Trials of Timothy

20 year old Kismet grinned as she absentmindedly tossed one of her dark locks behind her shoulder, as she connected the little loop of steel rope around Tim Phelan's cock and balls. "To answer your question, Timmy," she said, "It's real hard to find a girl who wants to mess around, S&M wise, for nothin'."

Tim sighed, and nodded. He was naked, lying on Kismet's floor, his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles locked together as Miss Kismet completed the "wire transfer" around his junk. Then, as he watched excitedly and dispiritedly at the same time, she stepped back on her high heels, and mounting a ladder, she looped the steel rope through a pulley hanging from her reinforced ceiling hook.

He and Kismet had been discussing whether or not he could find a real girlfriend who would dominate him as part of their relationship. Kismet doubted it, and frankly, so did Tim.

How did Kiz climb the stepladder in her high heels? It was quite a skill. "You'll just have to keep seein' me, I think. Remember when you were engaged to, what's her name? Uhn-DRAY-Uh?" Kiz grinned as she whistled, and her partner Loman, a large black man came into the room.

Tim thought about Andrea and the ridiculous pronunciation of her name that Kismet had mimicked. Tim had told Kiz that he couldn't see her anymore, but he kept dropping in and getting his punishments and his teases...and in the end he'd broken it off with Andrea, a chesty blonde who couldn't really understand a man who wouldn't appreciate her fabulous blowjobs.

Now Kiz motioned to Loman, to start pulling the steel rope so it went briskly through the ceiling pulley. Tim, utterly humiliated that Loman, a large black guy, could witness his being tied and naked, began to grit his teeth, feeling the pressure on his groin as the steel loop dragged his body up into the air.

"Whaddya think, Tim?" Kiz asked, grinning. "Does it hurt, just a little?" Tim thought about his last amazing dominant girlfriend, trying to focus on her image as the pain in his groin intensified. Shit, Tim didn't weigh more than 170, but it felt as if he was about a thousand pounds when you felt the pressure on his crotch area from the damn steel rope.

Look at what fun Kismet was having, clapping her hands and laughing as Loman pulled the rope. Kismet had been born Cress Piezkowski, and had changed her name to Kismet Strange on her sixteenth birthday, splitting to the nearest city that would teach her to be a domme...it was like a calling!

Kiz hadn't known in so many words that she was going to dominate men when she arrived in big city Pittsburgh ...but she knew something big was going to happen, and it happened within the first six months.

Kismet learned that she had an amazing power over men rather early—she had more than her share of dates growing up—but it wasn't until she ran off to the big city that she understood how MUCH power she had.

One afternoon she was lying on her stomach on the bed, wearing her short shorts and the guy she was dating was spending an extensive amount of time rubbing lotion onto her curving thighs, kissing the slight "boo-boos" that were left by bicycling bruises and mosquito bites.

"God, I love the way you rub my legs, Ruben." Kiz said lazily. "You really take your time about it; it's not just some prelude to ripping my clothes off."

"Well, you know, Miss Kismet" (This was Ruben's pet name for her) "Touching your legs, and rubbing oil into your thighs and your neck and your cleavage is a sexual act to me in and of itself...you have a very worshippable body."

Kismet turned around and gave Ruben one of her dazzling smiles. Rube wasn't really a gorgeous type—he was even a little nerdy to tell the truth. But he picked up the check and bought her things, and he knew all the good punk-rock clubs in the area.

"I don't know if worshippable is a word, but thank you, honey." She noticed that Ruben had quite a lump in his pants as he continued to rub massage oil into her thighs, moving his hands up to around her dimpled butt cheeks, spilling out of her cut-offs.

Ruben smiled, looking at her through his fogged up glasses. "Kiz, what you don't understand is how beautiful you are. There's nothing I like better than rubbing your legs, kissing your feet and giving you full body massages...it drives me crazy."

Kismet sat up and smiled at Ruben again—he called her the Colgate queen, those pearly white teeth—and she reached over and unzipped Rube's pants, and pulled out his doinger. Rubbing her fingers on the tip of his cock, she realized that he was really, really excited. Kiz watched as Ruben panted, his eyes shut as she casually massaged his penis.

"Take off your clothes, Ruben...I want to see the whole package." Ruben and Kismet had been going out about two weeks at this point, and beyond some intense make-out sessions, they hadn't gotten naked yet. One thing Kismet appreciated about "nice" beta male types like Ruben was, they didn't rush you, they were just happy to be your life.

