucinda had leaned over and began pinching and rubbing Cope's penis with her long nails, alternating that with strokes from her boots, and Cope had continued to apologize profusely. "Miss Lucinda, I'll never, ever do that again."

Cope sneezed. "Well I'm going to teach you a lesson anyhow." Lucinda had said. "You're going to get teased up, but I'm not gonna let you finish."

She snorted. "You gave me $800 dollars, double my rate, and you ain't gonna finish, leastways, not til I'm gone...but I'll make you wish you did!"

Luci had spent the next forty minutes running her long fingers up and down Copeland's penis, first slowly and casually, then faster, til she was gripping his penis and pumping up and down...

Yes, but as soon as Cope was about to release, to orgasm, Luci had stopped, and taken out her makeup case, and begun applying frosty lipstick, chuckling as she watched poor Cope humping the air.

As the lipstick covered her full lips, Luci had asked Copeland what he thought of it. "This is called Glitter Pink, asshole.

Wouldn't you like to have my lips on your cock now? You know how good I can suck it." Copeland's eyes watered as he watched her outline her lips in the glowing pink color.

"Yes, oh please, Lucinda, please suck and kiss my penis...I'm so horny from your hand job, ma'am."

Lucinda looked at Copeland, and bared her teeth. She grabbed Cope's Precalculus 102 slide rule from the table and whacked Cope's cock hard.

"Forget it! You inconsiderate asshole, I'd rather cut your dick off!"

Between words, Luci had slammed the ruler all over Cope's dick until he was crying. Then she'd snapped the ruler over her trim knee.

"Maybe next time you'll learn."

Then Luci had stroked Cope's penis as he'd cried softly...she'd stroked for nearly another hour, and then unlocked him.

Cope had kissed Luci's palm, and then dreamily handed her his Cartier watch, a Christmas present from his mother. "You can give this to your manager if you like, Miss Lucinda. Will you come tomorrow night?"

Although Luci had been willing to return to their former sexual antics, Copeland had told her the next night that he still felt guilty about what he'd done to her.

On the bed lay a Ping-Pong paddle, a sawed off Fiberglas fishing rod, and his belt. As Copeland had undressed hastily, he'd looked into Lucinda's eyes.

"I want you to make me understand about being prompt."

Luci had stuffed a rag in Cope's mouth so they wouldn't upset the neighbors "Because you're such a whiny little faggot" and she'd nearly broken the fishing rod on Cope's bleeding, bared bottom.

Luci finally had turned Cope over on his back (which had hurt to no end) and she'd begun toying and playing with his cock again, running her tongue over her lips and eventually applying more lipstick

"They call this shade Plum Shine, asshole" Luci said as she ran her finger up and down the underside frenum of Cope's sweating penis.

"Wouldn't you love to have that wrapped around your dongo?" Half an hour later when Plum Shine had worn off (Luci had also paused teasing poor Cope to order a pizza on his Visa)

Luci had applied Violet Attitude Frosty to her lips, and taunted Cope unmercifully.

By the time she'd left, Cope's dick was violet itself, and he'd jerked off madly into the sink, and had an absurd fantasy that Luci's "manager" was there to push his head in the spunk and to make Cope lick it up!

As the weeks passed, Cope's bank account had flagged quite a bit. He'd taken out a couple of student loans, something no one in his rich family had ever needed, and then he'd actually sold his Lexus. But his life with Lucinda had gotten fascinating.

At the end of one of the stroking sessions, Cope had asked Lucinda to stay longer. "You sure, puke?" Luci looked astonished as her fingers relaxed on Cope's sweating purple organ. "Figured after an hour of this, you'd want to beat yer meat and wet yerself."

She'd locked a cock ring around his balls to give him more sensation, and the poor fellow was out of his mind...but he wanted more?

"I tell you what, Luci" Cope said craftily

"In addition to your $400 fee, which I've already given you, I'll give you a dollar for every extra minute that you tease me...I need it, and you don't have any other appointments, do you?"

Luci had laughed contemptuously.

"Ten dollars for every minute, bucko." Three hundred and fifty dollars later, she'd left the gasping Copeland to do his ministrations over the sink...and what a time it had been!

His organ had been so engorged that he'd worried there would be some sort of gangrene, with the damn cock ring.

A week later, Lucinda, while applying magenta lip gloss, had waved her sponge wand at the strapped up Copeland.

"My manager says that it's five hundred an hour now, and twenty per minute, instead of ten for how long I stroke you...that okay, big boy?"

Really, it had all gotten out of hand. Lucinda had become increasingly more vicious in her whippings, and had brought new implements to use on poor Copeland, who irritated her to no end.

She'd taken to saving the used condoms from her other customers, sometimes five or six of them, and would make Cope suck them out as a bribe to get her to stop whipping him.

After that first night, they'd never had normal sex again, and Copeland had wound up thrashed, broke and horny...