Daddy's Dungeon Bail

"Fine, you may be bailed off the table... Of course, that means you'll have to have someone bail you off. Someone who will agree to insure you obey the terms of your bail. Someone, like say a wife. Really anyone over 18 is fine, just as long as that person will agree to stay at your side to ensure you're behaving. Do you have such a person, anyone at all who will stay with for a couple of days? Anyone who cares enough about you to actually bail you off my table?" I taunt him.

Ken says "no." immediately, then continues moaning out his overly-needy cries.

"Well, I'll give you ten more minutes to think about it. Otherwise, if you can't think of anyone who cares about your dick-less butt, then you'll just have to wait right here until it's time for your spanking. Don't worry, you won't get lonely. My skanky whore will see to it that you're continuously entertained."

And it does. With just a little nod from me, Paige adds a little more enthusiasm to her teasing. Now Ken is suffering Paige's very best.

And he does. Suffer. Paige is a well-trained whore. She's very good at teasing. Ken lies there, crying out hungry moans and squirming as desperately as the ropes will allow him, which isn't very much. Enough that I hear the chain on his cuffs rattling almost constantly.

I stay out of his view, watching his graphic display of male erotic agony. Especially the near-constant little twitches that have his cock dancing whenever Paige's lips allow it to move and knocking against her teeth and lips the rest of the time. I have no doubt that the instant Ken can be alone he'll masturbate.

Knowing him, he won't even wait to get home. That cock looks far too eager for release. And I already know that Ken prefers not to masturbate while his daughter is at home, even hiding in his bedroom. I picture him stopping at some gas station and finishing himself in some skanky-dirty men's room. And that is almost certainly how this will end if I send him away without granting him relief. Of course, if he does that, he'll confess it and that will just ensure he's back here for another lesson. I consider men to be just like dogs: properly teaching the tricks, and to be good boys, require plenty of repetition!

At the ten minute mark, I return with his phone in my hand. I wave the phone over his eyes, letting him see it. "Last chance, dick-less," I purr in my mean-girl, taunting-bully voice. "Do you want to beg someone to come bail you off my table, or just lie there and let that skanky whore entertain you until it's time for your spanking?"

"Please, Ma'am!" Ken cries out over a moan, his voice full of desperation, "Please! Don't make me stay like this, Ma'am! Please, it's driving me insane! I have to cum!"

I slap his face. It's a hard slap, one that leaves a pink little handprint on his cheek. "Bad boy!" I scold him sternly. "I asked you if you wanted to beg someone to come bail you off this table or wait here. I did not say you could beg me for relief." I pause just a second. Then I slick my wrist, swinging my crop upward. Its tip snaps firmly against his bare bottom. He grunts a pained yelp and quickly resumes moaning. Paige never misses a beat. "What will it be, dick-less?"

A tear rolls down his cheek. He hesitates for a second. "Please, Ma'am! I don't have anyone to call! The only one at home is my daughter! Please don't make me suffer like this! It's killing me! PLEASE!"

I swat his bottom with the crop again. This time I get his other cheek and the swat is harder. Hard enough to get a good flinch as he cries out his yelp. And enough to leave a nice bright red crop-print on his hairy cheek. "You poor little dick-less boy!" I tauntingly scold him, "maybe now you won't abuse my toy dick!" I laugh. "this is the last chance you get, dick-less. Since you little girl is the only one who cares about your dick-less hairy butt, you may beg her to come bail you off this table, or you may just wait here and enjoy this whore's sweet tongue until I get around to tanning your naughty hide! Do not displease me again with your stupid, senseless, pleas for mercy. Ask properly. Make your choice, dick-less. Now." I turn my voice cold and hard, letting Ken know I mean business. He's been my toy long enough to know he will regret not making a choice now. Erotically regret, but regret it all the same.

He cries. Whenever he suffers a sweet torment, as he is now, his voice always raises to where he sounds slightly girly. Humiliation, especially a deep humiliation, has the same effect on him. I've lost count of how many times I've seen that from him. His moans always have that girliness to them.

Now his voice raises another octave, not quite, but almost, making him sound like a little girl. "May I please beg my daughter to come bail me out, Ma'am?" He asks politely, his voice laced with sobs. I can barely make it out over the moans he can't hold in even long enough to ask.

