Tell Me What You Want Ch. 06

She shuddered, seeming to crumble at her admission, muttering, "Like I said, a freak."

Bea stared down at her hands, but Hector moved without really thinking about it, reacting instinctively in the face of his friend's distress. He knew what she needed to hear, and as he settled on the edge of her chair he took her into his arms. Bea didn't resist.

"You were amazing, Bea. I know what I said at work. That was wrong of me, I just got blindsided by the situation. That's on Lotte though, not you, that need she has for the drama. She made it all about her, but I get it. That bit was all about you."

Bea wrapped her arms around him too, reciprocating. She buried her face in his neck and seemed content to enjoy the moment.

"I got home, after, and I lasted about a minute."

Hector chuckled, replying, "You got that hot and bothered over two strokes?"

"Fuck, Heck, you have no concept. I had to have a couple of extra goes."

"That's nice, really."

Bea pulled back, disengaging, a puzzled expression on her face.

"What's nice?"

"That I'm in your fantasy."

"You have a high opinion of yourself all of a sudden, slave."

Bea switched out of the familiar mode, smiling at him.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I uh, I guess I'm just a little lightheaded," Hector replied smoothly, enjoying the banter.

"From what?"

"Close proximity to your body, Ma'am, being permitted to touch you," he replied, "Low blood sugar."

"You are a wreck, aren't you?"

"You've wrecked me, Ma'am, yes."

Bea looked pointedly down at his crotch. He was filling the clear plastic casing locked over his genitals completely, his flesh reddening with the pressure of his denied erection. She tapped a finger against the hard plastic covering his balls. He couldn't feel her touch, but watching her finger make contact was enough to send a powerful ache through him.

"When was the last time these were properly drained?"

"Mistress drained them a week ago, but she's been working hard to fill them up ever since."

"Yes, she told me."

Hector felt a little spike. Lotte had been telling Bea everything, every trick and tease, each time Lotte had gotten Hector hard and then forbade relief. Bea tapped the plastic encasing his balls again.

"They must be overflowing by now, slave. I'm surprised you're still able to walk properly with everything sloshing around inside them. It got me so hot all week in the office, knowing that you were trying to concentrate on your job when all you could think about was being allowed to cum."

The admission surprised him, but more surprising was the forthright tone with which she'd said it. There was a new confidence in her now, bubbling up after her confession to him. He realised how it had been weighing her down, the extent to which his harsh words at work had added to her guilt, pushing her perilously close to self-loathing. Released from that, forgiven for her actions, Bea was re-energised.

"Let's do something about the low blood sugar levels first, slave. I need you able to serve, not falling down in a heap."

Bea cut another slice of the fresh bread, holding it up to him. Hector reached out but she pulled it away, grinning wickedly.

"Would you like some spread on it? It's a little bit dull on its own."

"That sounds lovely, Ma'am."

The salmon dip enticed him. His stomach churned. He waited for Bea to spread it on the slice. Bea didn't do that though, and what she did shocked him.

Bea unbuttoned her shorts, teasing down the zip. Hector's gaze was fixed on her crotch, unable to look away. She was naked underneath, she hadn't bothered with panties, revealing a trimmed patch of light fuzz and just the very top of her groove. He forgot to breathe.

Bea slipped the bread slice into the front of her shorts, pushing it down and pressing it against herself. Hector gaped at her in stunned amazement as his best friend revealed an entirely new side to herself. She shifted her hips enticingly and after a few moments she pulled the bread out of her shorts again.

Bea held it up to his face. Hector didn't dare move.

"Aren't you going to thank me for your wonderful lunch?"

"Thank you Ma'am," Hector mumbled, his brain on autopilot as he stared at the bread slice.

Its surface glistened in the light and a distant part of his brain registered that Bea must have been soaking in her shorts. He thought back to cleaning the trail of his pre-cum from the denim with his lips, the scent of her. Bea had let him do that, she'd been sitting reading her book watching her naked slave obey her orders, she'd let him feed her, and all the while she'd been sopping. He parted his lips and Bea slipped the bread into his mouth.

