Psycho

By DX

Copyright 8/2024, all rights reserved.

 “Just one more stitch Russell, and we’re done.  That should seal your mouth up nicely.”

 Her voice poured like warm honey.  As he felt the tiny pinch at the corner of his lip, he tried to remember what she looked like.  Gold, cascading, shimmering, her hair lit up the dark bar like a miner’s torch, her toothy white smile was a beacon, her blue eyes like a Sultan’s sapphire, and her red lips shinned like candy.  

 She wore a long dress the color of a midsummer sky that gently hugged her slim, super-model frame.  He could see her lithe muscles, well earned from hours on the treadmill.  

 Her appearance was a little unexpected, but not completely surprising.  Beauties like her didn’t venture to skeevy dives like his too often.  When they did, it was because they had gotten bad directions, or someone was playing a joke on them.  Rarely they came because they were looking for something a little naughty.

 She was all three.

 Russell signaled the barman and ordered her a drink, but the bartender was already a step ahead and slid it before her so it greeted her as she approached the bar.  The barman pointed out her benefactor with a tilt of his chin.

 Russell casually flashed his wristwatch worth more than most people’s houses to almost down play his strong looks and perfect hair.  He let his tailored suit, designed to accentuate his muscles and hide his gut, do his talking.  

 He let his strong air of confidence reel her in.

 The sway of her hips as she walked over delighted him.

 The click of scissors brought him back to reality.  He opened his eyes to a world of blur.  He was lying on his back.  Above him, bright as the sun, was the blonde bombshell from the bar.  She wore surgical gloves, and was holding a pair of silver scissors.

 Her smile, white and perfect, cut him open.  “Hey, Russ.”  She called to him.  “You awake bud?”

 Fear crept up the back of his neck.  How did she know his name?

 “Come on, big guy.”  She said, insouciantly placing her shears on a tray by his head.  “Time to wake up.”  She glanced at her tiny, delicate watch, squinting.  “I can’t see shit without my glasses.”  She walked away into the gloom.

 Russell shook the cobwebs from his head.  He tried to sit up, but something held him down.  With a tug, he discovered he had been strapped down to a gurney, his arms straight out from his sides.  He craned his neck as far as he could and could just about see a thick leather strap across his chest.

 “Mmm!  Mmmm?”  He tried to speak, but it was as if his lips had been glued together.  He struggled, giving into panic.  He trashed violently trying to break free.

 Nothing budged.

 He looked around.  Transparent plastic sheets hung from the ceiling formed ghostly walls.  Another sheet was strung flat overhead, and a fluorescent light shone through.  Beyond that was darkness.

 She moved through the fog of plastic.  “Is that it?”  She challenged him.  “Are you already giving up?”  She laughed breathlessly.  “Most guys would be giving it a real go.  Seriously, you’re going to want to get out of this mess, because I promise you are not going to like what I’m going to do to you.”

 Russell gave an involuntary pull at his restraints.  There were straps over his wrists and ankles, chest and hips.  He tried to pry his lips apart but pain flared hot and quick.  His breath hissed hard in his nose as he glared hate at her.  He had to get out.  He had to get out and break her neck with his bare hands.

 “All done?”  She cooed and stepped out from the plastic curtain.  She was wearing horned rimmed glasses, and her eyes were no longer blue.  “Oooh, you’re trying to think your way out.”  She grinned.  “Thinking… not your best trait.  You’re a bully who got ahead in life with daddy's money, and now’s not the time to switch tactics.”  She picked up a set of large shears, and her white teeth were blinding as she smiled.  “Now is the time for action!”  She clacked the scissors at him and caused him to flinch.  

 She looked him over causally.  “Let’s get this off you and see what we have to work with.”  

 He struggled as she brought the scissors close, and disbelievingly watched as she began to cut his clothes away.  “Mmmm!  MMM!”  She was destroying a suit costing more than most people’s car.  “Mmmm!”  He screamed, but his mouth blazed in retaliation.

