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From: corvidae1@aol.com (Corvidae1)
Subject: (ASS/M)RP: Nothing Like The Sun: Four (F/m)
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* * * *    
Nothing Like The Sun    
    
By L.Corvidae      
        
           Chapter Four: The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers        
        
Saturday Morning        
        
   i woke, cold and stiff, in the steel pan of the training crate. i was       

only mildly pleased that my dick had regained its ability to harden        
sometime during my fitful sleep.        
        
   She'd left me tied to the rafter for the longest hour of my life. It        
became an endless blur of slipping, swinging and struggling to regain my       

footing, only to lose it again moments later.        
        
   By the time She returned i was ready to scream my safeword loud enough      
 
to wake the neighborhood. i wanted to get the fuck out of there and never      
 
look back. Then i saw Her.        
        
   She was flushed, Her hair was out of place and Her naked body was        
covered in sweat. i wasn't an expert, but She smelled like sex. A        
rapturous smile beamed from Her features. She was so beautiful that She        
was painful to behold, and all thoughts of my safeword fled me as She        
removed the slimy gag.        
        
   She untied my tormented genitals, and i stumbled backwards. She guided      
 
my fall so that i landed hard on the little padded stool.        
        
   Before i knew what was happening, She was on top of me, straddling me.      
 
Her mouth fixed to mine, hungrily sucking the breath from my body. Warm        
droplets fell on the tender flesh of my bruised and useless cock.        
        
   It was over too soon. She climbed off me and for a second more our lips     
  
were connected by a thin filament of saliva.        
        
   She unbound my arms, but left the hateful, grinding shoes on.        
        
   "I like the way they define your calves," She explained with a        
malicious twinkle in Her eye.        
        
    She led me to the crate and ordered me to crawl in. There wasn't        
nearly enough room to stretch out, so i had to fold my cramped, aching        
body into a fetal ball. She closed the gate and fastened the latch, not        
bothering to lock it. There wasn't enough room inside for me to turn        
around and get at it.        
        
   Before shutting off the light and leaving me there for the rest of the      
 
evening, She said, "By the way, michael, you have my permission to        
masturbate if you like. Only," Her voice grew stern, "I don't want to see      
 
a single drop of spunk in the morning, you get me?"        
        
   i nodded weakly. "Yes Mistress." i remembered how my semen had tasted       

when she'd forced me to clean Her hand at the movie. my stomach churned at     
  
the prospect of having to lick up any more. Besides, my penis hurt so much     
  
the last thing i wanted to do was touch it. i had my doubts it would ever      
 
work properly again.        
        
   The dungeon had no windows, and with the door at the top of the stairs      
 
closed, i had no way of knowing what time of day it was.  As i laid in the     
  
cold and the dark, i began to halfheartedly stroke my sore cock. It was        
hard for me to imagine that twenty-four hours earlier i had been jerking       

off under the steaming rush of water from my own shower; fantasizing about     
  
this very moment.          
        
   i'd wisely gone to the bathroom repeatedly before leaving work the        
other day; but even so, i hadn't been since, and the pressure in my        
bladder was mounting painfully.        
        
   The lights came on with an audible snap, and i writhed in my cage,        
temporarily blinded. When my sight returned, She was staring down at me        
through the bars of the crate.        
        
   i gaped at Her with dumb astonishment. She was dressed like a        
cheerleader, Her fuzzy sweater and short, pleated skirt all in orange and      
 
black. A tiger logo was embroidered on the sweater, and Her hair was all       

done up in a ponytail. Lastly, She had on a pair of new Air Jordans, the       

kind with the broad bands of black patent leather; and i couldn't help        
noticing that they did, in fact, reflect up.        
        
   She undid the latch on the crate and as i slowly crawled out backwards,     
  
She rocked up and down on Her feet. i gathered myself into a pile of human     
  
flesh on the floor and gazed up at Her, expectantly.        
        
   "What's the matter, michael? Not fetishy enough for you?"        
        
    "It's just not the fetish i..."        
        
    "Well - F - U - C - K - Y - O - U!" She cheered, forming the each        
letter as She went.        
        
    "This morning I feel horny! Horny! Horny! Horny!" She cried out,        
leaping into the air.        
        
    She stopped suddenly and cocked Her head to one side, giving me a        
quizzical look.        
        
    Again, She seemed to read my thoughts with unsettling accuracy.        
        
   "No, michael, I am not on drugs! It's just when I get all horny like        
this, I get... bouncy."        
        
    "Like Tigger," i said with a weary, but understanding smile.        
        
    For one wondrous moment the frenetic, sex-kitten facade dissolved,        
leaving in its wake the most warm and genuine smile of  pure delight i had     
  
ever seen.        
        
   "Exactly."        
        
    She studied me for a minute, Her face lit up like a child who'd        
discovered their new toy had a feature they hadn't known about. It hadn't      
 
been that much of a guess for me really. i'd already suspected She liked       

tigers. Her screen name, P.t.altaic, was a compacted version of the        
scientific name for the Siberian tiger: Panthera tigris altaica.        
        
