Secret Mascot – ebook

Excerpt

Bound and spiked on an immovable pedestal I listen to the clicking of Mistress’ boots as she hurries from the room. Alone in impenetrable blackness then I can hear car doors slamming and female voices raised in greeting. Very soon I will be the center of attention, the object of communal hilarity and derision and no doubt soon after that subjected to teasing, torment, impossibly arousing discipline and double-drilling like I can barely conceive of. Squirming miserably as gravity drags inexorably upon me in so many ways, listening to the jingling of bells and feeling my relentlessly stimulated erection burn and ache with need and pain, I can only whimper and wait for my first public use to get underway. The delay is nearly as torturous as everything else. But at last I hear a rumor of feet on the stairs and the growing clamor of excited chatter. This is it, and after the next few minutes once again nothing will ever be the same.

Instinctively I lift my head and stop slumping, trying to present the most appealing pose possible. Seconds later the door of the room is thrown open with a crash. Immediately I hear a chorus of gasps, followed by shrieking laughter, cheering, scandalized screams and cries of “Let me see, let me see!” Above all this, Maria’s voice calls out with distinct relish.

“Now you see why it’s just us teammates invited tonight ladies! No boyfriends or guys of any kind – this time at least! And no family, friends or assorted hangers-on allowed either. It’s just us victorious beauties and our pathetic plaything!”

A gabble of chatter, laughter, and delighted exclamations ensues again.

“Oh my God, look at him!”

“How does he stay up like that?”

“Is that thing actually up his ass?”

“Ha – he’s got a cock in his mouth!”

“Jesus, look at his balls!”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing he doesn’t absolutely love,” Mistress declares. As the voices approach and surround me I feel the weighted clamp on one of my nipples pulled and twisted. It’s Mistress and she continues for the benefit of everyone.

“Isn’t that right, Slut-boy? You delight in everything I choose to do to you.”

Vigorously I nod agreement, and she continues over further gasps, exclamations and laughter.

“You are hopelessly compelled to submit to dominant women. You love spending all your time in bondage. You want nothing more than to be whipped and tortured. Though you’re totally heterosexual you’ve become addicted to dick, to sucking and being fucked by them. Even now you’re anally impaled on a bowling pin and couldn’t be more turned on by it. And though all these things arouse you out of your mind, you’ve willingly given up your sexual capacity to me just so I’ll keep on doing them. You’ll remain a virgin forever; worse, you’ll never have another orgasm if I don’t allow it. In fact you’ve enslaved yourself to me for all eternity, given me your body and soul along with this house, everything in it, and everything you once owned or ever will in exchange for me dominating, degrading, and sexually subjugating you!”

Of course I nod emphatically after each declaration, emitting a depraved keening around the cock filling my face and shaking my tits a bit to jingle those little nipple-bells for added emphasis. The amazement, delight, and appalled disbelief surrounding me grow in response. Someone – undoubtedly Mistress – sets the ball chained to my crushed nuts swinging, making me sob uncontrollably and causing my pinched, weighted, and gaily decorated erection to waggle and jingle prettily about. Mistress continues.

“And now, for the ultimate thrill of your miserable existence, you’re going to start likewise submitting to the entire Cade State women’s championship soccer team as our secret mascot, helping us to celebrate our victories and ease the pain of our few defeats, to get psyched up for challenges and to reward those who do particularly well each game.

“That means Maria tonight. She scored both goals in our win over Kentucky. And that means Judy, who had eight saves in a shutout, and Nadja, who put in an all-around standout performance in defense. They get the first opportunity to play with you. But first we all need a few drinks. Come on girls! The party’s on Slut-boy, just as they will always be from now on. No more taking up collections! Just free food and drink and the kinkiest entertainment conceivable!”

People begin moving around, ice cubes rattle and bottles clink against glass rims. Exclamations of approval greet the first sight and taste of the hors d’oeuvres, and the realization that the beer is of much higher quality than the usual college fare. Far more spirited cries, along with further gales of hilarity, rise from the vicinity of the closet and bed, as the stretching shackles, various mirrors, fetish items and outfits are discovered and examined. I also hear plenty of marveling over the house and property itself: the patio and swimming pool visible from the windows, the beautifully landscaped lawn and flowering trees, the sumptuousness of the bathroom fixtures and the expensive artwork and furniture they passed on the way up here. Everyone is suitably impressed and envious of Mistress’ un-guessed wealth and possessions. And of course not neglected in these exploratory examinations is the most precious possession of all, that which made all the others inevitable: me.

Amid all the circulating and buzzing (and beginning guzzling) the most forward of the crowd continue to close in and congregate around me. Soon I’m being incessantly poked and prodded, pinched and tweaked and teased. My buttocks are boldly groped and spread to expose the incredible depth and breadth of my impalement. Weights are repeatedly batted and set to penduluming back and forth or swinging jinglingly about. Toothed clamps are tugged on and twisted and dangling feathers used to tickle my agonized and hugely turgid genitals. Finally an unseen hand begins to suggestively slide that hard rubber cock in and out of my mouth. A mocking voice giggles out of the darkness.