 She violently ripped his clothes away.  “This is the least of your worries.”  She said as her breathing deepened from the exertion as she dragged his shredded clothes out from under him.  “All of this will go to the burn pile.  We take in old flags and twice a year we ceremoniously dispose of them by burning.”  She paused, and took stock of his nakedness.  “While that’s going on, we toss in other things that need burning.”  She picked up his ruined clothes and dropped them in a bin.  She picked up something hairy and tossed that in.  “Things like your toupee.”

 Russell raged!  That was a custom made hair piece!  “MMMM!”

 She only smiled pleasantly.  “I love it when their mouths are sewn shut.  That way I don’t have to listen to their bravado of, ‘I’m gonna kill you, bitch!’”  She scoffed.  “All while still not seeing the real danger they’re in.”

 Sewn shut?

 Russell tried to pull his lips apart.  “Mmmm?”  He tried harder.  Then ignoring sense, tried to tear his lips open.

 It hurt, but nothing happened.

 She leaned over him, smiling.  “How’s that working for ya?”

 He rewarded her with a murderous look.  She had crossed the line.  Whatever kink she had going would be her end.  She damaged his face!

 She shrugged.  “Yeah, you still don’t get it.”  She shifted slightly as her eyes roved over his body before finally coming to rest at his nether.  “Let’s get this over with.”  She said with a tired sigh.  

 Her smooth, gloved fingers brushed his cock like feathers.  Gently she played and stroked and slowly, he began to stir.  “I want you to come for me.”  She whispered, and his cock twitched in response.  “I want you to come big, like the man you are.”

 He felt his cock swell, like water rushing through a fireman’s hose.  She was beautiful, with come-hither eyes.  Her touch was delicate and lingering.  She knew the points of a man, and how to make her touch all good.  She knew the lighting played in her hair, and she made sure to position herself so he could admire her sultry cheeks.

 She whispered to him, encouraged his flow.  She moaned with pleasure and admiration.  She thanked him for letting her service him, and begged him for a big come.  She cooed and ah’d as her fingers brushed him ever so lightly.

 He was angry, and didn’t want to give in, but slowly, slowly, his will ebbed away as he grew harder and harder in her tiny hands.  He wanted to take her and jack her over the gurney and plunge his stiff rod deep into her ass as he strangled her from behind.  He tested his restraints again.  

 She only smiled and whispered to his cock.

 He had figured her out.  She was a dom and had to be in control.  Once she finished, she would release him, thinking him to be her new bitch, but she didn’t know he knew how to dispose of a body.  This would be her last game.

 He would murder her.

 A lot.

 He would be on top of her, his dick buried to the hilt, his hands around her neck.  She was going to die wondering how it had all gone so horribly wrong.

 He felt his cock grow harder than it ever had been.

 “Yes!”  She exclaimed.  “I want your big load!  I want you to enjoy this!  I want you to enjoy the last time you will ever come!”

 What?

 She stopped.  

 She panted and picked up a small glass cup from her tray.  Her eyes were locked on his cock.  “Yes!”  She screamed as if she had orgasmed, then she leaned back and laughed like a mad scientist.  “Yes!  Let it all out!  Give it all to me!”

 Why did she stop?  He wondered.  He was so close!  “Mmm!”  He ordered her to continue.  If she wants his big load so badly, why did she stop?

 She lifted her little glass and admired the white, grey ooze within as it if were a fine wine.  She then looked at him, smiling.  “Thank you, darling!  I hope you enjoyed your last time.”  She looked at his dick still rock hard and throbbing.  “No?”  She tsked.  “Too bad.”  

 As she walked away, could only grunt, finish me!  But she ignored his mummers.  Eyeing where she had gone, he could only wonder if he had ejaculated.  He didn’t feel it, and certainly didn’t orgasm.

 And what did she mean by, your last?

