Chpt 7.
Mike woke up with a headache. That was strange, he usually only got them when he
had a hangover, and he certainly hadn't drunk enough last night to be hung-over.
He groaned, but strangely enough he made no noise. He tried to lick his lips,
but found that he couldn't open his mouth. He tried to feel it with his hand,
and found that he couldn't move it, nor the other one. In fact, he couldn't move
at all. His wrists and ankles seemed to be attached to something, but in the
darkness of his room, he couldn't see to what.
He thought back. He had drugged Martine and put her to bed. Then he had had a
last drink before going to bed himself. He hadn't bothered to check the house,
he knew that he had shut and locked everything before leaving to fetch the girl,
the only door he had opened on their return had been the one to the garage, and
he knew that he had shut and locked it before getting her out of the car.
He tugged futilely at his bonds - nothing gave, it was obvious that they were
stronger than he was. He couldn't understand it, here he was, tied up in his own
bed in his own house, a house that had been secure when he had gone to bed. Who
had done this to him, and how?
Sometime later - he had no idea how long - he heard the door open and the light
came on. His eyes watered, unaccustomed as they were to the pitch-black darkness
of the room, and he was unable to make out anything. Then little by little they
cleared and became used to the light and he saw a figure standing at the foot of
his bed. From the tiny waist and the full hips he guessed it was a women, but
that was as far as it went because she was wearing a full face-mask, apparently
of some black, imitation leather material. She just stood there, unmoving,
silent, only the scarlet lips of her mouth visible. Her silence was eerie and,
spread-eagled as he was on the bed, he found that he was being to feel a little
scared. What on earth was going on? Surely Martine, even if she had woken up
already, would never have been able to free herself from the bed he had tied her
to?
The woman, whoever she was, was dressed in a shiny black bodice of thin,
wet-look material that pushed her full breasts up, barely covering the nipples.
Her throat was encircled by a black choker into which were set small metal
studs. She wore what he could only think of as hot pants, again made of that
thin, shiny black material with the wet look. They were tight, outlining the
mound of her pubis. Though he couldn't see them from where he was lying, her
feet were encased in boots of fine, soft leather that came halfway up her
thighs, the high heels making her look taller than she really was.
She stood looking down at him, knowing that her gaze, with her eyes concealed
behind the mask, was making him uneasy. His wrist and ankles were tied to the
four legs of the double bed, so that he was stretched out tightly in the shape
of an X. The only garment he had on was the thin leather pouch holding his cock
and balls, the pouch that he had been too tired to take off when he went to bed.
After some moments she moved round and sat on the bed beside him. She reached
out her hand and placed it gently on his chest. It felt soft and warm and
pleasant, that small hand, lying there. Slowly she began to caress his chest,
her hand moving in small circles, brushing over first his right nipple, then
back to cover the left. The feeling was erotic and he began to get an erection.
She saw the shape of his prick elongating in the thin pouch, and smiled to
herself.
Still moving in small circles, her hand started to move down his chest and over
his stomach. Slowly it crept down towards the leather pouch, but at the last
moment it deviated, creeping slowly and soothingly down his left thigh. Arriving
at the knee, it moved to the inside of his thigh and started slowly, Oh!, so
slowly, moving upwards. The higher it went, the more it slowed down, until the
small circling movement was happening within an inch of his balls and his now
throbbing cock.
Mike didn't know what to think! On the one hand, in view of what he had done to
Martine, he was afraid that this was nothing but the prelude to an attack. On
the other hand, the caresses had raised him to such a heightened state of
sexuality that he didn't really care what she did, so long as she touched him
where he lived.
The hand came to a stop, resting lightly on the inside of his thigh, and a wave
of frustration swept over him. Christ! If only she would get on with it!
Suddenly, the weight of the hand was gone from his leg and he cursed mentally,
it had only been a come-on after all. She had just wanted to get him worked-up -
and as far as that was concerned, he had to admit that she had done a pretty
good job on him.
And then, suddenly, his body went rigid, his hips thrusting upwards as a sharp
fingernail scratched a testicle through its leather covering. The sensation was
beyond words, he felt like he was on the point of coming. Then she did the same
to the other one and he felt like screaming with pleasure, only he couldn't, the
wide piece of packing tape stuck over his mouth and stretching up almost to each
ear made sure of that. The fingernail scraped all over the surface of his balls,
driving him nearly wild. Then it stopped and he felt the leather thong that held
the pouch in place being untied. Next the pouch was pulled away and he felt cool
air on his prick and balls. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for that soft,
feminine hand to caress his cock.
