A.M. Wyckid's Erotic Word-Forge

I probably shouldn’t have challenged him the way I did. That’s how I ended up naked and restrained in a box in the middle of Witchford Park on a Sunday afternoon. Clay Perago is many things, but wuss is not among them. I met him just six weeks ago, liked him immediately, consented to be assigned as his aide-de-camp and nominal submissive, on a provisional basis.

We meshed immediately as far as our working relationship was concerned. We were both new to our positions, but as we fumbled around at first trying to understand what it meant for him to be the Midian District’s Warden of the Ninth Sector, and for me to be his gal-friday, we came to have a great deal of respect for the intelligence and character that was evident in the other.

It might sound strange for there to even be a Warden of the Ninth Sector in modern day America. An unofficial position in an unofficial city that was hidden inside the real city of Akkadia. A quasi-governmental position of power and authority, at least for people who knew what the Midian District was or that it even existed.

No. It wasn’t our working relationship that was the problem.

It was our sex-life that was difficult. He was only a fledgling dominant. Very new to the scene. So new that I was his first. And I had been a submissive forever, almost two whole years. Clay was sweet and loving, caring and gentle, but that was the problem. The submissive’s dilemma: If he loves you, can he really use you the way you need to be used?

Don’t get me wrong. There was that side of him that could be commanding, cruel even, and sometimes scary. I just need to bring it out, I told myself. And so I challenged him. “I need you to do something truly unusual with me,” I’d said. Then I added, “No limits. Just make it something unforgettable. Something legendary.” At the time, I had no idea what I’d let myself in for.

“Just one more step, Leila,” he said. He’d blindfolded me and told me to strip. Then guided me into the next room. A room that seemed quite large by the echoy nature of sound in it. The place where we started was an office that was evidently attached to some kind of factory space. There was the smell of sawdust and varnish, and I could even feel the soft crumbly texture of wood shavings under my bare feet. This was not the usual sort of place for play. There were a great many hidden play spaces available to the members of the District, but this place seemed like an odd one for this kind of activity. “Now turn.” He put his hands on my shoulders and helped me get into the position he wanted. At first I thought I detected a tremor of excitement in his hands, but I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t me instead.

I was terribly curious what he was up to, but I knew better than to ask questions at a time like this. I had completely forgotten my challenge of three weeks ago. Naturally, since I had, it wasn’t even in my mind that he hadn’t.

He took my wrists and lifted them over my head. “Grab here to steady yourself,” he said when my fingers contacted a horizontal bar. Then I could feel him trail a hand down my bare back as he crouched down beside me. He hooked his fingers under my foot. “Up,” he said as he lifted it. He brushed the clinging sawdust from my foot, then said, “Higher.” He guided my foot upward. I had to lift up on the toes of my other foot to get where he wanted me, but finally he started bringing my foot back down somewhere forward of where I’d started. My shin contacted a padded surface all at once and then I felt him fasten some straps around me. One just below the knee and the other at the ankle. The other leg went quicker, now that I knew where it was going.

From my blind perspective, the rest of the procedure was just as strange. He took me around the waist, and had me let go of the bar. Then he lowered my body until the backs of my thighs came into contact with another padded surface. The position reminded me of those kneeling chairs that were popular when I was a child. My dad got one, used it for a few weeks, then stopped. It sat in the corner for a month or two, and I used it from time to time before my mom got rid of it.

Next, he fastened a wide strap around my chest and upper-arms. The strap itself seemed to be connected to something else because I could no longer move side-to-side and even my front-to-back motion was more constrained. I could however move my lower-arms. I could touch myself between my legs at the one extreme, and at the other I could just reach my chin. If I could have ducked my head, I would have been able to reach my mouth, but there was another padded surface against my forehead just above the bulky blindfold. When he put the strap around my head, I lost what little movement I had there.

“‘Legendary,’ you said,” he reminded me. “‘No limits,’” he added, and my heart skipped a beat. He took my hands and dipped them in something warm and oily. The unmistakable scent of olive oil tickled my nose. Clay laid the palms of his hands across the backs of my own and pressed them to my chest. He slid them across my body aided by the warm slickness of the oil. He cupped my breasts and squeezed. Then, while he took one of my hands on a tour from one breast to the other and back, he also took the other hand down the front of my body circling slowly downward. He dipped my fingers into my pussy.