 He thrashed his head back as he tested his restraints again.  He peered around, but there wasn’t much to see.  He could do nothing but wait.

 “Hello?”  A woman called.  “Is there anyone down here?”

 “MMM!”  He called out.  “MMM!  MMMM!”  He screamed into his sealed lips.

 He watched the blurry form of a woman make her way through the plastic curtains.  She was petite, and curvy, and her silhouette somewhat familiar.

 “Hello?”  She called again and stepped beyond the curtain.  

 It was her cute button nose that made him recognize her.  “Mmm!”  He grunted.  It was Brenda, or Barbra, or whats-her-name, from work!  She was one of the girls from the secretary staff.  She was a delectable pixie of cheeks and smiles and a perfect cleavage that begged for a pearl necklace.  She had brown, curly hair with frosted accents that he thought was over done, as he preferred blondes.  They had dated once, but she was talkative and unimpressed with his savoir-faire.  On a second occasion he had kissed her, but they were interrupted, and by then he had lost interest and didn’t see her again.

 He watched her approach, her face filled with surprise and horror.

 “Russell?”  She exclaimed.  “What is going on?”  She looked at him.  “Is, is your mouth sewn shut?”  She then looked around.  “What is this place?”

 Russell moaned and pointed with his head.

 She looked where he pointed.  “Free you?  You want me to free you?”

 “MMMMM!”  He screamed as he wondered how stupid women were.

 She nodded.  “Yes, I should free you.”  Her hands went to the strap across his chest.  “There’s a woman here…  she’s crazy!  She’s going to kill you.”  Her hands moved around the buckle.  “How does this work?”

 Russell threw his head back, mentally calling her a dumb bitch.  

 Glancing at the tray beside him, she picked up a scalpel and looked at it.  “Maybe I should cut your mouth open and you can tell me.”  Her hazel green eyes hungrily locked with his.  “Should I cut your mouth open?”

 Fear flashed through him as he watched her lean towards him.  

 A smile crept across her face as she snorked a laugh.  “I can’t keep this up.”  She laughed.  “You should see your face!”

 “He is pathetic, that’s for sure.”  The woman in blue walked out from behind the curtain.  She was no longer blonde.  She now had short, black spiky hair.  Her face was freshly scrubbed of make up.  

 He didn’t recognize her until she smiled, and flashed her teeth.

 She had the hunger of a vampire.

 The shorter girl looked over.  “Do we kill him now, Lynette?”

 Lynette scoffed at the idea.  “What’s the rush, Annie?”  She painted her finger along his shoulder.  “First, we cut off his left arm.”  She smiled deliciously.  “See, right now he’s not grasping anything.  He still thinks this is just kinky sex and we’re going to let him go.”  Her dark eyes took him in.  “Once we cut off his arm he’ll understand, and then he will know fear.”  She held out her hand.  “Tourniquet.” 

 Russell watched in amazement as she wrapped a nylon belt around the top of his bicep, then began to crank it tighter with a lever stick.  In seconds, Russell could feel his arm pulse with the beat of his quickening heart as pain began to alight, then slowly fade as the blood was cut off.

 He looked at Lynette curiously.  She was right.  He wasn’t conceiving what she was doing.  He watched as the two girls slipped on bright yellow rubber boots and donned clear plastic rain coats.  Then, giggling, they put on plastic face shields, then pulled up the hoods of their coats, drawing them closed to fit tight against their faces.

 Russell twitched as he realized his arm was numb and paralyzed.  

 As Lynette pulled on yellow rubber gloves, she regarded him.  “Do you even know who I am, Russ?  Do you remember what you did?”  She searched his eyes.  “Think back, that day in the store room, when you assaulted Annie?  When you jacked me up against the wall and threatened to kill me if I told anyone what I saw?”  She shook her head.  “That’s why I’m cutting off your arm.”  She pointed to his numb, cooling left arm.  “This is the arm you hit me with.”

