Sperrington Lochmuir knelt in tired resignation. A new hood? Could there be a more onerous burden than the heavy old hood, heavy leather completely covering Sperry’s head and shoulders?
Whenever Sperry’s wife Cyrilla had her big parties, she’d bind Sperry naked in the middle of the room, while everyone was still clothed and socializing.
This was humiliating enough, as people wore their most formal evening clothes—designer gowns and tuxedoes –and enjoyed martinis and champagne in fancy glasses as Sperry was naked and embarrassed right there in the room.
Sperry’s golf buddies and their wives were there, sneering at him and his neighbor from across the street. Everyone knew that Sperry was a naked pitiful slave boy at home, and it was just unbearable!
But then, around the time that the orgies started, Cyri would plop the hood over Sperry’s sweating head and shoulders.
Then he’d be denied sight or sound of the party, that he was supposedly hosting, and he couldn’t see everyone disrobe…he couldn’t look at the beautiful, delectable naked body of Lauren Pinowicz, wife of his dentist.
The only stimulation Sperry would receive would be the occasional cock of some male guest or other that was shoved through the little mouth hole of the Hood. Sperry gave five to fifteen blowjobs every Party night, which usually happened weekly on Thursdays.
To who, he didn’t know. It was so outrageous—it had been so much fun in the old days, back in the Nineties, when they were equal partners, and they had parties with cocaine, group sex, all that good stuff…
Sperry got to fuck a few of his friend’s wives, and many of his neighbors enjoyed Cyrilla’s pleasures.
In 2003, Cyrilla found some of Sperry’s BDSM porn…she read some of the stories about male slavery, and he’d admitted that it did turn him on.
She’d been great about it, spanking him gently, and then a little harder, and tying him up and teasing his dick and squeezing his nipples…and then pinching them harder, especially if she’d had a difficult day.
But then Sperry had gotten a transfer to Buttermilk Falls, and he and Cyri had discovered the infamous PainCafe—nightclub and shopping center catering to kinksters.
Cyri had joined a support group for dominant wives, and she’d come home to suggest, rather formidably, that they try full time chastity play.
“Really, Sperry, hon. we’ve done weekends with you in that silly chastity belt, why don’t we try what you’re always fantasizing about? A week in the belt…starting now.”
After a week, she’d let Sperry fuck her, and he’d been incredibly energetic. So they’d tried another week, and then a fortnight in the belt…
But during that fortnight, Cyri had found a boyfriend, and she’d told Sperry he could jerk off into a glass and drink it, before she locked him up for another MONTH.
Of course Sperry was very turned on by that, the idea of being locked in a belt was so exciting…but the reality wasn’t so pleasant, especially when you get locked up and then your wife forgets about you!
“It’s not your fault, Sperry dear.” Cyrilla would say dreamily. “I just love having you go down on me night after night without me having to do anything in return…reciprocity is a bore, you know!”
And they began having parties with their new friends. But now Sperry was left out, in a way. He was certainly a participant, but not much of a beneficiary. Hooded, blind and deaf, only having the um, sense of taste…of all those cocks.
Now and again, a guest would haul Sperry over a bench, and try out various canes and whips on his naked ass, and that also was an upsetting sensation, although Cyri insisted that it was a great party trick!
He saw the smirks on the faces of his golf, tennis and bowling buddies, to the point that he gave up his male friends, which pleased Cyri since now Sperry had more time for housework!
And there were always mystery guests that showed up at the damn orgies after Sperry was hooded.
Once he caught the postman snickering at him, and then another time he heard one of the illegal alien landscapers refer to him as a “maricon.” God, Cyri was inviting people from up and down the social ladder! She was committed to Sperry being the Party Favor of the neighborhood.
Sometimes, after a particularly good Party, when Cyrilla and her friends had all been fucked well and the guys complimented her on the Hood sucker dude…
She would let him jerk off…with the Hood still on, while everyone watched. And he had to do it then when she allowed it, because she allowed so few jerk off sessions!