“Ooooh, look at this! Is it true Slut-boy? Are you a shameless heterosexual cocksucker?”

Whimpering with uneasy excitement I nod in affirmation.

“Really?” doubts a different, more skeptical voice I think I recognize from some of my psychology classes. “Are you sure you’re not just a homo in denial? One who hates himself so much for what he is that he has to seek out the worst sort of punishment for himself, and manipulate women into forcing him to perform acts he secretly craves but can’t bring himself to commit voluntarily? Isn’t that what you really are: a Republican?”

A chorus of laughter greets this sally, and this time I shake my head in adamant negation. That unseen hand presses the cock all the way in, twisting it between my lips and waggling it in my throat, and once again impressed noises come from the growing crowd surrounding me.

“Well faggot or not, you’re certainly good at taking cock. Look at you deep-throating this thing! I bet half the girls in this room would gag and puke trying to take this much cock into their mouths. I know I would – hell, I’d puke putting any filthy cock in my mouth.”

“And let’s not forget what he’s got up his ass!” crows someone else. “Jesus Christ, look at it: about three-quarters of a fucking bowling pin!”

“I’m not surprised,” remarks yet another voice sardonically. “Did you see those videos? Did you see the size of the dildoes Dani and Maria were fucking him with in them? According to her she’s spent an entire year breaking him in. No wonder he goes by the name of Slut-boy! If he’s not a faggot he’s the most perverted little sissy in the world!”

“You got that right!” Now I recognize Maria’s voice. “Check this out!”

Suddenly an electric shock strikes one of my shaved armpits, causing me to lurch against the chain restraining me and bite down on a surprised cry. Whoops of appreciation are still resounding all around when another shock strikes that ultra-sensitive spot just south of my pee-hole, again making me cry out and this time fruitlessly flap my bound legs.

“See? You love it, don’t you Slut-boy?”

Breathlessly I nod again. In response Maria continues to employ the shock-wand, zapping me unpredictably here, there, and everywhere. Someone behind me administers a hard pinch to my left buttock; another hand yanks unexpectedly on my ponytail. My clipped right nipple is cruelly stretched and twisted briskly back and forth and some adventurous soul gives my crushed, bloated balls such a powerful squeeze that I retch so hard the cock almost slides out of my mouth before the hard heel of someone’s hand rams it back in.

“Oh no sissy, you’re going to keep sucking that cock until we replace it with a real one. And I have just the candidate in mind!”

It’s the skeptical voice from my psychology classes, and this time I place it. It belongs to Morgan Tyler, a tall and willowy – and damn attractive – sophomore striker. Like Maria she makes no secret of being exclusively homosexual, a fact I’ve heard repeatedly bemoaned by the other males in the psych program. I’ve even seen her naked with another girl, along with millions of other people around the country. One day the guys in the lounge were passing around the latest edition of Playboy’s College Girls, and damn if she wasn’t right there, in a carefully posed spread of simulated lesbianism with another model.

My memories of her stem-like legs, long slender body and delectably pointy little big-nippled breasts can’t compete with her sneering words however. Once again I find my face flushing an obviously telling red, while betraying bells chime from my twitching penis.

“Ha! What’d I tell you? He’s a homo in denial, and next weekend I’m going to prove it! I’ll drag him out of his closet kicking and screaming if I have to!”

Again I shake my head wildly in adamant denial, and this impudence earns me stunning slap to the face.

“Don’t you ever contradict your superiors slave! My cousin is a senior here; he’s a member of the only exclusively gay frat on campus, and he’ll be more than willing to help us out a perverted sissy like you. I can’t wait to get him on the phone!”

Cruel laughter rains down on me from all around. Then with an eye-watering shock to the tip of my nose (not that I’m not already leaking tears of humiliation, pain and dismay) the pinching, pulling, twisting, tweaking, tickling, squeezing and other various minor tortures resume. But at last Mistress joins the group (which must by now include everyone in the room) and declares that it’s time for the proper domination to get underway.

“Okay ladies (and apprentice mistresses) it’s training time. I’m not referring to Slut-boy now – he’s already admirably trained in all but a few crucial ways. It’s all of you I’m talking about. Not only will you be rewarded during these sessions. This is also preparation for the day you do your own indispensible part in the subjugation of the despicable weaker sex by turning your own boyfriends, husbands or admirers into pathetically fawning slut-slaves.

“You’re all doing beautifully so far with the essential humiliation, and no doubt you’ve already picked up a few pointers on bondage techniques from me. But now we come to the truly fun stuff. Mistress Maria, you already have some experience at this, as well the honor of going first today due to your two cracking goals. Choose an implement of discipline and begin gifting Slut-boy here with the punishment he so madly, if helplessly craves. Let’s all move back some and give her some room.”

There’s a shuffling of feet, more excited giggling and chatter, and the sexually charged ambience surrounding me retreats a bit. For nearly half a minute I wait with bated breath for this much feared and anticipated experience to begin. Then the slender coachman’s switch Mistress used less than a week ago to punish my unauthorized orgasm slashes suddenly across my stuffed buttocks. Yet another interminable ordeal is underway.