 The memory began to flow back into Russell’s mind.  He was in the store room with Annie.  He used a little force, because girls liked it when a man was assertive, but Lynette saw it all wrong.  He told her to keep it to herself or he would make things difficult for her.  Kill?  No, he didn’t quite say, kill.  Maybe inferred, to show his seriousness, but…

 Lynette tilted her head and held up a small, electric chainsaw.  “This will cut through a two inch oak branch in less than three-seconds.”  She squeezed the trigger and it buzzed angrily.  “Let’s see what it will do to your arm!”


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Copyrighted, 8/2024 all rights reserved.
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The B-Gill 2000!
Guillotine.
Breast.
Bacon.

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Chastity Experiment

By DX

Copyrighted 7/2019, 12/2022 all rights reserved.

Sanford Oaks receives an offer to wear a chastity device for one week to receive 50 pounds UK.  How easy is that?
Hand-jobs, sex and debauchery!  A 16K novella!

 He bent down the blades of the blinds and peered out along the rain swept street.  He imagined her stepping around the corner, her sharp heels clicking hollowly, clacking on the pavement.  She would be wearing her black, shiny mac, and it would be beaded with raindrops.  She would be wearing her clear plastic rain cap over her glistening black hair.  Beneath the hem of her mac would be her latex clad legs, moving quickly.  She would be pulling a black suitcase wheeling behind on quiet castors.

 She was late.

 She had never been late.  He could set his watch by her.  Since the program’s inception she would step around the corner at precisely 1359hrs and ring his bell at the moment of 1400hrs.  It had become the pattern he expected.

It was now the pattern his life depended on.

He looked away from the window.  He paced back and forth in his tiny front room, and then sat in his comfy chair.  He looked at the clock on the wall.  She was late.  He looked at his wristwatch to confirm the clock on the wall was correct.  He then got up and walked into the kitchen to look at the clock over the sink to confirm his wristwatch.

 1428hrs.  She was late by twenty-eight minutes.  On the scale of things this wasn’t much of a deal and easily explained.  The subway was late, the bus was late, another client held her up, her cat was sick, (if she had a cat and it was sick) would make a perfect, forgivable excuse for being late one time.

 In the quiet of the kitchen he could hear the battery-powered tick of the clock as the big hand neared 1429hrs and he became aware he had been sub-consciously touching the device through the fabric of his trousers.

 He pulled his hand away quickly and walked into the front room and looked down the street through the gap in the blinds.  He needed her.  He needed her to remove the device.  He had decided definitively it would be the last time.  If they offered him a million pounds to wear the device for another second he would resolutely state, no.  He practiced saying it, so it would be a quick, knee-jerk response.

“Would you like to wear the device for another second for a million…”  

“NO!”  He wouldn’t even let her finish.  “Just unlock it, give me my fifty-thousand pounds and have a good day.”

 The clock on the wall read 1430hrs.

 He pulled his hand away from the device.  Touching it did nothing and he could do nothing about his cock crushed within its confines.  It was the perfect chastity device.  He could not get erect, he could not orgasm.  It was the pinnacle of design, far removed from the first device they had him wear at the start of the program nearly two years ago.

 It began with a simple letter in the post.

 Buried with the bills and adverts was a plain white envelope with his name neatly written on it.  Initially he tossed it aside figuring it was an advert, but its simplicity called back his attention.  For starters, they spelled his name correctly, Sanford Oaks.

 “Dear, Sanford;” it began.  “We are currently conducting an experiment which based on your profile would make you a suitable subject.  You will be paid for your time.  If interested, please return the self-addressed, pre-paid postcard.”

 Sanford checked the return address.  It was foreign, probably Norway or Scandinavia or some such place, but they used the magic words, ‘paid for your time’.  Sanford considered himself a man of intricate complexities.  He was in his fifties, owned his house (inherited), and was collecting disability.  He had a long résumé of random jobs; building crack monitor, caviar extractor, drying paint supervisor, to name a few, but his last job, a level one inventory resupply specialist, had left him, as the doctors described, nervous and unable to work.

