Her Present: A Ball Gag

In which Monmouth describes another one of his delicious assignations:

I didn’t close the curtains right away, enjoying the possibility of someone seeing her like this while I asked her pointed questions about her masturbatory habits for the past couple of days.

Forty-eight hours earlier, I had specifically requested that she avoid any and all self-stimulation, and under no circumstances was she to allow herself orgasms.

She had managed eight hours of the allotted period.

I think I managed to convey just enough dismay at this while I enjoyed her meticulously detailed description of the urgently-needed self-pleasuring she’d indulged in (and, needless to say, she’d enjoyed even more for having been forbidden to do so).

Fortunately, she had brought some disciplinary devices. A paddle, blindfold, and rope. All of which would prove necessary. I had brought her a present: A rubber ball gag, man-size, from a leather-fetishy gay sex shop.

Later, after I had closed the curtains, she stood naked, hands secured behind her back, attached to a rope halter around her chest, waiting while I punched an extra hole in the leather strap of the ball gag with a corkscrew helpfully provided by the hotel.

Her buttocks were already pink when I pushed the ball gag into her mouth and cinched it tightly around her head. By the time we were done, they would be sprouting purplish bruises that would last a couple of days.

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