Erroll's Seduction

Lance knelt patiently in the middle of the hard wood floor. His knees hurt, but Lance was a fairly athletic young man and didn't complain much-not that he could, really.

"I signed up for this" he thought to himself, as always.

Lance tried to kneel without resting his butt on his ankles, as it was good for his posture.

His mother had once told him that a boy with good posture was a little gentleman. She had made Lance and his sisters walk with books on their head, teaching them to have a bit of gravitas in their shoulders.

But the kneeling in the room, on the floor was tough.

Another good reason to kneel straight up was, the gluteal muscles still ached from the thrashing Lance had gotten that morning from the back of Erroll's saucepan.

Lance really needed to stop making snarky remarks about her Visa bill! Pay without questions always seems the best policy, right?

Lance's ass was still quite tender.

Learning to sit in one place is so helpful, Lance thought to himself.

Often, Erroll would have little parties, and want Lance and Max to get on all fours and be human furniture.

Sometimes Lance could be a table, holding hot plates, and other times, he was supposed to carry stuff in his hands, but not move a bit.

If there was any moving, of course plates could fall, and then there would be terrible consequences.

Once Erroll had invited her adorable aerobics instructor to a party. Lance had been trained to hold trays for hours at a time, practicing by standing on two chairs and holding a phone book in each hand.

But Olivia had tickled Lance's dick (since he was, after all, naked)

And Lance had spilled the drinks, and then Erroll had given Olivia's boyfriend permission to kick Lance in the nuts! Oh God.

But Lance was improving every day.

What was Erroll doing now? She was with Max, probably.

Erroll's other submissive was Max. Max had more privileges than Lance, by a long shot.

Erroll had invited Max, a registered nurse, to live on the fourth floor of Lance's house.

Max wasn't crazy rich like Lance was, and he'd been quite pleased to share the big house. Max happily submitted to Erroll, but he could go out, do his own thing when he wasn't serving, and Max didn't have to wear a chastity device.

As he was medically trained, Max sometimes assisted in Lance's training.

He'd given Lance boiling hot and ice cold enemas at Erroll's direction, and, when she ordered it, attached a catheter to Lance's penis, so he'd been unable to urinate for 12 hours...it had been a horrific torture.

Lance was somewhat resentful that another submissive would have more privileges than he did.

It reminded him of when Mother would allow his sisters to stay up later than he, and have the TV in their room.

Erroll and Max laughed together a lot, and did stuff-Lance was only allowed to answer questions when Erroll asked them, and otherwise he was 24/7 in service.

It was exciting being in full service to Erroll, but so frustrating!

Lance had not had an orgasm in some time, and his cock swelled ineffectively against the little metal prison between his thighs.

Sometimes when they went on air travel to visit Lance's homes abroad, Erroll switched to a plastic chastity tube, but either way, Lance was locked much of the time.

Horny, and required to stay in this room, naked and kneeling.

Being in chastity might not matter that much if Lance could have left his little room to walk around his own damn house!

Once, Lance had tried to protest, confronting Erroll about his being "grounded all the time, when I'm thirty-eight years old."

"I love you Erroll, but I had a life before, I golfed, played tennis, did community theater, owned a race car, read books. My friends miss me."

"I guess we could stop our little game, Lance. Of course I'll probably leave then."

"No, it's arousing being a submissive, but not to this extent."

"Ordering me around, are you, Lance?"

At the time of Lance's complaint, he'd been standing naked but for his chastity device, in front of Erroll, who was wearing a little black dress...as she'd had a date that night.

In the middle of the discussion, Erroll's right foot shot up and slammed Lance directly in the nuts, hard.

"Watch out, faggot, I might give you the freedom to pee and shit outside in your front yard, on your knees, like a dog. Wouldn't your Manhattan neighbors like that, right outside the brownstone?"

Erroll had been rolling about on the floor, after Erroll's stiletto had landed on his testicles. Crying, he realized he would have to obey.

She'd left once before, telling Lance to return to his "cocaine and prostitutes" and of course he'd begged her to come back. He needed this.

Erroll said "You need so much more structure than Max does, honey, and that's why you'll be in that room most of the time."

"I want you home right after work, at six-thirty. It gives you 20 minutes in traffic to get here, since you are on the bus, as I use the Maserati.

