Sausages for the Slave Ch. 05

"I was just about to have lunch, Madam." Best to change the subject.

"I saw that, and what a nourishing dish you have prepared for yourself. Nothing's too good for the slave, eh? But I have a better plan. You can eat your dog's dinner with me this evening. You'll enjoy it all the more eating it in company. I'll enjoy watching your naked ass sticking up in the air as you get your face stuck into the dog bowl. But for now I think we should get you out of temptation's way immediately. I think I see a little stain spreading on the front of you pants again. The best thing would be for you to go on the T-bar now."

"Yes, Madam."

That was an order not a suggestion, in case you think I should point out that maybe it's not the best thing for me. Of course she had brought on my hard on deliberately. I didn't need to look down. I was sure there was a steady leaking of precom into the top of my shorts and the transparent stain to prove it.

"Take off your snug little uniform and get out the spreader bar. I bet you thought I might have forgotten that we agreed to spread those sticky legs of yours. Got to get some air circulating up there."

"No Madam, I remembered." I reached into the wardrobe and brought out the spreader bar. Then I stripped off my vest and shorts, all the while standing behind the white line in full view of the camera on the tablet. She might have some work colleagues looking at this. It is always best to regard these interactions as a bit of a performance; stay in shot, look at the camera as much as possible. I could be streaming live to a world of sick perverts who are paying to see this. The spreader was like the T-bar, with spring loaded cuffs fixed at either end of a 2 ft 6 inch hollow steel bar with an similar sized solid inner bar. I bent over and clipped my right ankle into the right cuff then spread my left leg until it reached past and into the left cuff. I snapped that shut by bring my ankle smartly up against the back of the cuff. I stood up facing the camera, legs apart. My full aching hard on was in plain view and a drip of precum stretched slowly away towards the floor.

"Good boy, I see we are just in time to stop your naughtiness getting out of hand. Now back up and fix your arms into the T-bar."

I reversed towards the wall behind me. The T-bar jutted out from its fixture in the wall by about two feet. When I felt my back against it, I lifted up my right arm behind me and placed it in the cuff, pressed it against the back of the cuff causing it to snap shut. I had to bend forward to get my left hand up high enough to have it snap into the left cuff. I was locked in, bent forward from the waist, my hands pulled up behind my back and held in the T-bar. My legs were spread by the spreader.

"Nearly there, my naughty boy. such dripping all over the floor. Just a little more to do to bring your horny mind back to earth. Now spread those legs wide."

"Please Madam, no more." The spreader bar consists of one solid bar sliding inside an outer hollow one. The outer bar has a series of holes drilled in it and the inner bar has a spring loaded ratchet that allows you to extend the length of the whole bar by pulling the inner and outer bars apart in six inch steps. It is a bit like the modern adjustable crutch. You cannot retract the bar by pushing in on the ends. You have to also press the ratchet down at each hole position. It requires two free hands to do that. At full stretch the spreader becomes a four foot bar which spreads your legs horribly. That in turn lowers your back so that your arms are pulled high behind you and you have to bend your back right over to stop your shoulders dislocating. It is most uncomfortable.

"Just do it, cheeky boy."

I slowly shuffled my legs apart, listening as each time the ratchet clicked and locked into the next hole until the farthest hole was reached. I could already feel the stretch and strain where the top of my legs met my groin. My head was now down below my waist and looking back between my legs. There was no way I could force my head up enough to look at the camera and plead for mercy. I tried anyway.

"Please Madam, I can't take four hours of this. If you don't come home sooner to release me I will probably faint and be left hanging off the T-bar with my arms dislocated."

"Frankly, m'dear, I don't give a damn! Ha!"

So that's what all this was about.