Meloni Ch 13

Thursday morning in mid-May, I woke to a peculiar restriction between my legs. The metal's cool presence startled me for a moment before recognition dawned -- of course, the chastity cage from yesterday's afternoon session was still in place.

The night had been a lesson in endurance, as my body fought against its new metal constraints. My genitalia -- what Meloni now called my clit -- strained painfully against the cage, the base ring a constant reminder of my commitment. When morning came, the discomfort hadn't subsided, but I knew better than to voice any complaints, even when asked. This was part of my role now, accepting her control as her cuckold husband.

Meloni was already downstairs. I showered and cleaned around my dick the best I could. I dressed for work and came downstairs. Meloni was half naked in the kitchen, having a cup of coffee.

"Hi honey, Did you sleep well? How is your clit?" She asked me.

"Good morning, I slept so-so. How about you?" I kissed her and groped her boobs.

She let herself be done. She even moved a little to let my hand fully touch her huge breasts.

"I did sleep fine. Want some coffee?"

"Yes, with milk please!"

"Ok, but not too much; remember Dr.Khoury's orders."

I sat and Meloni offered one boob. Her areolas were swollen and they were dripping milk. I drank as fast as possible because I knew she was going to take the boob aways soon, and she did.

"Good boy, now go to work; I have some errands before Alistair and Dr. Khoury bring me to Orlando. I can't wait to spend time with them."

"What errands?"

"I need to pack, and I also need to give a set of keys to Polly, in case there is an emergency with your clit. Other than that, I do not want you to take it off. Understood?"

"Yes, my love."

"Ok, bye-bye now. I will see you in Orlando tomorrow."

At work, I leaned back in my office chair, staring at the spreadsheet on my monitor, but the numbers blurred into a meaningless haze. My thoughts drifted, as they had all day, to Meloni. She was somewhere between Miami and Orlando by now, probably humming along to her favorite playlist as the highway stretched endlessly before her. I could picture her clearly: sunglasses perched on her nose, one hand on the window, the other giving a handjob to either Dr.Khoury or Alistair.

The clock on my desk ticked steadily, marking time that felt agonizingly slow. Less than 24 hours, I reminded myself: "Tomorrow, I'll be in Orlando too." The thought of stepping into that hotel lobby and spotting her there waiting for me sent a little jolt of excitement through me. I couldn't wait to hear her stories about the drive, to see the way her face lit up when she talked about the things she might have done with Dr.Khoury and Alistair.

I sighed and turned back to my screen, determined to finish my work so I could leave early. But even as I worked, my mind was already away, chasing the thought of her.

After work, I got back home, and I couldn't resist the temptation to continue reading Meloni's diary:

'Dear Diary,

I'm so frustrated! Every single day, I end up in detention for the tiniest things. Mr. Simonson constantly finds an excuse to keep me after class, whether it's because I used my phone, dropped a pencil, or pulled a different textbook out of my backpack. It feels like he's just seeking for reasons to keep me after class! And the worst part? I'm always the only one there, stuck in his boring classroom while everyone else gets to head home. Detention makes me late for cheer practice, and I don't even have time to change in the locker room.'

'Dear Diary,

So here's the thing: I've started taking my cheerleading clothes with me so I can change right before detention ends. It isn't perfect, but Mr. Simonson is kind enough to let me change in his classroom. I suppose that is a good thing? It's way better than being late to practice, but still... ugh. He is there while I change.

I can't shake this strange feeling. Does he have something against me? I'm doing my best to follow all the rules, being extra careful now, but no matter what, he always seems to find a reason to keep me after class. It's like a daily thing at this point. My friends think he's just super strict, but honestly? It feels personal sometimes.'

I don't get it. Why me?'

'Dear Diary,

Even with all this going on, I'm trying really hard not to let it get to me. Cheerleading is really important to me, and I cannot miss practice or let my frustration show during routines. It wouldn't be fair to my team or to myself. That's why I tell myself that this is only a temporary circumstance. Eventually, I'll figure out how to prevent these detentions. I have to, right? In the meantime, I'm just going to stay focused and keep doing my best. Cheer is worth it.'