"You have... three minutes. You will tell her where you are. You will tell her why you are to be punished and what that punishment will be. You will tell her what fate awaits you if she does not agree to bail you. You will stop pretending you are a man and beg her to come bail you like the shameless little bitch you really are. You will not offer her anything to bail you. You will not remind her of anything you've done for her over the years. You may not pressure her in any way to bail your useless butt out. Just beg. Oh, and you will explain to her that if she agrees to bail you out, she will be responsible for you until she returns you here, and there will be very unpleasant consequences for her should she fail to do her duty."

He sobs out his PIN number and I unlock his phone. I scroll through his call log, seeing that all of his calls are either business calls, or to me ("Ms. R." in his contacts), or to his daughter. What a dull life! I quickly update my contact, changing my name so it displays "My Queen" instead of the nondescript "Ms. R." I'll peek in a week or so and see if he changed it back. And spank him for it if he does.

I click on Emily's contact, and his nice new Android asks me if I want to call her with the phone app or with Google's Duo video call app. My inner imp rears its naughty head. I pick the video call. As soon as it starts ringing, I hold the phone over his head, aiming it down. But I do make sure that only his head is showing to Emily. Not the rest of his nakedness. Then I put an eye to my watch, making sure Ken knows I am timing his call closely. I hope he knows that I will take the phone away right at the three-minute mark.

Ken sees the little image on his screen, the same image Emily will see. If she answers, 18-year-old bimbos aren't known for answering daddy's calls. He grits his teeth hard, trying to stifle his girly moans. He fails, fairly miserably to mute himself. And then he runs out of time.

Emily's young oval face pops up. I can see enough of her to see that she's wearing a cute pale yellow sleeveless top, but that's about it. And that she's wearing nicely applied make-up with slightly slutty-red lipstick. "What, dad?" She answers. Not even a "hello."

"Em... Please!" He starts, his voice still girly. He moans loud and urgently as he speaks, unable to hold it in. But then again, the gods of timing have Paige swirling her tongue around the tender head of his cock just as he tries to speak. I couldn't have planned it better! "I really need a favor! PLEASE!

"I... uh..." His voice quiets as the shame hits him. Very reluctantly, and blushing beet red, he continues. "I'm sorry! OK, I'm so sorry, Em! I... uh... I played with myself without asking my Mistress for permission, and now she's punishing me for it!" He blurts it out, his voice panicked and shamed. Over his hungry moans.

"My punishment... Sunday afternoon she's going to spank me in front of all her friends... until then, I have to wait here, on her torture table, unless you are willing to bail me out of here... PLEASE, Em, PLEASE! I'm desperate to get off this table! She's killing me! I can't handle this torture! Please, Em, please come get me! Please, Em!"

He cries out a very long, very needy, and very high-pitched moan as a hard shudder racks through his body. With a glance, I can see Paige taking his cock into her mouth, and grinning as she swallows it. The shudder is hard enough that I can see it on his head, too. As Paige ends the stroke, he goes on, his voice now moaning a little more and more desperate. "PLEASE, Em! PLEASE, don't leave me here! I can't handle this torture!" He pants a couple of quick and moaning breaths, glances up to see the stern look on my face, and my eyes on my watch. "I've been here forever now! She won't let me cum! I can't handle it! Please!

"Em, baby, please! I don't know what Miss Rodgers will ask of you! But please! I know that you have to watch me and make sure I behave and bring me back here for my punishment. And I know she'll do something hideous to you if you don't do what you promise her you will. I'll behave. It won't be any trouble for you! PLEASE, EM! Please don't make me suffer like this until Sunday!"

I keep my other eye on Emily's image. She looks rather shocked as her father asks her to come get her. Seriously grossed out, too. I have only her ex's impression of her to go by, so I'm not certain what she'll do. The whimsical in her could go either way. The bimbo... nothing will interfere with her social life, certainly not her (gasp) parents! The bossy girl, however, might relish a chance to boss him around.

I take the phone away from his face. I turn it around, holding the camera just over his chest, giving Emily about a two-second glimpse straight down his nude body. It lets her see a lot, his slightly hairy chest, his somewhat loose stomach, and even the denser fur on his pubes. But my timing has Paige's hair covering his cock. Standing between his legs, squatting down, and putting her lips to his balls at that instant, only Paige's hair is visible. But her long, curly, flowing honey-brown locks are enough for Emily to know it's a woman. And to see that her head is doing something between his legs, just not what she's doing. I turn the camera away before Emily sees any more than that.

