Manipulated Male Ch. 01: The Neighbour 02

Apologies in advance for the opening of this story. It is a complex situation. Please bear with me for the next 300 or so words so it can be explained. Thank you.

I lost a bet...

My partner supplied random information... a person, a setting, etc... and demanded a story to approve for publication here

This is my third attempt.

Purely FYI: For each failed attempt there have been consequences...

[That was the original premise]

When my partner realized several people, and in particular at least one female, had requested to know the 'consequences' of my failed stories – and I had not responded, well...

Kelly's intro:

Guys do this...renege on commitments. Sorry, Eve – and others. We'll set this straight.

I stripped him naked. Then I took out my riding crop and used it to lift his quivering balls while I read several key excerpts from the story. (I also gave him a stroke or two across his upper thighs, very close to his vulnerable balls). Then set him to work, still naked of course...

* * *

For those who have not read the original story, we left off with her driving and me naked...

Quote, ' why don't you put the seat back a little and tuck your hands under your butt...like that, good,' unquote. "Now I have a good few ideas so just relax and let me take care of everything. But if something that may add to the entertainment does come to mind feel free to pass it along." At which point she reached over, chuckling, and dipped a finger in the pre-cum... smiling broadly as she tasted it.

Quote, unspoken, 'I own you and all things you', unquote.

And I shivered involuntarily, realizing abruptly how much I liked that.

And her mischievous smile told me she did too.

So it was game on...full on...

To keep my senses at all, I worked through a recap of the situation. In the here and now she's driving...I'm starkers and my clothes are spread all over the countryside – and we're heading back into town... so it was highly unlikely any of my clothes would be recovered.

She wants a confession. That damned pornographic bondage pic! She's convinced it's of me, albeit a younger me – and that I'd sent it to her on purpose. I denied it was of me... and I denied having deliberately sent it to her. I can't entirely deny having sent it her. It had clearly come from my email account. But it was getting so even I wasn't sure how deliberate the sending had been...who knows what our subconscious mind does? – in the wee hours of the morning...

Without warning, she reached over once again and dipped her fingertip in the pre-cum pooled in the circumcised tip of my quivering erection...jerking me out of my reverie.

Quote, unspoken, 'I can do what I want to you when I want', unquote.

We were definitely approaching town once again, the population starting to build up.

I stayed, as directed, with my hands tucked under my naked tush, and therefore all of me completely exposed...and I tried, strained, not to squirm... and failed.

Chuckling, she ratcheted up the torment. Quote: "Tell me again that pic's not of you", unquote.

I was quivering all over now, uncontrollably. I did try to go back to the logical sequencing...to regain some semblance of control.

Quote, "I read somewhere once that good interrogators relish a challenge – that they take pride in peeling away layer by layer," unquote.

A few seconds elapsed.

Quote, "I'm not sure why you don't want to take credit..."

She flipped over the hardcopy print of the photo on the console between us.

"...if you need to cum on my brand new upholstery there will be hell to pay. See, that cock is a dead ringer for yours, and it's gorgeous, so are the balls, and the abs might be a bit tighter in the pic but not much," unquote.

Her hand brushed my lower belly, behind my erection. Then pulled away.

Quote, "Look. Perfect. Coffee. Shall we do a quick drive-thru? Maybe you could provide some special cream. A taster, hmm," unquote.

Women are vicious. Period. Women play to win. Period. Women know when they're going to win...and they set out to crush the opponent...

Quote, "When did you last masturbate for a woman to watch..?"

Pause.

"...or was it a girl...?"

There was a police car in the parking lot of the coffee place. All the air left my universe in a rush.

"...15?...16?...17...?"

"...Strip poker?" unquote

I couldn't breath, let along talk.

Chuckling, Sylvie waved at the female police officer who, coffee in hand, was kibitzing with a group of young females outside the doors of the coffee place. "I know her from work. I think we should switch to police position... you know, hands on head, fingers interlaced. That should release some stress on your back, and your solar plexus."

And it would make it clear, at the very least, that I was shirtless.

Unspoken, quote: 'It can get worse and worse, and I can do this all day. How about you?', unquote.

"One girl...16...strip poker..." It came in gasps as I raised my now shoulders and arms.

Sylvie chuckled. "Go on."

"Actually, the strip poker had been the week before and I'd lost – been the first one naked and all the guys had been chased from the room so I could masturbate for the four girls..."

Odd how clear some memories are. All four girls had sat around on the sofa and chairs. I been made to clear off the cards etc and stretch out on the coffeetable... cold, brrr...and masturbate to their giggling, yet very earnest direction...' slower!...slower!...'

Evidently I was still going too fast because one of them, April, abruptly hovered over me: 'Don't you dare cum until I say... 10...9...' she tucked the unruly blonde hair behind her ear,'...I read a story like this in one of the mags my father has stashed in the attic...8...it's called CFNM – clothed female nude male...7...and you have to take charge...don't cum! – hear me?' She grabbed my hair, lifting my head. I bit my tongue, hardish – and nodded best I could. April said '...6..'

Another of the girls said, 'Wow –neat'.

There was a brief hubbub of voices, giggles then it was back to April: '...5...if he doesn't make it, is there anything we can use to punish him? – you know, riding crop, that sort of thing...'