Hector could taste her. There was the familiar taste of the freshly-baked bread, but mingled now with her juices. She had seeped into the bread, imbuing it with a flavour that was at once familiar and at the same time so very foreign. That he was tasting what Bea tasted like, in that little forbidden haven between her trim thighs, drove all other thoughts from his mind. He chewed and reluctantly, he swallowed.

"Another?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he rasped.

Bea cut another slice and slipped it into her shorts. This time she wriggled her hips but withdrew her hand, making no effort to retrieve it. She rose from her chair, her crotch now level with his face, and placed her hands on her hips.

"How far would you go to fill your stomach, I wonder?" Bea mused.

"I will do whatever you ask, Ma'am. I'm at your command," Hector grated.

His voice was rough, straining with an unbearable need. He felt as if he would shatter the plastic cage around his cock, his discomfort turning to pain as he struggled mightily against his confines. He was afraid of what Bea was going to make him do, but he had no doubt that he was going to obey her.

As before, she had asserted her dominance as if just flicking a switch in his head, deactivating Hector and activating her obedient slave. Bea was staring down at him from on high, watching as he slipped deeper and deeper into the sweet realm of submission in his head. She teased the zipper of her shorts down a little further, reveal the crust of the bread.

"Come and get it," she murmured, "No hands."

Hector's mouth closed the distance to Bea's crotch as if drawn by the inescapable tug of gravity. He took the crust in his teeth and his nose brushed up against her trimmed mons, all at once overwhelmed by the friction of her neat hairs and soft skin against the tip of his nose, and the powerful scent of her arousal in his nostrils. He basked in the forbidden contact, his eyes drifting closed, unable to believe that Bea was letting him do this, giving him the access that he'd been dreaming about for years, turning his fantasy into reality.

Bea remained absolutely still, her hands on her hips, legs slightly apart, the front of her shorts peeled open with Hector's face pressed against her skin.

"Eat," she commanded.

For a split second, Hector imagined she'd ordered him to consume her, rather than the bread, and he was lost in the fantasy of burying his tongue deeply inside her, tasting her juices, pursing his lips around the little hard nub within her folds and sucking until she bucked and writhed, pressing herself against his face, coating him with her slickness.

His tortured, compressed cock throbbed painfully and he was caught up into the unfairness of it all, the indignity. Hector was being presented with the thing he'd been dreaming of but he was incapable of acting on his desires, his manhood bound within a tiny plastic case and his mind bound with the need to obey. Bea had said eat, but she meant the slice of bread.

He tugged the bread up out of Bea's crotch, holding it in in his teeth, looking up at his controller like a dog waiting to do a trick.

"Good boy, you may eat."

Hector tilted his head back, struggling.

"Silly boy, use your hands. You were just forbidden from touching me, not your food."

Gratefully, Hector seized the bread and bit into it. Bea's essence had seeped all the way through it, a delicious moistness that he savoured in little bites. He was aware of Bea watching him degrade himself beneath her, eating the bread that she had just smeared with her juices. He had been humiliated, Bea had done it so naturally, her earlier hesitancy a distant memory. She was enjoying exercising complete control over him, warming to her role as his dominant.

"I'm worried that you're going to do yourself an injury though," she observed, looking down between his legs, "I think you might burst something soon."

With that, she walked away, back into the house, leaving Hector to savour the last of his slice in peace. He guessed what she was doing: she would be finding the little tool that unscrewed his cock cage. It was way past the point that he should be allowed to unfurl himself into a full and unfettered erection. He thrilled at the thought of her standing over his kneeling, bare body, looking down at his rigid manhood. He would assume his kneeling display pose, demonstrating his worship of her, showing her what a perfect slave she'd turned him into.

He even dared to hope that she would permit him a reward. Had it been Lotte standing over him, it would have been different. His wife would perhaps choose to settle herself down onto his raging erection and command him to satisfy her. Bea was off limits, but Lotte had delegated all authority and privileges to her friend for the weekend as per the final clause in his slave contract, turning over her husband to the absolute ownership of her friend for the entire weekend.

A tightness gripped his chest.

Lotte enjoyed all rights to his body, able to command him to pleasure her in any way she desired. The contract delegated all those rights to Bea too. Hector had always been a faithful husband to his wife; Bea had been out of the question because that would have been adultery, betrayal, divorce. The contract changed all that, and Lotte would have known it. At the time of signing, stripped naked in his own kitchen, he'd been stunned by the things Lotte had written into the contract. Now, looking back on it after being Bea's plaything for the weekend, he was conscious of the omissions.

