Chapter 4 Groin Pains

As with the beginning of any job, the first week of my captivity passed by slowly. It wasn’t so much that it was grueling work--although it was--it was more the fact that I was still getting acclimated with my new lifestyle.The chores certainly weren’t much fun and I was doing a lot of them. I cleaned the kitchen everyday, I cleaned the bathrooms everyday, I cleaned the bedrooms everyday, I cleaned every room every day although it quickly got to a point where nothing ever needed to be cleaned as nothing was ever left alone for long enough. I did laundry of course too which I have to say, I quite enjoyed, but that was only because it was a new task and it came around less often than regular cleaning.

Oliver and Rosabel, meanwhile, only paid brief attention to me at the beginning. They would say goodbye to me as they left for work, they would say hello when they returned, and from time to time they would amuse themselves by spanking me once or twice as they passed me by. Then they would order me to eat dinner at their prescribed time and, to their credit, I was always allowed food and water whenever I needed it. That was the most consistent luxury my captors provided me. Any basic needs, whether it was food, water, or going to the bathroom were allowed as long as I asked politely and addressed my owners properly. Whether or not the food was good was a different story but I didn’t have much else to complain about in that regard.

Everything seemed to be going smoother than I expected it would. I still hadn’t left the condo at that point and I still wasn’t sure when I’d get to be released to return to my old life but everything else was fine. Well, almost everything. There was one thing gnawing at me; aching below me, that I was dying to be rid of and as the week passed on, I heard no word of when I would get to have it off. I’m of course referring to my chastity cage. It was all I had my mind on as my situation began to degrade throughout the week as Rosabel and Oliver trained me harder, shaping me into a more and more docile subject.

“That posture of his,” Rosabel observed one day as I was hunched over the sink, cleaning dishes, “it isn’t proper slave posture.”

“You’re right, Bell. What do we do, want me to whip him?” Oliver asked.

“No, we don’t have to resort to whipping him for every little thing,” said Rosabel. “What does the slave manual say?”

Oliver pulled out a manual called Slave Training For Dummies and then flipped to a bookmarked page. “It says here we can put a posture bar on him.”

And that’s just what they did. From then on, when I did dishes, I had a metal bar attached to my collar that ran down the length of my back and always kept me looking straight ahead so that I could only move like Michael Keaton’s Batman. The most interesting aspect about that posture contraption was that the way it attached on the lower side was by a knob that stuck inside of my butthole. That meant that if I ever fidgeted too much, the knob would dig deeper inside of me so that I could only writhe into a straighter and straighter position.

“And it’s the beginning of your anal training too,” Oliver explained to me one day. “So I hope you get used to that little butt plug pretty quick because my cock is bigger than that and I’m not going to go slow with you.”

That should have worried me but, as I said before, my mind was only on my chastity cage. The posture bar hardly phased me at all and neither did the gag they made me wear at night. Yes, I had to sleep with a gag on since Oliver said my snoring was disturbing his sleep so it was either wear the gag or sleep in the dungeon. So I chose the gag without about as much forethought as I would have put into choosing soup or salad at a restaurant because I really didn’t have the energy to think of anything but the throbbing in my cage.

All of this torment reached a fever pitch on the Friday when I was home alone, doing the laundry. Rosabel and Oliver were quite generous with me that day as it was the end of my first work week (although I of course didn’t get weekends off) and they had said I was doing quite a good job. When they left for work that day, they allowed me to do my chores without a posture bar and without a gag. Still, I could not work without a chastity cage. The whole day as I cleaned and swept and mopped the cage throbbed beneath me and I swore I could feel the bars of the cage bending out of shape as my penis attempted to burst free. By the time I got to sorting my mistress and master’s laundry, my penis nearly felt numb. Something had to be done about this but I knew there would be trouble if I somehow got it off.

