Queenie and Little Dick, Part 2: Mischievous
(This is Part 2 of the series. You can find Part 1 here.)
Two weeks later, I phoned her from work to say that I’d be a few hours late.
“That’s fine. I have dinner ready, so shower when you arrive and come downstairs,” she instructed.
By the time I finished up and got home, it was almost nine. I entered the house to the sound of soft guitar instrumentals through the whole house system.
“Gayle?” I called out. There was no immediate response, but then heard her over that same system.
“I’m in the basement,” she called back. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll get dinner together.”
I put my bag in the office, then went upstairs to shower, using the steam function to ease away the tensions of a twelve hour day before washing down. We’d gone back and forth over whether to include this in our remodel, but were thankful that we had. I always felt so rejuvenated and refreshed afterwards. Plus, it also fueled some of the tropical or bathhouse fantasy play we had.
Given how late it was, I went straight for the pajamas under my pillow, only to find they weren’t there. That’s when I spotted the split side black satin micro-shorts she’d bought for me about fifteen years ago. I had completely forgotten about them, but so many memories returned as they teased my skin that I couldn’t keep from rubbing my cock and balls through them. Fond recollections of masturbating through them for her drew my hand there, as I watched myself in the mirror.
Hearing “Richard?” over the house system broke the spell.
I scampered downstairs. Peeks in the kitchen and living room revealed nothing other than the smell of Mediterranean seasonings that we both loved.
“Gayle?” I called out.
“I’m in the den,” she replied. I walked down the short hallway and short staircase to enter the dimly lit room. The retracted vertical blinds across our glass wall presented our view of the neighborhood and the glistening city lights beyond. A full moon bathed the deck and its furnishings in a sensual glow.
My gaze panned towards the sectional and coffee table when stopped dead. Gayle was reclining there, wearing a short, slightly parted black silk robe with woven images of commanding serpents and cowering people. Her legs draped over the cushion edge, encased in black stockings with glistening threads of red wire woven through them.
The effect was instantaneous. She’s worn those before during dom play, and my reaction was the same as then as my mind fell into a state of suspended animation, aligning with the budding pleasures of my shorts.
Hearing the crackle of wood-wicked candles affirmed my assumptions of a dominant-themed night. These scented the air with cedar, coumarin, and floral notes. Leather and lace, I used to call it. She’d latched onto that, and would wear leather while blindfolding me in silk, toying me on satin, and laced me in ropes of delicate fabric as hours of sensual pain and excruciating pleasure overwhelmed me.
As my gaze trailed down her body, I sensed that this might be different. She built on my assumptions by easing back the untethered robe to expose a lacy bra and matching g-string. A soft, feminine contrast that suggested femdom and femininity. My body, mind and soul ached to know where this seduction was leading to.
She eased forward to place her glass of red wine on the coffee table, letting her unbound robe splay to taunt me with shadowy glimpses of her form. My involuntary sigh drew a dominant gaze, causing me to lower my head, but not before seeing a wicked smile crest across her lips.
“I have a special appetizer for you tonight,” she says in a sexy whisper. “And if you’re good, a delectable dessert.”
My body wavered, as if two opposing forces were trying to tear me apart. One wanted to consume her, the other awaited instruction.
“I think this will go better for all of us if you’re blindfolded,” she said.
Her words rattled my brain.
“All of us? Was this a ploy, or a destiny?”
I knew I had to keep my gaze on her, but my hearing sensitivity shot up as I anxiously listened for sounds of another person.
She stood and put a blackout blindfold on me. My other senses soared, determined to make up for lack of sight.
“I thought about your fantasy,” she began. “After all these years of playing out fantasies and exploring our interests, I think this one needs to go a little faster, don’t you? After all, it aligns with where our role play has been going.”
“Holy fuck?!” I thought. “Was someone else here, and if so, who?”
I couldn’t think of many options, given how recently I’d told her about my fantasy. A past play partner was the safest. A new play partner that she’d found for tonight? Scary, but I wouldn’t put it past her.
And then there was the scariest option: A new lover she’d selected for tonight, or worse, someone she’d already been seeing. Either of those proved that my disparaging thoughts were dead on.
A mental battle joined my physical one as I tried recalling everything we had said when I confessed my concerns to her. One part of my brain felt fear over what might happen next. The other wanted my deepest fears to win out.
She pulled my sleep shorts down to the floor and had me step out of them. A chill of expectation and urgency swept over my exposed waist, followed by the sensation of my balls being fed through a metal ring. My flaccid cock was quickly folded through it as well.
“What an odd cock ring,” I thought.
It wasn’t very restrictive, but the hefty weight and cool feel was gratifying. A quick once-over with lubricant almost made me leap.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasped. “That’s incredible!”
I was still lost in the thrill of my slippery coating when a shell of metal sheathed my cock, followed by a compressive push and twist against my stiffening erection. My cock fought back in vain as I heard the clasp of a lock, confirming what I couldn’t see but clearly felt. I was caged. She had used one before during domination play, but not for several years.
“There,” she said with a hint of accomplishment in her voice, “this is what my little-dicked man yearns for, isn’t it?”
I had a weird reaction to it. It felt much like I remembered it, which meant that I hadn’t shrunk as much as I thought, right?
Not right.
“I bought a new cage, because let’s face it, we both know the old one is probably too loose to even matter. I didn’t want to believe that, but I was right! Your average sized dick that could barely pleasure me before has shrunk even more,” she said.
Her words were the blow I didn’t want to hear, but felt were true. I wanted her to assure me I was still the man she married. Convince me, even if it meant lying, that I still satisfied all of her needs. Instead, her words made me ashamed of letting her down.
“Funny how I thought all along that it was me,” she says. “That it was my body that had changed, when all the time it was your shrinking dick!”
She wedged a fingertip into the cage. The resulting pain was stifling.
“I’m so glad that you’ve owned up to this,” she continued. “I’m sure you agree I shouldn’t have to tolerate your small cock any more. Now that we’ve confirmed it, the cravings I’ve had for virile lovers make sense. Men that can stretch my pussy in ways I haven’t felt in forever. Make me beg for their cock to fill my cunt and belly.”
I told myself that this was just teasing. That she would never do this. My cock, compressed in steel, yearned to prove its worth once more.
Gayle didn’t miss that.
“Wow! I love that your swelling cock verifies your agreement with this. I know that you’ll love seeing my eyes roll back in unimaginable lust.”
Her response and tone didn’t sound like teasing anymore. What had I done?