But Ruben didn't protest, didn't tell Kiz that she should undress too...no, he just stripped down and put his hands behind his back and looked worshipfully at Kismet, who continued to stroke his cock and balls.

Then Kiz took her bare foot and clawed Rube's cock with her toenails, scratching the glans—his cockhead—a little fiercely. "Hey, ain't you goin' to keep rubbin' my legs, you dipshit?"

And Ruben had returned his attentions to Kismet's legs, coating them in soft lotion, as she toyed with his penis and testicles for some time. After the leg massage was over, Rube looked at her a little expectantly, but Kismet told him shortly that she had things to do and he might as well get dressed and go home.

She'd laughed to herself as Ruben had stuffed his erection into his shorts, tucked in his shirt and had left in silence.

A few days after this, Kismet was necking with Scott, one of her more manly lovers, and just as he was about to take off her bra, she stopped him, and rubbed her camisole covered tits against his chest. "I want you to give me a back, butt, and leg massage...otherwise I won't be in the mood."

Scott had looked a bit truculent, but then he'd begun rubbing oil around her bra straps, and onto her back and into her thighs around Kismet's bikini underpants. As she felt his strong hands rubbing the oil into her skin, there was a sound of panting—desperate panting, and this was of great satisfaction to her.

At the end of the massage, Scott leaned forward. "C-can I fuck you now, Kismet?" But Kismet had leaned back and slapped Scott's face, and then told him in an insulted voice that she didn't trust him.

"I'm afraid you'll rape me, Scott." Kismet had said in an insulted, prissy voice. This was a puzzle to Scott, who had fucked Kiz on a number of occasions. He was really horny, though, and tried arguing with her, as she desultorily rubbed her open toed sandal against the swelling lump in his boxer shorts.

"I...might fool around with you some more, if you let me tie your hands behind your back, Scotty." Kiz grinned. Scott hated being called "Scotty". Unlike Rube, Scott was a hard core jock, a driven salesman of restaurant supplies, and was quite used to having his own way.

But Scott panted and then curled up his fists and gritted his teeth. And then he tried to calm down. Finally Scott let Kismet bind his hands, and she laid him back on the bed carefully.

Kismet stroked Scott's dick, after she pulled off his shorts quite slowly...and she stroked for a while longer, and then she pulled her hand away, licked the head of his cock, and sent Scott home.

On the next date with Ruben, she allowed Ruben to perform between her legs for an hour and a half, and then whipped his ass with a pancake spatula...and then she put her ad to be a dominatrix in the local free weekly and she hadn't looked back!

But it was true, what she'd told Tim. Although dominating men seemed to be good for her ego and her pocketbook, it wasn't sexually thrilling for her. Tim would have to look a long time for a woman who really got off on such activity, and until then, he'd want to continue paying Kismet $300 an hour to be put in his place.

Kismet watched, with growing amusement as Tim was hauled by his nuts to the ceiling. What some men will pay for.

Tim, now in acute pain around his balls, tried again to focus on memories of his old girlfriend, Ingrid. An hourglass figure, curly red hair, and what a wit! "You want to be my slave?" Ingrid had asked, perplexed.

Tim had really taken a chance that night, he'd told her about it, slowly, and then he'd undressed and kneeled in front of her, and Ingrid couldn't miss the erection poking through his thighs like an MX missile.

Ingrid at the time was decked out in her usual California style—tube top and hot-pink micro miniskirt and boots.

She'd been a little dismayed at Tim's erectile dysfunction problems—never had been a deal with any other guy, and now that he was naked, cowering in front of her, he was so excited.

"Haven't seen that before" Ingrid smirked, looking down at her naked boyfriend, with his tool sticking up. "Huh, NOW he's excited, while you're on your knees like a wimp." She kicked Tim's penis

Tim had winced, and his cock grew harder after Ingrid's kick. It was a bit much for him, but he knew what he needed! He looked up at her, a tear rolling down his cheek. Ingrid was standing in front of Tim's kneeling form, her hands on her hips, jutting out her semi covered boobs and laughing at him.

"Th-that hurt." Tim said weakly, and Ingrid laughed.

"I've never seen Willy so pumped up," Ingrid had said, and then she'd taken the tip of her shoe and she pressed Tim's shaft against his stomach. "Jesus, the last four nights you've been telling me that he's a limpie boy because of your work stress, but now your dick is like Superfly's baton there...no pain, no gain, huh?"

