Paula's First Cum in Public

It had been a few weeks now since Sally and me caught Paul sniffing our panties in the laundry. We now had enough video and pics to severely humiliate him. And stealing property from fellow students, obviously, could get him expelled. Especially as he had been caught before for the same thing. We slipped into the new routine surprisingly quickly. Paul could be Paul six days a week, but on Fridays he was Paula.

We could tell he was a wank addict. His student bedsit always had this faint smell of semen. His kitchen, his bathroom -- was there anywhere he didn't cum?

Sally and me decided to take things further.

The first thing to do was to go through his clothes. We just turned up to his apartment one day and demanded access to his underwear drawer. He had two drawers. One was the drawer for his girlie underwear, and one for his men's underwear. That made it easy for us. We just opened the garbage bag and let him pour his dirty male underwear into the bag. We put it out with the rubbish. He whimpered through the entire process and was clearly traumatized.

There was now a simple choice: no underwear, or girls' underwear. In the end, it wasn't much of a choice. He preferred to wear girlie underwear and he always wore it underneath his guy clothes. He would never admit it to us, but we know it excited him! It really only caused issues in sports changing rooms or if he had to see a doctor. There was one female doctor who had to check his inside leg for a sprain. The doctor was probably amused by Paul's underwear. Or disgusted as he probably had an erection.

We left the restraint on him. So even if he could get a girl to have sex with him, that wasn't going to happen with the restraint. We left it on for six days at a time, so that every time he got aroused, his dirty worm got larger and pressed against the spikes on the inside. Sometimes, it made him cry. That was so great. On Fridays, after we had gone out and he had struggled to get hard all night, we would give him a night of freedom. On Saturday mornings, when we caged Paula up again, her eyes were puffy and dark with tiredness. He must have been wanking himself all night.

When we had breaks -- spring break or reading weeks (when there are no classes) Sally and me went home, where Paul was left in student accommodation. He was probably the only person in the building. We would leave him a few pairs of worn underwear and take the restraint off. During those times, he probably spent the whole week in his room masturbating himself to oblivion. So sad. He was so grateful for the opportunity.

We discovered that Paul didn't just have the girlie clothes that he bought when we took him shopping. He had LOTS of other clothes as well. Some he bought, but a lot he stole from the laundry. There was that magical point where I had to think that he probably had more women's clothes then men's clothes. Is that the point where I should refer to Paul as Paula? And use the feminine pronoun?

Both Sally and me thought of Paula as a woman. We referred to 'her' and never as 'him' -- not even by accident. So the female pronoun it is. On the one hand, she is obviously not a man. He actually has a very short dick. Could he actually get it inside a woman if she tried? Perhaps the terms 'man' and 'woman' weren't really accurate enough. We learnt that in ancient Greece and Rome the distinction wasn't so much 'man' and 'woman' but 'man' and 'the things that were fucked.' Things that were fucked were biological women, slaves, and people like Paula. Paula was definitely a thing to be fucked. If we ever asked her whether she was a fucktoy, Paula would probably have been proud to say that she was.

One reading week, Sally and me went to our homes, out of the city. That was the best. We got him to clean out his food cupboards, the fridge and removed all the guy clothes. It was then Paula's choice. Stay inside her apartment all week and go hungry, or leave in girlie clothes and do some food shopping.

During that week Paula left her apartment every day. She said she was scared of going out by herself. The first day we were away she just ordered food to her door. When the delivery guy knocked on the door, she would open the door a bit and just put a hand out to grab the food. But as she was now dressed in girlie clothes 24/7, she became less self-conscious about it. As the freak pervert had grown her hair out even more, the delivery guys just assumed she was female. Eventually, Paula got the bravery to go out and buy milk and even food to prepare in her kitchen.

When we got back from the week's break, visiting Paula was one of the first things we did. We were proud of her for having gone out and had a little present for her. We let her out of the restraint so that she could get an erection if she wanted. It had been a week since she last ejaculated. We got her to tell us about her time alone and how she went to the local shops. After being away, Sally and me needed to get some food too, such as bread and milk.

Paula opened our present. I didn't know exactly what it was, but Sally had bought her some silk underwear. They were cut very high -- French knickers. I started feeling annoyed. Never, in my life, have I had silk underwear. And here was this cross-dressing freaking getting to wear them and obviously excited by them.

We went to the local shops. I asked Paula to tell me what the silk felt like. As she spoke, clipperty-clopping along on her high heels, I could tell she was becoming more and more excited. She went on and on about how 'the silky French knickers' felt so smooth against her bum. They were never 'knickers' to her. Or even 'French knickers.' They were always 'silky French knickers.' About how his wormy thing was sort of trapped, just hanging down one of the leg holes. She explained how it was a little uncomfortable. As she became more excited and more erect, the erection kind of got caught in the underwear, so that she couldn't become fully erect. With each step, the silk rubbed against the head of the penis. One step, and the silk ran down the head of the penis, towards her body. The second step, the silk ran in the other direction. It took about five minutes to walk to the shops because Paula was becoming so aroused by the silk rubbing her clit stick.

Step after step after step after step.

When we got to the shops Paula said she was close to cuming. That pre-cum was leaking out all over the place.

DON'T YOU DARE CUM!

It was wonderful to see the look of fear. Obviously, the sound of our voices being cranky and the intense pain of the restraint had become one in Paula's mind. The erection weakened, and we went into the shop. We bought milk and bread and came back out to great Paula.

'Now Paula, we are going to go back. We will walk up the stairs to our rooms, and along the way you may cum.'

We walked back. Slowly at first. The silk rubbed against the head again. Step after step after step. The pre-cum leaking out.

Are you close Paula?

'Yes,' you said

It wasn't what you said that was important. It was how you said it. The agonized whimpering voice told us all we could have wanted. You came closer and closer.

'Does he deserve to cum?' I asked Sally.

She replied. 'It's been a week. Sure.'

We walked up the stairs. The silk rubbed against the head like before. Except walking up stairs, each step led to long slow rubbings against the head. You were closer. Closer.

Don't walk up those stairs so fast!

You slowed down.

Rub.

Rub.

Rub.

Your filthy wormy thing still worked. A week's full of cum had built up and spurted against the 'silky French knickers.'

Spurt after spurt after spurt.

Disgusting.

Perverted.

Loser.

The three of us walked to your apartment. You cleaned yourself up and put on the restraint again. We would keep you restrained for another week.

'We've decided that we like you cuming only once a week. You are a lot easier to control that way.'

'Go to your room and study,' I added.

Like a scared puppy, you looked down on the floor, and went off to study.

'What a freak' Sally said.

[Thanks to Paul(a) for the editing and suggestions]