What could be worse? Cyrilla had now hired F.X. Copeland to bring a new and advanced hood. This was ridiculous!
Cyri was in a much better mood, talking to F.X. Copeland, the PainCafe Craftsman, about his newest invention. “So, Cope, what do you think?
I’ve heard fabulous reports of this Video Hood of yours from my friends, although Marjorie Plinkhorn did tell me that her husband accidentally ended up watching Bugs Bunny from a cable station.”
Cope, a red-faced chunky man in a green coverall smiled. What a great set o’ headlights Miz Lochmuir has on her, boy…Cope wouldn’t mind some a that.
“Well, Miz Lochmuir, I’ve re-wired the antennas on the Video Hood so that won’t happen again, I think.
An’ it’s real improved. When I put the Video Hood over Mr. L’s head it’ll be different from the regular hood, where he caint see nothin’. He’ll have the tiny screen, and he can watch a little movie while his mouth is doin’ the nasty thing.”
Hearing this, Sperry cringed. Instead of seeing nothing with a leather thing over his eyes, he would be forced to watch God knows what…whatever Cyri planned to show him! And this while he was fellating her perverted friends.
Cyrilla smiled. “That would be great. Sometimes at my parties after enough of the men have drained their penises in Mr. Lochmuir’s mouth, their wives like to tease his cock.
And of course I expressly forbid him to cum, but it’s probably easier for him to resist cumming, even with the soft, teasing fingers of my gorgeous friends, because he can’t see them…as he has the hood on.
But if he had a video screen where he was watching even MORE attractive women, perhaps doing a little porn, it might add a challenge for Sperry to resist spewing….”
Sperry hung his head. It was hard enough to keep from cumming in the beautiful fingers and palms of Cyri’s sexy friends, without visual stimulation to bring him over the edge. Cyri was quite vicious when Sperry had unauthorized “accidents”, and she knew just how to push poor Sperry’s buttons.
Cope grinned. “Yup, an’ you kin also have lil films of yerself, like screamin’ at him…just get the camera on one of your sessions…he can re-live it, like, you know?”
Cyrilla looked thoughtful.
“Yes, and I have great films of me being rogered by my black lover Obadiah, and wouldn’t it be fun for Mr. L to get to watch that while his mouth is filled with anonymous cocks…yes indeedy!”
Sperry wondered if Cyrilla would enslave Obadiah the way she had his brother, Sprague. At first, Cyri had enjoyed cuckolding Sperry with his brother, pounding the bed with Sprague as Sperry watched, tied up on a bedroom chair…
But then Cyri watched Sprague’s eyes looking wistful as Sperry was licking her long white legs, getting all of Sprague’s cum out of her quim… “You do deserve to be worshipped, Cyrilla.” Sprague had said, and they were famous last words.
Within a month, Cyri had Sprague’s hands tied behind HIS back, and he and Sperry watched as she fucked their Uncle Spiro…but Sprague was far more submissive than Sperry.
Sprague could take whippings with far harsher implements then Sperry, and begged to have his nipples yanked on long chains on the rare occasions when Cyri allowed him to masturbate.
Finally Cyrilla had hired Cope to bring his SoniCastrator invention over and ice down Sprague’s balls…and remove them! She bronzed his testicles and they now hung from Cyri’s keychain. Then she’d sold Sprague to the Hobblin’ Goblins, a prosthetic wearing homosexual motorcycle gang
Sperry knew that his wife was no one to fuck with, boy!
Cope and Cyri were still conversing…
“Y’know Miz Lochmuir, my friend Pruitt Teagarden, you know him?” Cope asked, squinting
“Yes, of course, Cope.” Cyri said, smiling.
“His wife is in my support group. Pruitt is one of the most well-trained slaves and I understand he has done creative work with you, he made some sort of dildo that turns into a fist in the man’s anus…he’s an engineer of sorts.”