 He did supplement his income with random, unlisted jobs.  This income was never reported to the taxman, a villain if ever there was one, and kept him in beer and chips.  Sanford was always on the prowl for a few easy quid.

 Within a week of posting his reply, he received another letter in the same, plain, boring style.

 “Our experiment is to study male sexuality.”  The letter explained.  “To eliminate random factors, we need a chaste subject as a control.  To achieve this, we would first need to create a safe, gentle chastity device for long-term wear.  If you agree to wear our prototype for seven days you will be paid fifty pounds UK.  If you manage to escape the device, without damaging the device or injuring yourself, you will be paid an additional fifty pounds.”

 Sanford mused.  ‘Fifty quid for seven days of not touching me John Thomas?  How easy is that?’  He thought.  ‘And another fifty if my willie gets whiley?  Well!  A hundred pounds for a week’s worth of nothing?  Yes, please mister man!’

 As he checked off the card, he thought about how many times he self alleviated his male urges.  He casually went weeks without even bathing, let alone diddling himself.  This, he thought, was easy money.

 Only a few days later a post arrived announcing the device would be delivered in a few days.  It would arrive at 1400hrs.  “Please make every effort to be available to receive the device.”

 He glanced at his calendar.  He was available.

 It was a Thursday.

 He expected a lorry.  What arrived was quite unexpected.

 Her dimples sank into her cheeks and her smile was blinding.  “Good afternoon!”  She said.  “Sanford Oaks?”

 He nodded, numbly.  Her eyes were chocolate morsels, her nose crinkled when she talked, and her lips were soft and welcoming.  She was a delight!  Curvy, and nicely packaged in her blue nurse’s uniform.

 “I’m Madeline, I’m here to install the device.”  Her eyes flashed like a co-conspirator, almost winking as she said the word, device.  When Sanford didn’t respond, she went on.  “May I come in?”

 “Oh, yes!”  Sanford exclaimed, realizing he had been staring.  “Please, forgive me.  I was expecting the postman, yeah?”  He stepped back and ushered her in.

 She walked in, dragging her case behind as her eyes evaluated the house.  “This is excellent.”  She said turning towards him.  “Is there anyone else in the residence?”

 Sanford was lost in the depth of her dimples.  “Uh, no.”  He replied.

 She talked while smiling.  “Excellent.  Then we can do this here in the front room.”

 “Do what?”

 “Apply the device.”  She said simply.  As Sanford continued to stare, she went on.  “No worries, I am a certified professional.”  She reached into her purse and pulled out a flat, black wallet.  With a flick of her wrist a fan of cards draped out like a broken accordion.  “Please take a look.”  Her face tinged with bashfulness.  “I’m quite proud of them.”

 Sanford forced his eyes to look away from her pretty face to the list of cards hanging like a banner from her hand.  She was pointing out her accreditations and he was struggling not to watch her.  She wasn’t the prettiest girl, nor did she have the biggest boobs or curviest bum, but she was such combination of everything, her voice, her charm, her poise, her smile as it lit up the gloomy room, it was hard not to drink in her intoxicating image.

 “If you would pop in the shower and come back with a towel covering up, I’ll get set up here.”  She finished.

 Sanford scrubbed himself red in the fleeting moments he was in the shower.  When he returned, Madeline had donned a black rubber apron and had laid out a collection of documents across his coffee table.  “Please, have a seat and read these carefully.  I only ask you to keep them in order.”

 He sat on the sofa and watched her.

 Madeline had moved some of the furniture to make room for her set up.  She set her case on the floor and clicked it open.  Reaching in she grabbed the top strut of a skeletal structure and with a pull it began to unfold.  It moved on hinges and formed a stout chair.  She gave it a final pull and all the joints clicked into place solidly.