I see a strange look on her face. It's grossed out in most part, but there's also a trace of an impish smirk in it and just as much of a hint of a smile. I interpret it as: way to go, dad, you finally found a woman; Ooh, that looks very sweetly teasing; and YUCK - I don't want to see it, dad! I take his phone with me, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind me. I leave Sophie to watch my whore, and I know Emily hears me when I tell her. "slave, mind that skanky whore."

"O-M-G!" Emily says as soon as I turn the phone so I'm talking to her. "You're Ellie's friend, Pepper, aren't you?"

Ellie's friend? Ellie is my BFF #3. She knows Ellie? Ellie didn't say so, and I asked all three of my BFFs if they knew Emily or any of her friends. "Yes, how do you know Ellie?"

"Oh, my BFF, Livvy, her boyfriend's sister, Cammie, sometimes hangs out with Ellie, and Ellie talks about you just all the time!" BIMBO! I can't help it, the thought races through my mind. They say that everyone is connected to everyone on Earth by no more than six degrees of separation. By my math, that's five degrees between Emily and me. And yet she's heard so much, it seems. Why do I think this girl lives on gossip?

"Do you have a car?" I ask her, and she eagerly says she does. I ask her if she wants to come over for tea and I'll tell her exactly what whoever bails that naughty boy out has to agree to do, then she can decide if she wishes to bail him, or leave him to "enjoy that skanky whore's attention." Just as eagerly, she accepts the invitation. Her voice tells me it has nothing to do with her dad, and everything to do with having tea with me. And I know that "tea with Pepper" is going to be fodder for gossip that will spread across her county faster than light. As Emily boasts about being invited. I doubt the reason for the invitation will be included. She'll make it sound like she's now my newest BFF. I give her my address and directions off US-90, the route she'll take if she has any brains. While I wonder about Emily, I don't wonder about Google. Maps will bring her that way, too. She promises to hurry right over. Eagerly promises.

Part II: The Bail

Fifty minutes later, Emily has slipped past the building's doorman, which any clown could do, and is knocking on my door. I send Sophie to answer the door. Like usual, I have Sophie dressed in one of what I call her slave dresses. They're all the same, except for the colors. Today it's pastel pink. The dress itself is an all-lace stretchy dress that runs from her breasts down to an inch or so below the bottom curve of Sophie's bottom. Its lace does nothing to hide anything from prying eyes, and I never allow her underwear with these dresses. She has matching fingerless gloves. And knee-high, spike-heeled, boots made of patching lace instead of leather. All of it is trimmed in frilly white lace. Even the plush horseshoe clip I have holding her long honey-blond hair off her face.

Sophie opens the door. Watching from the hall I see Emily's eyes go wide for an instant. Then they roam over Sophie's body. "O-M-G I have so totally got to get a dress like that!" Emily enthusiastically blurts out. "That outfit is just so awesome! Where did you get it? Do they have it in yellow? Yellow is just so my color!"

"My Mistress allows me to wear this dress, Ma'am. I don't know where she bought it, Ma'am. I have one in yellow, so they must, Ma'am. My Mistress is expecting you, please come in, Ma'am." Sophie is always polite.

Emily bounces in and allows Sophie to show her to the sofa. I can't help but picture Emily in a yellow slave dress; she'd definitely be a hit at whatever club or party she wore it to. I slip in and take a seat on the love seat across from Emily. "slave, we'll have the green tea, sweet, with lemon. Fetch."

"Yes, Mistress." Sophie answers.

While we wait I tell Emily where she can order a dress like Sophie's. She clicks up the website as I rattle off the address and I see her bookmark it. She is so going to spend daddy's money there. And I know, I just know, that the minute Ken asks her why he has a $250 charge for a dress, Emily is going to remind of this evening. And he is going to shut up in less than the blink of an eye. I'd bet she gets the gloves and boots too, even though the boots cost as much as the dress. Oh, well, Ken is an accountant. Surely he can afford a thank you outfit for his bimbo daughter. Not that I care. He's not my accountant!