Six-thirty, sharp. You'll get 20 strokes of the cane and five with the tawse for the first minute you're late and then one of the cane for each additional minute. Shit, if you lag too long, I could put you in the hospital!

If you are more than half an hour late, you'll also be locked in the closet of your room for an hour, and have to spend the night in a cage in the basement.

And I'm putting a time-card machine in the foyer for you to check in so I'll know w hat time you got in when I'm out."

Erroll had laughed musically. Her breasts had swayed in the cleavage, and Lance had been hypnotized.

"When you get in after work, you can spend a couple of hours cleaning this monstrosity your Mummy l aft you.

I'll be going over your work with a white glove, believe you me."

Lance had shaken his head as he'd listened.

"Mondays will be the bathrooms. All of them. Scrubbing out the medicine cabinets, washing the tubs and floors, and scouring the insides of the toilets."

Another tinkling laugh.

"You'd better do that thoroughly or I'll have you eating your lunch out of those toilets, hon."

Erroll had kept going on as Lance had sobbed silently, for he was a lazy fuck.

"And then you can work on dinner and after that, go kneel in the room."

And of course on the weekends, after Lance worked out at the gym (to keep him cute, as Erroll ordered) he had to spend all day in the room.

In the earlier days, Erroll had at least given Lance the treat of serving her beautiful body...covering it with kisses, extensive massages, and of course hours of oral service.

And, once a month, she'd allowed him to masturbate to orgasm as the chastity cage was being cleaned in the dishwasher.

Sometimes it had been a little gross, as Lance had had to lick out the semen of other men. But having such a beautiful girl in his bed! Oh God.

But, after some time, and meeting other submissives who wanted to serve, Erroll had told poor Lance that she no longer needed sexual services from him.

She didn't even want him assisting her in the bath anymore, as it made her feel "creepy."

So Lance had actually not seen Erroll unclothed in almost a year!

True, she wore sexy outfits, and there was something compelling about being so submissive that he was constantly naked and exposed, but his Mistress was clothed...

And once a month for a long time, in return for good behavior, Lance had been allowed to masturbate in front of Erroll, and then lick up his spooge.

It was horrible, no longer being horny and having to slurp up semen, but so glorious to finally have the release.

Lately though, for several months, Erroll had not even allowed Lance this.

She seemed busy, and preoccupied.

He tried reasoning with her...

"Lance, you have to stop being such a whiny, needy little faggot."

"You bitch about not being able to leave the room. You whine about not getting to lick my shaved, polished pearl, or to see me naked, and you're mad I won't let you beat your meat all the goddamn time."

"You have to learn to sit in the room, on your knees, and focus. You are so dependent on your social need, being popular, that crap."

She'd laughed again as Lance had blushed hotly.

"Before I took your Iphone you were on it constantly. Taking pictures of your lunch, taking pictures of your dick. It was disgusting.

I almost destroyed my nice Lochgelly Tawse correcting your other habits, getting you to give up cigarettes, and narcotics and all that hooch.

A good whipping it seems, is worth a thousand AA meetings!

And all the work it took whipping you into losing a few pounds."

Erroll paused, laughing.

"You said there were plateaus in dieting, and that was why you couldn't seem to shed the pounds during our once a week trip on the scale.

I notice though, that after my Tawse encouraged you to eat less and exercise more, you went right into losing three pounds a week!"

"And it probably helped that whenever you drank my piss, you'd throw up the first few times, right? Get some food out of your belly, like a damn bulimic!"

And Lance's secretary, his physician and co-workers had marveled at his getting into shape. His friends were saddened and puzzled that Lance was rarely available to play poker or go mountain biking anymore.

What could Lance say? When he wasn't kneeling in the little room, he had to serve Erroll, and that took priority over any socializing.

"Sorry, I couldn't go scuba diving with you, Eric, I was in a French maid's uniform on Saturday afternoon in full makeup, sucking off Erroll's redneck cousins, Dorcas and Dorsey.

Actually I was sucking off Dorsey, and Dorcas was fucking my ass!"

"And I missed the Garrett's barbecue because I was recovering from Erroll's friend, Princess Nirvana of Pittsburgh, who branded a question mark on the head of my penis."

Lance couldn't give his buddies excuses like that. He was just "busy". Poor Lance.

