"You are going to accept your new life with me," Kaitlyn explained, "Not at first, but soon and completely."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

"I do accept it, Kaitlyn, I do." I told her.

She laughed. "Oh you poor thing. You don't have any idea." She smiled and leaned down, her hand softly caressing my cheek. "But it is so sweet to hear that you want to please me. I've always thought you'd be like that."

Her hand found its way down my stomach to surround my cock again, which was still swollen, very tender, but growing soft.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she chided, slowly stroking, "You need to learn to keep that nice and stiff for me."

I felt myself growing hard again, this time with considerably less pleasure. Her stroking stopped and she reached down to gently fondle my swollen balls. Her grip slowly tightened, and then relaxed over and over again, as if she was pumping my balls.

"Eventually," she told me, "we'll have to do something about these. When they get too full, you tend to make a mess in your sleep and we don't want that. I have a little procedure that I call milking. It relieves some of the pressure, but from what I am told, it isn't very satisfying."

She smiled, and stroked my cheek with her other hand, "But not being satisfied is something you will have to get used to."

She was looking into my eyes, gently biting her lower lip, her hand resting on top of my cock, just below the head, what she had deduced was my most sensative spot. Her hand sat there, not moving, just providing the slightest sensation. At first it felt good. Soon it grew slightly annoying, irritating.

My eyes started to water and I whispered, in a fit of desperation and embarrassment, "Please. Please help me."

She smiled, her hand not moving, "You know I'm not going to do that," she said, explaining it to me as if she had said it a hundred times before.

I sat motionless for as long as I could. Without thinking, without conscious intent, I found myself squirming, pressing frantically into her hand. Trying for everything I was worth to create enough sensation to give myself an orgasm. I pulled at my wrist stocks, willing to let the stocks cut my skin if I could free them. I twisted, turned, bucked and tried eveything in my power to free myself.

She giggled as she pulled her hand away, keeping it just out of reach. The more I struggled, the quieter she became. When I exhausted myself, she looked back down at me and in the same tone-calm, measured, and reserved-she said to me, "You see David, you tell me you have accepted your new life, but you haven't."

I was sweating now, from a combination of frustration, exersion, and fear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked between breaths.

"Because I know, David."

"Know what?" I asked, growing increasingly nervous.

"That you love me."

I closed my eyes and pressed them together tight. It was true. I did love her. I adored her and worshipped her from the day we met.

Now she was playing with me and enjoying it. "Love can be a cruel Mistress, David."

She raised her hand about a foot over my crotch. "If you want it, David, you have to work for it."

I looked at her, my sweaty bangs falling into my eyes. I looked up at her hand.

I caught my breath and raised my hips, trying to touch her hand, which she held just out of reach.

"Come on, loverboy," she teased, "you can do it."

I pressed harder, quickly rocking back and forth, making my swollen cock bounce. The fourth time, the head of my cock barely brushed her fingers, sending me into convulsions as I felt back down, hard against the bed.

As I fell back, her hand swooped down and her fingers locked tight around the base of my shaft.

"David," she snapped at me, "Don't make me ruin your life. If you cum, every single threat I made will come true. You need to be strong for me. And for yourself."

I focused my concentration on anything I could think of, things that turned my stomach, that took my mind as far away as was possible. I couldn't look at her. I knew if I did, I would come instantly.

"You bitch," I said, "you fucking bitch." I slowly regained my composure.

"I know," she told me, wrinkling her nose, "I really am, aren't I?"

She stepped away from the bed and came back with a box of Kleenex. She pulled out a handful of tissues.

"But, you know what David? You can't say that to me anymore. Now I bet your mouth is all dry and pastey, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"Well, then you will remember this," she told me as she stuffed a couple of Kleenex into my mouth. Immediately, they stuck to my tongues and the sides of my mouth and I tried to spit them out, but slowly she was adding Kleenex, stuffing my mouth full. When it was stuffed, she placed several rows of thick, white tape over my mouth. The Kleenex grew pastey and sticky in my mouth, and I was scrunching up my face to express my displeasure.

She smiled back at me. "Oh," she teased, "I do so love it when you are uncomfortable."

With that, Kaitlyn stood up and disappeared into the bathroom.

My cock was aching, but stayed hard while I listened to her shower. When I began to have problems staying hard, I would retreat into a fantasy space, thinking about how beautiful she was and how much I wanted her. Eventually, I was helped along, listening to her masturbate in the shower.

She emerged in a towel, announcing, "Orgasms are such wonderful things, I hope you have a very good memory David, because that is as close as I will ever let you get to one again."

She dressed, as she usually does for work, in a very conservative suit. She came over and kissed me on the forehead. "I'll see you after work."

Her hand found my still hard cock and gave it a few quick strokes, "Good stiffie, David," she taunted, "I am giving you the day off. I hope you'll be ready to go back to work by the end of the week, though."

I nodded, softly, mumbling into my gag.

She burst out laughing. "That isn't going to be up to you, David."

She sniffed the air a bit. "You are getting a little ripe, so I am going to ask Marta to wash you."

My eyes buldged and I shrieked into my gag. Marta? Who is Marta? I wondered.

"Oh, don't worry, she's my cleaning lady. She's seen this all before. Hell, she's seen so much worse. Marta is cool. I think you'll like her. Not that you'll have much of a choice."

Kaitlyn stood up and smoothed her dress. "I really need to go, musn't be late for work. Enjoy your day off," she said as she left the bedroom.

I tried forcing the gross wad of Kleenex out of my mouth, but the tape held tight. I had a feeling what Marta would be like, an older woman, likely from Guatemala, Mexico or Hondorus. She probably spoke little English, and worked for $50.00 a day cleaning people's homes.

I was concerned about what she might say, what she might think. But, this isn't the first time, Kaitlyn said, she was "cool."

Alone for the first time, I rested back in my stocks and found myself drifting off. Before long, my erection had subsided and I was drifting off, my wrists and ankles sore from my struggling. Slowly sleep took over and before long, I was out cold.

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