 She looked at him.  “Any questions?”

 Sanford had barely glanced at the paperwork.  “To be clear,” he surmised.  “I just have to put on a device,”  he wavered, “on my, privates, yeah?  For one week, right?  And I get fifty quid.”

 She shrugged while nodding.  “No and yes.  I put the device on you, and then you wear it for one week and get fifty quid.  If you get out of the device, without injury, you get another fifty quid.”

 He stammered.  “You put the, uh, device…”

 She smiled, brightening the room.  “I am a certified professional.  While everyone is a unique individual, I’m confident I have a good idea what’s under that towel.”  She gave her chair a pat.  “If you are satisfied with the paperwork and initialed and signed the highlighted parts, we’ll get started.”

 Sanford signed, scribbled, and scrawled.

 Tentatively, he took a seat in her chair as she donned gloves, a surgical mask and a white cap, leaving only her milk chocolate eyes visible to him.  With that done, she placed his feet into stirrups and secured his legs down with nylon straps of hook and loop material.  He tensed as she did the same with his arms, strapping them down to the chair.  His face of rising panic was soothed with a glance from her smiling eyes.

 “We must insure the control is free of variables.”  She said, patting his hand.  “You’ll have plenty of time to explore the device later.”  Madeline took a packet from her bag, ripped it open, and pulled out a sanitized mouth guard.  “Open up!”  She said, holding it to his mouth.

 “Wraugh gru?”  He mumbled as she stuffed the device in his mouth.

 “Again, variable control.”  She pulled a strap from her pocket and encircled Sanford’s head with it, ignoring his eyes of alarm, and sealed the mouth guard in place.  Running her hand smoothly along the side of his head, she checked for fit.  “Are you having any discomfort?”

 Sanford shifted in the chair.  He couldn’t speak.  He could barely move a muscle.  Glancing up, he fell into her eyes as she looked for any indicators of distress.

 “Alright then.”  She said.  “Let’s get started, shall we?”

 Gently, she pulled his towel away.

 A cool breeze brushed against his skin and Sanford tried to look away as his cock began to stir.

 Madeline was changing her gloves.  “That is a perfectly normal response.”  She said.  “Please do not be embarrassed.”  She draped a sterile sheet over him and threaded his manhood through a slit in the center.  “You are already showing healthy signs.”  She kicked at something beneath the chair and Sanford realized it was an attached, collapsible stool.  With her hands in the air, she sat down and made herself comfortable.

 Her eyes of chocolate birthday cake peered at him.  She took his blood pressure, pulse, and listened to his heart.  She then placed a sensor over his finger.  She noted his vitals, then changed her gloves.  “I will now start my examination.  During this time, many men experience an erection.  That is perfectly normal and somewhat expected.  This will take a few minutes so sit back and relax.”

 As she donned her safety glasses, he could see his ghostly reflection in her eyes.

 Her fingers skirted across his cock like the sweep a feather.

 Sensations rolled over him like an ocean wave as her gentle touch slid across his tender skin.  She cooed and ah’d, congratulating him on blood flow, size and girth.  He risked a glance at her and watched her eyes peer down at the task at hand.  Instantly he was like a rock, harder than he had ever been before.

 She rolled her fingers across the head of his cock and her fingers moved as if she played a wind instrument in an orchestra.  Gently she cupped him.  Gently her touch slithered up and down his shaft.  Gently she explored every millimeter of his genitals.  

 Gently, gently, gently.

 “It is perfectly normal,”  she went on, professionally, “to extrude pre-seminal fluid.”  She paused.  “Ah, here we are.”  Her finger dragged the clear tear around the head of his cock.  “Excellent.”  She stopped and sat back.  

 Sanford was afraid the exam was over.  He quickly thought, ‘Ah, so this is the scam!  I knew it was too easy!  Get me all worked up, cut me off and charge for a finish.’  He squirmed in his chair.  ‘and I’m trapped good, right where she wants me.  A fool I am, blundering into this trap!”

