Soames's submissives: Trevor

Soames sipped his Beefeater Martini and contemplated wine. He didn't often get to restaurants like La Patisserie Chouquette , one of the ritzier French bistros in Buttermilk Falls. Soames looked with pleasure at the big man across the table from him...Trevor was sweating. And it was ruining the collar of his tailored micro striped poplin shirt.

Once, when Soames had Trevor stripped and bound for a flogging, he'd looked inside Trev's suit jacket, and yup, the son of a bitch had had it privately tailored in Hong Kong with his name," Trevor Von Reich" stitched in gold inside the breast.

"So how are things, Trevor?" Soames smiled. "Taryn told me she dropped by your office and you two had a bit of fun. She loves your aquarium."

Trevor sipped his water--he would never dare drink in front of Soames-- and wiped his brow.

"That's partly why I wanted to talk to you, uh, Master. Yes, it was glorious-Taryn was amazing, she had me undress and she tied me to my chair and took off the Iron Maiden and rubbed my penis with her adorable fingers...and that feather, for an hour. But then she locked me back up again, without an orgasm."

Soames noticed that Trevor was incredibly horny.

Whatever else, extended chastity seemed to keep the boy focused. Trev had begged Soames to put him in chastity many times, especially after Soames could not get Trevor to refrain from jerking off between sessions, which had led to many canings.

Sometimes Trev had called Soames crying when he'd broken down, and Soames would tool over on his Harley and deliver a vicious caning...sometimes with an additional whipping to Trevor's dork with a flyswatter...but he was impossible, which is why Soames had had to resort to the Iron Maiden.

Seven orgasms in sixteen months. It seemed to be working, and had Trevor very interested in his treatment.

The waiter approached, and Soames looked up at him. "It's early in the day, so I'll have a Salad Nicoise, thanks. Hope the tuna's fresh."

Trevor grinned big. "Yes, Jacques, and I'll have baked Camembert, and some jellied consommé--

"No, he'll have porridge." smiled Soames. "A little bowl of oatmeal." Soames repeated it in French.

Jacques looked a little revolted.

Trevor grunted. "Really, Soames, not here, I--"

"Don't want to eat it on your hands and knees, like a bulldog do you Trev?"

Trevor hung his head, and Jacques scurried off. Would he tell the kitchen staff about Monsieur Von Reich's peculiar brunch companion?

Trevor looked up, blushing. "I come here a lot, and---"

Soames yawned. "You were bitching about not getting to cum?"

Trevor coughed. He had more water. "I'm--I'm so horny, Master. I haven't--"

Soames grinned. "It's been what? Five months since the last time I let you beat off onto my boot? You made such a grotesque face when I ordered you to lick it up." Soames rubbed his chin. "It's not like you're getting too much pressure on your prostate, Trevor, I made an appointment with my doc and he massaged it."

"But...I'm so horny. The young girls--it's just so hard, and the pressure on my dick in that vile metal thing--and I thought you were going to let me jerk off every two weeks."

Trevor re-adjusted his pants. "It's very hot--sexually--being in long-term chastity, but I deserve some kind of relief now, don't I?"

Soames was bored. He could be at home right now. Thankfully, he'd Tivoed "SpongeBob".

Trevor was babbling on. "And I had a date one night, and she told me she wanted to-to blow me. I showed her the Iron Maiden and the girl laughed in my face."

Soames sighed. He looked with joy as a fresh Beefeater was produced.

"Trevor, Trevor...I told you that you would be able to cum every two weeks as long as you were keeping up with your assignments, but you fail so miserably. You pay me to make you a better and more obedient little slug, and then you can't fulfill your assignments!"

Soames grinned at Trevor, imagining the big man's cock crushed in the Iron Maiden, which had tiny needles, which punctured the poor bastard's penis when he got hard.

"Kaitlyn and Mollie got you all gussied up in a pretty dress and heels, great makeup, and took you down to the docks...your assignment was to blow twelve men and come back with five bucks from each. You blew about seven."

"No, I blew fourteen, but several men wouldn't pay me, and one kicked me in the face and made my nose bleed. It ruined my foundation and lipstick." Trevor shook his head bitterly.

Soames bit his lip. It was true. The girls had captured the whole debacle on their phone cameras, and watching Trevor kneel on the ground as the big black guy had kicked him and then peed on him, had been rather hilarious.

"But it turned you on, didn't it, Trev, knowing what a whorish little worm you are? What a faggotty little sissy?"

"Yes, Master, but I couldn't jerk off when it was over. And to make it worse, Mistress Kaitlyn went back to my house and after I showered, she bound me to the bed and teased me for an hour...but still wouldn't let me cum.

And--"here Trevor choked back a sob, to Soames' delight--"she'd promised I could kiss her breasts if I did a good job servicing the truckers. But she had me give her a big tip when I got home, and I also gave Mollie some diamond earrings I'd bought her when I last went to South Africa. and I was so excited...

And then Mollie took the earrings and just waved her breasts in my face, her boobs, and laughed.... told me only real men could kiss them. I was crying and she was laughing, before she locked me up and went home."

Soames noted that Trevor was shifting around in his chair, which signified his arousal at the remembered teasing and humiliation. No wonder he got such great tips from this man.

Soames had some more gin. He wasn't planning to let Trevor cum before the end of next month, but he had to think of more interesting stuff to put him through. The oatmeal was coming, which would be fun to watch...he'll hate it, and I wish he could suck my dick under the table. But he can fellate me in the bathroom here.

Then I'll take Trevor over my knee, sitting on the commode and turn his bare butt red and purple, shoving a dirty rag or a roll of TP or something in his teeth to keep Trevor from disturbing the entire restaurant with his screams.

This tuna is sumptuous. Trevor, whatever his faults, knows where to take his Master to brunch, eh?

Yes, SpongeBob be damned. French cuisine was where it was at.