Chapter Nine: OOOuuch!
"There it is," the secretary said to whomever it was. I saw a deeply tanned, long fingered hand reach for the end of my leash and slip it free of the hook. I turned as the tug pulled and caught a glimpse of a lady as she rolled the leash into her hand. She cinched it close and took me by a very short length. I caught another glimpse of her before she disappeared under my collar. She looked to be about thirty; she had ultra-bleach-blond hair, large deep blue eyes and obviously worshipped the sun. She was totally unconcerned about me and went for the door without looking at me twice.
My new uniform drew more than its share of gawkers and overly heated comments. It wasn't difficult to tell that their numbers were increasing, along with the overt actions and nasty expressions. The comments suggested I looked extremely amusing today, which drove a small portion of my ego to attempt rebellion. Part of me wanted to stop everything cold, it had had enough. Part of me wanted my hands to intervene, to finally resist any further humiliation.
But my hands simply hovered in the air beside me, palms down, fingers wide. They refused every request for intervention, even as the body struggled, skewered from both ends. My arms went up in the air and pulled in tight as I toppled forward on my toes, but my hands never interceded on the body's behalf. Though I needed to keep jumping from one big toe to the other, while struggling in adjustment to the harness, my hands did little else then slap my own thighs in resignation. They never moved in defense, in defiance, or simply to insulate. Fortunately I was slowly learning to ride the tip of the long needle as it twisted, twitched and drilled into me. The point of that stem would have me bouncing into the air and wiggling like an eel all day. It would keep me on my toes, dancing erotically and I realized the sensation would take a lot of getting use to. My escort used the leash to hold me up and keep me moving forward in tiny jerks. The women who spotted me couldn't decide on which they preferred, my butt plug or penis splint. They all loved the ball gag and the consensus was I should never be without it. I dreaded the thought.
I was led on a humiliating journey through the building, to more than a dozen different floors in a random fashion. On each one, I was pulled from the elevator and paraded down a hallway or two and through offices of many sizes. Whether heading through large rooms lined with desks, labs with counters, or shops with drafting tables, my guide always stopped near a water cooler to chat. Immediately I was swarmed by women, who came to do more than just look. I found myself slapped and pinched, even kicked and spit upon. But at other times I was petted, stroked, and teased to the brink of an ejaculation I danced for lewdly. That always incurred a roar of laughter. I was belittled verbally, constantly debased and my body physically violated. By the end of this tour I was so mixed up and out of my mind, out of control with arousal, I only vaguely remember my guide slapping me into consciousness. She seemed suddenly very concerned about my awareness and helped me regain it quickly. She waited for me to come around fully, for me to land on earth again. I spotted a fool in the corner of my eye and looked up to see some clown's reflection in a stainless steel wall.
I didn't recognize the wiggling body standing before me, but it made me smile. I couldn't make out the figure twitching in the air on its toes, and I almost made to laugh. I took its glistening spit laden body, all blotchy from slaps and belt whippings, to be that of a circus performer. He had his balls hanging through a ring, his cock in harness and he was controlled by a lovely ringmaster. She held the reins and she kept him taut, in a severe manner. He danced for her and fluttered like a graceful insect I found most interesting. I dipped my collar to see who it might be, I blinked my eyes to press away the moisture and focus. Then I turned away as if remembering my darkest secret for the first time, mortified by the notion of what I thought I had seen. I had no other choice but to take another peek. I turned away in shame... It was me.
We were outside a door that looked like any other, and my guide had brought me back to my senses. She had been screaming in my face and reminding me to behave, while accenting her words with well-placed slaps. She warned me not to fail this test or I'd be released immediately and that meant right there and then. She informed me I would be walked to the main door and thrown out as I was. While that sunk in, she gave me the end of the leash to hold and straightened her own clothing.
Riding on the stem's point was getting easier, the tip had settled in somewhere and I needed to dance less. It was now more an ache that bent me over intermittently and kept my entire body shivering. Once more aware, I looked around the strangely barren hallway and then at the door. It wasn't the same. It was unlike any of the others, completely different. What happened to the marble and wood? We now stood in a stone stairwell facing a big steel door and I began fretting about the other side. Moments like these were meant to frighten. I increased my gnawing on both pieces of rubber and started shaking to a very cold prospect. I bounced my fingers on my hips in nervousness and my guide slapped at my girded boner in reprisal. I was allowed to dance in place only and without moving my hands. After my escort had reapplied a bit of lipstick and brushed her hair, she must have felt right, because she snatched the leash from me, looked me in the eye and laughed. She took a short hold of the leather, working her hand to the ring and pulled me close. She corrected both our postures, brought me up on my two big toes and turned the doorknob.
She pushed the door open and yanked me into the building's main lobby before I realized what happened. There, directly in front of me, behind the black marble desk, was the blond receptionist and several friends. They all looked at me with stunned expressions that quickly turned to giggling. The door slammed shut and the place went quiet. The lobby was jammed with hundreds of well dressed business women standing around staring and no doubt, talking about me. I flushed with hot pink, became very dizzy and almost passed out, but a yank kept me conscious. The look on the receptionist's face brought a shame I could barely swallow, even as it was forced down my throat. At that moment, mortification hit me like a forty-five slug and ripped me open. My fingers clutched at my thighs and I turned redder and redder and redder, while reduced to tears. I didn't know which way to turn, but I needed to turn somewhere and my dance became agitated. My attendant turned her head with a warning.
"Decide now boy! Disobey and like I said, I'll let you go here and now. You'll be escorted to those doors and thrown out into the street," she whispered, pointing to the city through the large glass panes. "Ms. Handlesmen will find another. You will not be allowed upstairs again and your clothes will be mailed to you. So! I'm getting tired of this, what will it be," she continued with a tug I obediently followed.
