The Girl Next Door

I was used to being kept in chastity by my wife, but I could not have foreseen and getting caught while peeping at the neighbor's 18 year old daughter as she returns from high school.

I was fumbling with the letterbox, pretending to check for mail, only for the thrill of seeing her sneakers walk by, and her plaid skirt swinging around her hips.

Unknowingly to me, my wife was watching through the window and sternly asked me, as I entered the house:

"What exactly were you doing there, Jimmy?"

I tried to babble something, though knowing perfectly well what she meant.

"Uh. Nothing, really, just checking for mail."

"Checking for mail? Are you serious? You know very well the post only comes tomorrow. You already checked this noon, before we had lunch and I let you edge..."

Getting caught isn't the worst part. It's what comes after that that is hard to swallow. I could try to hold up my lie, or come clean straight away.

"It was so that I could spy on the neighbors, Mistress."

"Spy on who, more precisely? On their innocent daughter?"

Shame builds up, but mentioning the girl also makes my cock throb and the prospect of some sexual release lures my mind into fantasies of being sat on my face with her white cotton panties stifling me.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Jimmy! I think you have some behavioral problems as it stands. And I think apologies are a must."

I instinctively drop to my knees and whimper apologies profusely, looking at the floor.

"That's very kind of you, subby. But it's not apologies towards myself that I meant. I want you to apologize to her. Her name is Samantha, by the way. Undress right now!" she orders, which I comply with. She locks my wrists behind and makes me kneel in a corner, facing the room.

"Wait there until I get her."

I am scared out of myself, but do not dare challenge her reasons. After a few minutes I hear chatter outside the door.

"I know it is unsettling, but it is for his own good. Trust me. He needs to admit it openly in order to feel absolved."

The door opens, and a few moments later there they are, entering the room... I am petrified with lust and shame and guilt.

Samantha chuckles and blushes. She has long dark hair and a pair of apple-like breasts that threaten to burst open her buttoned white shirt. She points a finger at me and turns to my wife:

"What is that shiny metal thing between his legs?"

"It's his personal cock prison. A tool that helps me manage him. He has been locked in it for more than 5 days, now."

I swallow hard, close my eyes and hope this will be over quickly. My wife's voice wakes me up:

"Don't you have something to say to Samantha, Jimmy dear?"

"Uhm... Hello, Miss. I stalked you as you came back home. I am very sorry. I know it is not appropriate."

"That is so gross... Yuck, you filthy pervert!" says Samantha grimacing her pretty face.

I don't dare say anything anymore. But the fairy from next door is curious for more. "And why did you act that way?"

I don't know what I should do, so I look pleadingly at my wife, hoping she would end my misery. The opposite happens, instead.

"Well, you brought this upon yourself, Jimmy. You need to come full circle. Go ahead and explain to the young lady!"

"It's because my wife has kept me without a release and I was feeling so needy."

"What do you mean by 'no release', pervy?"

"It is my wife who decides if and when I am allowed to experience sexual pleasure and release semen from my body." There. I had said it. The second part was easier: "I have been feeling so horny that it made me happy to look at you, but it was all I could have done anyway..."

"He tends to do that when he is very sex-hungry: forgetting common sense and good manners... That is why I need to regularly remind them to him."

I know full well what that sentence means, as my wife quickly confirms:

"I am adding two full weeks to your current chastity lock, greedy man!"

"Thank you, Mistress," is all I can say.

Samantha chuckles again, wide-eyed.

"He even says 'thank you' for this treatment, the poor bastard?"

"Oh, yes, he is well trained in that respect." But my wife isn't satisfied yet. "That was my part of the punishment, Jimmy, but I think Samantha herself should get her fun and retribution as well."

I gulp in fear and excitement. She takes out the leash, which she attaches directly to my cock cage, then gives the handle to Samantha. "Here, you lead him!" then she shows the way to our basement dungeon. Samantha pulls me by the leash to get me up and bring me closer. She leans forward to examine my cage, holding all of her long hair to one side, and smiling as she curiously examines my bulging purple skin and the shiny roundness of my constrained balls. The roundness of her bosom and the tight skin on her neck almost make me faint.

"My, my, that must be sooooo uncomfortable, Mister!" I can see her gaining courage, as she takes the freedom to poke my sore testicles with one of her shiny nails. She giggles at my groan, and pulls me closer still.

"Come downstairs, Samantha," my wife invites her. "I will show you even better ways to have fun with him."

All I can do is follow in the steps of my two tormentresses, awkwardly pulled by my cage, trying to save some dignity by keeping quiet instead of voicing my fear of physical punishment. I know my wife well enough to suspect that is what she means by "better ways"...

"Wow, look at all the pretty things," says Samantha once inside, her eyes glittering. "I've seen this kind of stuff in movies, but never in real life and so close." She slowly takes a tour of our cozy place, walking by and touching the items on display: the whips and two riding crops hanging on the wall, the padded stool with straps, the spanking bench, the collection of dildos lined up on their two shelves, the bed with purple sheets and the gothic style oval mirror...