And, since he wasn't allowed any Iphones or Internet, there was n o connection through Facebook or Snapchat. People had mostly forgotten about him.

Erroll's younger sister Devereaux had become Lance's admin, and supervised his not using social media at work. Now Lance was getting more promotions for working harder, and he didn't lose money playing Texas Hold-Em.

When Devereaux thought Lance was slacking off, or if she caught him not eating lunch at his desk, she'd take his pants down in the private office and whip his bare buttocks until he cried.

Little Dev knew how to wield a hairbrush, that was for sure!

What had really changed in Lance's relationship with Erroll, when she'd restricted him to the room?

Previously they'd played bondage games and she'd whipped him with a belt, that had begun slowly and seductively.

But at that time they were still hanging out with his friends, who she thought of as moronic preppies.

Then one night when they were shooting pool, Erroll had looked at Lance, laughing with the boys and said,

"I want to go home now."

"But-but we've only been out for an hour, and it's been so long since I've seen my friends-"

"Now, Lance. Or I go home alone. Or Frankie can drive me."

Erroll had given Lance's "friend" Frankie a dazzling smile, and of course he had the serious hots for her.

All the guys were very attracted to Erroll, and that night she'd curled her short hair and was wearing a skin-tight white top that turned her hard nipples into bullets, but did Lance have to leave?

Lance's buddies thought Lance was pussy-whipped, but also envied him because they believed he was going home to fuck Erroll hard, and then probably watch a chick flick with her.

But Erroll and Lance had gotten home, and she'd instructed him to strip, and then she'd tied him spread eagled to the bed.

She'd snapped a couple of mousetraps on his nipples, and rubbed some liquid that made his cock and balls itch mightily right into his crotch.

She'd plopped a gag in his mouth. "Sure hope there won't be a fire, kid."

Then Erroll had told Lance she had changed her mind, and breezily said, "I think I'll go back and hit a few balls with your pals. See you soon!"

That night, Lance had lay there, helplessly, angry, but yet quite aroused at the thought that his beautiful girlfriend was carousing around, and she'd sent him to bed, like a child who is put to bed while his parents enjoy a party.

The humiliation of it all drove Lance insane, and of course his nipples felt horrible and his penis was going crazy with all the itching.

Why did she do this to him? Why did she not want Lance with her when she saw his friends? She always told him what dopes they were, and now she was out living it up with them.

Later on that night, Erroll had stumbled back in, quite drunk. She'd informed Lance, who really had to pee, being bound down, that she'd told his friends that Lance was "under the weather."

Erroll had sat on the bed for a few moments, and stroked and pulled Lance's dick until it was very horny.

"Gotta pee?"

Lance nodded. He hoped she'd jerk him off but...

Erroll put a tube over Lance's penis and he peed into it, and then she forced him to drink it.

Then she massaged his penis, rubbing her red nails up and down his frustrated cock for nearly an hour before letting go of it, leaving him, of course still bound.

"Your friend Frankie has a big dick." That was the last thing she'd said before going back out to the living room and passing out on the couch.

Did she hate him? He couldn't live without her, and the price now was, in the room, all the time.

At first he would offend her and Erroll would sentence him to five days in the room, not letting him share her bed. Ten days. Two weeks. Thirty days.

Then eventually Lance was permanently exiled to the room.

It was a spare, small room, a maid's cubby back when Lance's parents were alive.

Lance had used the room to store junk, ski equipment and the like. He wouldn't even make anyone sleep in a room that small as a guest, it was so little.

Now the walls were painted white and except for the dresser, a mattress on the floor and some bedding, it was a stark, empty room.

So plain, so ordinary. When Erroll had decreed that this would be Lance's punishment room and then his permanent abode, she had taken over the master bedroom and had Lance use a roller and eggshell white paint to turn it into the bland space it was now.

It really gave the kneeling Lance no distractions. Erroll had put Lance in a chastity belt some eighteen months before they'd moved in together, and then lessened the orgasms, which was tough enough...

But at least he'd had recreation, mountain climbing, seeing movies, chasing "Pokemon"

When Lance was frustrated and horny, he could at least turn on the TV, right?

But after Erroll had him kneel in the room, hours on end, his outlook began changing.

