The Palmist Ch 09

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Everyone in this story is at least 19 years of age.

*******

"I'll be around

No matter how you treat me now.

I'll be around

From now on.

Your latest love

Can never last, and when it's passed,

I'll be around

From now on."

- Frank Sinatra

*******

In the months following, Derek visited regularly, to see Megan, always staying at my house. Even though Megan was quite old enough to share her bed with a boy under her parents' roof, she was uncomfortable with it. She also didn't much like sleeping with him in the dorm when she visited Western, so it became the norm for him to come to Bellewood almost every weekend, and stay with me. That, of course, meant I had to service his dick in my bedroom and tongue his asshole until he went to sleep.

We also spent many Friday and Saturday nights at Ashley's. Whether her parents were there or not, we teens and 20-somethings would be in her basement, and I'd be the one sent upstairs to fetch things. She even introduced me as "bitch boy" to her parents, openly ordering me around in front of them.

There wasn't always an orgy at Ashley's house. Sometimes it was just friends hanging out. But no matter what went on or who was there, it was pretty much a given that I'd be punished for something, slapped or whipped by people, standing in corners occasionally, blindfolded at times, gagged, etc. Oh, and let's not forget licking Ashley's spit off the floor or walls for her amusement, so she could show off her power to her friends. And sometimes I had a drink poured over my head, or down my pants.

During the week I'd get texts from Ashley, like "bitch boy i'm hungry bring me something to eat". When I wasn't at school or work, she had me running errands for her. Sometimes one of her friends needed a ride somewhere, so she'd send me.

There was a certain text from her which came to be my favorite: "get over here bitch boy i need you" When the text didn't contain a specific request, it meant she wanted me to come to her house, because she was in her bedroom, horny, and wanted my tongue. I loved it because she was always alone when I got there. Sometimes a guy had just left, and had fucked her. So she might have a pussy full of his cum. But regardless, she'd want me to eat her out, and lick her pussy to orgasm (or maybe several).

At first she always blindfolded me when I licked her pussy, not wanting me to see it. But in time she got to where she didn't always want to bother with the blindfold, so I'd get to lay eyes on her glorious and beautiful pussy as I worshipped it. To me, it was the prettiest thing ever, and I was never happier than when I had my mouth on it, even if, at the time, some guy was behind me beating the hell out of my ass. (Actually, sometimes that was even better because I could see and hear the ecstatic pleasure Ashley got from that.)

Lila had given me the green light to masturbate whenever I wanted, but... she correctly predicted that it wouldn't feel right to me. I refrained for about a month, and during that time, neither Derek nor Ashley brought the matter up. Derek had gotten so used to me not playing with myself that he didn't think anything about it. As for Ashley, she certainly didn't like seeing me get any pleasure in her presence, but I don't think she thought much about it when I was out of her sight.

So one night, after I'd licked Ashley's pussy and asshole for a couple hours and she said, "All right, that's enough, get the fuck out, bitch boy," I said, "Ummm... Ashley?"

"What?"

"When I get home... do you think... it'd be OK if I... um... like... jerked off?"

"What!!???"

"Would it be OK if-"

"No!! Ewwww! What the fuck are you talking about, bitch boy? Jerk off? Are you fuckin' nuts? No, you can't jerk off, what's the matter with you? Bitch boys don't get to jerk off!"

"OK, I'm sorry, I-"

"Cumming is for girls, and boys who aren't little bitches like you; it's not for bitch boys. Bitch boys don't get to cum. That's disgusting. How could you even ask something like that. Hell, NO, you can't jerk off, and don't ever ask again. The answer is always no."

"OK. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Then she pointed at her feet. "Get on your knees, kiss my feet and apologize, and then get the fuck outta here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Wow. At home in my room that night, lying on my back on the floor, I felt my dick twitch away, and drip pre-cum, hearing Ashley's voice fill my head. I moaned and groaned with the awareness that the woman I loved NEVER wanted me to cum. Ever. I thought about how, if Katrina had told me, say, during our first month of dating, that being with her would mean she'd NEVER approve of me cumming, I probably would have thought she was nuts and broke up with her. That's assuming I'd had the balls at the time to break up with such a beautiful girl, which I probably didn't. Even so, I'd have put up a fight on that point. Just the *idea* of fighting Ashley, though, was something that brought pain to my very soul. Never mind that it would be pointless, and I would lose anyway. To me the idea of aggravating her with resistance was like a sin.