I was completely aroused with what I just read. I couldn't avoid looking for the next entry in which Meloni was talking about Mr.Simonson:

'Dear Diary,

Mr. Simonson has recently been even more strict with me, which is making it difficult to deal with. He continues telling me I need to be more disciplined, yet it feels like he is monitoring me more than anyone else in class. If I whisper to a classmate about an assignment, even if it's only for school, he immediately calls me out. And if I forget to underline the date in my notebook, you'd think I broke a major rule by the way he reacts. He keeps saying it's all for my own good and that discipline will help me succeed in the future. I got it. But sometimes I suspect he's just picking on me to make a point. My classmates have also observed. Some of them joke that I must be his 'favorite student' due to the amount of attention he pays me.

I've been trying hard to improve--staying organized, participating in class, and turning everything in on time. But no matter what I do, he always finds something to criticize. It's exhausting.'

'Dear Diary,

I know Mr. Simonson probably means well, even though it doesn't always feel like it. I figured I should let him know that his approach is actually motivating me to do better. So today, during detention, I decided to ask if I could change clothes right at the beginning. That way, I'd be ready when it was time to go to practice. To my surprise, he said OK without any problem. It felt like a small win, and honestly, it made me feel a little better. Maybe he's starting to understand I'm trying my best. So I got naked in front of him, but just when I was about to put on my uniform he said:

"Stop! You only think about yourself, Don't you? You are in detention, Right?"

"Yes sir" I said.

"Well, and Why are you here?"

"I did not turn in my homework sir."

"It seems to me detention is no longer enough punishment for you, so I think it is pretty much obvious you deserve some spanking, Sound fair?"

"Yes sir."

"Stand up, approach the other side of the bench, I want a wide stand, down to your elbows."

I got myself in position, my ass fully exposed. I was a little bit scared, but not too worried because my dad spanked me before, so I know how it works.

Mr.Simonson started to spank me with his hand, first on the left side, then on the right, then alternating. After a while he started to spank me on the upper side and I kind of complained about it.

"It's more sensitive on the top, Isn't it Meloni?"

"Yes sir" I answered while he continued to spank me.

I don't know why, but I started to count the slaps. When he reached 313 my butt was on fire. When he had enough he threatened me, saying:

"If you don't hand in your homework tomorrow, I will punish you again like I did today. Understood, young lady?"

I nodded. Then he ordered me to put on my uniform and asked me to leave immediately.

I obeyed. Mr.Simonson is right; I need discipline. But after all, the feeling I have right now is... well, the feeling is that I can't wait to NOT turn in my homework tomorrow...'

I was astonished with it. Also, I was feeling a lot of pain because I had a hard-on, but the cage was capturing my dick. I could not stand it anymore, so I took the car keys, and I drove to Polly's apartment in Coconut Creek.

She was surprised to see me there and thought something went wrong with the cage.

"The only thing wrong with it is that it is locked. I want your key to unlock it." I said.

"NO!" answered Polly, "I promised Meloni I would not do that."

"Well, in that case, you give me no other choice than to force you."

Before Polly was able to react, I turned her against the kitchen table. I managed to get a cooking twine from one of the drawers and tied her hand to the table legs. She was facing down, her belly on the table, leaving her butt exposed. I tied her feet to the other two legs, ripped her underwear, and started to slap her butt, harder and harder. She screamed and, cried but refused to give me the key. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd read in Meloni's journal and her experience with Mr. Simonson. Her ass was quite red, but I kept on punishing her. Polly cried but said no every time I asked for the key.

Then, I took a wooden spatula from the counter and continued hitting her hard. At some point she could not resist anymore and begged me to stop.

"Nightstand next to my bed." She said between cries.

I left the kitchen at once and went straight to her room. Opening the drawer of her nightstand, I found the key right where I expected it. Grabbing it without hesitation, I rushed back to the kitchen. Polly was there, crying.

I unlocked myself, and immediately I had a huge hard-on. I approached the table where I had Polly tied up and yelled:

"You do not decide when to unlock the cage."

I seized her hips and pulled her to me... She, with that hot ass in the air, fully offered to me. I thrust hard, slamming against her butt, and again, she cried out. I humped hard against her, trying to fill her with my dick as deeply as I can possibly go. She painfully screamed, and I grunted deeply as her body shook.

