Yes, Ma'am

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  The next day, I arrived at her apartment and parked in the appointed spot—right next to her faded red truck, which was nowhere near as sleek and shiny as her fetishwear. As instructed, I phoned first to announce my arrival. She answered curtly and told me she would buzz me up, yet the apartments were one-story and there was no buzzer at her door. Instead I found a folded note attached to the doorknocker with a strip of shimmering duct tape. One of my favorites. How did she ever guess?

  I pulled the tape away from the knocker, sending it bouncing lightly against the metal backing. The note read:Dare to stick with me

  Like a duct takes to water

  A fish out of sea

  As I stood there trying to decipher the cryptic haiku, the door handle turned. “Come in,” a voice commanded. I walked into a heavily air-conditioned darkness and there was Mistress Kelly, one-on-one and in person, wearing nothing. Or was it nothing? I squinted until my eyes adjusted and yes, sure enough, I spotted the telltale calligraphy of electrician’s tape. Over her breasts were two black Xs, and at the crease of her thighs, she had fashioned a V of red tape that framed her pussy.

  “Stop staring and undress,” she ordered. I did as told and left my clothes folded neatly on a chair. “And don’t think for a second that I am undressed for you. At fetish parties,” she told me, “I go all out, but in private, I don’t wear much at all, especially in this heat. Though I did add the tape to fuck with your head, and I believe it’s working.”

  She clamped her hand around my cock as if she knew it was already hers and led me to the kitchen table. There she had set out every type of tape a modern household might require—Scotch tape in both single- and double-sided versions, masking tape, duct tape, electrician’s tape in a variety of colors, white bandage tape from the drugstore, and even mesh surgical tape. Mistress Kelly had it all.

  “Some are waterproof,” she announced proudly. “And others will rip your skin off.” I had to wonder if she, too, had a tape interest, but I dared not ask. Mistress Kelly held several rolls up against my cock as if to check for size. She finally decided on the narrow electrician’s tape. “I have to put you in proper cock bondage,” she said. “Think of it as a chastity belt of sorts.” Under her hand, I grew big enough to spear a jumbo roll of duct tape, but I held back as she carefully applied alternating bands of red and black around my hard-on, plus a “cock strap” of medical tape to maintain my erection. After she was done decorating me, she turned me to a tall mirror and stood behind me. I could feel her bare breasts pressing against my back, her nipples covered with the all too familiar plastic. In spite of the cool air, she was burning hot. She peeked around and smiled. “You’re funny,” she said. She wasn’t finished with my get-up yet. Soon I had yellow electrician’s tape around each wrist, and green around my ankles.

  “The truck is already washed,” she told me. “Go wax it before it gets dark outside.” On that note, she tossed me a pair of very small Speedo-style swim trunks and a bag of wax and rags, and then shoved me out the door. I heard the bolt lock turn behind me as I hobbled out into the parking lot in my revealing Hawaiian print underwear. For once in my life, I prayed that my penis looked small.

  I did my best on the truck, though I felt cheesy leaning over the hood, like one of those car wash girls wearing spandex in the 1980s videos. But if being slutty beefcake was what it took to get closer to Mistress Kelly, then I was ready to oblige. Every so often, the curtains parted. Although I couldn’t see into the dark window, I knew that she was waiting for me, and when she wasn’t watching, there was always the tape to remind me who was in charge—and the flashy spandex shorts with a tight grip that challenged my nether regions.

  “I saw you out there working,” she said after I had completed my task and she’d let me back in. “You know, you’re one of the few guys who can wear bikini shorts without looking like fried Eurotrash on a yacht.” She came up behind me and dragged two claws down my shoulders. As they reached my lower back, I felt the elastic loosen. Yes, Mistress Kelly was pulling off my shorts and I wasn’t going to stop her, even after I had seen what evil things she had done to the other men at the party.