Lotte could have done it easily, writing caveats into the last clause, restricting the limits of her delegated rights, but she hadn't. His cunning, smart wife wouldn't have just missed that detail. Fidelity was the cornerstone of a marriage, and yet she hadn't placed those obligations on Bea in the contract. For the first time, Hector got a glimpse of what could be some grander plan in Lotte's head, something that spanned much more than training him to give oral on command and do the dishes, something truly transformative.

Bea came back out of the house, and he couldn't help himself. He dropped automatically down onto the grass in his kneeling display position, his mind reeling from the implications of following his thoughts to their logical conclusion. Bea had zipped herself back up, but her body enticed him in a way that he'd never dared to permit himself to feel before. The unbearable ache in his balls had extinguished all rational thought.

"Get up, I don't want you just kneeling. That's no use."

Her tone was friendly, her eyes smiling. She had something in her hand. Hector's hopes surged, waiting for the moment she would free him. Instead, she showed him a tube of lubricant. His mind went blank.

"Up on the table, slave, on your hands and knees. Come on, quick. I'm trying to help you out here."

Hector sprang into action, kneeling as instructed over the bread board. Bea set the lube down and cut another slice of bread, but she put it to the side rather than feed it to him. She popped the lid off the little tube and squeezed a measure of the clear gel onto her fingers.

"Now, please just relax. I haven't ever done this before so you need to tell me if I'm hurting. This isn't a punishment. I don't want to send you back to your wife damaged."

At the mention of damage, Hector tensed, despite being told to relax. Bea sensed it.

"It's going to be fine. I've read up on it. I watched videos. Let's just try and see, and if it's not working, I'll stop. Has Lotte ever done this to you?"

He felt the cold touch of her fingers against his puckered rear entrance and he flinched.

"No, uh, she's never... uh, we discussed but never...."

"Seems I'm ahead of her for once then."

She said it matter-of-factly, a little smug edge to her tone. Her fingers hadn't moved, pressing gently but insistently into the cleft between his buttocks. He realised that she was waiting for him to relax.

Hector had discussed experimenting with anal intercourse with his wife, but there had been something about the idea of letting his wife penetrate him that had rubbed up against his ego. To be the penetrator was natural, to be the penetrated was humiliating, turning him from a powerful husband into a submissive wimp. After all, what kind of man would willing let his wife thrust into him while he mewled and bucked?

Lotte had watched pegging videos with him, wives dominating their husbands with strap-ons, reaming their backsides in the same way that the women in other videos had to lie back under their men and take a pounding from rigid, angry cocks. He had hesitated and his wife, unusually, hadn't pushed it.

Now, on hands and knees in Bea's back garden, she was waiting for him to relax enough to admit her finger. He could feel the coolness of the lube already smeared around his hole in preparation, but he was at war with himself about allowing Bea to take the next step. She didn't appear to have brought anything else out of the house, and her tiny denim shorts were too tight to hide anything in her pockets. Maybe it was just a finger. Maybe it was another test of her relentless assault on his male ego, making him submit to being entered by a woman, cementing her domination over his body.

Despite Bea's given reason for doing this, that he needed relief from his blue balls, he failed to see how this was going to help him. Taking the cage off would help him. He would relish the opportunity to be made to kneel at her feet and jerk himself off. The idea of spewing rope after rope of his seed into the grass while she stood over him was deeply humiliating and at the same time his most ardent desire. Her finger remained poised over his opening. He needed to answer the unspoken question.

Hector allowed his sphincter to relax. Bea must have sensed it. Before he'd prepared himself for it, she pushed, sliding the tip of her finger inside him.

"There you go. Good boy."

Hector clenched at the intrusion instinctively, his body trying to expel her. Bea kept her finger in position, neither pushing nor withdrawing, patiently letting Hector acclimatise to his new situation.

"Ready? Just a little further."

He forced himself to relax again. He felt so full, like she had secretly swapped out her slender finger for a dildo after all. The finger slid further into him, and he felt the bump of her knuckle. She withdrew carefully, then pushed back in again, working the lube inside him.

