Becket Hastings hung upside down, suspended by his ankles. Becket's hands were cuffed behind his back, and he was utterly naked.
This seemed to happen every sports season. Cinnamon, Becket's enchanting "platonic" housemate was a "sports atheist" and couldn't stand him running the idiot box, watching those damned games.
At the same time, Cinnamon didn't want poor Beck to waste his time watching sports elsewhere. (She really cared about him.)
She didn't trust Beck out on his own She felt he'd get into trouble. Becket had pointed out more than once that he'd existed forty-two years before meeting Cinnamon, but she knew better.
After all, she knew his true nature.
Since Becket had rented the room to Cinnamon (well, several rooms, she had a workshop) people often asked why he gave her such a great price in a very competitive neighborhood.
Also, why he'd put up with her being so damned high maintenance!
"I get that she's hot" Beck's brother had said once, when he'd seen Beck polishing Cinnamon's family silver while wearing a tutu, "But is this really worth it?"
Beck's brother had dropped by to escort Beck to a boxing match, but again, Cinni knew better, right?
But Becket had met Cinnamon in an interesting way.
Cinnamon had been hawking a variety of implements that she had personally crafted, at the Dungeonopolis Gift Shop Market Expo held in the basement of the Paincafe, the hometown leather lovers BDSM hostel and restaurant.
And Cinnamon and Beck had bonded after a fashion.
However, gorgeous as she was, Cinnamon was having a difficult time enticing volunteers to do demonstrations on, as she was a crafter of whips, crops, floggers and scourges...and sometimes knouts and tawses if she had the energy.
Her first subject had been reduced to tears and screaming after Cinni had licked him only four or five times with her whippy martinet "school cane"
When Cinni had attempted to demonstrate the effects of her paracord bullwhip, a corporal enforcer that she'd woven carefully with sensitivity and love...
The big, burly biker bastard had jumped up and ran to hide under a table.
But Becket had stepped up. Unlike the previous big strong leathermen, Beck was chubby, lumpy and short, and he'd immediately undressed on stage to mass clapping.
"You don't have to get it on the bare." Cinni had said, grinning at Beck's impudent erection. "The others didn't...and I can pay you."
He seemed like an unlikely prospect.
"I need discipline" Beck had said. "I feel guilty, I lost a bunch of money on a racing trifecta at mybookie dot--"
And that had been enough for Cinn. Her dad was a degenerate gambler.
Becket smiled up at the tall valkyrie as she picked up the next weapon of worry, a nice tight sjambok.
"A craftswoman as beautiful and talented as you deserves-"
But Cinn was impatient at his "soft sawder" and began using the sjambok with true vigor.
And he'd gone through a series of punishments stoically as Cinn had left marks, and then welts, and more than a few blisters.
He'd grabbed his ankles and not even asked for a gag as Cinn had tried out all her inventions on him, not even minding when a big gay man asked if he could take a crack at it...
Most guys would have taken off after the gay Master had enjoyed the effects of Cinnamon's Suede Lovin' Fisting Glove, but Beck took it all so well.
After it all was over, Cinn had made quite a haul, and offered Becket a percentage.
He was dressed now, but fortunately, not sitting down.
"It's such a great thing, because I don't make a lot of money and I still live with my folks in this miserable trailer park."
Beck had not only refused Cinn's money, but he'd offered her a suite of rooms in his big house in West Buttermilk Falls, at an insanely good price.
"Just, of course, until you are "Discovered" by the outer kink community, Cinn." he'd said with a smile.
But Cinnamon, grateful to a point, had been disenchanted by Beck's fascination with sports, online porn, and other time-wasters.
"You actually went to a dwarf tossing contest instead of visiting your Nana in the nursing home?" she asked incredulously.
Beck's ex-wife had locked him in a chastity device for a while, and Cinn demanded he dig this thing out of storage.
"Are we dating, then, Cinni?" But she'd backhanded Beck for being "fresh".
"I am doing this all for your own good, Beck" Cinn had said testily as she locked the chastity belt on and dropped the key in her blouse cleavage.
"You really should feel lucky that I'm trying to help you focus on the healthy things, to have a growth experience, to dabble in creativity, truth, beauty, culture...
Now vacuum the house, damn it!"
Cinnamon had fired Beck's housekeeper and donated her salary to an abused women's shelter, and given Beck a list of chores.
This was a great way to try the effectiveness of her created implements right after she'd finished them!