  “I don’t kiss on the first playdate,” she told me. With roll after roll of electrician’s tape, she styled a type of gag over my lips, but the tape didn’t stop her. She pushed me onto the futon and gently pressed her lips to my mouth covering, then moved my useless face down to her breasts. Out of temptation and lack of bondage, I reached out to touch the tape on her nipples, but she slapped my hand right away. “No touching,” she said, motioning for me to kneel in front of her. There she sat before me, my bizarre tape goddess, with her legs spread wide apart. “I also like to get off when I play, but like I said, no direct contact.” As if she had done it all before, she pulled strip after strip from the rolls and placed them in perfect lines up and down her pussy lips. She didn’t have to tell me what to do. With her fingers planted firmly in my hair, she pressed my muzzle to her mound and gyrated into my face. Even though we couldn’t touch, the edges of our tapes stuck together, bonding us, in my mind, as Mistress and slave.

  Oral sex with a dental dam is already a challenge, but with tape, it’s even harder. I did what I could, given my predicament. I rubbed, shook, circled, and even hummed against the layers, and in no time, Mistress Kelly was rocking away at my mouth. I had passed with flying colors, or so I thought.

  “That was great, but once is not enough for me. Why don’t you show me what else you’re good at?” Mistress Kelly glided her fingers across the pussy tape. The strips parted slightly to reveal a slit of pink flesh. She pulled a condom out of the drawer and laid it next to her on the futon. “I’ll leave your cock strap on for my pleasure, but this shaft tape has got to go.” I stood up so she could remove it. How could I refuse? My dream had finally come true. A hot, horny woman was going to fuck me, and there was tape involved, too.

  Her lips were only inches from my shining head. As much as I wanted to fuck her, I hated for her to take the tape off my cock. How great it would feel to have her mouth wrapped around the very same tape that was wrapped around my dick—the slick plastic, the tightness, her teeth catching against the ridges of the bands. But then there was her pussy, still wet from her own come, so wet that the strips of waterproof tape had separated. She was opened up and ready, and I was right there, beyond ready. I had waited for this moment for so long, I had given up hope.

  But when her fingers started to pull the first strip of tape, I turned into a frantic twenty-year-old boy again. I lost control of my cock, even with well over a decade of fucking experience under my belt. Without warning, I shot off, right on the floor, barely missing her leg.

  “How dare you!” Mistress Kelly screamed. Luckily, the floor was linoleum and easy to clean, but the damage was done. I jumped up for a towel, but before I could start cleaning up my mess, she threw my heap of clothes right into the spill. I knew my invitation had expired, so I wriggled back into my street clothes as quickly as possible and ran out the door, all covered with sticky splotches. I didn’t even have time to remove the makeshift muzzle from my mouth. Even though I looked silly driving down the highway with tape on my face, I didn’t want to take it off. It was all I had left of her. Afterward, I kept it around for when I wanted to get off, but without her, the tape had lost its magic as well as its stickiness.

  For weeks I tried to contact Mistress Kelly. Sometimes I left messages begging for mercy. Other times I called while I was jerking off and just hung up. I even texted her, but after so many attempts, her incoming number never once showed up on my display.

  Finally, one lonely Friday night as I lay in bed watching a bondage film—with my cock taped up and my mouth clamped shut—the phone rang. It was her! Without thinking, I picked up.

  “Hello? Tape Boy?” she asked.

  I tried to answer, “Yes, Mistress,” but had forgotten about my muzzle. Instead of hearing my submissive pleas, Mistress Kelly witnessed the loud moans and slaps of the porn
film on my TV.

  “Well, it certainly sounds like you’ve moved on,” she blurted out angrily. “Have fun tonight. I know I will.” She hung up before I could free my mouth. Where could she be? And why had she decided to call? I looked at the calendar. It was the night of the monthly play party and I had completely forgotten. I dashed out the door, bag of tape in tow, ready to brave the dark, sticky night.

  I 1T U 2 DO SUMFIN 4 ME

  George Cross

  I 1t u 2 do sumfin 4 me

  A text message.

  Eight words.

  No punctuation.

