Unlocking My Private Locker: Second Surrender in the Pillory
Deep in my private locker room, the air thick with sweat and shadows, I twist the lock. Heart slams. This secret burns too hot to stay buried. That week after the club, Ghislaine brushed past in the office hallway. Polite nod. Same charming smile. But I shook inside, replaying her crop’s sting. Then, in her empty office, photocopying. She slips in silent. Hand glides over my ass, deliberate, possessive. I jolt up. Her eyes: dark, mocking, superior. ‘Even here, you’re mine.’ I flee to my desk. Cock throbs hard, hidden by briefs. Fear spikes every glance after. Crave her pain. Her control. Days later, truth hits. That forced anal fuck? Hurt like hell, his hot load flooding me. Not gay, but her command made it pulse in memory. I need more. Back to the club.
Dread she won’t show. Bouncer eyes my street clothes. Almost turned away. Then, entry granted. Velvet darkness wraps me. Bar again. Latex skirts hug wide hips. Man grabs wrists. Cuffs snap. Drags me upstairs. Panic surges. Room glows on ancient pillory: wood slab, three holes for neck, wrists. Low table bolted down. Knees weaken. Guard vanishes. Ghislaine emerges. Satin blouse clings to full, sagging breasts—no bra. Red leather skirt, short, ass-molding. Wide hips scream fertility. Thong? Heat rushes me. High heels tower her. Smoky eyes command. Perfect. No words. I drop gaze. She uncuffs, crop in hand. Slap on ass. Strip. Naked fast, eager. She circles. Crop traces skin. Stops at cheeks. Caresses. Then—crack—up into balls. Agony explodes. Legs buckle, but I hold. ‘Next time, clench.’ Dry voice.
Opening the Vault: The Pull Back to Submission
Kneel. Head, wrists in holes. Locks shut. Cadenas clicks. Ankle cuffs pin me doggy. Ass exposed, cock dangling. Helpless. She steps back. Evil grin. Signals. Athlete nude: ripped abs, firm ass, average soft dick. Maybe same guy. Stuffs it in my face. Jerks rough. Grows thick. Grabs hair. ‘Suck.’ Shock. Mouth opens. He thrusts deep. Gagging. Tongue works hot shaft. Balls slap chin. My cock stiffens. Bisexual now? Hand on my balls. Unknown. Fingers tease ass, probe ring. Arousal builds. Then—crush. Squeezes, rolls, crushes nuts. Fire rips. Muffled screams around cock. No escape. He rams harder. Cums buckets down throat. Acrid, thick. Swallow or choke.
He pulls out, sighs. Ghislaine sneers. ‘You love cock. Marriage a sham?’ Calls another. Older, thick erection. She faces me, hands on pillory. Satin strains over tits. Skirt hikes. He grips hips. Slams in. She locks eyes. ‘You’ll never touch.’ Body rocks. Breasts sway free. Frustrating view. He times it. Slow deep thrusts. She shudders, orgasms with him. He yanks out fast. She straightens. ‘Done.’ Unlocks me. Steals briefs, pants. Gives tight leather jeans. ‘Match your status.’ Skin clings cold. Cameltoe bulge, ass crack etched. Buttons tease open. ‘Attract women now.’ Dismissed. Sperm taste lingers. Balls ache. Streetwalk in slut gear. No release. Yet craving her next command. Vault snaps shut. Lighter. Hungrier.