'Towels?' someone suggested, 'You know, like we snap at each other in the showers?'

With wet corners those things stung!

'Clothespins,' someone else said – to giggles, 'Seriously, my dad has mags too. I saw one pic where a guy had 2 clothespins on each ball and 1 on the tip of his cock'...

'...4,' from April, still holding my hair...

'He was listening, believe me'...more giggles '

Are you sure that wasn't your mom having at your dad?'...shrieks and giggles...

'...3...'

'Maybe it was maybe it wasn't...'

'...2...'

'...1...now we make him wait, make him suffer,' April wrenched up on my head, twisting slightly for emphasis, and added, 'then maybe we use the clothespins and the towels – whip him til all the pins have been knocked off... 1 minus 3...1 minus 2... 1 minus 1...'

Sylvie, back in the parking lot of the coffee place, said, "Those girls were a bit crude but they were learning." Still smiling, she added, "I'm not a girl – and I've learned a great deal over the years. I don't like being lied to."

I gaped sidelong at her.

"You said one girl."

I swallowed. "That was the following week. One of the girls had taken photos with a polaroid that she used to..."

"Go on."

The pic I had sent her had the white frame around the image and the rough edges clearly visible as well. She could see that for herself. Just as I could. It was a scanned image from a polaroid print.

Exhaling, I said: "Truth. I was very proud of myself that I actually made it to 0..." holding up a hand to prevent her interruption," and when I came it was spectacular. It literally arced clear up over my head and into the lap of Julie – who was my girlfriend, and who was sitting in the chair at the end of the table. Turned out Julie was proud of me too..."

FYI, it was Julie who had talked about the clothespins and yes, it turned out to be a true account of what she'd seen her mother doing with her father – and of the sort of thing she wanted to explore...

"...So the following week I got to masturbate for her. And she did take pictures then. And from then on every time her parents were away..."

Sylvie listened, but turned the car around and started us back toward the road, interrupting only to say:"I think we'll skip the coffee here. My girlfriend the police officer is bound to want to know about the shirtless guy in my life. See," she waved at the police officer in passing and kept driving," Go on. But the whole truth and nothing but from now on."

And she listened to all 10 years of my relationship with Julie, until I ended my account with: "So this was a pic Julie took. And yes, I did send it to you deliberately."

She was pulling into the driveway of her residence – within about a block and a half of my place, and 2 or so blocks from the mailbox where the whole adventure had begun. It was growing dark and the neighbourhood was quiet. One question, she said, turning to me with the keys in her hand: "What did Julie look like?"

I gulped. I'm sure my erection twitched and surged. It was a revelation, literally, a sudden recognition. "A lot like you."

"It's going to strictly Sylvie Says. Anywhere, anytime, any place. I'm going to go in, count to 3 and then turn on the porch light. You can join me now, before the light, or when the light is on – or you can walk away...understood?"

I went into the residence with her, receiving a resounding open hand slap to the naked tush the moment the door was closed.

"Kitchen," she gestured with the hand recently used on my tush. "Make coffee. Black, no sugar. I'm going to get my camera and start recording the moments..."

* * *

The cellphone made a birdcall. Her. A text. Which read:

30 seconds to send a pic of the clothes on the line

It was the next day, some 14 hours since she'd slapped my naked butt after closing the doors. I'd been naked the whole time, of course...my clothes spread all over the countryside outside of our little community and-or locked in my own house.

I was a little worried, when there was time, because there was a letter folded up in the back pocket of my jeans and so whoever found the jeans also 'found' the owner...

Still waiting

I looked at both texts. She had to know there wasn't time to take the pic...and that I couldn't take the pic anyway since her neighbours were my neighbours really, and she was the only one working the weekend. Or so it seemed.

Another birdcall trilled.

I see. Well I don't so I want to. Naked pic. Full length. Seconds count.

She meant the latter...I knew she did – my burning cane striped tush in photos posted on the fridge said she did – so I whipped into the bedroom, to the full length mirror, snapped the pic and...hands shaking, praying it would go the right person, exhaling only when the send receipt appeared, with her name.

Birdcall

10 seconds. 10 punishments in the jar.

Then the phone rang, her ring. "Hello"

"You got hard fast."

"I was hard. You do that to me."

"Good. And you make me so wet I could scream. But, alas, a girl has it to do – oh, and I have some special ideas of my own because you could've put the laundry out while I was getting my things out to the car this morning, while it was still dark – and I was looking forward to watching you do that, maybe capturing it on vid. Then all you would have had to do was take the pic of the line out the window..."

"Abject apologies." I meant it. Her creativity around my discomfort was sheer genius. Albeit also wonderful, if I'm honest.

"Too late. I'm disappointed." She sounded more amused than anything but I was not best positioned to contradict her.

"I'm on my knees." I was. Now.

"Pic now. Is there pre-cum?"

"Yes." I was facing the mirror, anticipating this instructions, but my hands shook so I had to take 2 pix to get a clear image.

"Was that two I heard?"

"Yes. On its way."

"I'm going to make this much harder, pun intended, before it gets easier," she said, chuckling openly now," and it's all going to be entirely for my amusement. So it's 15, now 16 punishments to add to the jar plus my own ideas. Oh, and I traded shifts, so I'm off tomorrow and for the next few days."

Click!

I stared at the phone, quivering...