Toy Closet Ch. 04

"Do you have to tie him to the chair before we leave?" Bea asks, leaning over me as I sit on the couch and slide my boots on slowly, letting you watch as I pull the leather you licked over my bare calves.

"He doesn't need to be tied," I tell her, "he'll stay where he is."

"Plus he needs his hands to send us more money while we're out." Em says, slipping into her red pumps. She shimmies her thin arms into a light jacket and I see your eyes fall to where the fabric of her thin, silk top has lowered.

Your desperate gaze tracks her chest and she bends to buckle her heel, cleavage spilling out over the V shaped dip in her camisole. The sharp shock makes your body spasm for a split second, the sudden twitch making Bea and Em jump in surprise. I laugh and wave the small, sleek remote in their faces.

"He was looking at you a little too long," I tell Em, a smug smile spreading across my face, "thought it was the right time to test that thing out."

"Happy with the results?" Em asks, hand still clutched to her chest from your abrupt jolt.

"Looks like he is," Bea laughs, eyes concentrated on the throbbing swell beneath the fabric of your pants.

"Our toy loves being played with." I tell the girls.

I wink at you as you catch your breath and ask if you understand the consequences of keeping us waiting while we're out. You nod your head quickly in pathetic obedience as I slip the controller into my pink leather purse. I know we are both eager for you to give me a reason to use it again.

Em stands by the door impatiently, tapping her red patent leather heels on the hardwood. The black strapless jumpsuit she had donned tonight accentuates her collarbones in the warm light of the foyer, the bustier top causing her breasts to sit in a supple swell against her chest. I glance towards you quickly, hand reaching back into my purse in hopes I'll catch you making the same mistake twice, but your eyes are dutifully directed down at the floor.

"Good boy," I tell you, giving your head a reassuring pat as I saunter by your chair. Your eyes flutter over the strip of bare skin between the hem of my short silk dress and the top of my boots. I think about giving you one more shock before we go but I decide to pace myself, certain I'll find an excuse to make you squirm again soon.

I grip my fingers around my full wallet as I make my way to the front door, the feeling of your money in my hands filling me with gratifying euphoria that will serve me well on a night out.

"Ready to go?" I call back to the girls, Em saddling up next to me as Bea scrambles to slip into her sling backs.

"Coming," she calls, shimmying to her feet. Your eyes stay still as you look down at your lap and try to breathe steadily. Half of you is already alone in the apartment, sitting in quiet anticipation of punishment in reaction to the slightest infraction. Your pulse is already rising and the thought of sitting as still as you can and only moving when you're ordered to do so.

"Peter," I say sternly, causing your eyes to jolt up towards mine, cheeks blushing from the shock of me addressing you by your actual name, "clean my new sneakers while we're out." I toss the pair of crisp white shoes at you, turning my back before you can scramble out of your chair to catch them. Em and Bea laugh on their way out the door and the sound carries down the hall as I turn my keys in lock, leaving you alone, but nowhere near free.

You let the moment wash over you as you sit alone in the apartment and consider your Friday evening. It feels like a waking fantasy, and the shock I sent through your body acted as a sharp pinch, ensuring you weren't dreaming.

The control all three of us exert over you makes you shiver in your seat -- a spot you will not dare to move from, knowing how easily I can check the footage and find out if you do. Though part of you craves the punishment it would bring, your need to please me keeps you from breaking any rules this early into the night. You will hold out as long as you can, you tell yourself, staring longingly into the lens of the small camera, excitement swelling inside as you imagine me staring straight back.

Your cock twitches at the idea of your obedience overriding any of your basic needs. If you get hungry you will not eat, if you get hard you will not touch it, if you have to piss you'll do it in the chair. The knowledge of it all makes your cock throb and your head go light. You close your eyes and wait with desperate longing for us to make our first demand.

Your phone sits on your lap and you jump when you feel a soft buzz on your thigh, thinking of the stronger shock you had the painful pleasure of feeling earlier. Your movement sends your phone onto the floor and you scramble with desperate speed to grab it, not wanting to leave the chair even for a split second.

You glance at the camera as you sit back down, guilt spreading through you, bringing with it a nervous shimmer that soars beneath your skin. The feeling, you decide, is like being high on obeying. The lack of control provides a strange sense of safety and the thrill of being used is something you can't stop chasing, always relishing the complex comfort of your chair in the corner.

You pay attention to the rapid beat of your heart while you settle in the chair and look back at the camera. You hold your breath for a moment, waiting to see if I'll catch your split second infraction and punish for it, but no shock comes. Safe for now, you think, though somewhere in the corner of your brain, you are begging me to catch you.

Another buzz in your lap draws your attention back to the phone, lighting up with two more alerts. You look down to see what we're requiring from you first. The initial charge is for the ride to the bar, you fulfill right away and check the next one. The message reads "send $50 for our first round of drinks", your eyes drop down to the text below it, "and $100 for our second -- we made some friends."

Your fingers work quickly to send the money, feeling lightheaded and deeply happy as you imagine the three of us inviting more women to run up your tab. "Yes goddess. Sent. Thank you." you write back before placing the phone back on your lap, ready to patiently wait for your next set of orders.

The phone buzzes again the moment you put it down and the vibrations carry themselves through your whole body, a physical sensation that reminds you of the mental one you get from serving. You look at the message and see another demand waiting for you. "Send a photo of you seated in your chair -- from Bea." Excitement shivers down your spine at the thought of my friends teasing and testing you like this.

You follow Bea's orders and snap a photo of your legs, firmly planted in the same spot we left them in. As you send the image you glance at the camera atop the fridge, realizing we probably aren't spending our precious times keeping tabs on you. You feel a flush of joyful embarrassment at the thought of scrambling so fast back to your chair, so certain we would be waiting to punish you. You are a wallet tonight and nothing more. The only thing you'll be punished for is not sending fast enough.

You see the photo has been received and hold your breath for a moment, hopeful your quick response may warrant a "good boy" from Bea, but the words don't come. You assume we have become happily distracted by the drinks you're lucky to be paying for and you soothe yourself at the thought of us spending your money on the other women we meet at the bar, offering you up to anyone we want.

For a moment you consider taking your time on the next send, masochistically excited for the abrupt shock that soared through you when I tested the toy. You are ready to feel the delicious jolt again but you want to see how long you can hold out, how long you can please us before taking one small thing for yourself. Part of you thinks I am one step ahead, that I would know how badly you want your punishment and refrain just to drive you crazy.