For over two weeks now I have kept his little object locked into its narrow tube without any attention – almost. BTW, it cannot get anywhere near properly hard in its unyielding tube. Every few days I supervise him shaving it, washing it and it remains flaccid under threat of severe punishment, then back into its tube. I have queened him almost every other day during this period. Each queening session, after one or two tremendous orgasms for me, I recover, and calmly instruct him to attend to a chore. ‘Go and tidy the kitchen pansy-piece.’ ‘Go and clean my boots bitch-boy.’ ‘Go and prepare the evening meal.’ He is a picture of resigned, powerless, sad submissiveness as he walks from the room, and I get a wonderful rush of cruel power!
A couple of days ago, we were preparing to go out for a meal. After bathing, I again queened him. Then had him kneel facing the wall, wrists bound behind him while I dressed and put on my make-up. Then, when I was ready, I asked him if he wanted some attention. He gushed that he did. His wrists remained bound and, tube removed, I tickled his shaved balls with one hand and slowly pumped his little granite hard object with a tight fist with my other hand.
His mewing and gasps of pleasure and joy were very amusing. He was sooooo sensitive. After some edging, the trusty ruler and Deep heat were produced and the gasps turned to whimpering and begging. I was harsh, repeatedly.
After over half-an-hour I told him his attention was over. He looked like he may cry as he returned his object to its tight tube and I padlocked it through his frenum piercing ring. Just before we left, I had him lick me clean after urinating and lick some drops from the floor, then thank me for being allowed to do so. I could sense, mixed within his cocktail of sadness and hopelessness was, a very deep awe of me. Delightful!