Wonder 8

I'm a lucky man. Most people scuffle through their 20's and don't really find their feet until their 30's or beyond. But at age 25, I'm pretty much set.

I have a programming job that enables me to work from home, a small house, and a beautiful (well, I think she's beautiful) blonde girlfriend who's only six months older than I am. She is also a programmer (we met in a programming class) and works from home as well. During the day, I use the computer in the bedroom and she uses the one in the living room.

She loves bedroom time, and we have a minimum of three sessions per week. Since Wednesday is known as "hump day", we always have a session on Wednesdays. The other days are whenever she's in the mood. (I'm a man: she can get me in the mood in a nanosecond by walking around topless.)

I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? Well, here goes. I'm Lyle Stinson. I'm not a weightlifter by any means, but I have a few muscles -- enough to have tone, at least. I had my facial hair removed permanently as a teen because I hated the fact it was always itching. I'm of average height, have short brown hair (kept in a buzzcut), brown eyes, and I'm just starting to get a very slight paunch thanks to my girlfriend's superb cooking.

Molly Rogers, my girlfriend, is two inches shorter than me and has a frame that is slightly stocky. Her hair is naturally blonde -- no dye job necessary -- and wavy. Her chest fits her frame perfectly -- C cups, not too big and not too small -- and her legs look like they were sculpted. They are as long as mine and superbly toned.

Her favorite sexual activity is to have me make love to her in the missionary position. My pole isn't huge, but at seven inches and reasonably thick, it fits her nicely. I can tell because she usually climaxes at least three times before I fill her. (She got the five-year shot two years ago, so I could do so without worrying.) We do other things too, of course -- variety is the spice of life -- but so far, nothing hugely exotic.

March 31st this year is a Wednesday. Hump day. I offered to cook, as I always do. She insisted on cooking, as she does 95% of the time. I keep telling her to let me cook more often, because I feel guilty about having her do it so much, but let's be honest: she's (justifiably) very proud of her cooking skills, and mine are, well, not that great. She claims I make it up to her by doing most of the other domestic chores. That may be true, but it doesn't make me feel any less guilty.

We had dinner at around six, like always on Wednesdays, to leave time for a nice, slow bedroom session. But this time, something about the food made me feel weird. My eyes felt very heavy...

***

"Uuuumfff."

Where the fuck was I? And... why was there what felt like a gag in my mouth?

I forced my eyes open. It appeared I was in a sex dungeon of some kind. I had been stripped naked. I was lying on a platform, with my arms pulled behind me and apparently cuffed. My legs were cuffed as well, and spread apart.

"Mmmmmfff!"

There was a ball gag in my mouth. I could identify it for sure now as I returned to consciousness.

"Hello, slave."

The raven-haired woman before me appeared to be dressed as Miss Pauling. Stern glasses, purple shirt, dark skirt. She was in shape, with a reasonably-sized chest as near as I could tell.

"Mmmmph!" I tried to speak, but couldn't get intelligible sounds past the gag.

"You don't need to see. I'll handle everything."

With that, the woman placed a thick blindfold over my eyes and tied it firmly around my head. I sighed and lay still. There wasn't much choice. I couldn't see, speak or move.

"Mmmmm. I like my slaves in shape. Your body will service me very nicely."

I felt something gently touch my skin. It felt like possibly a feather. The softness of it as it ran up and down along my chest made me shiver slightly.

Next I heard gentle rustling, like the sounds clothes make when being taken off. My guess was confirmed when a pair of breasts pressed against my face.

"I'd ask you to suck on my nipples, slave... but you can't right now."

This was true. I held still as she rubbed her chest against my face, her nipples touching my lips. Then she shifted her position and I could feel her chest press against mine. She placed her lips against my ear as she rubbed herself against me.

"How does it feel to be my sex toy? Good so far, huh?"

Her seductive whisper went straight from my ears to my dick, and I could feel myself stiffening. She apparently noticed.

"You like being used. All men do. Men want to be controlled by sexy women."

Her hand was suddenly wrapped around my cock.

"Nice. Men are so obsessed with their size. You don't have to be John Holmes. You just have to know how to use your tool."

She removed her hand from my now fully hard pole.

"I hope you know how to use your tool to please a woman, slave."

But that wouldn't be next, apparently. She shifted her position again and I felt a pussy rub against my face. Judging by the scent, it was a very aroused one. I wanted to tongue it. She seemed to read my mind.

"Here you go, slave."

The ball gag was removed from my mouth, and her slit was directly against my lips. I ran my tongue along it, tasting her. Damn, she was good. I wiggled my tongue, trying to find her clit.

"Looking for this?"

She adjusted herself slightly, and I felt a small nub against my tongue. I circled it with the tip. She shivered. I licked it and teased it, feeling her legs quivering from their position around my face. I kept working my tongue, and she clamped herself around me as she climaxed.

"Now I want that tongue actually inside me."