 Madeline, ignorant of his rising panic, took a cotton swab and captured a sample of his fluid and set it in a plastic test tube.  This process involved changing her gloves several times.

 With the tube sealed and properly stored, she changed gloves.  Then she pulled open a small packet and squeezed out a dollop of goo in her gloved hand.  “For the next part of this examination I will be using a sterilized lubricant.  While I tactilely survey your penis, it is quite normal to become aroused.  Many men ejaculate.  This is a normal and natural response.  Please do not feel embarrassed or feel you need to restrain yourself, alright?”

 Her hands were like silk as her fingers roved over every millimeter of his cock.

 Already primed from the first part of his exam, Sanford grunted as his eyes rolled back.  In seconds he went off like machine gun.

 “Excellent!”  Madeline exclaimed.  She busied herself using a fresh cotton swab to collect a sample of his seamen.

 Changing her gloves again, she took a warm, moist cloth and thoroughly cleaned him.

 Finally, after another glove change, she secured the device onto his manhood.

 She rose and quickly went through a well-rehearsed and methodical removal of her hat, apron, mask and gloves, and disposed of everything into a sterile bag before un-doing his restraints.  “I hope that wasn’t too distressful for you.”  She said, her dimples deepening.

 “Nuh, nuh, no.”  He said, nervously, his head swimming.

 “Next week this time?”  She asked, helping him out of the chair.

 Sanford was weak in the knees.  As Madeline pulled the sensor off his finger and helped him over to the couch, he peered at her confusedly.  “Next week?”

 She draped his towel over his lap.  “Yes, to remove the device.”

 “Oh, yes.”  He blinked, his senses returning.  “I’m a little winded.  That was a heck of a, uh, um, examination, yeah?”

 She shrugged.  “Many men enjoy it.  When I remove the device there will be a similar exam.”

 “Similar?”  Sanford exclaimed in disbelief.  “I don’t think I could manage that!”

 She smiled warmly.  “I’m certain you’ll be up for the challenge.”

 “What if I escape the device?  Will there be another, uh, exam?”

 Madeline nodded.  “Certainly.  Also another fifty quid.”

 Sanford could not believe what she was saying.  “Yeah, next week then.”

 She nodded as she turned to her equipment, and in moments everything was neatly folded back into her case and the furniture was properly arranged.  She surveyed the room, making sure everything was in order.  “Until next week then.”  She said brightly.  “I’ll see myself out.”

 And she was gone.

 Sanford was still reeling from the exam.  He sat on the couch until the clock chimed and nudged him out of his reverie.  Reliving the moment, he peered back in time and watched it again, this time floating out-of-body.  He watched her fingers filled with lightning rove around and touch all the spots of his cock, driving him mad.

 Although he was satiated enough to keep him for months without even thinking of his cock, he felt his member stir.

 He peered under the towel.

 The device was black.  It was sleek and shiny.  It encompassed his penis and clamped around his scrotum almost as an after thought.  He nudged it slightly, then tapped the surface with his fingernail.  He couldn’t decide if it was metal or plastic.  While it looked impressive, he couldn’t figure out what held it on.

 He tried the simplest and went to pull it straight off.

 It didn’t budge.

 It didn’t seem to pull on anything and he couldn’t imagine how it was anchored in place, but it certainly worked.

 He never realized how often he swelled and shifted until he had no access to his cock.  Often his Johnson tested the confines of the device, like a jungle cat pacing back and forth in the cage at the zoo.  Although the device was like wearing nothing, he was constantly reminded of it.  Thinking about it made his pecker grow.  His growing pecker would then be thoroughly restrained by the device.  Being restrained made him fidget with the device.  Fidgeting made him think about it.  Thinking made him grow.

