The Twighlight Zone Ch. 04

After nearly an hour of this I was so exhausted that I could hardly move. She undid the straps holding me down, then peeled off the shirt, shoes, and finally the shorts. My mind was filled with the smell of my own body odor. The room must have reeked from it; I had sweated so much I probably lost a few pounds. At the rush of cool air, my cock sprang to life. The jester looked down at it.

"Oh yeah. I guess I'm supposed to give you some comic relief'." I couldn't have laughed if my life depended on it. She pushed me back into the chair into a reclining position, then swung a leg over me so that she was straddling my chest with her back to my face. Whatever she was doing, she was happy about it, and hummed a nonsensical tune while she worked. I felt something cup my balls, then something else grip my cock. She got off me and strapped my arms and legs down again while I looked at the contraption.

My genitals were encased in a large plastic tube, with four rods pressing along it lengthwise. Where the rods exited the bottom of the tube, they met and wrapped the base of my cock, then melded into a cup holding by balls. At the end of the tube, just past the head of my prick, was a ball about the size of a tennis ball, again, it was made of clear plastic.

The jester stood next to me with her hands on her hips. "Neat, huh? I actually thought this one up. All you have to do is fill the ball up, and you can leave." The ball looked pretty big from where I was.

"How am I supposed to do that without touching myself?"

"I've hooked the rods onto the network of crystals covering your stomach area. If you tighten those muscles while shaking your body, it will give the rods the energy they need to get you off."

I tried it. I bore down, tightening my abs, and felt a little action from the rods. Two of them, lying next to the channel on the underside of my cock, began to thrum from base to tip. The other two concentrated their effect on my glans. Where they met, under my balls, they almost hummed. The effect was slight, and there was no way it was going to get me off.

"Ain't gonna happen. I'm just too tired."

"I'll have to help you, then." She pulled out two feathers from under the chair, and began to tickle my feet. Even without the special clothing, the feather had the desired effect as my whole body tensed, then shook with laughter. The rods began thrumming along my genitals, bringing me quickly to orgasm. She didn't stop there, and the rod's vibrating wouldn't let me go soft. A few minutes later I came again. The ball wasn't quite full yet, though, and she wasn't going to let up until it was topped off. I was forced to a third, almost painful orgasm. The results were little more than a few drops, but I guess it met her requirements.

I couldn't laugh anymore. My body was completely drained of all energy. She removed the apparatus and unstrapped me. She had to help me dress in my meager clothes, then escorted me to the door. "Come back anytime."

I stumbled to my car, got in, and sat there for a few minutes in order to recover. They had been very intense orgasms, and I was wiped out. I did manage to drive home.

* * * * * * * * * *

"So, how did you play tonight?", my wife asked, seeing how wiped out I was when she got home. "Did you put up a good fight?"

"It was laughable."

She didn't appreciate my humor, either. I still had much to learn.

* * * * * * * * * *

Friday, June 7th

The package came in the mail today. A DVD box, decorated with a green and yellow diamond pattern, entitled 'A night at Jester's'. The Disc was a video of the comedians I had seen that night. Somebody in the audience thought the later acts were hilarious. Included were two long, stiff feathers, perfect for application to the soles of feet.

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, June 8th

My wife's business is picking up, and consequently she is becoming very absorbed in her work. We haven't had sex since before the fateful night I played racquetball with Tara, and she shows no signs now of missing it. My strange infidelity makes me wonder if she is fooling around with somebody; she must be releasing her sexual energy somehow.

With the rise in her business, we have started to house hunt again. We had always dreamed of something a little bigger than what we have now. Another distraction in my already confused life. Today we went looking at new houses. For some reason I was drawn to Tara's neighborhood, but my wife had seen one in a realty magazine that she wanted to check out. It was out in the country, and as we walked through it with the realtor all I could think of was how I could recreate my Wednesday nights in the new house. A dentist's chair in the den , stables in the back, maybe even an exercise room.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, June 10th

Work was slow enough today that my regular daydreams of sexual dominance by women were usurped by my dim-witted memory. It was the green and yellow checkerboard pattern of a soda cup that did it.