“Oh, Clay,” I sighed. All my previous anxiety had been lost to the thrill that he’d sent coursing through me.

“Don’t stop, Leila,” he whispered into my ear as he let my hands go. It was clear that he intended for me to continue stroking myself, and I had no desire or intention to stop. I pinched a nipple with one hand and did a wide circular pass around my lips with the other. ‘Taking the tour,’ Clay called it. He would do it two handed, with a light pinch between thumb and index finger, starting at the top and proceeding slowly and evenly down both sides of the outer lips, then sliding up the center over the inner lips and across my clit. It wasn’t really possible to do to oneself with two hands. The angle was awkward and the space too cramped to use your own hands. I’d learned to do a one handed version that was almost as good where I went all the way around then down the center and back up. I really had to hand it to Clay: he knew how to use his fingers better than any other man I’d been with.

A pool of warmth appeared high in the center of my back just above the strap. Clay spread the oil and massaged it into my shoulders and neck, with his fingers and hands made strong by long hours using a keyboard during his day-job as a software tester. Massage was another thing Clay was really good at and another demonstration of how well he used his hands. He poured more oil on my lower back and rubbed that in, dropping lower and lower as he went. Then he did that thing that drives me absolutely crazy. His hands began sliding downward, strong fingers pressing into the muscles, the lines he was following were pointing directly at my anus. I’m not very anal and neither is Clay, but he had a way of flirting with my asshole that made me wonder if I wasn’t more anal than I thought I was. Or perhaps it only made me wish that I was completely anal and that he’d use me there. His fingers moved slowly across my lower back, around the curve of my cheeks, and his fingers pressed into my flesh as if he was going to double-fist me into oblivion. Then he stopped with his fingers seeming to be right on the edge of that ring of muscle. It was all done in a way that left me glad that he stopped, but with a guilty ache crying out for more.

His hands lifted away and then came down again in a stinging double-slap. Then again they lifted and slapped down in a slightly different spot. And yet again, taking my breath away. This last time, his hands remained in contact with my cheeks. Then they pressed strongly into the muscles and came sliding around toward that aching little spot, slowing as they came until his two middle fingers stopped right on the edge. Right before they’d have hooked right into me. The pressure lightened and then one finger did touch that forbidden spot, and took a slow circular tour around the ring like the one that I was making on my labia. My fingers fell into perfect step with his, and as he went round and round I felt like he was dialing me open. Each pass went deeper, but pulled wider, opening the ring. My anus contracted and relaxed, spasmodically. He didn’t yield on the contractions, but he took up all the slack my hole yielded him on the relaxations. Then a second something appeared in that pulsing and aching opening and began to slide into me. At first I thought it was a finger from his other hand, adding more of the oil, but the thing kept getting bigger and bigger. I began to panic as I felt myself nearing the limits of how far I could stretch, but then the diameter began to reduce again and my ass sucked the butt plug in greedily. I knew what it was now because nothing else feels like that.

“May I come now, please, Sir?” I hissed. Clay hated protocol like this. It always bothered him when I used it, especially when I addressed him as ‘Sir.’ I often did it to yank his chain and get him to go harder on me, but this time it didn’t work.

“Go ahead, cunt, but we’ve just barely started, so you might want to hold off, even if you want to go for multiple.”

The cunt rolled right off my back. That was just payback for my sirring him. Just barely started, was what I got stuck on, and that brought it all back. He was going for legendary.

{{{FIX.}}}

Slap! He pounded his palms into my cheeks again. And then several more times, hard. He kept going until my ass burned and tingled. Then he began doing something down there, but I couldn’t tell what because of the tingly after effects of the spanking.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked finally. I couldn’t resist any longer, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

He laughed. One hand went between my legs and his thumb came to rest on the base of the plug while his fingers slid up between my lips and across my clit. His other hand came to my mouth and teased my lips open. He put several fingers into my mouth, while his thumb wiggled the plug and his fingers stroked my clit. That brought all the excitement back, and I took hold of both nipples and helped it along. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said with an evil laugh.

I would, I thought, and I guess I will, but only in his good time.