And so I endured agonizing frustration and horniness as a constant sign of my love for her. It's a wonder I kept up my straight As at BC, because I passed many hours in classrooms paying no attention whatsoever to the professor, my mind filled with thoughts of sex, images of her face and body, auditory hallucinations of her voice, and my prick twitching and leaking in my pants.

Accidents and wet dreams were inevitable, though, and whenever one occurred, I would confess it to Ashley, who would then throw a fit and punish me. I'm not sure the anger was always completely sincere, though. She loved throwing her weight around, but the truth is she always got her reward for my infraction, namely, the chance to see Derek or another guy beat my ass and make me cry while she got fucked, or brought herself off with a dildo or vibrator. She had learned about chastity devices by then, too, so she always threatened to get one and lock me in it, so there wouldn't be any more accidents. But then she'd forget about it (to my great relief).

There were periods during which Ashley had a steady boyfriend, and I saw less of her. I was quite distressed over one boyfriend, who really didn't like me being around and did not find it so amusing that in Ashley's circle of friends was this "bitch boy" they all liked making a fool of.

I was really worried I'd lose her from my life, and during that time I scraped up 150 bucks to go talk with Lila about it. She reminded me that it's not my place to try and control what happens in the future, and that loving Ashley meant wanting what's best for her. She suggested, too, that if I let her (Lila) put a chastity device on me and hold the key, it would help me to feel more helpless... which would be a GOOD thing. She said there was the risk, if Ashley stopped seeing me, of me becoming angry and resentful over my fate. But, she said, a chastity device has a curious power to turn anger and resentment into wimpy hopelessness, which is better, because then, when I thought about Ashley, I could remember how I loved her but never had power over her, or rights to her. And when I thought about how she chose someone else over me, I would think, "Ashley was right to dump me." Just as I'd come to realize, on my journey through the gap, that "Katrina was right to cheat on me."

I was still terrified of chastity, and since Lila was giving me the choice, I declined. But, she said, "I do offer keyholder services and have three male clients currently, who pay me just 100 dollars monthly to hold on to their key. Then, when they call in saying they'd like some time out of it, I demand of them whatever seems right for their situation at the time. And if they decide at some point they no longer want me to hold the key, well," she smiled, "it's only a thousand dollars to get it back."

My face went white at that. I wasn't even considering her "keyholder service", but if I had been, the buyout price would have certainly broken the deal. I said no thanks, but, I told her, I was really struggling with refraining from masturbation, for, even though I knew Ashley didn't want me to do it, I missed her so much at times, and it was harder to abide by her wishes when I had no contact with her for long periods. So Lila gave me some herbs that she said would reduce my sex drive, and suggested I take full advantage of the opportunity to throw myself into work and studies while I had less distraction.

As it turned out, Ashley broke up with that boyfriend eventually. I was thrilled but of course I kept my mouth shut. I like to think it was too important to her to be able to have a bitch boy to boss around, so she chose me over him. But I don't know if that's really true.

I graduated from BC with honors, and since I'd worked at Feedler the whole time, I applied for a full time management job there. They interviewed a few others for the position, but I was a shoo-in, because they already knew all my skills, and that I was reliable and competent.

I decided to continue living with my parents for a while, intending to save up for a down payment on a house. But Ashley interfered with that plan, because by then she'd started making a lot of financial demands on me. She'd gotten her own apartment, and sometimes she made me pay her rent or some of her bills. Then there were the times I had to take her and a bunch of her friends out to a bar (we'd both turned 21 by then), and she'd make me pay for everyone. I'd have to sit at the bar and not move, drinking soda, and she and her friends would come over to me, and say, "Order me another one, bitch boy." Thanks to those public duties, it wasn't long before everyone in Bellewood in our age group knew me as "Ashley's little bitch boy." Even some bartenders called me "bitch boy", not in a demeaning way, but as if it was my name.

Derek and Megan married the summer after they and I graduated. I was best man, and Ashley was maid of honor, but we broke tradition by having one more groomsman than bridesmaid. This was necessary because Ashley absolutely refused to walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with me in front of a bunch of people. "No fucking way I'm letting bitch boy escort me down an aisle," she said. So before the bride and groom came in, Ashley walked the aisle with another groomsman, and they took their places up front, and then I walked down the aisle alone, and took my place.