“Yeah, well him and me worked on a thing for the screen of the Video Hood, for wives who want their men to suck dick more intensely…where they see like a hot fudge sundae or images of ice cream, or steak, and it makes them salivate more. You might be interested in that, y’ think?”
Cyri shook her head, laughing. “Using the good old whip, I have trained Sperry to salivate on command, and he gives the sloppiest, wettest, most delectable blowjobs in Buttermilk Falls…or so I’ve been told by the male attendees of my parties!”
Listening to this, Sperry cringed. He was completely heterosexual, but as his wife’s submissive, of course he had to do as she commanded…and it turned him on, to do it. But the forced bi stuff was a bit much.
He still remembered the early days, when he was at a PainCafe banquet, and he saw Molly Peaseminister order her husband, Fenhurst, and their adult son, Alasdair, to fellate all the Masters in the room, quite casually.
Sperry thought of the fallen faces–Fen looked so defeated, as he and his son stripped and knelt by the kitchen door.
But Sperry had to admit, he had learned a skill–sucking cock was of second nature to him now, and it kept Cyri from going into one of her “perfect rages”…and that was a good thing!
Later that evening, the party was in full movement. Mercifully, Cyrilla had not put the Video Hood on Sperry’s head yet, so he just stood, naked, looking his clothed friends and neighbors. Sperry’s hands were cuffed behind him, and he felt rather silly.
Cyri had removed his chastity device, and his dick, ever stimulated by the sights and perfumes of the young women in low cut gowns, was quite erect.
The sight of Sperry’s inflated wand brought Sperry’s guests much mirth. And this caused much humiliation for the quiet, very private chemical engineer that was Cyrilla Lochmuir’s unfortunate husband.
“But can’t I just wear my clothes for a little while” Sperry had begged. “Edwin Darring will be here and I wanted to briefly discuss a project our company–”
Cyri had laughed and slapped Sperry across the face, and ordered him to strip immediately, before taking him across her knee. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Her thick wooden paddle had turned his white, slim cheeks into twin scarlet beach balls in only a few moments, and then, while Sperry knelt naked and weeping on the floor, she’d laughed, explaining:
“Sperry, you just need to be naked. You can talk to anyone you want at the party. If you’re such a hot-shot chemical engineer, you certainly can impress Eddie Darring with your great mind, even if your dick is waving around like a broken cuckoo clock.”
And of course his dick was swelling right then, as he watched his beautiful wife’s boobs bounce in the snug black tank top as she laughed.
And Eddie had just snorted in poor Sperry’s face. “Look Sperry, we can talk about this on Monday, or you can send me an e-mail.
You are such an idiot standing there. If it wasn’t for your wife being my fuck-buddy, I don’t know if I could come here as a man…”
Sperry found the whole thing unbearable, but of course it could be worse. It wasn’t as if he was the only naked slave here…his brother Spottiswoode, was crouching in the Smoking Room. Spotty the Spittoon.
Spottiswoode Sillitoe, and Strawbridge, Sperry’s older brothers and triplets, from his first marriage, had taken to Sperry’s 25 year old wife immediately.
Cyri was fun, and she didn’t mind buying the boys illegal beer for high school parties, or taking them surfing, snowboarding, motorcycle racing nightclubbing and the like. She was much more fun than stodgy old engineer Dad.
And then one day Spotty was in their kinky closet, toying with the whips and nipple clamps, and when Sperry had given him a lecture about respecting other people’s privacy, Spot had burst into tears, an alarming behavior in a major stockbroker from Manhattan.
And then Cyrilla had had a tender talk with Spot, and my God, it was like a disease–first Sperry, then Sprague, and now 29 year old Spot!
Sperry had gone down to the basement at the sound of howls. He’d been startled at the sight of his gorgeous wife in a PVC cat suit, whipping his naked brother, who was hanging from the dungeon eyehook that usually supported Sperry!
“He’ll respect privacy now” she vowed, swinging the cat o’ nine tails into Spot’s hairy buttocks.