With this pestering pain gnawing at my penis, I began to sort the dirty laundry out on the floor. I created my pile and there on top was Rosabel’s dirty underwear. Now, I hope you understand, this is not something I would do normally, but the tension of release and the constant pressure in my chastity cage was making it so that I was so horny I could do nothing but grab that dirty underwear and bring it to my face. I took a deep whiff; a whiff that was so close to satisfying had it not been for the cage blocking any salvation. I sniffed deeper and deeper so I could smell the gorgeous body of my mistress closer than I had ever smelt it before and still, it was not enough to satiate me. I reached deeper into the dirty laundry pile and pulled out another pair of Rosabel’s dirty laundry and then I brought that one to my face as well. Then I took the first pair and I brought it down to my crotch and began rubbing my chastity cage with it so that I could feel the fine fabric caress my cock throw the bars of my cage as I took in the scent of Rosabel’s festering beauty. I was so intoxicated with the excitement of it all that I began to moan as I felt the sensation of my penis rising to ejaculate despite the fact that it could not grow at all.

The sensation rose and it rose; it rose like bubbles of root beer foaming to the brim of a cool glass, like a sneeze surging up the sinuses, like the rumble of cracked earth foreshadowing an avalanche, like the crazed networks of glass before shards shatter in all directions; it rose with a weak promise of euphoria that grew stronger with every touch of fabric until, like a balloon blown up with all of the breath the lungs can muster, it reached the point where it could do nothing but burst. I felt a surge in my cock of both pleasure and pain and then jizz squirted through the bars of my cage and fell across my mistress’ panties.

I looked down in fear at what I had done as the rest of my cum fell out of me in a pathetic dribble. That was my jizz across Rosabel’s panties and I was certainly not allowed to jizz without permission; let alone jizz across my captor’s clothing. I was stunned in place, thinking of what to do. Could I throw out the underwear without her noticing? Could I put it in the laundry and pray it would wash off? Could I admit what had happened and beg for mercy? All of these scenarios and more played out in my head and by the time I made a decision of which path to take, I heard the door open and suddenly all paths were moot.

“Sweetie, we’re home!” called out Rosabel as she entered. “Sweetie?”

I didn’t have the courage to answer. I was trembling as I knelt on the floor with my cum splattered in front of me and every step closer to me made me want to burst out in tears.

Rosabel stepped into the room with Oliver closed behind. She looked down at me, her face turned red, and then she said “Adam! What did you do?”

“M-m-mistress, I-I’m sorry. I--”

“You what? You wanted to ruin my underwear, is that what? Look at what you did!” she scolded as she took the dripping underwear off the floor and held it up to me. “Ugh, we leave you alone without any extra bondage and this is how you act? Here, I want you to lick this off!”

She held the soiled underwear close to my face and I recoiled away. Oliver grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me forward. “Obey your mistress!” he demanded.

“Lick it, Adam, lick it now! What’s the matter? You were so eager to have my panties in your face before. Did something change? That’s what you were doing, weren’t you? Sniffing my panties? Like the little pervert you are!”

I opened my mouth and Rosabel shoved the panties in and then she watched as I did my best to lick my own cum from off of them. She didn’t grin with her usual sadistic smile, she just scowled at me as if I had done something truly reprehensible. I wanted to cry so bad because of the way she was looking at me and the taste of my own cum was not making me feel much better. Then, she pulled the panties out of my mouth.

“Now clean up your dribble on the ground. Look at those little drops you made, you little pathetic slut!” she said as she pointed to my cum on the floor.

Oliver pushed my neck down in front of me so that I was forced to lick my droplets of jizz from off the floor.

“I’m sorry, mistress, I’m sorry,” I muttered, half to Rosabel and half to myself.

“You better be sorry, bitch!” Oliver said.

I finished licking my cum from off the floor and then Rosabel yanked me up by my collar and said, “We’re putting you in the dungeon for now until we decide on your punishment. While you’re in there, I want you to think about what you did!”

“Y-yes, mistress. I’m-I’m so s-sorry, mistress,” I stammered.