Needless to say, I did not dance with Ashley (or anyone else) at the reception. I was just everybody's errand boy. After they married, Derek and Megan moved to Trentstown, where they'd both gotten jobs. We still saw them a few times a year, though, whenever they'd come back to Bellewood to visit.

I spent a lot of time at Ashley's apartment, because she had saddled me with all the cleaning duties there. Between that, working, running her errands, servicing her pussy whenever she wanted, and providing services and entertainment for her and her friends, I became a permanent fixture in her life. It seemed to me that she didn't date any guy who didn't like dominating me as much as she did, and for that, I was grateful.

One day I was sitting on the floor of her living room folding her laundry, as she sat on the sofa watching TV. She paused the program, and sat in silence looking out the window for a few minutes. Then she turned and looked at me, and said, "Bitch boy... Do you love me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I do."

"Say it."

"I love you, Ashley."

"Say it again."

"I love you, Ashley."

"Again."

"I love you, Ashley."

At that, she looked out the window again. Then, after about a minute, she looked back and said, "Do you wanna marry me?"

My mouth dropped open. Of course I wanted to say "YES!!" but I hesitated because I didn't know if she was actually *proposing* to me, or merely asking if I harbored the *desire* to marry her. Before I could frame my response, she barked at me, "Hello??? Bitch boy? I asked you a question, dumbass. A simple one, too: Do you *want* to *marry* me?"

"Yes! Uh... ma'am. Yes ma'am! I would be... just... thrilled... to-"

"That's enough, shut up." She turned to the window again to stare out of it, and my heart dropped, because I didn't know what she was thinking, and what this meant. I continued folding, with sweaty palms, and my heart beating fast as I thought, Oh God... what if the next thing she says is, "Get out. I don't wanna see you anymore."

Soon, though, while still looking out the window and not at me, she said, "OK... I'm gonna go ring-shopping. You're not coming with me. I'm gonna pick out rings I want, then I'll tell you how much they are, and I'll make sure you save up for them. I have a great idea for how you can propose to me, too. So don't worry about coming up with some romantic idea." Then she chuckled. "Romantic, pff. Like I'd want you being romantic with me anyway. Ha ha. Ew. No, I have a perfect idea."

"Oh my god," I said. "So we're gonna get married? Oh my god, ma'am, I'm-"

"Shut uuuup. Yes, I know, you're happy, and you're thrilled and everything. Just shut up. I don't wanna hear it. Just do as you're told, bitch boy. That's your job, don't you know that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Just *do* as you're *told*. I don't wanna hear about your feelings, I don't *care* about your feelings, dumbass. Don't you know that, too, by now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh and by the way, I hope you don't think marriage means sex with me, because... ha ha HAAAA..." She threw her head back laughing. "THAT... will NEVER... happen. Ohhhh God. The very thought is just nauseating. And besides, you're just a bitch boy. You don't have sex. You don't even get to CUM! And that's not gonna change just 'cause you're a married man. So if you were thinking anything like that, let me just set you straight right now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Then her eyes and mouth opened wide, with a sudden inspiration. "Oh my god! I just had a great idea, too. The honeymoon. I'll make you book it, and then I'll go with someone else. Oh my god! That'd be amazing. I'll leave you here alone, and go to Cancun or the Bahamas or somewhere, and take another guy! Ha ha ha HAAAA! Oh, God. Awesome.

"And you know what else? I think the wedding day would be a PERFECT day to put a dick-lock on you for the first time." She smiled, turned herself forward on the sofa, and threw her legs onto the floor. Then she leaned forward, toward me, and said, "Ohhh my god, wouldn't that be great?!"

With a worried look on my face, I said, "Awww... ma'am... a chastity device?"

"Mmmmm hmmmm," she responded, smiling broadly, and nodding slowly and deliberately.

I sniveled. "But ma'am... I know you don't want me to play with myself, or cum, and I don't. I never do, ma'am, I never do, and-"

"You don't cum? Yes, you do, sometimes. And of course you get punished for it. But I don't know for sure that you never touch your stupid little bitch dick. I can't keep my eye on you every second."

"But I don't!"

"Well, with a lock on there, I can be 100% sure, can't I?"

