CUCKSERVATIVE tale #2 “Washingtonian Wanks” a tale of DC Dommes & well…

This one ran at ERWA two years ago, was writ post the weiner dude… xxoo!  Enjoy.  One can only imagine the depravity in DC.  Most certainly I have!

Washingtonian Wanks

by Valentine Bonnaire c. July 2013 valentine@valentinebonnaire.com

Mistress Devries had standing appointments all over town with the leading dicks who ran the country.  Their names were piled high in her little pink book.  Kinky wasn’t the word for what most of them liked.  Torturous realms of desire were the things she provided.  She pulled open her desk drawer and extracted Bixie’s lead.  The afternoon had proved tiresome as it was.  Leaves glinted against the tall glass windows of her study.  Soon he would be naked, there.

The leash was made of the finest Italian leather, and so were his chastity bikinis.  They were soft, softer than feathers even.  It’s what she would do with the laces that Bix dreamed about week in and week out as he sat taking notes for the overlords.  The laces and the lashes she had instructed him to buy sight unseen.  This secret outfit was a direct counterpoint to his everyday Chinos and golf caps.  Sometimes he gazed across the greensward at the little white balls being putted and thought of his own, the way that Mistress cupped them when she was in a lighter mood.  Bix liked to think of her as tender.  Tender even as she had him crawl across the floor, laced as she had him, as she always had him, tighter each time.

“Monsieur Bix Honornot has arrived, Madame.”

“Send him in, Nita.”

Nita bowed and slipped out of the room while Mistress watched the leaves dance in the splintered sunlight against the glass.   She let her thighs spread apart and fingered herself through the slit in her silken panties.  The slit where she would have Bix tongue her after he had been chastised for wanting to do so.  She knew how to make him beg like a dog, panting, his leash in her hand, the tightened collar around his throat — her lacings wickedly wrapped around his balls until his shaft was so hard inside those little leather garments she fancied him in, it was practically popping out.  He knew what would happen if it did.  He knew he had no control at all over that, no control over his own manhood and its wild ambition.

“Bix,” she said, in a slow voice that reeked of dark silk and something molten.

“Come in.”

He shuddered as usual at the sight of her in all that dark maroon leather, and the boots that ran all the way up her thighs to that place on her he felt was heavenly.  His eyes couldn’t stop tracing the lines of her legs over and over and over.  He could see the tiny slit in her silk panties, could see the barest glimpse of pink just behind the lace, could almost smell her scent if he tried.  That scent he dreamed about all week.  The scent he could never forget as she wrapped the leather blindfold around his eyes and tightened it.  The scent she made him crawl to, every week.

“Come,” she said.  “On your knees.”

Bix knew the routine.  He crawled to her across the floor, as quietly as he could.  The blindfold would be waiting in her hand.  He’d brought another suit, another tie, another shirt and these were left with Nita in the after chamber.  Mistress Devries liked to cut his clothes off of him, slowly, as if they were only unnecessary fabric shreds of the real life he led outside.  The life he thought he *actually* led.  His eyes followed the patterns of the immense Kilim rug as he crawled.  Soon he would be naked.  More naked than he had ever been in his life, each time she undressed him.

He waited at her feet as the drawer slid open and then clicked shut.  Soon his blindfold made the light go away, made the leaves go away, made the rug go away, made the slanting afternoon sun go away.  The harsh wool of the carpet was rasping under his palms.  He had known that feeling many afternoons, as she had slowly stripped him of everything.  Stripped him even of himself, or all the things he thought were himself.

He trembled as she clicked the silver scissors in the air near his ear, and ran her hand across the broad pink Oxford impeccable wilderness of his shirt.  She cut the tie off first, always.  And then the shirt, and then his undershirt.  The last was the slowest, and she was meticulous about letting him feel the cold metal of the scissors, each click exposing more and more of his innocence.  His skin went soft against her hand, shrinking back as she continued.  Mistress could always feel him tremble, and this trembling made her wet.  As she stood next to him, she watched his nostrils flare like a bull’s.

“Your hands, Bix.”

He knew that this meant to reach forward along the rug, like a dog extending its paws in play, his ass high in the air, his balls dangling.  He had never seen the laces she used on him, only felt them as she wrapped his wrists and forearms with the kid straps, anew each time and always of such varying thicknesses.  They were so soft, and yet so tight.  He was blinded and pinioned before her like a stallion, but she had never made him take the bit.