Things happened very fast, then. There was a bang on the right, another on the left, followed by some clicks, and clunks. Later, I remembered feeling the world begin to close in on me. I guess it was loosing the feeling of air circulating over my skin. It was then that I realized I was in a box and that those sounds were him closing it up. I began to panic, feeling penned in and unable to breathe until air washed across my face, and I heard the faint whine of a circulating fan. I forced myself to relax.

“Sound check, Leila. Knock three times on the side if you can hear me,” the sound was coming from two speakers close by my ears. I reached out and knocked on the side of the box. “Good,” he said.

Almost all the panic rushed back as I felt myself begin to tip forward like I was falling onto my face. The tipping stopped at about a forty-five degree angle. Then I began moving backwards. The was a little up and down dipping in the motion by my head and some little bumps by my feet. It hit me then that he had the box on a dolly, and he was pushing it along.

“It’s a nice day, Leila. Let’s go for a walk.”

I’m buck-naked in a box, with a butt plug in my ass, being pushed through the streets of downtown, I thought a few minutes later. I knew we were on the street because I felt the lurch of being lowered down off the curb and then being flipped around to be pulled back up, and also the base rumble of a truck going by penetrated into the box and vibrated my tummy. Then my heart nearly stopped and I groped the side of the box trying to decide if my worst suspicion could be correct. “What if the box were clear Plexiglas?” I said aloud to myself.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” he asked.

“How the hell am I supposed to answer?” I said to myself. “Morse code? What’s knock code for ‘Is this box clear plastic, you crazy fucker!’”

“Of course it’s not clear, Leila. That’s too much drama,” he said. “The cops would be all over us in no time.”

“You can hear me?” I gasped.

“Of course, I can hear you,” he said. “This wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if I couldn’t. By the way, I didn’t say you could stop playing with yourself. Only that you might not want to come yet. I want to hear some moaning, and no faking it, you know I’ll know the difference.”

He was right. I faked an orgasm once, and he knew right away. I’d been tired and didn’t want to say no. He’d been hurt and said that I should have just said I was tired. I’d never done that again. Still, I was pissed with him. “What the fuck can you do about it if I don’t, tough guy?”

I expected him to say something like, ‘Take you inside, open the box and beat your ass until you can’t sit down for a week,’ which would have been fine with me as long as it was followed by one of his fabulous pussy lickings. Instead, he said, “I can do this,…” My butt cheeks seized up and I couldn’t relax them. I could feel the electric tingle of the stim pads he’d put back there. He must have done it when my ass was still stinging from the spanking he’d given me, so I hadn’t noticed. The sensation intensified, and the clenching of the muscles made me painfully aware of the plug. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any more. “Oww, Clay, stop!”

The seizure ended. “Now get to work, Leila,” he ordered, and I did. A few minutes later, I was about as aroused as I’d been back in the factory when he’d been stroking and spanking me. I was trying so hard not to embellish the signs and sounds of my excitement that I’d erred the other way, and when I couldn’t resist any more, it came out as a long sighing moan. Clay chuckled, and said, “Good girl! We’re coming up on Witchford park and it’s a beautiful day.”

“I wish I could see it,” I sighed as I continued to tease myself.

“Do you? I could arrange for that.”

I had a vision of him opening a panel in front of my face and removing the blindfold, or worse, of removing the top of the box altogether. I’d be there with my head hanging out for everyone to see.

My eyes were closed, though the blindfold didn’t press on the eyes like most do, and I could open them. There was a general lightening through my closed lids, and when I opened my eyes, I could see an image of the park. The blindfold wasn’t a blindfold at all, it was a pair of imaging goggles. In the bottom of the view I could see the box, and Clay’s hands where they gripped the handles. The image kept jumping around. I finally figured out why. The cameras were on the ear-pieces of Clay’s sunglasses. I was seeing the world as he saw it.

I’m in there! I thought, when his gaze took in the box from the handles at the top, all the way down to the wheels at the bottom. My stomach lurched as he steered around a pothole in the road we were crossing. I had the strangest feeling. An out-of-body experience almost. It felt almost like I was Clay pushing the box rather than being me inside it.