  An ascendancy of numbers intermingled with alphabetical characters. It was almost worthy of e. e. cummings with its puzzling, hard-to-grasp efficiency. And it was the reason Archie was hard and quivering and desperate to please his beloved Jennifer. He texted a response as fast as his trembling thumbnail could hit the tiny buttons on his phone’s keypad. His palm was so sweaty the Nokia twice slipped from his grip. u no id do anyfin 4 u

  Jennifer’s reply came back instantaneously.

  i 1t u 2 wear my clothes

  His mouth went dry as he read the message. The first stir-rings of arousal had already bristled through his body. Now they tingled through his fingertips and culminated in a thick, rigid stiffness in his loins. The instruction was so characteristic of Jennifer that even the crisp line of text reminded him of her brisk no-nonsense personality. There hadn’t been an unnecessary character in any of the messages. She contracted words to their shortest possible format, ignoring capitalization and formalized spelling but never forsaking clarity. Her desire to be understood clearly and concisely was as obvious in her text messages as it was when she stood over him and spat orders and commands.

  Archie responded without hesitation.

  which clothes?

  stkins 1st

  The warm day was cooling toward evening. Early twilight bleached the sun from the sky. Glancing through the window at the darkening world outside, he guessed that Jennifer’s day as an office ball-breaker was drawing to a close. He wondered if this was her idea of foreplay in anticipation of the night ahead: an exchange of text messages that would precede her arrival on their doorstep once she left work. She was, no doubt, expecting a night of sublime servitude from him. A night that would be complemented for him by a display of her satisfying superiority. The imagined scenarios they might enjoy together rushed through his thoughts like swift sequential stills from a movie montage.

  Archie was dressed only in Jennifer’s clothes.

  Kneeling at her bare feet.

  Kissing her toes.

  Stroking her thighs.

  Nuzzling her bare sex.

  His erection reached full hardness. But, rather than give in to the urge to masturbate, he knew he had to heed Jennifer’s instruction. Knowing she didn’t approve of hesitation he rushed upstairs to the bedroom. Discarding his own clothes as he ran, Archie was naked when he pulled Jennifer’s hosiery from the top cabinet of her bedside drawer. Sitting on the side of the bed, his bare buttocks caressed by the cool linen, Archie slowly rolled a stocking over his toes. Sliding the sheer denier up and over one knee, trying not to think of the delicious frisson that came from having the snug-fitting fabric hug and caress his leg, he let the elastic at the top of the hold-up encircle his thigh in a tight, constricting band. Shivering from the thrill, he pulled on the second stocking and enjoyed the same decadent tremor of raw arousal. His erection stood hard and exposed between his legs. Glancing down at himself, seeing his shaft rigid against the backdrop of his own manly legs in her luxuriant, feminine stockings, Archie thought the image was wonderfully humiliating. With renewed effort, he continued to resist the urge to touch himself. Instead, he reached for his mobile phone and sent Jennifer another message. stkins on

  Her reply came back in seconds. A single electronic beep broke the silence and notified him that her message had been received.

  now a blk thong & bra

  Archie closed his eyes.

  His erection remained hard and unwavering. His scrotum was so taut and full it was an agony each time he exhaled. His sac was on the verge of erupting, potentially exploding with the slightest suggestion of further arousal. Reading Jennifer’s clipped text command again (now a blk thong & bra) and reveling in his obedience to the ice maiden he revered, Archie had to draw a long deep breath to clear his thoughts and renew his resolve.

  The mobile beeped again.

  He glanced at the new message and groaned softly.

  blk thong & bra NOW

  Aware that there was no time to savor the pleasure of her instructions, knowing he had to obey her as though she was barking each command as she towered over him, Archie returned to Jennifer’s lingerie drawer and retrieved a black bra and a matching thong. The soles of his stockinged feet slipped softly against the polished wooden floor. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar and disquietingly erotic.

  He felt vaguely ridiculous donning the bra. The lacy fabric looked feminine and attractive in his hands but it was scratchy against his bare chest and looked silly when he checked his reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

  But that feeling of ridiculousness was only another spur to his excitement.