She moved backwards, gasping, as my dick penetrated her deeper... Her head tossed back, she turned to look me in the eyes, her soft blue eyes begging me to stop. I gathered her ponytail... And pulling it tightly, as I shoved my dick deeper into the now slick lips of her cunt, she screamed loudly, so I took a kitchen cloth and covered her mouth with it. I then continued pushing hard, banging against the white, sexy ass raised high, giving her all my lust, grunting like an animal as I kept driving my throbbing dick home...

I felt it welling in my groin, deep within my balls, as I continued to bang Polly, and I slowly, but suddenly, released; I rammed it home one last time deep into her pussy, as my balls throbbed and pulsed, I groaned and gripped her body; she cried out loudly again as I released the cloth from her mouth. My balls felt as though they turned inside out as I came, my load deep within her, I exploded, moaning as my juice filled her deeply.

"I hope today was a lesson for you. I am leaving now." I said, pulling up my pants."

"No, wait, puh-please, y-y-you can't leave me like this!" Polly begged.

"All right, I'll untie you. But remember not to say a word about this to anyone," I replied. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, please, David, I promise."

Polly fell to the floor of the kitchen after I freed her.

I was suddenly so desperate to use the restroom that I was afraid I wouldn't have time to pee.

"Open your mouth!" I ordered.

"Why?" Polly opened her mouth to ask.

However, as my urine began to fill her mouth, she was unable to complete the sentence or add another word. When I was done, I kicked her hard in the cunt and yelled, "Clean this mess," since the majority of the urine had spilled on the floor.

I took the key out of the cage lock, and I threw it on the pee. I put the cage in the pocket of my jacket and left.

Exhausted, I went straight to bed after I got home.

I made the decision not to go to the office the following morning because I was still exhausted and no one would notice or comment. They were all aware that I was Mr. Leatherbee's protégé. After preparing breakfast, I once more found myself reading Meloni's diary:

'Dear Diary,

OMG, today was insane! The school is organizing this huge international culture festival, and somehow, I got picked to represent France. Like, what?! I'm in Spanish class! But no, all the male teachers decided I'd be "perfect" to help with the Can-Can dance. THE CAN-CAN. High kicks, frilly skirts, the whole thing.

Our first practice was a total disaster. Sophie kept tripping, Abby wanted to quit and do other dances, and I mostly stood there wondering how I ended up in this mess. The soccer boys walked by and laughed at us, which made it even worse. Mr. Carter says it's all about confidence, but honestly, I just feel like a floppy noodle.

The costumes are another story--layers of ruffles and lace. Abby called them "a crime against fashion," and I'm pretty sure she's right.

Anyway, I guess I'm stuck with this now. Maybe I'll survive, or maybe I'll trip and bring the whole group down with me. Wish me luck!'

I continued reading:

'Dear Diary,

You are NOT going to believe what happened today. It was the big day of the international culture festival--our Can-Can performance--and I was already anxious. I could feel my legs trembling at the thought of those high kicks and everyone staring at us. But then, because the universe loves to mess with me, the worst thing happened: I lost my underwear. Not just any underwear--the special panties we were supposed to wear under our ridiculous frilly skirts! I had them earlier, I swear! I know because Mr Carter ask me if I had everything ready for the performance and I showed him. He then told us to go and enjoy the show until it was time to change and not to worry about our belongings because he was going to stay there anyways managing the backstage. But when I went back to change, my underwear was gone. All the other girls had their underwear but not me. I tore through my bag, looked under the costume racks, even asked Abby if she'd accidentally grabbed them. Nothing. Gone. Poof.

Panic mode doesn't even begin to describe it. Sophie was all, "Just wear your regular underwear," but I was like, "Um, no way!" Abby suggested I borrow hers, but she'd already put them on, and I was NOT about to get into that level of desperation.

I was two seconds away from faking a sprained ankle to get out of the whole thing when Mr. Carter swooped in.

"C'mon girls, it's time to dance, What's the matter Meloni?" The other girls left me alone in the room with Mr.Carter.

"Well, eerrr, I... I do not have my underwear."

"mmmm, I see, well, I guess you'll have to go on stage without it."

I did not know what to say, because HELLO, we were doing high kicks! Everyone would see EVERYTHING.

"Mr.Carter, I am not sure people will notice and..."