“Very good pet,” she said.  “Very good.”

The rug was abrasive against his chest, as she pressed him down with her boot.

“How have my playthings been?”

Bix groaned as he felt her hand sliding across his ass.  She rubbed him until he spread his knees apart as widely as he could in the Chinos.

“Have they been good little balls?”

He heard the scissors snip in midair, clicking, as she took the fabric of his pants between her fingers, at his crotch.  She cut a large hole through the khaki and his wife’s choice of tidy nautical boxers until his ass and his balls were exposed from the rear.  Mistress began to fondle him, weighing each ball in her hand and letting them roll loosely.  Bix was only allowed to make dog sounds in her presence, at first, and only when she told him to.

“Speak Bix.”

“Ruff.”

“That wasn’t loud enough.”

“RUFF.”

“I’ve missed my playthings.”

“Ruff, ruff, ruff.”

“Such a bad boy, aren’t you pet?”

He shivered as her hand kept up its play. He was getting hard and Mistress would be displeased.  He made every effort to will his cock back into its normal flaccid state but nothing he tried would work.  Her palm against his skin was silken, sliding and sliding.

“Shall I have to lace you?”

“Ruff,” he barked.  “Rrrruuuuffff…”

“Pet needs his bone.”

The dildo was made of thick ivory leather.  It was a sort of silencer for Bix.  The thought of Mistress making him take a fat cock in his mouth made his bottom jump and twinge.  There was no telling what she might do.  His pink and white flesh heaved nakedly in midair, balls dangling, cock stiffening, stiffening, stiffening.  The punishment for this was going to be severe.

“What did I tell you about this hard-on?”

Her hand was around him and stroking him so gently, it was like a feather.  The girth and length of his cock kept expanding out to meet her palm.  It was automatic.  He tried to stop himself.  He had really tried, and he had failed once again.

It meant the Bone.  It meant he couldn’t bark, couldn’t lick, could only smell her.  She slipped it into his mouth, the two inch leather instrument shaped like the fattest cock in the world.  It was so short, but wide enough that it forced his mouth into an unnatural O-shape, filling him completely.  There were big round leather balls that hug from the base of the Bone, filled with sand — these fell against his chin.  Whether they moved or not depended on the force with which she decided to punish him.  Even the sound of the leather balls as they smacked softly against his chin made him shiver inwardly.  Bix knew what was coming.  He’d gotten hard against her wishes, again.  Each time with Mistress it was different when he disobeyed.

There were no straps to hold the Bone in place.  It fit him perfectly, but without any restraints.  If Bix were to expel it while Mistress played with his cock and balls he would be punished with a cane.  Each week he quivered with desire as she started in with her gentle caresses, each week he tried his best to stop the hard-ons from spurting accidentally; from her tempting hands, from the scent, from the silk of her.  He had never expelled the Bone, but her handling of him made him dizzy with longing.  There was always a chance that he might, and she knew this as she toyed with the weighty sand-filled balls that dangled along his fine strong chin.

“Pet, do you know how I feel about that new Bill 2789065?”

Bix shook his head, as best he could.  The big sand-filled balls rolled against his chin.

“Nate was here just before you and he confessed everything to Mistress.”

Tears formed at the corner of Bixie’s eyes.  He and Nate golfed together monthly.  He hadn’t known that Nate saw her too.  Hadn’t ever thought about who else came to her secret chambers on the long leafy street.  Hadn’t  thought about who else had been in this very room with her until now.

“I don’t like that Bill much, Bix.”

Mistress Devries walked to the window where a small marble-topped side table held a plate of Nate’s offerings.  Big puffy doughnuts that were all the New York rage stood high.  They had amused her as she’d had Nate hold one in his mouth while she caned him over and over again across the arm of the leather sofa.  *Poor darling,* she’d thought.  *Poor pink puffy darling.*

She took one of the pastries and slit it.  It would make the perfect cock ring for Bixie later in the ante chamber.  The idea was simply too charming for words.

“Bix, darling,” she smiled as she started in and began to fondle him all over again, “Shall I get your leather bikini?”

He could barely nod his assent.

“We really must do something about this.”

It had only taken Mistress a second to revive his swollen member.  She could hear his moans coming more harshly as his nostrils flared.

“You mustn’t come Pet.”