Ahead, the central plaza of Witchford park was coming up and that seemed to be where we were going. He pushed the box up at the end of one of the benches that faced the central fountain, tipped it off its wheels and onto its end. The box rocked twice and then settled onto the flat base below my feet. He sat down beside me and looked at the fountain. A breeze blew the spray toward us and I could feel the cooler moist air as the circulating fan brought it into the box.

“I don’t know, Leila,” he said. “You keep forgetting my instructions.”

Oh shit! I thought. The situation was so strange that I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be pleasuring myself. “Sorry,” I said and put my hands back to work.

“I don’t think sorry is going to cut it, Leila,” he said and stood up. “Have a nice time.” He glanced down at the box, turned back the way we’d come, and began walking away.

“You can’t leave me here like this!” I shouted.

“You’re right, Leila,” he said. The box swung back into view twenty feet away as he turned around. “I forgot to do this.” He looked down at that high-tech tablet computer the District issued to the wardens and tapped an icon, and my ass clenched up again. It held for a few seconds then released. Then it pulsed twice in quick succession and then released for a couple of seconds. With the plug it felt kind of like I was being taken anally. He turned away again and continued walking.

“Please, Clay, don’t leave me here!” I cried. “I’ll do what you say!” I started stroking myself for all I was worth. Surprisingly, I was incredibly aroused even though I was also terribly anxious. I let out a long moan.

He laughed. “You can come anytime you like, Leila,” he said.

“But Clay, what if someone finds me?” I whined.

“I hope they’ll be nice to you.”

“Please, Sir, I’ll do anything,” I said.

He laughed again. “If you think sirring me is going to get you anywhere, you have another thing coming. Who’s that friend of yours, you know, the slutty one?”

I had no idea who he was talking about. Then it hit me that he was talking about Darcy. She wasn’t really a friend, just an acquaintance. “Darcy?”

“Right. She’s been begging me to let her have a go at you.” He took my phone out of his pocket, scrolled to the D’s in my address book, and touched her number.

“What are you doing, Clay?”

“Hello, Darcy?” he said, ignoring me. He paused while she spoke, then he said, “How would you like to have Leila for your very own?”

“No!” I said. “Red-light!”

He touched mute on the phone. “You said, ‘no limits,’ Leila.” He touched mute on the phone again. “How soon can you get to the fountain in Witchford park?” He paused again. “She’s in the box there, so hurry before somebody else takes her.”

I had said no limits, but this was ridiculous and I told him so. I begged him to come back for a few minutes, but it was useless. That’s when things started to get totally surreal. There was a burst of snow in the visual feed and the scene jumped to the point of view of someone looking down on the box from no more than ten feet away. Then it jumped back to Clay passing people on the street as he walked away. It was so brief that I told myself it was just a fearful fantasy, but a few seconds later, it happened again. The person was looking down from just a step away. The point of view lowered and a man’s hand reached toward the side of the box. It operated a catch and I could hear some clicks and scrapes. Then he put his hand into the box and the point of view shifted back to Clay.

“Clay, there’s somebody here!” I jumped when I felt a hand touch my side. The fingers brushed lightly then stroked around toward my back.

“It’s probably Darcy,” he said.

“No, it’s a man. Please, please, come back!” I begged.

“Okay. I’m coming,” he said, then turned and began trotting back toward the park.

I was really frightened, but I was also very excited. The pulsing in my ass intensified in strength and pace, and then a new sensation: the plug in my ass began to vibrate matching its on and off cycle with the stim pads. I’d been on autopilot and hadn’t stopped touching myself. The hand slid down and touched that place at the top of my crack and the way he stroked me there drove me wild. I was beyond caring and I rubbed my clit furiously.

“Don’t you dare come, you little slut!” a voice whispered in my ears.

“Oh, god, I don’t think I can stop.”

Clay rounded the last corner and dashed across the street. The curving walk to the central square of the park flew by. I should see the fountain and the box beside it any moment now. A few seconds later, the fountain came into view, but the box wasn’t there!

“What?” I cried.

“Oh god, Leila, you’re gone!” Clay said in horror.

“That’s right,” the voice whispered. “You’re mine now.” The hand withdrew, the door snapped shut, and the box tilted again. I felt the bobbing motion of being pushed along, and the voice whispered, “You can’t come, but I want to hear some moaning, you little bitch, or else!” The pulsing in my ass jumped to painful levels, and I started rubbing myself again. Then the stim dropped back to a more pleasant level.