I thought back to my first night under the 'tutelage' of Tara. The women that passed me that night had all been decked out in bizarre costumes. When I saw the checkerboard, it had clicked in my head, but the old 'two and two is four' moment didn't arrive until now. Sharp as ever, I thought to myself. Only took you a couple of weeks to figure it out.

I made a mental checklist. There had been seven women of note that night. Tara, in white. I ended up as her sculpture.

The second had been in red. I haven't encountered her yet.

The third, in purple, had taught me about ponyboys.

The fourth had been in blue. The Masseuse.

The fifth, a harlequins outfit of green and yellow. I had been pretty dense on that one, too.

The sixth had been in black. She scared me then. I had experienced some nasty stuff so far, and I could see her as a mean one.

The last was in zebra stripes. The way she had grabbed me that night, I got the distinct impression that she had it in for me for some reason. After my recent experiences with a few of the women, I get the distinct impression that they don't have a high opinion of men. But maybe that's just me being paranoid.

Four down, three to go.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, June 12th 5th instance

The package for the night was a box that looked like it would come from your average clothing department store. I had spent over an hour searching for it outside and in, with my wife asking me the entire time what I was looking for, and had finally found it under the master bed. I mumbled something to my wife about misplacing my keys, and hoped that she would mark it up to my general forgetfulness. Whoever was delivering the package had guts; they were sneaking in during the day and planting the packages, all the while risking being caught if either my wife or I came home unexpectedly. When my wife was finished getting dressed, she kissed me goodbye and headed out. I pulled out the box and opened it.

Inside was a pair of black dress shoes, a pair of grey dress pants, grey socks, a charcoal grey shirt, and a red sweater. Also inside was a red leather pouch containing a thick condom like item, a tube of the goop, and a piece of paper with an address and time on it. I got my controller from the cedar chest and put it on the night table.

This would make the fifth time that I had with full consent (technically) set myself up for a situation that I knew nothing about. My plain lifestyle with the hidden secret of reading erotic stories had snowballed so far out of control that I moved through a dream world most of the time. Every waking moment was filled with what might happen to me on the next Wednesday night and what might happen if my activities were revealed to the world or worse, my wife.

I stripped naked and started by massaging the goop onto my dick until it was good and hard, then applied the condom. I reached over to the nightstand, tapped in my code and waited. BEEP. The condom constricted a little, then changed before my very eyes, and after a few seconds I couldn't tell that anything was different. It was no longer a condom, but a second skin encasing my slowly deflating manhood. I got dressed in the rest of the clothes and headed out to the address on the paper.

* * * * * * * * * *

The first thing that I noticed when I came to was the heat. Wherever I was, it must have been at least 100 degrees F. My head ached from whatever was in the food or the wine; it had certainly done a number on me. Vague recollections of an apartment and an attractive brunette floated in and out of my fogged brain. I opened my eyes to a room of red just as realized I was fastened vertically to some type of rack, my arms pulled out from my body at shoulder level, my legs separated by at least three feet. Straps at my wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, neck and across my forehead kept me firmly restrained.

Moving my eyes around, I took in the furnishings of my newest 'situation'. I seemed to be in some type of medieval dungeon painted flame red. About ten feet across the room from me was a fireplace, a huge construction of blackened fieldstone with a maw at least five feet five high with a fire inside burning high. To the left of that was some type of cage, probably for keeping unfortunates. To the right of the fireplace was a rack from which a number of whips, crops, and paddles hung. Oh great, I thought, I'm gonna get my ass whipped.

For the briefest of moments, I thought to myself that it was good that I could at least keep some semblance of humor about my situation. If I couldn't laugh about the things that happened to me, I think I would have lost my sanity long ago.

I felt the hand the same moment I heard her voice. "Well, my little lover," the voiced purred into my ear from behind, as the hand slid down my chest towards my growing cock, "it seems you are finally...up." With that she gripped my cock hard, and I felt another hand come around and start to massage my chest. My head strained to see my tormentor, but the neck strap held me firm.