"But ma'am, you don't need... I... I..."

"Why am I arguing with you? If I decide to put a dick-lock on you, I'm gonna do it, and you're gonna let me. Right?"

With a snivel and a frown, I said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Right. So why are we even discussing it? You're gonna do as you're told. Now, once we have the rings, the next thing is for you to save up for our house. Because when I get back from my honeymoon... haha... I'm gonna wanna go house-hunting. We're gonna buy the house I want, you don't have any say in what we choose. And we are NOT sharing the same room in the house. I'll have my own bedroom, and you'll have yours. Or... well... maybe you'll have a closet, hahaha."

Once we'd gotten the rings, this is how Ashley had me propose to her: One Friday night, she invited this guy, Rich, over to her place, and had me wait in the bedroom, on my knees, with the engagement ring. She led him by the hand into the bedroom, and they stood over me. She asked, "Do you want to marry me, bitch boy?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then suck Rich's dick." At that, she opened his pants and pulled out his dick.

"Yes, ma'am."

"No hands. Just hold that ring there in both hands, and suck his dick." Rich held onto my head at times, and I sucked him off while I looked at my would-be bride-to-be smirking at me. When Rich was ready to cum, she had him pull out, and spill his load all over my face.

Ashley laughed and said, "All right bitch boy, look at the clock, and every five minutes, I want you to ask me to marry you. No matter what's going on, ask me to marry you... with Rich's cum all over your face, hahahaha!!"

"Yes, ma'am."

So, every five minutes, whether Rich was fucking her, or she was blowing him, or whatever was happening, I would say, "Ashley, will you marry me?" At one point I was kneeling at the end of the bed licking Ashley's pussy and Rich was spanking me with his belt, but I kept my eyes on the clock and whenever the time came, even in the midst of licking, I'd ask, "Ashley, will you marry me?" Sometimes she'd respond, and say, "Mmmm. I don't know. I'll think about it." Or sometimes she would just moan in pleasure.

After they were done in the bedroom, they chatted, and he got dressed. Even if they were in the midst of conversation at a 5-minute mark, I would propose again, and Ashley would just ignore it. I followed them down the hallway on my knees while they went out to the kitchen, and had a snack, and chatted some more. I kept up my every-5-minute proposals, and when Rich was ready to leave, he looked down at me and said, "Well, good luck, bitch boy."

I said, "Thank you, sir."

Ashley sat on the couch for a while, and watched TV, and I continued kneeling and proposing. It made my dick twitch every time I asked and she just continued watching the TV, saying nothing, not even glancing at me. I thought about how pathetic and wimpy I was, and how she was like a goddess to me.

After a while, she yawned, and said, "Well... I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'm tired." She proceeded down the hallway, so I followed on my knees. She went into the bathroom, pulled her panties to her ankles, and sat on the toilet. I shimmied up beside her. When she finished peeing, she said, "Bitch boy... get your face in there and lick me clean. You can be my toilet paper, haha."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you need to pee before bed?"

"Um... I probably should, ma'am."

"Do you have time before you have to propose again?"

"Um... No, ma'am. One minute."

"Then come in the bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am."

She then got in bed, and I waddled up to the bedside on my knees. When the time came, I proposed again, and her reply that time was, "Go pee. Stay on your knees. Make sure you're back here in time."

When I returned, she was under the covers, facing the side of the bed where I knelt. Her eyes were closed. At the 5-minute mark, I proposed again, and, saying nothing, she turned over and faced away from me. Then she let out a big sigh, and yawned (or pretended to). After another 5 minutes, I proposed once again, and she startled me by yelling, "I said I'd think about it!!"

"Do you want me to stop, ma'am?"

"No, I don't want you to stop! Did I tell you to stop?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then keep going. Dumbass."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't stop until I give you an answer."

"Yes, ma'am."

"If you stop, the answer is no."

Well... the next few hours were quite agonizing, as I remained beside Ashley's bed, shifting my aching knees occasionally, rolling my neck around, stretching out my arms... but... like clockwork, asking her to marry me every five minutes, while she slept. It was overwhelming to think that Ashley was really going to keep me here proposing to her ALLLLL night long, but I didn't dare stop. What if I fell asleep, and she woke up, and then, realizing I'd stopped, said no. Could that happen? And would she be serious? Would she stick me with the rings and truly not marry me?