 He was out of the device on the third day.  He had been distracted as he checked for lottery winnings while reading an article on how to win the lottery and not pay any tax, while subconsciously fumbling with the device, as he increasingly did.  

 It simply came off.

 He looked at it curiously.  No lock, no mechanism, it seemed to have be held on by nothing more than force of will.  He set it down and went into the toilet for a celebratory piss while standing.  He had never realized what a privilege it was to pee while standing.  It was a surprising revelation, one that really struck him while at the pub.  The device had forced him to sit to pee and the loo at the pub wasn’t the most hygienic place.

 With his tinkle done, he jiggled, then jiggled again, then closed the seat on the toilet.  He sat, closed his eyes and had a nice, meditative moment of self-gratification while thinking of Madeline.

 It had only been three days yet he spewed readily and heavily.

 Thursday at 1400hrs precisely he opened the door.  Madeline was there, mildly startled as she hadn’t even rang the bell.  Sanford presented the device.  “Good for you!”  She exclaimed.  “There’s another fifty pounds for you!  Perhaps, however, you’d want to do this inside?”

 “Oh, yes of course.”  He stepped back, bidding her entry.  “Would you like a hand?”

 “No, I can manage.  Why don’t you pop into the shower while I get set up?”

 “I just showered for you already.”

 “That won’t do, I’m afraid.  Rules are you have to shower while I’m here.  Make a quick rinse off for me?  There’s a good lad.”

 Sanford sprang up and back within moments, a towel around his waist.  Madeline sat on the couch and laid out her paperwork.  “Here is your gift card for fifty pounds.”  She held it up.  “You’ll get another one in the post once the paperwork is processed.”

 He watched her.  The afternoon sun shone in sharp lines through the blinds and brought everything it touched into high resolution; the curve of her cheek, the corner of her lip, the sphere of her breast.  She moved with precision and practice.

 Her brown eyes sparkled in the sun as she looked up at him.  “Read these over, alright?”

 “You changed your hair.”  He said, dreamily.

 She nodded.  “You’re the first one to notice.”  She reached up and pat her hair.  “It’s a wig.  To eliminate variables we all have to be brunettes now.”  She shifted over on the couch so he could sit and sign the paperwork.

 He joined her.  “How many others?  Nurses, I mean.”

 “We’re called technicians.”  She said, thinking.  “I don’t know how many they are.  The whole thing is done on-line; training, paperwork, the whole lot.  I’ve actually not met another person in the company.  I just get my assignments, install the devices and post the paperwork.  All the signatures have to be hard copies.”  She stood up and brushed the creases from her uniform.  “I’ll get set up while you have a read.”

 He glanced at it.  “Um, taxes, yeah?  How is it reported?”

 She pointed to a form.  “Here, you’ll see how that’s done.  You have to submit this income separately and you are responsible for all the taxes.”

 He nodded and grinned as she turned to pull her chair from her magic bag.  He then read the form.  In short, the taxman didn’t know.  ‘and what the taxman doesn’t know,’  Sanford thought. ‘won’t hurt him.’  He turned over a page and noted it was printed in several languages.  Obviously it was a foreign company and the experiment was being held in different countries.  The burden of dealing with different governments and tax rates would be challenging, so to skirt the issues they relied on the honesty of the test subject.

 This all translated to Sanford as simply, tax-free income.

 His eye caught numbers on the last page.  “What’s this, Madeline?”  He asked.

 She had set up her chair and was busy donning her black latex cap and latex smock.  “They’re offering you one hundred pounds to continue the program.  Two weeks.”

 “And if I escape the device?”

 She pulled on gloves.  “Without damage to the device or injury to yourself, one hundred pounds.  If you damage the device and get out, you’ll get fifty pounds.  If you injure yourself, there is no bonus.”  She patted the chair seat.  “If you just sign the other paperwork we can get started.  Once the exam is over, you can decide if you want to sign up for the two week program.”

 Sanford signed everything.

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