  Jennifer had an innate ability to inflict humiliation. He could see that the bizarre spectacle of his manly figure in her stockings and bra was ludicrous and demeaning. But those thoughts didn’t make his erection lose its tight hold, or lessen his need for satisfaction.

  And when he stepped into Jennifer’s thong, the sensation was almost too much. Archie eased himself slowly into the underwear. Pulling the thong over his stocking-clad knees and then up his thighs to his hips, reminded him of the glorious sensation that came from stepping into Jennifer’s stockings. When the crotch of the thong stroked the base of his scrotum, he had to breathe deeply in an effort to stave off his impending climax. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that the crotch had previously settled snugly against Jennifer’s labia. He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge that the gusset had once kissed the bare lips of her sex. Dwelling on those thoughts would make it impossible for him to resist the urge to orgasm.

  Archie stood motionless for a full two minutes, trying to make his mind blank as he savored the rich embarrassment of being aroused by his lover’s lingerie. Eventually, when he felt sure he had control of himself, Archie allowed the front panel of the thong to press against his throbbing length.

  He texted another message.

  bra & thong on. wot now?

  Jennifer’s response was immediate. The electronic beep broke the silence of his heavy respiration.

  blk heels

  He picked a pair of shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe, and squeezed his feet into them. He supposed it was fortunate that he and Jennifer wore similar sizes. His slight build and her commanding figure made them physically equal in most respects. Her heels felt precariously high, and surprisingly tight, but his stockinged feet fit into her shoes with only a little more effort than was comfortable. He contemplated taking another glance at himself in the mirror but didn’t dare. The arousal that came from obeying her was strong enough to keep his erection hard and teetering on the brink of climax. The idea of seeing how her humiliating instructions had emasculated him would almost certainly prove more than he could resist.

  wot nxt?

  blk skrt top & jkt

  Archie wanted to text back something droll, ask if someone had died, or if she was dressing him for a funeral, but he knew Jennifer wouldn’t appreciate his attempts at levity. She had deigned to give him instructions via her mobile. Regardless of how humiliating those commands were, it was his responsibility to obey. He donned the rest of the clothes quickly. All the time he kept his mind blank and wouldn’t think about what he was doing. Jennifer had removed his masculinity with clinical efficiency. She had kept him at home, waiting for instructions that he acted on with the sequacious obedience of a Pavlovian dog. His emasculation was complete and his humiliation bordered on being to
tal. As he contemplated the depths she had taken him to, his erection refused to subside. His balls ached with the dull and constant throb of unsated passion.

  And, in his heart, he knew that Jennifer had not taken him to these depths.

  She had merely sent text messages, and he had willingly obeyed.

  He checked his reflection.

  A grown man in women’s clothes stared back at him. The smooth lines of the jacket and skirt were spoilt by the ripple of his muscles and the thrust of his unrelenting erection. The clothes were so typical of what Jennifer would wear it was almost as though she was in the room with him.

  That thought made his length twitch with renewed hardness.

  He had to jam a fist against his mouth to stifle the groan.

  The impulse to simply stand there and allow the wave of orgasm to ripple through his body bordered on being irresistible. Sweating from the exertion of resisting his climax, reveling in the rich humiliation she had bestowed upon him, Archie picked up his mobile and sent a short message. dun

  Jennifer’s response snapped back swiftly.

  cum here now. cum as u r

  Archie blanched.

  His heart raced.

  It was one thing to dress up in Jennifer’s clothes in the privacy of his own home. But the prospect of traveling to Jennifer’s office, through streets where he might be seen or recognized, was enough to make his stomach churn. His bowels tingled with a hot flush of nervous adrenaline and, although his erection didn’t dwindle in any respect, he told himself that Jennifer was taking the game too far. He reached for the phone and tried to think how he might tell her that he couldn’t do what she had asked.

  His mobile phone beeped as he held it in one shaking fist.

  b here in 15 mins or no mor u & i

  With no other option, knowing he had to do as she asked or lose her forever, Archie snatched his keys and his mobile and prepared to leave the house. The twilight that had bleached the light from the day now edged closer to darkness. The possibility of being seen or recognized was reduced, but not removed.