Alexander Morden is waiting. He has been told to wait, so he is waiting. That's his task, right now. His function. His raison d'etre.
Plip!
A bluebottle lands on his left breast. He feels it walk a delicate zigzag down his torso, across his belly towards his groin. He knows he could shake the little beast off with a twitch of his (admittedly not too well-developed) stomach muscles, but he doesn't. It amuses him to watch and feel the creature as it explores him. Its progress is unhindered by body hairs, for Alex has none. It could wander, if it were so inclined, all the way to the moist slit of his prick, to the very tip, as easily as a camel crosses the desert. Alex smiles, thinking how good it would feel to have his cock tickled by the insect. His foreskin was pulled back; the sensitive glans was exposed and ready to be stimulated, no matter how lightly. But no. The shiny, tiny blue creature makes for his right thigh, then spreads its wings and buzzes off.
Alex hears it for a few seconds, then it falls silent. He wonders where it went. Maybe it's found the bucket where his catheterised urine is gradually accumulating.
Plip!
His nose has been itching for a while, but he can't do anything about it. Alex lies on a narrow, lightly padded bench, his arms outstretched and attached by wrist bands to the walls on either side of his cell. The bench raises most of his body some eighteen inches from the floor. Only his bare feet remain in contact with the oak-laminate flooring, held there by clips that link his ankle bands to rings on either side of the bench.
He can hear rats scrabbling around the cell. There are two of them. Sometimes they come to sniff at his feet. Alex isn't afraid of them - they're white rats, pets of his Lady. Alex sometimes thinks She loves them more than She loves him. But ah, he sighs, it's a different sort of love. As he lies there, naked and bound for his Lady's pleasure, he feels utterly secure in the knowledge that She loves him. Why else would She keep him like this when She's away, instead of leaving him to roam aimlessly around, doing God knows what?
The male rat is called Abelard, the female Heloise. Normally She keeps them in a rather luxurious cage, but when She goes out She leaves them loose in his cell. He likes that. They are company, of a sort, while he waits for Her to return.
Once when She left Alex in the cell to wait for Her, one of the rats found its way onto the bench and nibbled at his balls. That had been one of his Lady's little jokes - she had smeared some liver pâté on his scrotum before leaving that morning for her appointment. In his mind he now relives the exquisite dread he felt as the tiny mouth rasped at that tender skin, teeth so near to his precious testicles. He remembers the occasional swish of a cold, scaly little tail against his inner thigh. The recollection causes Alex's penis to swell slightly. He feels it expanding against the tube of the catheter where it passes through his urethra.
Quickly he blanks his mind, and lies still. No erections. She had made him promise ...
===================
Dressed and ready to go, Sue Morden picked up her handbag and walked purposefully down the stairs to Alex's cell. Alex followed, dutiful, submissive and naked as usual. She sat primly on the padded bench and started to peer through the handbag's contents while Alex stood by.
"I'll not be long!" she said, not bothering to look up at him. "Well, probably not anyway. But if I see Janet at the hairdressers I'll have to take her for lunch at the Orchis Bar. She wants to have a long chat with me about her husband."
She continued to fuss with the contents of her bag. Yep, plenty of cash, and she had her cards with her. Opening a small, flat box she uttered a 'Tsk!' of irritation. Empty. She'd really have to get another packet of condoms today. It's always better to be safe than sorry, even if she's already had unprotected sex four times with Marley. At last she clicked the bag shut and looked up.
"You'll be all right, won't you?" she asked. It was a redundant question; since she knew full well he'd be in no position to get up to any mischief. But she asked it with a hint of wifely concern in her voice.
"Yes, my Lady," he affirmed dutifully. "Should I insert a catheter before I attach my ropes?"
"Good idea, boy," she replied, taking gentle hold of the slender penis that hung limp in front of her. It responded immediately, causing her to frown, but she didn't comment. "If I do meet Janet it could be some time before I get back. Several hours, even. We don't want any nasty wet patches on the furniture, do we?"
She released the stirring, swelling flesh and wiped a trace of his moisture from her palm onto his shaven thigh. The penis was still only half-aroused, and she watched silently as it reluctantly surrendered the extra blood it had been holding. Only when it had come fully to rest, against balls that not released semen for at least three weeks, did the frown leave her elegant forehead. She smiled up at her husband, her slave.
"Yes, boy, do insert a catheter and link it up. There should still be a couple in the toy cabinet. Then get into position and attach your bits. You know the routine. I'll come back and check you over before I go."