In the first few weeks, Lance's mind had raced, and he'd paced the room frantically, bored and energetic.

Erroll was a busy girl, but she'd had her other slave Max check on Lance now and then, and give him vicious canings if he was caught off his knees, off the little part of the floor she'd marked with crossed tape...the "X".

This had been especially painful and humiliating-being whipped by another man, who was clothed, and had more privileges. And Max knew how to handle the cane!

"Hit until you see blood" Erroll had ordered, and Max did his best.

And he could make Lance cry! Lance, who had not cried since early childhood.

Sometimes Erroll would hear Lance's screams and come in and watch him get his thrashing...

Once, after a caning, Max had said sympathetically. "You just gotta get in your sub space, man. Kneel and focus. It'll get easier."

Fucking low class stumblebum with his white trash English...caning me and then giving advice!

And then there was a sticker system. Max put a sticker on the outside of Lance's door. Lance could break the sticker four times a day to use the bathroom, or if there was a fire or something. Then there were 2 more stickers for when he had to come out and do chores and cook for Erroll.

But if Lance broke the seal to go take a shit, or pee, it could only be four times a day, and Max watched the door days, and Dorcas came and did night duty.

Lance had to learn not to overeat or drink too much iced tea or water, and control his bladder.

Once he tried peeing in a little soda bottle and hiding it, and Max had discovered this and nearly broken a straightened coat hanger on Lance's cheeks!

But finally, Lance learned to control his bladder and bowels, and to kneel meditating, focusing, and staying on his knees.

Now the sticker system was no longer used. Max didn't have to check on Lance, who was in complete sub space much of the time.

Sometimes Max or Erroll would come in to "stripe up" Lance with the cane or the tawse, but it was rarely for any errors or misbehavior.

Although Erroll knew intellectually that Max was also a slave, and he'd heard Max's screams when Max was being disciplined by Erroll, Lance really thought of Max as a master at this point.

Lance had heard that Max had had his testicles removed by a surgeon while Erroll had looked on, but this puzzled him, as Max had a girlfriend he went out and slept with...

And of course he'd given Max a thousand blowjobs!

Maybe cumming is all in the mind, though something had squirted into Lance's mouth when Max had cum.

But being left in the stark, white, room, kneeling was almost an escape when Lance was focusing.

He'd been smothered with attention since early childhood. When he'd had problems, he'd gone to shrinks, and run around with lots of people, and his relatives had always pestered him for his wisdom, even as a six year old.

Now Lance was learning to just be on his own.

After a while, Erroll had rewarded Lance with a large poster of her on the wall, facing where Lance knelt on the "X".

It showed her lounging in a bikini on a trip they'd made to his villa in the South of France.

Lance had actually not been to the beach with her, he'd been kneeling in the closet of his country house, hoping she was not fucking French beach idlers.

But it was a great picture!

Sometimes Erroll rotated that pic with others of her in cute swimsuits during various events, or in a snug white top, leaning on the deck of Lance's sailboat.

None nude, of course, that would be undignified.

Lance could gaze at Erroll's picture and get very aroused, forgetting the pain on his knees. His penis had a tiny bit of room to swell in the belt.

Though during the Lenten season Erroll had put Lance's dick into a chastity tube that had all sorts of needles on the inside, and the tube had forced him to keep his eyes shut so he couldn't see Erroll in the pic!

Not to mention when he'd see her around the house when he was cleaning...the needle tube could bring him to his knees when Erroll was in a crop-top!

Kneeling could be peaceful, though.

Now and then, Erroll would look in on Lance, smiling in approval as he stared at her picture, kneeling with blistered knees on the floor. It showed true devotion.

Of course Erroll would sometimes mix things up. Once she ordered an electric torture baton from China.

"They use these to fuck with the Falun Gong spiritual types."

Having been zapped with the baton, repeatedly having his nipples and balls burned with the wicked, electrical thing, Lance was relieved when Erroll left the room again.

The sizzling black stick had been run over Lance's cock and balls and the cheeks of his butt. His howls had reverberated through the neighborhood.

"Max reacted similarly." Erroll had said thoughtfully. "This might be too much for you guys."

But Lady Nirvana had told Lance that Erroll had been a submissive once, and had had the baton electrify and burn her gorgeous body, which made Lance feel very protective...of this woman who of course burned him!