"Get up." Ingrid had said to Tim, and she'd guided him to her drafting table. Ingrid was an architect, and her table was a sacred space. She instructed Tim to lay his hard cock on the table, and then Ingrid pulled Tim's belt out from the loops of his pants, and doubled it in her little palm.

Tim gulped. Except for the fact that Ingrid was a tiny little thing, it reminded Tim of when Dad would take off his belt and put Tim and his brothers through it for evading chores or skipping school!

WHACK! Ingrid slammed the belt against Tim's cock, the leather slapping Tim's tender penis against the hard wood of the drafting table. Tim burst into tears, but he didn't move.

Ingrid took all this in. Tim easily could have back handed her, knocking her across the room, or he could've taken the belt away from her and used it on her butt...but he just stood there, naked and crying as his girlfriend had slammed it on his penis!

She'd whacked Tim's cock five more times, and then, she'd undressed. "You fuck me or I'll give you thirty more, you little bitch!" And Tim had jumped on Ingrid, pounding her to three orgasms before he'd finally squirted in her himself.

Now, Tim was just cringing in agony as Kismet motioned Loman to tie off the steel rope, with Tim hanging just under the ceiling. Kismet snapped her fingers.

"Loman, while you're here, I've noticed that Tim's head is hanging just around your crotch level, you're so tall. Why don't you let Tim blow you upside down as a thank-you for participating in our session?"

"No, please, not that, Kismet." It was bad enough that his balls and cock felt as if they were going to be ripped off, but he didn't want to suck the dick of some fuckin' nigger! But what could Tim do, he couldn't move after all. His hands were secured behind his back, and his legs were locked together, hanging behind his head as he was supported by the nutsack loop in the ceiling.

"He ain't going to bite me is he?" Loman asked, winking at Kismet, who shook her head affirmatively.

Loman reached down and slapped Tim's face hard and Tim's mouth opened, and hot damn, Loman pulled his huge black penis out of his jeans and pushed it between Tim's lips, and Tim began sucking.

What a disgusting experience this was. But what could Tim do? He was immobile, and he'd promised Kismet that he'd do anything that she requested. And she was now talking again...

"See, Timmy...maybe you could find a nice dominant man who would take you on, you're cute enough. I've heard of dominant gay men, and if you're truly submissive the sex of your dominant shouldn't matter, should it?"

Kismet laughed, and Tim winced around Loman's huge prick. Tim was desperately trying to salivate more, trying to remember what he liked in a blowjob. Lots of slurping. But wasn't this Negroes dick huge?

Tim was such a natural submissive. Ingrid had humiliated him utterly a few weeks after the first time she'd learned his secret. She'd been arguing with a few of her old "Guy friends" from high school at a barbecue, and her women friends were enjoying the spat.

One of Ingrid's buddies had said that she was a pushover, and she cursed at him and said "I'm no pushover; I push men around, look how I treat my faggot boyfriend here!" Ingrid had stumbled over to Tim, who was innocently eating a cheeseburger, and before he'd known it, she pulled his belt out of his pants, and then she'd unzipped his crotch, pulling his penis out.

"Whoo-eee!" Ingrid's friends had hollered as Tim's erection had spouted out of the fly of his 501s. Then Ingrid had screamed, "Watch me whip his dick!" And she'd looped the belt and slashed Tim's cock fifteen or thirty times, and he'd just stood there like a stone and taken it...until finally he'd had an orgasm, squirting all over the grass.

Then, Ingrid had pulled back, as if he'd just done this unprovoked. "What a goddamn pervert you are" she said in a low voice. "I can't believe you just did that."

And then one of her buddies, an ex-jock called Vaughn, had stalked up to Tim, who was stuffing his dick back in his pants. "You're a sick mother." Vaughn had screamed and he'd punched Tim in the face, and then Tim had gotten up, his nose bleeding and he'd fled the party, and that was the last time he'd heard from Ingrid!

Tim also had had some luck with his secretary, who went by the interesting name of Detroit Nixx. A hopeful bottle blonde, Tim had noticed that Detroit wore a lot of leather, and more than a few pieces of punk rock attire.

Detroit couldn't type particularly well, and she couldn't file worth shit, but she answered the phone in a sultry voice, and always wore the most plunging of necklines, and watching her boobs dance as she brought Tim his coffee was certainly a morale builder, if nothing else.

Tim was such a sucker for girls like Detroit, that he began taking her out to lunch a lot and listening to her boyfriend troubles, while not so slyly checking out her chest and legs.