Oliver dragged me along by my collar so that my knees scraped against the floor with every tug until we reached the dungeon. Behind me was the sound of Wonky barking due to all of the commotion. Rosabel entered the dungeon not long after us and then shut the door behind her so that we were left in silence. She had the soiled pair of panties in her hand still as well as a dirty pair of Oliver’s underwear.

“Should we put the bar on him, babe?” Oliver asked.

“Yes,” she said. “And the gag too. Make sure you tie his arms and legs behind him.”

That was just what they did. Oliver took the posture bar, attached the top end to my collar and then attached the bottom end inside of my asshole. Then, he brought out shackles that went behind the bar and attached at both of my ankles so that I was trapped in a kneeling position with my back straight up. After that, my hands were bound to the posture bar. For the finishing touches, Oliver got out a red ball gag, ordered me to open my mouth, and then he gagged me so that I could hardly make a peep.

I squirmed and I writhed as Rosabel stepped up to me once Oliver backed away. She took the cum stained panties then placed them over my head. “Since you love my panties so much,” she said. “you’re going to have them on you for the next hour. And--” she took Oliver’s dirty underwear and then placed them over top of my head as well, “--since you were being so rude, not even including your master in your little pervy sniff session, you’re going to get to sniff his underwear too. I hope you’re happy with how you acted.”

Rosabel turned around and made her way to the door. Oliver was just about to do the same, but before he did, he kicked my balls and I groaned aloud as I felt the surge of pain and the knob jam further into my ass simultaneously. I knew it was a light kick--Oliver was capable of much more--but it weakened me nonetheless. Then, my master and mistress were out of the room and, with two pairs of underwear on my face, I could only tell that the door had shut on me by the sound of the latch closing.

So there I was, bound and gagged with my back straight, my knees burning beneath me, and the sensation of the aftermath of my unsatisfying orgasm still unable to be mended because my cage had not ceased to confine me. To make matters worse, I was in total darkness what with the undergarments blocking my view. And to make matters even worse, now that I was gagged I couldn’t breathe through my mouth, which meant the only air I could breathe was that which came to my nose, the same nose that was stuck behind two layers of festering fabric. All of the air I got then smelled of the sweat that had soaked throughout the previous day in the crotches of my mistress and master and of course the drying scent of my own semen. I began to detest myself, not only because I had disobeyed my owners and gotten myself in trouble, but also because for some reason I seemed to be enjoying this predicament. Some wiser part of me was saying that I should not at all tolerate these smells but the primal part of me, the part that knew well enough the gorgeous people these smells had come from, was finding the whole situation quite erotic and now I had to deal with the discomfort of a tightening chastity cage once again.

Oh, why couldn’t I have been born a normal man? A man who took pleasure in the typical beauty of men and women; the abundant curves they carry and all of the strong features meant to be strong and the soft features meant to be soft! But alas, I was born the way I am and now I was paying the price.

I stayed in that loathsome position for an hour just as my mistress had promised and by the time I heard the door open again, I was so sore I thought I might collapse as soon as I was let out of bondage. I felt a soft hand pulling the underwear off of my face and then I saw Rosabel and Oliver standing before me.

“Your master and I have discussed what your punishment will be,” began Rosabel.

What my punishment will be? I thought. Was the last hour not my punishment? There was a sudden fear in my eyes more serious than it had been before.

“We had plans for you tonight, Adam. Since you had been such a good boy for the whole week,” explained Rosabel, “and since we assumed you would continue to be a good boy, we wanted to reward you for your good behaviour and have you pleasure us while Oliver and I fucked tonight.”

“That’s right, said Oliver. “We were going to have you lick my balls while I fucked Rosabel and then we were going to put your head right underneath her so you could eat her ass too.”