"A we bit anxious, aren't we?" the voice said, and the hands began to stroke my hardening member. "Maybe we should show the little slave what he has sold his soul for tonight, eh?"

With that, the hand left my now fully erect cock and I heard the slow click-clack of heels on stone as she walked from behind me. I can only describe as what would be a female devil, only one warped by Tara's prosthetics. Physically she was very attractive, but who could tell what was real? Curly brown hair cascaded across her shoulders, but did not detract from the full pouting lips or pointed horns protruding from her forehead. From neck to toes she was covered in shiny red latex, with boots that had at least a four inch heel. Around her midriff, from the hips to where it supported her breasts, was a shiny red latex corset. The suit evidently had a few very strange details, as I thought that I could see it's contour tight around her sex - no, it would be more appropriate to say that it went into her sex. I could see the outlines of her vaginal lips as she stood in front of me. But it was her tail was that really caught my attention. At least five inches thick at the base where it was attached at the top of her asscrack, the tail was at least four feet long and ended in a wide spade tip. What was so strange was that it didn't bob or sway in motion as she walked, but seemed to move of it's own accord, almost like a snake.

My heart, which normally beats well within the confines of my chest, had suddenly decided that it was going to beat so hard and loud that my hearing would fade away and my ribs would crack. Panic or erotic excitement, or maybe a combination of the both, had gotten it to a level on par with the most extreme physical duress I had put it under. I had a really, REALLY bad feeling about this one.

She smiled at me, showing off a set of perfect teeth, when she saw my reaction to her outfit. I've said before that my cock was a traitor to the best of my attentions, and once again it was determined to show it's appreciation of my new companion's costume by stealing away as much blood from my body as it could possibly hold. It was now so hard it started to hurt. She walked over to the rack on the wall and started looking through the whips that were hung there. Finally she picked one, a many-strapped flogger made of latex. "Ready for a night in the burning depths of my hell? No? Maybe next time you'll be a little more careful with your agreements."

In my mind I remembered telling Tara I would go to Hell and back for her. This was taking it a little more literally than I could have conceived. I sputtered out, a little too loudly, "I don't remember agreeing to this."

Her first blow caught me off guard, right across the chest. I gasped loudly, not so much from the pain but from surprise. In fact, the strike itself didn't hurt much at all. The second blow came across my right thigh, and then my left.

"Sure you did. During dinner, or have you put it out of your mind already? We were talking about you and your wife, and how you, as the loving and caring husband that you are, would go to hell and back for your wife." If I had said that, I didn't remember it, but it sounded like something I would say. I think I was saying it too often.

"You also told me that you would do anything for her. So I decided to see if you would spend a night in hell for her." She traced the tip of the flogger across my chest, and gave me another light tap.

I thought that this would be, no, could be one of the easier trials I would have to endure when I noticed my chest was starting to burn. There was something caustic coating the straps of the flogger.

She walked around me and gave my back a good whack. By now my chest was on fire and my thighs started to ache. My eyes started to tear up, and I was on the verge of crying just from my burning skin. Whatever coated the flogger was worse than liquid heat, and every stroke she made, however light, was starting to hurt more then any whipping I could have imagined.

She proceeded around me, and saw my tearing eyes. "Well? What happened here? It seems mister erotica can't take a little beating now and then. After all those stories where men are spanked or paddled, and this is what happens when you are put to the test?" She stroked my now flaccid penis. "And that big thick cock of yours has gotten so small. Isn't this the 'turn on' you thought it would be? Tara told me you and her had made a deal, but it doesn't seem that you are holding up your end of the deal very well." She playfully pulled and massaged my cock for a moment, and the little bastard started to revive.

"I think we should make a deal of our own. You let me fuck you until I cum, and we call it quits, or I can continue to beat you for..." she looked over my shoulder, presumably at a clock on the wall behind me, "the next hour and a half. Well?"