"Nonsense. Pull up your skirt. He ordered me, and I did not know why, but I obeyed. My cunt was fully exposed to him.

"Look, the underwear the other girls are wearing is black." He said, "Since you have a darkish hairy cunt, people won't see the difference."

"I don't know Mr.Carter..."

"Believe me," insisted Mr.Carter, "there is no way to notice the difference, even to the touch." And without saying anything else, he groped my cunt, caressing the hair.

I was there, holding the skirt up while Mr.Carter felt up my pussy.

After a minute or so he said, Go ahead, the other girls are waiting for you to go on stage. I tried to run as fast as possible, but it was difficult with the extra high heels Mr.Carter gave me for the performance.

The performance itself? Total blur. I think I kicked too early during the first spin, and Abby's skirt got tangled with Sophie's at one point, but we made it through without anyone falling.

Obviously my cunt was exposed, and people noticed. I could see men and male students taking out phones and making pictures and videos. I showed my cunt and my ass to the entire school several times. But if that was not enough, my boobs started to show a little too much during the part we were shaking in front of each other.

The men in the audience clapped like crazy, so I guess we didn't totally humiliate ourselves.'

It was almost unbelievable to me. I needed to make sure it was accurate. Then I realized that someplace in the house, Katherine had a photo album hidden away. I searched shelves and drawers until I located it. Flipping through the pages with trembling hands, I looked for photos taken on the dates the diary mentioned. And then--bingo. There they were. About ten photos of Meloni, dressed for the can-can, dancing with her friends. Not sure who took the pictures, but in all of then, Meloni was showing her hairy cunt. In every photo, she wore a radiant smile, her expression brimming with pride in what she was doing. One of the photos was coming loose from the album. I carefully lifted it and slid it free without much effort. On the back, I found a handwritten message:

'Dear Meloni,

Here are the photos I took of you during your can-can performance. You did a decent job--much better than I expected--and we all managed to enjoy the show despite a few hiccups. It's great to see you putting in the effort to be presentable on stage.

Mr. Carter

P.S.: I need you to come by my classroom tomorrow after cheerleading practice. It seems I've come across a pair of panties in my jacket pocket that suspiciously resemble the ones you misplaced during the performance. Let's settle this matter quickly, shall we?'

I needed to find out if that meeting had actually taken place, so I picked up the diary and started searching to see if Meloni had written anything about it. And there it was. She had written about it:

'Dear Diary,

Today was such a whirlwind of emotions! So, remember that note from Mr. Carter? I was kind of nervous about meeting him after practice, mostly because it felt like one of those moments where you just know something unexpected is going to happen. And guess what? It totally did!

After cheerleading practice (which was great, by the way--I nailed the toe touch again!), I went to Mr. Carter's classroom. He was sitting at his desk, looking all teacher-serious like he does when he's grading papers. When he saw me, he smiled in that weird "I know something you don't" way that adults sometimes do.

He started by saying how much he enjoyed the can-can performance, which made me feel a little proud but also kind of shy. He said I surprised him and that he didn't expect me to dance so well! That was nice to hear, even though I wish he hadn't added that "better than I expected" part in his message. I mean, what did he think I was going to do, trip over my own feet or something? Anyway, he said I had great energy on stage, and that made me smile.

Then came the panties situation. Oh my gosh, Diary, it was soooo embarrassing! Mr. Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out the pair. He looked so comfortable, which made me feel awkward, but he kept his voice calm and teacher-y, like this was just another thing to solve. He said he found them in his jacket pocket after the show, and he thought they were mine since they matched the costume I wore during the performance. Then he asked me:

"How is it possible these ended up in my pocket?"

I was mortified! I told him I was rushing so much during the costume change. The whole backstage area was total chaos, and everyone was swapping accessories and trying to make it out on time. I must have left them behind, and somehow they ended up with him. He looked at me for a second, then nodded and said something like:

"Take a look at them. Are you sure they're yours?"

"Errr... well... they do look like them... errr... I really don't know." I answered.

"Well, dear Meloni, there's only one way to know, and that's for you to try them on here in front of me." Before I could say anything, Mr. Carter ordered me to lift my skirt.I obeyed, and my panties were exposed. I was so embarrassed because the ones I was wearing were transparent and very light.