"Very well, my Lady," Alex responded, in the approved, positive manner. But Sue was already out of the cell. He heard the faint click as she turned the key in the door lock. She always locked him in, though it was more a mark of her superiority than a deed of necessity. Alex knew and relished his position in their relationship. He would never have dreamt of trying to escape.
===================
Plir-rp!
Alex tries to guess how long his Lady has already been gone. On bright days he can watch the progress of the small square of sunlight that comes in through the tiny window, and this gives him a good idea of the time. But today it's overcast, and he has only his intuition to go by. The light entering the cell is adequate for his needs (which are deliberately minimal), but does little to tell him what's going on in the outside world.
He guesses he's been waiting for several hours, so maybe it's mid-afternoon. He hates it when the day starts to fade into evening shadows, and gradually becomes night. That's when the waiting is hardest. Will She come home tonight? Or will he be left to seek some fitful sleep in his cell, and be ready to take up his household duties when - if - she gets home next morning? He prefers Her to spend the evening at home, even when She brings another man with her. He has to watch and wait while they make love, of course, and this usually means there are special duties for him to perform. One of the less demeaning tasks is putting the condom on the man's penis. He doesn't really mind doing that - he enjoys the knowledge that he's putting a wall between his Lady and the man. Somehow it dissolves a lot of the shame he feels on watching his Wife give Her body to someone else. A barrier's a barrier, after all, whether it's made of thick concrete or thin rubber. And if there's no physical contact there's no infidelity, right?
He smiles ruefully. OK, he knows he's kidding himself. But on the other hand he knows his Lady is fully entitled to seek pleasures from other men. And from women.
"Alex, you're an utterly useless arsehole!" Sue would shout at him, back in the days before She took charge of him and allowed him to become Her slave. And he would cringe with the knowledge that he was totally unable to please and satisfy his wife. Not now, though. By accepting this special relationship with the Lady he once knew as Susie, he has acquired a deep sense of purpose, a profoundly satisfying awareness that he is wanted and needed. He knows he only has to obey his Lady perfectly, and he reaps the reward of her dedicated affection. Sure, sometimes he makes mistakes and has to be punished, but it's a learning curve, isn't it?
He smiles ruefully, remembering the one little mistake he'd made this morning when his Lady returned for Her final check-over before leaving him. His balls still ached from the punishment ...
===================
The sound of Sue's steps faded as she reached the top of the stairs leading up from the cell. Alex needed to work fast - She'd be back soon to check him over, and if there was one thing she hated it was being kept waiting.
The catheter first. He opened the 'toy cabinet' and took out the things he needed. Paying careful attention to sterile procedures he lubricated the catheter and began to feed it quickly along his urethra. He was used to doing this, and the process of insertion had long ago ceased to be painful. He loved the moment when the tube actually passed through into his bladder. That sudden, sweet, involuntary flow of urine , so much more satisfying than just taking a leak into the toilet.
When the flow ceased he inflated the tiny balloon that would hold the catheter firmly inside his bladder, and temporarily clamped it to prevent drips while he prepared himself for the waiting. He was already naked of course - he was seldom allowed to wear clothes in the house. Padded leather straps went onto his wrists and ankles with practised ease. From the cupboard under the washbasin he took a full, five-litre bottle of spring water, exchanged the screw top for one fitted with a valved plastic spigot, and fitted it upside-down into a wrought-iron bracket on the wall, close to where his head would be. He took a quick suck at the flexible spigot to check that the flow worked OK.
Next, his bonds. His 'bits', as his Lady dismissively called them.
Picture a cell some six feet wide by eleven long. You enter it through a narrow door of heavy, dark-varnished wood. It's like looking along an ill-lit corridor, bare except for a couple of oak cupboards by the door and the wrought-iron bracket holding the plastic water bottle onto the far wall. There are grills for the ducted air that heats and ventilates the cell, and some electric power points. There are rings everywhere, some fixed to the walls, others neatly recessed into the oak flooring. The ceiling has a couple of transverse oak beams, their gnarled, rough-hewn appearance hinting heavily at the age of the mansion in which this cell has been created.
Oh, and the bench. It's about a foot and a half wide, and knee-height. Sturdily made of dark-stained oak (still smelling of the beeswax polish he applied yesterday), lightly padded and covered in rich brown leather. It extends five feet from the far wall towards you. The end against the far wall is raised slightly - a sort of pillow for the user to rest his head on.
Two ropes, terminating in steel rings, are draped over the bench. They pass through a series of rings and pulleys on the side walls, and disappear into a box mounted above the door. The box has two push-buttons - one red, one green. Beneath the red button there is a small hole into which a metal rod has been inserted. A length of fine chain, attached to the rod, is draped along the cell so that it can be reached by the person lying on the bench.