Beck had even licked out the toilet bowl after Cinnamon had used her "Electric Slide Lasher" (batteries not included) and thanked her for putting it back in her workshop.
So Cinn had a no sports in the house rule, and a "no leaving the house without a good reason for Beck" rule.
She couldn't be too careful!
Beck was terribly enamored of his beautiful housemate, and although it was hands-off most of the time, sometimes Cinn would come out in a bathrobe and sit on Beck's lap as they watched the Nightly News, or catch some Netflix.
Every six weeks or so, she'd unlock Beck and he'd beat his meat as she and her girlfriends sat and watched and critiqued his efforts...coordination and all that.
They'd sit there, four to seven women, flashing their cleavage or pulling up their skirts and opening the gorgeous thighs...
"Ooops, you're going too fast, Beck. Stop for a moment. Now rub with your thumb. Just one thumb. Let's see how that works."
And Beck knew in instances like this, he couldn't get impatient with Marsha or Phoebe or whoever Cinn invited...
Just one pout and Cinn would lock him up with no release for ANOTHER six weeks!
And he lived for when Cinnamon would take the belt off to clean Beck in the bathtub.
She would generally do this wearing a one-piece bathing costume, and she'd put her naked landlord in the tub, remove the belt and clean him thoroughly, while the belt was in the dishwasher.
Then, sometimes, Cinn would take Beck out of the tub and cuff his hands, and give him a hot enema, just to cleanse the blockages.
After this, she'd bring Beck to her nice, feminine, scented bedroom and make him lie on his cuffed wrists, and she'd shave his crotch completely.
And then using some helpful creams, would do "Skincare" for about an hour and a half, which of course also was a lovely if frustrating hand job.
So Beck was getting "Skincare" twice a week (Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons) and then release every six weeks or so in front of the lovely ladies.
Beck was doing all the housework and some of the cooking...
But he was quite happy with things.
The chastity device seemed to keep Beck from dating, but since Cinn demanded he be in the house within twenty minute of leaving work (he had to sign in) that seemed like a moot point.
But there was still the problem of the sports watching!
Last year Beck pleaded with Cinnamon to at least let him watch the World Series this year. "It's been seven years of us living together and I haven't seen the Series."
Cinn had responded by putting Beck in a diaper, blindfolding him, and just letting him listen to every third game.
When he'd bitched about that, Cinn had attempted (with some success) to put a silver Louisville Slugger up Beck's ass, if that was a comfort.
For hockey season, Cinn, feeling badly for the "cold" players, had decreed that Beck had to skate around Buttermilk Pond in the nude for an hour before every game he watched, and miraculously, he lost interest after about two games.
It was sort of a shame since Cinn, a former figure skater of the Tonya Harding variety, had enjoyed chasing him with her new Plexiglas riding crop and whacking his blubbery butt to make him skate faster, Mats Zuccarello did.
This year, when Becket approached Cinni about the Superbowl, he was nervous.
He of course hadn't seen any of the OTHER games in the season. He'd spent every Sunday afternoon (and some Monday nights)assisting with Cinnamon's manicures while they watched "The Bachelor"
"I've been so good, Cinn. Can't I just watch the Superbowl?" Becket said with tears in his eyes. "I even blew your gay cousin last week because he said I was cute."
Cinn regarded Beck with a jaundiced eye. She tossed down the rawhide flagellum she was stitching and stood up. "Go downstairs to the Rec Room and take off all your clothes."
"But-I just-"
"Now. Or I test this flagellum thing before I'm done with it."
Weeping bitterly and resentfully, Beck turned and went downstairs, where he stripped off his clothes and knelt on the floor.
The rec room had once been Beck's man-cave, with a huge TV screen, some video games, a Wii, and various pool tables and other effluvia.
But much of that had been cleared out, shortly after Cinnamon moved in, and now it boasted a St. Andrew's Cross, a ducking stool, three pillories, and some interesting electrical torture gadgets.
Becket heard Cinn's high heels clicking as she came downstairs. She'd been wearing Keds when he'd approached her in the living room. The heels meant she was serious.
And of course, unwillingly, Beck admitted to himself that now he was getting aroused, his penis was shifting unpleasantly against the chastity belt.
It was a snug plastic thing. Cinni had decided, after the first year of their living together that the belt that Beck's wife had left was just too loose, and so she'd been making the plastic uh, holders smaller and smaller.
When Cinn got downstairs, she ignored Beck and went to the ceiling chain crank, and used a remote control to make the chain come down.
"Put on those ankle bracelets, Beck."