"No... more... beating," was all I could blurt out." The pain on my chest, thighs and back had gotten to the point where I thought my skin must have been peeling off. Tears flowed so heavily from my eyes I could hardly see as she made some adjustments to the rack.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that. Did you say 'fuck me like the slut I am, mistress', or, 'beat me and whip me the way they do it in the stories, because it always seemed like the characters were having fun'?'"

I knew the ritual, but the pain still made it hard to talk. "Fu...fuck me like...like the slut I am. Mistress."

"Excuse me. I didn't quite hear that over your pathetic sobbing. Maybe you didn't mean it." She walked back to the rack and exchanged the flogger for a red leather riding crop.

No, no no no no NO! I wasn't going to go through a beating with a cane covered with whatever that stuff was. It was amazing how quickly my remaining resolve was crushed.

"FUCK ME LIKE THE SLUT I AM, MISTRESS!" My body shook as I yelled out. I was sobbing. The crop hit the inside of one thigh, then the other, and I strained in pain against the bonds.

She grabbed hold of my (again) limp prick and began to slowly massage it back into to hardness. She quickly went into a squat position in front of me and directed the conversation towards my cock. "Oh, you look like quite the little pleasure tool, you know that? Do you give wifey all the orgasms she can handle, or are you a 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' type of cock? Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Fuckstick, your owner doesn't know how to phrase a request, and he didn't use the magic word." With that she slid a ring down the shaft of my cock to the base. Before I could say anything she started tapping the crop on my now rising member. "Maybe we should beat it out of him."

Forget this. She is the most psychotic of all the women yet. She wants a total submissive? She gets a total submissive.

"MISTRESS, PLEASE! FUCK ME! USE MY BODY! I AM NOTHING MORE THAN YOUR SLUT, TO BE USED BY YOU!" I added, through my sobbing, "Just don't beat me anymore." The sweat on my body had carried the caustic liquid to areas where I hadn't been hit, and caused an intense burning/itching feeling. It felt my entire body was on fire.

"That was better, don't you think? Well, ask and you shall receive." With that she pushed at my forehead with her index finger, ever so slightly, and suddenly I felt myself falling backward. The rack must have been counterweighted, and it stopped at a horizontal position with a jolt. She walked around to the top of the device, undid the neck restraint, and pushed a small pillow under my head. She walked away for a minute, and then returned to where my head was and fiddled with something beneath my neck. My head bobbed back so I was looking directly into her crotch, but only for a moment. Just as I noticed the fact that the latex between at her pussy was now glisteningly wet, she picked up my head so that I was looking down my chest, and locked it in position. She then returned between my legs. In her hand was a small tube of some sort.

"Just a little grease to help things along." She squeezed what I thought was more than enough of the stuff into her hand, rubbed her hands together, and started to massage my cock up and down. Then her administrations went further south. With her right hand she held onto my cock, and with her left she began rubbing my balls. I began to forget about the burning feeling on the rest of my body.

My cock was straining for release, and I realized that what she had put on me was a cock ring. It wasn't so tight that it wouldn't come off, but it certainly restricted blood flow out of my member.

Her right hand began to move up and down my shaft, the latex gloved hand feeling odd but good as it touched my glans. Her left hand was now behind my balls, pressing the tender spot there, and I felt a finger dip down start to explore my anus. Before my experience with Tara, I had never thought I might like having my anus massaged, but I was quickly loosing that inhibition.

"You mustn't be so tense. Relax and enjoy." I tried to relax, and felt her finger slide into me and against my prostrate. If it hadn't been for the cock ring, I would've cum right there. She pulled the finger almost all the way out, the slid it back in again. After a few minutes, another finger joined the first, and my anus started to relax enough that both fingers were now sliding in and out easily. Then a third finger joined the others and, after a moment of pain as my anus stretched, I began to enjoy it.

Sort of.

"Are we ready for the fucking then? Good." She stood up and spread her legs. With my head positioned to watch everything, I saw the tail slowly lift and curl up between her legs, and she grabbed it with her left hand. She closed her legs with about eight inches of the tail now standing straight out from her body like a mockery of a male organ, and began to stroke it with her still greasy hands. On the first stroke the spade tip came off, revealing a long, thin, bright red phallus.