Then she stops, intrigued, in front of the wooden Saint Andrew's cross.

"I can see you like it. So we will use that," my wife taunts. She knows I hate receiving corporal punishment while standing up, because it is so tiring for the limbs. She must be really cross with what I did, methinks, and try to gather my courage.

"How do you use it?" enquires the young devil disguised in a fairy's body.

"It is a bit technical, I will help you." In the blink of an eye, here I am, legs spread apart, wrists held high, with my back vulnerably turned to my two mistresses.

"Now, all you have to do, is choose a torture instrument. I recommend this wooden paddle. It is rigid and, hence, easier to handle by a beginner."

The paddle my wife is talking about looks pretty much like a standard ping-pong racket, only with a slightly larger and rectangular area. It is quite light for its size, but stings like hell.

"Here, I'll show you how to do it," she completes her tutorial. "You need to place your feet behind him, and take one step sideways. That's where your angle is best. The swing in your arm will carry enough force, yet not tire your muscles. Like this."

CRACK goes my ass, and a sharp burn inflames my buttocks. I instinctively push forward, but the wall is there to stop me.

I groan as the pain sinks in.

"Don't worry, if he becomes too vocal, we will just gag him," my wife adds, to quickly reassure our guest.

They switch places, and it's Samantha's turn.

CRACK, comes a lighter stroke, that only reaches my right buttock. It's only about a third as painful as my wife's first stroke, so I don't complain and barely budge. But this does not escape my astute wife, who moves in to correct the girl's efficiency.

"Don't be afraid, Samantha dear. He has already taken a lot more than that, and this implement is very safe. It never draws blood. You can't go wrong with it. Just move a little more to the left, and give him all that you feel he deserves for staring at you behind your back."

This reminder seems to galvanize our apprentice Mistress. She starts hitting me again, this time with more precision and force. SLAP, SLAP, SLAP. Three times in a row. I groan and wish I indeed had a gag...

"How was that?" questions Samantha.

"Much better. Now try to reach each of his cheeks separately!"

The young lady is eager to try, and she giggles as she sees me swing from side to side, in vain attempts to dampen the impact on my soft parts.

The dangling rubs my genitals on the wall, and it's time like these that I am happy to be locked in a metal contraption that protects my sensitive flesh from the abrasive bricks in front of me.

Four more cracks fall on my barren ass, making me whimper and sigh.

I feel myself drifting deeper and deeper into subspace, getting aroused and tormented at the same time.

I glance over my shoulder and see the smiling Samantha, biting her lower lip as she weighs the paddle and examines my glowing posterior.

My wife grabs my cage and pulls it back between my legs.

"See what happens when you misbehave, Jimmy? Are you sorry for being a greedy pig?"

"Yes I am, Mistress. I beg your pardon, Miss Samantha. I am sorry I have offended you," I manage to hiss while panting.

"No, you're not sorry yet," comments my wife. "But you will be soon."

She turns to her pupil, and I am stunned to hear my wife say: "OK. Warm-up is over. Now we start the punishment."

I buckle up, pulling on my bonds. It is not a true attempt to escape, for I know that is impossible. It is more of a way to express my plea for clemency, but without uttering words, for I know that would displease my wife. She both acknowledges having understood my demand, and dismisses it with three little words: "Give him twenty!"

Samantha giggles at the encouragement, and says:

"OK. Here it goes. You deserve this for your slimy habits, Mister!"

She attacks my skin with the full force that her white tender arms can muster. The slaps are falling in succession: 5, 10, 15... I close my eyes and try to be brave, but yells escape from my chest as the stinging keeps going and going. I can feel the blows growing rarer, and then one last hard slap on my right buttock, that makes me screech and pull on my wrists like a madman.

"That was fun!" Samantha says with her jingly voice, while I try to recover the usage of my brain.

"Don't you have anything to say, Jimmy?" my wife insists, sternly.

After a few misfires, my cortex starts working again:

"Thank you, Mistress Samantha. Thank you for punishing me. Please forgive me for having stared at you. Please. I am very very sorry to have acted like that." I am really being honest at this point, and deep inside myself, under the fresh effects of my paddling, I vow not to peep on her anymore. Although I know my urge will come back, as long as my forced chastity is in place.

"OK, I will forgive you," says the teenager. "But all this stuff has gotten me really wet, I need some relief myself..." I can hear them kissing behind, but I don't dare to look anymore. My rigid cock is tortured enough as it is.

"Well, we will leave you right there for a while, to ponder how you can do better in the future, Jimmy. Don't go anywhere," my wife teases.

The dungeon fills with their laughter as they find their way upstairs and leave me behind, still attached. They turn off the lights as they shut the door behind them.

***THE END***