And indeed it did. The soft pads of the fingertips slid slowly down the long
stalk towards his balls and then all four fingers on one side and the thumb on
the other slid round his scrotum and the hand held his balls in its palm.
Slowly, softly, the hand tightened on him and he groaned with pleasure. God,
that felt good! Now, if only she would take his cock in her mouth and suck! But
that was too much to hope for. A tiny thought pricked away at the back of his
mind - why was it necessary to tie him up in order to be so nice to him? And who
was she? He had absolutely no idea who she could be. Not that, in his present
state of excitement, he cared very much anyway.
The hand squeezed his balls gently, rhythmically, and he tried to lift his hips,
to push against it, to heighten the sensation. The he felt the hand open, except
for the index finger and the thumb, so that his balls lay exposed on the palm,
squeezed into the extremity of the scrotum. He felt the woman's other hand come
down and cover them, rolling them around the palm, pressing them gently, teasing
them. His cock was so hard he was sure that he was going to explode at any
moment. His eyes tightly shut, he groaned in pleasurable anticipation. Seeing
this, the woman lifted the hand with which she was manipulating his balls some
six inches into the air and brought it cracking down hard across them!
Mike tried to scream, his body bucking wildly in its bounds as he tried to
double up, not that that did any good, they were far too strong for him to
break. The pain was incredible, he had never felt anything like it before - and
he never wanted to again. It felt as though someone had introduced a giant hand
into the pit of his stomach and was twisting everything inside. He was sure he
was damaged for life. He tugged again at the ropes holding his wrists, he had to
free himself before she had a chance to do anything else to him - something
worse. He tugged wildly, madly, but to no avail, there was no way he was going
to get free. He started to lift his head in order to glare at her, to try to
intimidate her, there was always a chance that...Smack! The hand struck again,
flattening his balls onto the palm of the other one. This time, instead of
removing her hand, she pressed down on them, as hard as she could, at the same
time rolling them between her palms.
He shrieked his agony behind the sticky tape, the excruciating pain invading the
whole lower half of his body, a wave of blackness threatening to engulf his
mind, alone in a world where the only thing that existed, that mattered, was
that atrocious pain! Suddenly she stopped the pressure, but the pain was still
there - it felt as though it had been there way back for as long as he could
remember, and that it would go on forever. He broke out into a heavy sweat, his
naked body suddenly soaking wet with the oozing beads of moisture.
The women smiled behind the black mask. How easy it all was! Here she was,
125lb, a so-called weak female, causing this big, powerful man, 190lb of bone
and muscle and as macho as they come, to writhe and scream with pain, with just
the smallest movements of her hands. This was real power! Suddenly she
understood the mentality of the Femdom. It was like a drug, this feeling of
power, of having at her mercy a man who, under normal circumstances, was
physically her superior. She felt more confident with this realisation, knowing
that she was in control of the situation, even it is was a bit like holding a
tiger by the tail. She giggled to herself - it wasn't the tail she was holding!
Her fingers curled back around his balls and slowly she started to squeeze. His
body tensed in anticipation of the renewal of pain. As her grip tightened the
pain began to flood up from his aching balls. He shook his head wildly, to
indicate that that was enough, but her hand squeezed tighter and tighter. He
writhed, as though in an attempt to shake of the hand that imprisoned and
tortured his maleness, but all to no avail. His body arched up, glistening with
sweat, and still she squeezed. Then in addition to squeezing, she ground one
ball against the other. It was too much for Mike and he blacked out.
The woman's eyes gleamed though the slits in the mask. She had been anticipating
this reaction. Bending down, she picked up a small bottle and a pad of cloth in
small plastic bag from where she had placed them, on the floor near the head of
the bed. Holding her arms out in front of her, she unscrewed the stopper of the
bottle and poured a little of the colourless liquid onto the pad. She
re-stoppered the bottle and put it back on the floor. She then leant forward,
placed the pad over his nose and mouth and started counting. The hospital smell
of ether pervaded the room, and in spite of herself, she shivered - she hated
hospitals. When she had finished she put the pad back into the plastic bag and
pulled the drawstrings tight - it wouldn't do to knock herself out as well.
She resumed her position beside him and listened to his breathing. It was steady
and regular, just as it should be. Everything was going exactly to plan.
Angelique sat back, for it was indeed Angelique behind the black mask, and let
her mind roam back over the events of the past fortnight.