Sophie returns with a tea kettle and two cups and saucers atop a silver serving platter. She sets the platter on the coffee table, then kneels down. She pours a cup, garnishes it with a fresh slice of lemon, and turns to Emily. Sophie kneels with her knees and feet spread. She holds the cup, atop its saucer, on her upturned palms even with her nipples and six inches out from her chest. She looks up to Emily. "Here is your tea, Ma'am."

Emily giggles happily. I'd bet anything it's the first time she's ever been served in her life, much less served humbly by slave-girl. I know this will be a juicy tidbit for her gossip mill. "thank you... " Emily reaches for the cup.

"Her name is slave."

"Thank you, slave."

"You're very welcome, Ma'am. It's my pleasure to serve my Mistress' guests." Sophie tells her. Then Sophie serves me.

Emily takes a sip of her tea. She smiles and takes a few more. Her face tells me it's to her liking. I dismiss Sophie, telling her to go peek on my skanky whore. She hurries to peek and ensure Paige is behaving herself.

We chat for a few minutes, not that long since it's clear I have very little in common with Emily. She's 18, but she still has seven weeks of high school left. I'm a sophomore at USA. Two completely different worlds. She does ask if I know her ex, Terrance. I tell her my BFF #1 has a class with him, but I've never met him. She tells me not to believe anything he says about her. She dumped him. That I believe.

She asks how I number my three BFFs, why Izzy gets to be number one. Is she a better BFF than Ellie? I tell her I number my BFFs chronologically. Izzy is number one because I met Izzy the day she was born, two months after I was born, and four months before I met BFF #2, Reagan, also on the day she was born. I didn't meet Ellie until she moved into our neighborhood about four years ago.

I have to nudge the conversation to Ken, even though he's moaning loudly and urgently. With the playroom door open so I know Emily can hear every moan. Clearly, dad's pleasurable suffering isn't her first concern. It seems too far down her priorities list, well beneath her concern for her wardrobe. BIMBO.

I have Sophie print out a "bail agreement" for Ken and bring it to me. I glance at it, then hand it to Emily. It's a form I keep on my computer for occasional use, although it's so far been spouses bailing out their spouses. That got tiring for me since the spouse inevitably already knows all about their mate's kinkiness. I've decided to make a few other toys, those that thrive on humiliation, be bailed. Toys that don't have spouses to bail them. Ken, however, was an impromptu decision I made. He just didn't seem to regret abusing my cock deeply enough.

I wanted it in writing, especially for this girl who I'm deciding is more and more flighty by the second. I don't want there to be any confusion about what she has to do. That way, when she doesn't, she can't say she didn't know. I swear I'd push her face in the form and spank her if she did! Or at least I'd really want to.

"Number one, the naughty boy can't be left alone, not even for a minute. You have to stay with him the entire time until you return him. In the house with him, not him inside and you hanging out on the porch with your friends. He could misbehave that way! And he is just such a naughty little boy!

"Number two, he has a bedtime. Before eleven you have to take him to bed, not send him, take him. He has to be in bed before eleven. And he has to be naked in bed. In the morning he has to stay in bed until you return for him. He is never to get out on his own. Since he is just so naughty, I'll loan you a couple of pairs of handcuffs. Those will ensure he's a good boy and stays put!" Emily giggles hard when I tell her that.

"Number three, no guests. Yours or his. You can only have guests over while he's in bed, and you can't leave him in bed so you can have a guest. As soon as you're out of bed and dressed, you have to go get him up. No one but you two can be in the house.

"Number four, he has to stay inside the house. Not even so much as a toe on the porch. Inside.

"Number five, he has to shower and shave daily. And he has to eat three meals a day, real meals, not a bag of chips.

"Number six, he's not allowed to use a phone, a computer, or anything else connected, or to talk, text, email, IM or whatever with anyone. You're the only one he should be talking to. There's one exception, and that's for urgent work business. You'll have to answer his phone for him and find out who is calling and why. If it's business, he can take the call as long as he sits next to you the whole time and keeps the talk on business. After the call, he has to give his phone back to you. And you'll have to check his email twice a day, without him watch you. Read everything. If there's anything business-related that seems urgent, you are to tell him who is asking what, and he is to tell you what to reply. Then you answer the email for him, without him seeing your reply. He'll just have to trust you to get it right." I so never would!

"Number seven, proper attire is required. He has to be fully dressed at all times, even his shoes.