Bix shook his head again, as if to say he wouldn’t.  He was so hard he was ready to burst from the slow back and forth of her teasing, gentle stroking.  Unable to see, unable to make any sound at all because of the Bone, he knew that Mistress could gauge his feelings solely by the clenching and unclenching of his ass muscles.  She ran her palm over his bare bottom and bared balls softly as he began to buck against her hand.

“I think I should put your bikinis on you, Bix.”

He nodded.  Mistress was going to tie him with her long kid lashes.  Tie his cock and balls together softly so that he couldn’t come as she played.  He could hear the snipping of the scissors again as his pants were freed, until every stitch he’d had on was gone, until she made him lie face down against the rough wool of the Kilim, his legs widespread, his cock and balls exposed between them at her disposal, ready for the soft kid leather, ready to feel the tightness of the bikini as she sealed him into it at her leisure, ready for the straps that pulled it so tightly against him that he couldn’t come, not even if he tried.

“You’ll have to pleasure me with your nose, Bix.”

Blindfolded, with his arms stretched before him, Mistress positioned herself just in front of his face.  Her thighs were widely spread and the lace of the panties was split apart revealing the pink curving slit of her pussy.  He knew better than to try and expel the Bone, knew that Mistress liked to feel the leather of the balls he wore caress her cunt’s slickened lips.  She opened herself fully before him.  He would only be able to use his nose to pleasure her.  He’d have to make her come again and again as she liked to, while he was restrained.  She lay back against his bound arms and slid herself against his face.

“Drag your balls against me.”

Bix lifted his head and the heavy weight of the balls rubbed her wetted lips.  She sank into the feeling of heaviness as he slid them up and down her moist channel.  Her scent was intoxicating as she became excited.  He was hesitant to move without her commands and he could feel her excitement rise and fall, with the beat of the balls as they moved, slowly rolling against her — her lips getting fuller and pinker each time.  He had only his nose with which to pleasure her crevasse.  He moved it slowly along the lacy surround of her, parting her swelling hot lips and caressing them, moving to circle her clitoris over and over and over as she gave out little muffled cries of pleasure.  His nose pressed against the nubbin harder and harder each time as she lost herself in the waves of stimulation.

Finally she pulled the Bone from him and inserted it into herself, so moist it was from his mouth, such thick heated ivory leather.  He took the liberty of beginning to lick at her, blindly in the darkness as she pulled his head closer with her hands.  It seemed to take hours until she was sated fully.  His cock was like an animal, straining against the lacings it was so hard.  There was nowhere for it to go, except to rub frantically against the carpet.  He was going to come, he couldn’t stop himself.  His whole body chafed against the abstract patterns of the woolen rug, humping it, banging it wildly, imagining himself allowed to be inside her.

Mistress lay back in repose on her elbows watching his naked buttocks move and clench, the bikini had slid loose from his hips, and even some of the kid leather lacings were shredded and tattered.  His cock had done that.

“My stallion has to come, doesn’t he?”

Bix could barely whisper a yes, when he felt the river surge within him.

Mistress unsnapped the leather blindfold so that he could come while he watched her toy with the Bone.  It was so fat and short, nothing like his cock at all.  He watched her slide it up and down her opened slit, watched it catch now and again in the lace, watched her dangle the balls along her swollen, hot red lips.  Bix came, unthinkingly, seeing stars, dizzy with the scent of the leather, dizzy with her, dizzy against the chafing wool of the rug.  She let his head come to rest at her thigh, while she stroked his hair softly.

He had started as a dog and become a stallion in the course of an hour, as was usual.  He lay with what seemed every ounce of everything extracted from him.  Mistress Devries pushed a button and Nita came through the doorway with his new suit and some towels.  She’d be bathing him in the ante chamber, running her hands along every part of his body while he watched the tapes of what had transpired between he and Mistress just moments earlier.  It was Nita’s job to bring him hard all over again, Nita’s job to dress him, Nita’s job to give him the blow job he wanted so badly from Mistress.

The blow job that every week he waited for, with Nita on her knees before him this time, working him as he watched himself hump the carpet.  It was Nita who always handed him the envelopes with instructions about the various Bills that were passing through the overlord’s chambers, and Nita who whispered about how Mistress Devries might feel about each and every one of them.  Not one Washingtonian *ever had the nerve* to cross Mistress Devries.  It was rumored that she had them all by the balls.

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