Once or twice she came to his house to take dictation on a case, and apparently she'd gone through his things because one night she asked him to make dinner for her at his house.

Tim had happily done this, but when he'd come back into the living room to see if Detroit's drink needed refreshing, he saw her sitting on the couch, with his femdom magazines around her, and she was tapping a large wooden hairbrush against her short silk skirt, and she was puffing angrily, making her snug dark green sweater bounce!

"What kind of filth do you have here, Timothy?" Detroit asked with some annoyance. "I can't believe you read such tripe. I found one of your magazines the last time I was here, and I took it home and read it, and you are one sick puppy."

As Tim thought about it now, it wasn't quite as intense as sucking a black man's cock while being hung by your balls, but it had been still quite a lurch.

"I-I'm sorry, Detroit " he'd muttered. "It's just a kind of-of-"

"Take your pants and shorts down!" Detroit said, and although she tried to look stern, Tim could see the shade of a giggle around her gorgeous full lips. "I'm going to teach you what I think of a boss who is a porn fiend!"

Tim found his hands moving around his belt and unzipping his crotch, and as he pulled down his pants and underwear, he felt the usual hopelessness he always had, the humiliation of being naked in front of a clothed woman.

As Detroit had taken Tim by the ear and dragged him over her knee and begun whipping his bare ass, he'd wondered if he was out of his mind. She could now sue him for sexual harassment.

And Detroit didn't fool around, either. She whacked and whacked, and when Tim began crying and thrashing around, she grabbed his left arm and pulled it behind his back and whacked harder.

"You're going to learn what Mommie thinks of your nasty magazines." Detroit had said, as the hairbrush had come down fifty more times before she'd finally allowed her weeping employer to rise.

"Get in the corner, now, Timothy and stay there for awhile." Tim had attempted to pull his pants up, but Kismet had snapped her fingers angrily and ordered him to leave them at his ankles and shuffle to the corner and stay there!

Tim had wept at the time, but he'd moved to the corner and stood there, and had felt a touch from below, and discovered that his cock was touching the corner as well. His butt felt as if someone had set it on fire, and it would have been justified if this had kept his penis from growing excited, but no, Tim was a masochist's masochist, and was quite excited.

Finally, after half an hour, Detroit had ordered Tim to remove all his clothes and to masturbate in front of her, which had been terribly humiliating to him. "Faster, faster, you little homo. C'mon, I know that you must do this twelve times a day!"

Finally Tim had squirted onto the floor, and Detroit had made him wipe it up with his underpants. This had seemed horrifically humiliating, but of course later when he began masturbating in front of Kismet, she always made him lick up his scum, which was worse...

Though not as bad as just now, when Loman came in his mouth, as poor Tim continued to swing by his testicles! "That was nice, thanks Tim" Loman now groaned, pulling his cock out of Tim's cum filled lips, and wiping it off on Tim's cheek.

Kismet motioned for Loman to let Tim down, and as he lay on the floor, letting blood rush back into his cock and balls, Tim wondered how he'd let Detroit get away—he'd taken her out about ten times before she'd left the city, but she had been the one who had introduced him to Kismet, who dominated for a price!

Now, Kismet gently pulled the loop of the steel rope off Tim's cock and balls, and she got down on her knees and began rubbing Tim's penis gently. "How was that, honey...shows you how useless your nuts are, except to keep you up on the ceiling, huh?"

Poor Tim had gaped at Kismet sadly. It was true, his cock was quite excited in her nimble fingers, but it had gone through quite a workout and also soon she would be sending him home.

Home to a lonely house filled with porn videos and books, and online programs. He wanted so much more than this!

Kismet smiled. "You want to spend the night with me?" Her long nails tickled the tip of Tim's cock, and she rubbed the frenulum, the sensitive underside. "It's not going to be all honey and fun...I've got a guy coming over and I want a slave boy who will help serve him, but if you're willing to give a second blowjob tonight, you might have a good time otherwise...and it's no extra money on top of your fee!"

Tim smiled and licked his lips. "I'd love that, Mistress Kismet." He watched as Kismet rubbed his cock a little more, and then took her hands away.

"No, you're not going to cum, not until tomorrow morning, and I want you to lie here on the floor until my boyfriend comes. But you are welcome to enjoy our company!"

Kismet got up and walked away, and Tim, lying on the floor, still manacled, gazed at her departing buttocks and wondered when he'd ever been so lucky!