Sperry had spent weeks afterwards vehemently begging Spotty to go to therapy. Strawbridge, their uncle flying in from his studies at UCLA, had likewise attempted to reason with his brother.
“You’re the tough guy, Spot, man.” Straw had begged….what’s going on with you wanting to be a sissy wimp?”
Sillitoe, called Silz, had nothing much to say, and when pressed for support by Straw and Sperry, confessed that he was quitting his high powered stockbroker to go to hairdressing college and was going to have an operation to become Sylvia!
Sperry had given his wife a quick glance. Was this her work? Cyri she’d just smiled demurely.
Yes, Spot had insisted on being his sister-in-law’s second slave, now at thirty-five years old, living in the basement dungeon where it was true, he took up little space, crouching in a cage in the corner.
And now, he was kneeling with opened mouth as men and women who couldn’t smoke in the rest of the Lochmuir manor would spit tobacco, and put out cigars and cigarettes…what digestion the boy had!
Now and again, Spot would run into the hall and hurl into a bucket, but one had to learn to take it all in, you know.
Sperry had been ordered to quit smoking by his wife some years ago, but her lovers and friends had, for some time used poor Sperry’s mouth for an ashtray, and his son was now having the same intriguing experience.
And Spotty was taking it so well! His gorgeous fiancée had broken up with him, and he’d sold his car and bought his stepmother a diamond bracelet…
Cyri was so happy with the effects she’d had on Spot…she’d turned him from beer swilling, Rugby playing frat boy to a naked, cringing butt-swallowing slave pig…
And, regretfully, Spot’s brother, the now pre-op “Sylvia” was giving Human Bidet rim jobs in the upstairs bathroom. What a family!
Soon it would be time for Sperry to take on the Hood. He was now kneeling in the middle of the floor, trying desperately to ignore the sneers and catcalls of his former friends.
Cyri had put heavy blue 70’s eye shadow on Sperry’s lids, and given him glaring blush and lipstick, and he had huge, painful rat traps on his nipples, and another one pinching his scrotum.
In order for it not to hurt a LOT, Sperry had to kneel erectly, with his legs apart, which was wearying. Also, Sperry’s dick was filled with a long, thick rubber dildo, that Cope had attached a small shocker to, so that his anus was electrically inflamed every three minutes.
The worst problem was, that his dick was sticking straight up…Everyone could tell that Sperry got off on being tortured and humiliated, and it did nothing for his standing in the community.
But he was a great chemical engineer, and valued to the point that he would still be highly paid and needed, even if the secretaries, file assistants, mail clerks and janitors in his company were here at the damn party.
And it was especially painful how Cyrilla was flirting heavily with every man in the room, and that she’d been necking with Marlon, one of Sperry’s lowly tech assistants.
And now she was bringing Marl over to where Sperry was kneeling. “Marl, I’ll fuck your brains out if you can use your leather belt to make your boss cry.” Cyri said to the nervous young man.
Sperry looked wearily up at Marl. “Don’t worry, Marl. I won’t fire you.” Sperry sighed.
By the time the Hood was dropped on Sperry’s head about ten minutes later, he was in so much pain (Cyri had encouraged Marl also to kick Sperry in the balls) that he wasn’t really focused on the little screen that immediately showed images of Cyri being anally and orally plugged by Obadiah and his friends from the Buttermilk County Pre-Release Center.
But Nature abhors a vacuum, and Cyrilla was terribly jealous and angry when she discovered that Jezebel Pitts had brought her slave husband to the party, with his own Video Hood, and this one had sound!
Yes, Hamish Pitts, while sucking the guests not serviced by the Hooded Sperry, was not only watching little vids of his wife’s infidelities…but hearing her screams!
Cyri stamped her foot. F.X. Copeland had not told her about this new development in the Hood. In spite of having enslaved four male members of the Lochmuir family, Miss Cyrilla was a jealous, angry dominant wife…But hey, we can’t all be pleased all the time!