Rosabel nodded and said, “And then Oliver would cum inside of me and you’d get to lick it all out of my pussy. And guess what? We were even going to let you out of chastity. You could have jerked off and touched yourself however you wanted during the whole thing. But--” Rosabel paused as she brought her hand down to my caged penis and began toying with it. “--since you were so naughty today, we aren’t going to have you do any of that. Oliver and I are going to go into the bedroom and fuck while you’re out here cleaning the floor again.”

I let out a high pitched whine before Rosabel smacked my balls to make me suddenly stop. “No complaints!” she said. “You brought this upon yourself. Olli, can you please bring me the broom gag.”

Oliver went to the closet and pulled out a short broom with a strap and no handle. It seemed like it would be quite an awkward device to sweep with, I thought. He handed the object to Rosabel and then she knelt down to me and began to undo my gag.

“We don’t want to hear any sounds from you while we’re in the bedroom. And since you still need to practice your proper slave posture, we are leaving the posture bar on,” said Rosabel.

The broom in Rosabel’s had a short and plump knob on the other side of the bristles that she placed in my mouth before she buckled the device to my face. I understood then that this broom doubled as a gag and that my captors expected me to bend low to the ground and sweep the whole condo with my face. As soon as the broom gag was attached, Oliver came behind me and undid the rope around my legs. Then, he had me stand up and he pulled me by my collar into the front room while Rosabel followed from behind.

Oliver pulled me down by my collar so that I was knelt on the ground. “Now crawl around and sweep every room in this house.”

“Every room except the bedroom,” teased Rosabel as she wrapped her arms around Oliver and caressed the muscles on his chest. “We’ll be busy in there.”

Oliver smiled and then kissed Rosabel on the neck. He brought his hand down to her ass and he fondled it as he lifted up the skirt she was wearing. I looked up to catch a quick glimpse of her perfect, bodacious ass; the same perfect ass I could have been laying beneath had I just had the willpower to restrain my urges for one more day. Rosabel caught sight of my sneaking glance and then she gently pushed Oliver’s hand away. “Let’s go to the bedroom, where there’s no pervy little slaves watching,” she said.

Rosabel turned to me and her expression morphed from amorous to authoritarian as she spit on the floor right in front of where I was kneeling. “Clean that up,” she ordered. “I want the whole floor spotless.” Then she turned around and walked with Oliver to the bedroom. They closed the door behind them.

As I leaned over to the floor to sweep up with my face, I could hear the sounds of them giggling and kissing muffled behind the door. Then, I could hear the bed creak with the weight of two bodies climbing on to it and quickly it began to squeak in a rhythmic fashion. I wanted so badly to be in there; so badly to be out of bondage, pleasuring my beautiful captors but instead I was face down, wiping the dirt off the floor. I heard the sound of Oliver’s low and husky breath followed by Rosabel’s moan’s getting higher and higher pitched as the tempo of the bed’s squeaking increased and, even though I could only imagine what the sight of that act would have looked like, I still felt the nagging tightness in my chastity cage. Frankly, I was desperate for any kind of sexual satisfaction from my captors. Rosabel’s spit was still on the floor in front of me and, had I not had a gag in my mouth, I would have knelt down and licked her saliva off the floor at that very moment and savoured every droplet of her taste just to satisfy my perverted urges. I knew, at that moment, that I was indeed just as depraved as mistress and master said I was. Soon, I wasn’t just wiping dirt and spit off of the floor but my own tears as well.

As I made my way around the front room and as Wonky looked at my sideways while he sat in his doggy bed, I could do nothing but listen to the relentless and passionate sex between my master and mistress closed off so tantalizingly close to me. I imagined it as vividly in my mind as I could; Oliver’s muscled body held up above Rosabel breathless beneath him, sweat dripping down as they looked each other in the eyes while he fucked her deeper and deeper; their beauty and their grace so naked to the eye and there I could have been, laying beneath her, licking beneath him, held down so that I too was being fucked and loved and used as my body was meant to be used; used for my master and used for my mistress who had molded me for nothing but their pleasure. My cock would have been so free and so ready to burst but now it felt empty and soft as all I could do was imagine.