The point of view switched again. I could see the box being pushed along the walkway heading away from the fountain back the way we’d come. Clay was standing right there, and as the box moved past him, the cameras swiveled to look at him.

“I’m going right by you now, Clay!” I cried.

“Where? I don’t see you, Leila,” he said.

“That’s right,” the whisperer said, “he can’t see us.”

“What are you going to do to me?” I gasped.

“Who are you talking to, Leila?”

“Don’t you hear him, Clay?”

“No, I don’t.”

The whisperer laughed, then said, “I’m going to take you back to the factory, get you out of there, and whip you silly before I fuck you stupid.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Clay’s evil twin, and you’d better call me Sir,” he said aloud, and the voice did sound a lot like Clay’s. “I’m smarter, better looking, and a much better lover. I think you’ll be pleased.”

Just ahead I saw Darcy. She waved and shouted, “Clay!” She trotted forward and ran right by.

“It’s a good thing I came along,” evil Clay said. “You could have ended up in her clutches.” He looked behind and I saw Darcy run up to Clay who looked really worried.

“He’s taking me back to the factory, Clay. Hurry.”

“We’re coming,” he said. He grabbed Darcy’s hand and they began running back toward the factory.

“Won’t do any good,” evil Clay laughed as they past us. “None at all.”

“Clay, you just went right by me!” I cried.

He skidded to a stop and turned back toward us. “Where?” he growled in frustration. We were moving right toward him, and I don’t think I’d have been surprised if we walked right through him, but at the last minute, the box swerved to the side and went around him.

“We just went by you again,” I said.

“Where, god damn it! I didn’t see a thing!” he howled.

“Clay, please do something,” I said, then I screamed as the stim pads hammered my ass.

“You stopped again, you little bitch. Get back to work,” evil Clay ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” I said and began rubbing myself again.

“What’s happening, Leila?” Clay said looking around.

“Please, Clay, don’t leave me,” I begged, and that’s the way it was all the way back to the factory.

Sometimes Clay and Darcy were ahead and sometimes they’d drop behind. I did my best to keep them nearby while I continued to hold myself on the edge to keep evil Clay happy.

I heard Clay try to explain to Darcy what was going on. He even tried putting the headphones on her and had me explain what was happening. Naturally, she was skeptical.

“This is hilarious,” the double said.

“This is stupid,” Darcy said. “You guys are playing a trick on me. I’m leaving.”

“Make him stop her, bitch,” evil Clay said and zapped me hard with the stim pads.

“Clay, he’s going to hurt me if you let her go. You have to stop her somehow.”

Clay pleaded with her not to go and eventually got her to agree to stay.

We reached the factory just ahead of Clay and Darcy. I stopped, spun in place, and then lurched forward again as he shifted me behind to open the door. It closed and then the point of view shifted back to Clay. All he saw was a closed door.

“Did you see the door open and close just before you opened it, Clay?”

“No,” was Clay’s response, and his evil double cackled in my ears.

It looked like they built custom made furniture in the factory. It would have had all the necessary tools and supplies to build the box, and I guessed that’s what had happened. It was getting hard to concentrate. Holding myself on this side of the orgasm threatening to overwhelm me was taking all of me that there was.

“I think Darcy should get naked,” the evil one said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied. “Get Darcy to take her clothes off, Clay.”

“What …? Why?”

“Oww, oww,” I yelped as he ratcheted up the stim. “Don’t ask why, just do it!”

“Um … er … Darcy, he says you’ve got to get naked.”

“Oi vey!” she said and started unbuttoning her blouse. “You can drop the stupid story Clay, I always said you could fuck me or anything you wanted, any time you wanted. I wasn’t kidding.”

I wasn’t surprised by that. Clay had said that Darcy was always coming on to him. She wasn’t bad looking. She was about the same height as me but a bit heavier with bigger breasts and a larger behind. She had gotten herself pierced the same way I had, with nipple rings and a vertical hood bar-bell. I’d said that mine were great, and I guess that’s why she got hers. It was a fairly transparent imitation, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Flattered, I guess, but it was also a little creepy.