"Nearly there."

Her voice was soft and gentle, and he found himself trying to open himself up, to admit her digit further. She pushed again and he counted two knuckles then her hand pressing against his crack. He squirmed at the intrusion, but she held firm, moving as he moved, her finger embedded resolutely within his cavity.

"There we go. Stop straining, we're done, I'm there. Just relax. Let me try."

Hector's sphincter pulsed, straining against her intrusion, feeling strange and violated. She waited calmly until he ceased squirming.

"Let me try," she repeated.

Hector felt a motion deep within him, all at once like he really needed to go to the toilet, but also needed to pee. He let out a breath, realising that he'd been holding it all this time.

"Is that it? Right there? Feels like it?"

"I don't know," Hector gasped, and then gave a little groan as a weird, stirring sensation began to emanate from deep inside his core.

"That's it," Bea hissed.

She sounded excited.

"Just right there, hey? Okay, just go with the flow. Let me know if I hurt."

She was making little come hither motions inside his rear, brushing up against his inside wall. His rigid cock, compressed helplessly, twitched in pain, desperate for release. Hector realised that he was making a long, low groaning sound.

"Just let it happen. Good boy. You can't do anything about it. I'm in control."

He felt a tug deep inside his compressed cock and looked down between his legs. Bea was twisting the metal ring dangling from the tip of his cock cage, uncorking him again. The bolt slipped out of his urethra and a dewdrop of precum emerged from the tiny hole.

"You're leaking like a sieve."

Bea picked up the slice of bread and caught the dribble of precum with it before it splattered on the bread board. She continued her slow stroking motions deep inside him. Hector's body started to quiver.

"Doing okay?" Bea asked.

"Yeah, uh, yes, Ma'am, I'm just... oh fuck... you're just... I'm sorry, I'm struggling. I'm not sure I can hold on."

"I know. Just relax. Like I said, it's all out of your control."

A deep, satisfying urge spread through him. He stared at the encased tip of his cock, angry purple pressed tightly against the clear plastic. He felt a shudder and then a stream of white began to drain from the tiny hole over his urethra onto the bread slice below. He watched, dumbstruck, feeling the sensation of his body expelling a week of stored-up cum without orgasm, a pressure relieved while also denying the relief that was making his body shake.

"You're so tense. This must be just about unbearable for you."

Bea was stating the facts. Her voice was calm, in complete control, her finger gently milking him until she'd drained the last of his seed from his body. He watched as the stream ceased, cheated of the savage bliss of climax, emptied but not satisfied. Bea withdrew her finger.

"Kneel, slave."

Hector shifted off the table, kneeling with his legs spread, assuming his display position. His rear entrance throbbed, the memory of Bea's finger still strong. He looked up at the pretty, petite blonde woman above him, utterly amazed that his cute, funny, unassuming friend had just violated and milked him, and that he hadn't even struggled. He could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't done yet: there was still more to come.

She offered the slice of bread to him.

"Yum yum," she said.

Hector pulled back, reviled by the sticky white substance garnishing the bread in front of him. Bea's expression changed, the smile fading, and he felt flutters of disquiet in the pit of his stomach. But her eyes weren't hard, they were kindly, sympathetic.

"I know you don't want to do this, Heck. I know that the thought of being made to eat your own cum is horrendous."

The fact that she'd used his name made everything a lot worse. This wasn't playing, Bea was being very serious.

"Has Lotte ever made you do it?"

"No. It's just never come up."

"It has. We talked about this, Lotte and I. We both agreed it needed to be part of your training. Take the bread."

Hector watched his hand take the slice of bread from her.

"I want you to eat it all up and then thank me. I know it's not what you want, but it's what I want to make you do. You aren't doing it because you like the taste, you're doing it because you have no choice but to obey me. Are you ready Heck?"

He could smell it on the bread. He wanted to gag, or to find a way out of the situation. He knew what Bea was telling him, that it was part of being owned, that he had to submit his body to his owner's wishes regardless of his own. This was a lesson in obedience but also a trust exercise. He could safeword and stop it, but Bea's words came back to him: was he in physical discomfort? Was he unable to comply? The answer was no.