She shifted again, and I slid my tongue between her folds. I was now enveloped by her box. The scent and taste of her nectar overwhelmed me. I worked my tongue as quickly as I could. She pressed herself down onto me. I lapped up her flowing honey. Her body soon tensed and shivered again, followed by her coating my face with her juices.

"Not bad, slave."

She lifted herself off me and put the gag back in my mouth.

"Now let's try out your rod."

I felt my balls being pulled away slightly from my cock and something tighten around them.

"This way you can't cum, but you'll stay nice and hard for me."

She lowered her box directly downwards onto my pole.

"You should be able to move your hips."

I got the hint, and began thrusting upwards into her. She matched her movements to mine. I felt her hands press gently against my chest. I assumed that was to help her keep her balance.

"If your hands were free, I'd ask for you to help guide me up and down."

I was right. She continued bouncing on me, at a reasonably fast clip but not an insane one. I felt my balls filling, but couldn't seem to move the fluid to my pole. Apparently she liked what was happening, because without warning, her pussy spasmed around my rod.

"Good job, slave."

She kept going, this time squeezing my cock with her internal muscles on every downstroke. Like she was trying to milk the cum out of me. My balls had never felt so full as they tried to push the stored fluids up my cock and out, but failed. I let out a moan that wasn't entirely pleasurable.

"Oh, no, slave. You don't get to cum yet. I'm not done with you."

She sped her bouncing and squeezed my cock with more intensity. It wasn't long before she climaxed again. By now my balls were actually starting to hurt from all the trapped fluid in them.

I could feel her lift herself off me. Then some sort of liquid that felt a bit oily was being applied to my butt crack. Was she lubing it up?

Her hand cupped my balls. "Oh, yes. Lots of cum in here, just waiting to burst forth."

I felt something poke at my bumhole.

"I used a small strap-on. No point in destroying the merchandise on first use. You'll gradually accommodate bigger ones."

She eased her way in. I was thankful she was going slowly, as I was definitely not used to this. Eventually she stopped, and I assumed she was all the way inside me. I tried to relax my muscles.

"Good boy, slave. Mistress will take good care of you."

Mistress proceeded to slowly move in and out, letting me get used to being penetrated. After my body had made the adjustment, she began fucking me with a steady rhythm. My balls seemed to swell and tighten even more than they already were.

"I'm hitting your prostate with my toy. Feels great, doesn't it, slave?"

I grunted into the gag.

"It'll feel even better when you can take in a bigger toy. I'll bet you could handle a ten-incher within six months if we keep practicing stretching out your boy-pussy."

Six months? Ten inches? How long was I going to be kept in here?

"I'll bet you want to cum so badly right now."

Well, that was certainly true. More like needed to. If my balls swelled and tightened any further they'd probably burst.

"You can cum, then. With my cock all the way up your hole. And I'll even squeeze every drop of cum out your balls for you."

Whatever it was around my balls was removed. She thrust into me hard about five more times and my cock began blasting sperm. She had aimed me so that it coated my face and chest. As I started to slow down, she grabbed my balls and squeezed, very hard. The sudden pain, combined with the residual pleasure of the climax I was experiencing, shut off my brain. I fell momentarily unconscious.

***

"And now for the aftercare."

My blindfold was removed, and also the gag in my mouth. Miss Pauling, fully dressed, lifted my head up a bit with one hand while holding a glass in the other. It contained an orange liquid.

"An electrolyte drink."

She placed it at my mouth. I opened, and she helped me consume the entire contents. It tasted slightly sweet.

"White you were unconscious, I cleaned all the fluids off your body."

I was finally able to speak.

"Um, thanks? But you need to give me back now. I have a girlfriend I love very much, and she's going to be first very sad, and then very angry, when she finds out I've been kidnapped."

"Oh, no, slave. That isn't going to happen. You're mine forever now."

"WHAT?"

I looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything I could use for a weapon -- assuming I could get free of the cuffs. My attention was suddenly drawn to the clock on the wall. It listed the time as 12:18, which meant...

Miss Pauling saw where I was looking.

"Yep, it's past midnight."

That made it....

Miss Pauling reached up to her head and removed the dark wig she'd been wearing. Then she removed a tiny device from around her throat.

"April Fool! It was me all along, my love. I used the voice scrambler so you wouldn't recognize the voice."

"Molly?"

My girlfriend's familiar smile appeared.

"That's right, Lyle. I do hope you enjoyed yourself. This is the basement of our home."

She uncuffed me, and I rubbed my wrists and ankles to get the circulation back. Molly led me upstairs, and sure enough, I'd been in our basement the entire time.

"I did like, well, MOST of it... and I didn't know you were such a domme."

"I'll be more gentle next time. And you'll know it's me."

"Okay, my love."

We kissed, and then Molly removed her clothing. We did a fast cleanup and then tumbled into bed, exhausted.

"By the way, when you said that about your girlfriend... you earned a ton of brownie points. I already loved you with all my heart, now I love you with my heart and soul."

I snuggled against her. "Goodnight, sweetie. I love you too."

Then I passed out in her arms...