“String her up to that bed frame,” evil Clay said. It was the heaviest piece of bedroom furniture I’d ever seen, with thick tall posts, and a huge boxy frame.

When I relayed the order, Clay replied, “With what?”

“Look behind that stack of lumber,” he said through me. Clay returned with an arm load of rope.

“How does he want her?” Clay asked.

“Oh! Just stop it, Clay,” Darcy snapped.

“Show us what you’ve got,” his evil twin said, and I relayed that to him.

As Clay set about binding Darcy, the evil twin looked down at the box that contained me. “That is it!” he said, angrily. I realized that I’d stopped stroking myself. I kept getting caught up in other things. He snapped open four catches and removed the back of the box. Cool air flooded over me. It had been a little too warm in there so I was grateful for that, but then his hand exploded into my ass once on each cheek in quick succession.

“I’m doing it, Sir. I’m doing it!” I cried. He removed the side panels and stripped off the stim pads, then gave me another pair of spanks, lighter this time. Then I saw him reach for the plug. I felt him pull on it. I tried to relaxed and he got it pulled out to the widest point and then stopped. “Please,” I growled as he fucked my ass with it using the most minute motions that kept the largest diameter portion of the plug in play. He took it out the rest of the way and then began spanking me earnestly.

“Please, can I come yet, Sir?” I begged.

“No,” he said and stopped spanking me. I eased back on my stroking to let myself pull back from the impending orgasm. He turned back toward the bed frame. Clay had Darcy perched on the edge with her legs pulled wide to the sides and her arms tied up to the top of the tall bedposts. She was stretched into a large X shape.

“Perfect,” the evil one said. Clay was standing beyond looking around. Obviously, he couldn’t see us. The double unstrapped my legs and chest. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me out of the box. My hands came up to the goggles, but he slapped them away. “Bad girl!” he said punctuating each word with a hard slap on my rear. “Don’t touch!”

He carried me until we were standing behind Darcy with Clay beyond on the other side of the bed frame. Evil Clay took my hand and dunked it in the little pail of oil his counterpart had used earlier. He put his hand on the back of mine and placed it onto Darcy’s back. I half expected it to go right through her, but I felt solid warm flesh.

“Oh, my god!” Darcy cried looking around as well as her bondage allowed. “It’s real! I feel a hand!”

Clay look both surprised and horrified.

“Spank her,” my master ordered, and I obeyed with surprising gusto. He turned from where I was working on Darcy’s ass, to Clay’s horrified expression and back again. Then he came behind me and put several fingers into me and I humped his hand as I spanked Darcy.

Just a few moments later, I couldn’t take it any more and I told him so. He picked me up and laid me down again on a stack of lumber that was covered with a blanket spread over a thick foam pad. He threw one of my legs over his shoulder, slid two fingers into me, reached up and siezed my nipple hard, and licked my clit. That was all it took. It felt like I came for an hour. It would begin to ebb and he’d act like he was going to let it, then he’d go at me again and start it over. I lost count after four.

Sometime while I’d been floating in the afterglow, he’d crawled up beside me and taken me in his arms. As I came back into the world, I began to fret about the other Clay. I belonged to this one now, and I was worried about how my first Clay was going to take it. He turned to where Clay stood, then without looking away, he took my head and pointed it in the same direction. When he pulled the goggles from my eyes, good Clay vanished.

“You’ve been duped, Leila,” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said and giggled. “Now you’ve had your fun, what about me? You promised.”

“I did,” he said. “She’s been a big help and a good sport. So what do you say?”

It took me a few moments to recover, then I said. “Okay, let’s fuck her brains out!”

It had been a fancy bit of video editing and had required his friend Gwynn to stand in for Clay at critical points. A lot of the footage had been shot the day before and skillfully played back into my headset. Darcy had played her part well, too. All in all it had been cleverly done. I’d asked Clay to show me his dark side and he had done that in spades.

“You have to admit, that was legendary,” he said.

“Yes, I do have to give you that, but you scared the crap out of me.”

“Come on, Leila, you loved it. That was an enormous come even for you.”

“Yes, Sir,” I purred.

He laughed, then said, “Save it for my alter-ego, sweetie. He’ll be back.”

God, I hope so, I thought.