   "Who was your favorite character, michael?" She asked intently.        
        
   "Uh, Eeyore, i guess..."  "Mistress," i added quickly.        
        
   She laughed. "I should have guessed."        
        
   "Well, michael, I'm sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for," She      
 
indicated Her outfit, "but the fact is that I do get bouncy when I'm all       

excited. And when I get like this I like to move. All those Dressing for       

Pleasure sorts of outfits are lovely to look at, but they're confining as      
 
hell.        
        
   "Still," She added thoughtfully, "it doesn't quite seem fair to you,        
does it? I'm sure your head was filled with all sorts of visions of hobble     
  
skirts and corsets and studded bustiers. And..." Her grin turned evil.        
"Lovely, lovely high heels."        
        
   She ordered me to my feet and took me to the wardrobes. There, She        
pulled out a satin corselette. She had to set it on the floor so i could       

step into it, and then She hefted it into place and began puling        
mercilessly at the laces.        
        
   i couldn't help but think of those giant snakes that kill their prey by     
  
wrapping around a victim and then tensing up their muscles every time the      
 
poor animal breathed out.         
        
   The compression of my torso almost proved to be more than my strained       

bladder could bear.        
        
    "Mistress, please," i grunted.        
        
     "Is something wrong, michael?"        
        
    "i have to use the bathroom, Mistress."        
        
    "My, how thoughtless of me. Well, come along my pet."         
        
    She tied up the laces, leaving my body with just a hint of an        
hourglass figure; then took me by the hand and led me to the john just off     
  
the dungeon.        
        
    Because of the bathtub, the room felt incredibly cramped. The toilet       

was small and low to the ground.        
        
   Instead of leaving me to my business, Mistress sat down on the edge of      
 
the tub and batted Her eyes at me.        
        
    "Well?"        
        
    i'd always been shy about using public rest rooms, and to make matters     
  
worse, the corselette held my body in a straight vertical line while my        
stiff penis jutted out from my body at a right angle. If i were to go, it      
 
would shoot right over the bowl and splatter against the wall.         
        
   i tried to relax, let my mind drift.        
        
   "Would it help if I told you that if you spill anywhere but the bowl, I     
  
expect you to clean it up?"          
        
   There wasn't any toilet paper.         
        
    "Thank you, Mistress."         
        
    i tried again to calm down. i thought about work and all the things        
i'd have to get done on Monday.        
        
    "Still feeling self-conscious?"        
        
    "Yes, Mistress."        
        
    "Look up."        
        
   i did. There was a camera in one of the corners. Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!       

        
   She laughed. "All right, michael, I'll let you make pee-pee in peace."      
 
        
   She stood and leaned in close to me, whispering, "I can always catch it     
  
on instant replay."        
        
   She handed me a strange belt with metals rings set into the leather.        
        
   "Put this on when you're done."        
        
   Even after She left me, it took a while for me to get soft enough to        
aim my piss into the toilet. i was almost finished when some of it        
accidentally spattered on the rim. i swore loudly, but there was nothing i     
  
could do.        
        
     i had a devil of a time kneeling down. i licked swiftly and with my       

eyes closed; as if it would somehow make the act less repellent if i        
couldn't see what i was doing. It was even harder to stand back up again,      
 
and i practically had to climb the toilet to regain my feet.         
        
   Once i was up, i turned to the task of putting on the belt. Actually,       

it was more like three belts. The thickest obviously went around my waist.     
  
The other two started out as a single, broad flap connected to the first       

and the forked off into two thinner ones. The rings were set in the flap,      
 
which i began to realize was supposed to come down over my crotch. The        
thin belts then ran around the cheeks of my ass to connect up again with       

the thick one.        
        
    i held no illusions as to what the rings were for. That whole part of      
 
my body was already one giant bruise, yet, grimacing, i threaded my soft       

cock through the largest hole. It hardened instantly and painfully. my        
testicles were worse, though. They were as soft as they were going to get,     
  
and i had to squash them brutally to force them through their holes. the       

whole region throbbed in agony.        
        
   Crying, wobbling, i went back into the dungeon.        
        
   Mistress was standing by a sawhorse with a padded leather cover. She        
waved me over.        
        
   "Took you long enough," She chided, but She was still smiling.        
        
   She inspected the belt thoroughly, giving each afflicted element its        
own nasty little squeeze.        
        
   "Is it too much, michael?"        
        
   i couldn't lie. "It is very close, Mistress."        
        
   She must have been a formidable poker player. Her expression was        
completely unreadable.        
        
   "I'd intended to gag you again, and strap you down pretty good. You'd       

better decide now if you can't go much farther."        
        
   i remembered the way she'd looked coming down the stairs the night        
before; the way She looked when i caught the "Tigger" reference.        
        
   "Please Mistress. Please use this body to please yourself."        
        
   She nodded curtly and then knelt down beside me. She attached padded        
cuffs to each of my ankles and in turn locked the cuffs to the legs of the     
  
sawhorse, thus spreading my own legs wide apart.         
        
    She made me put the sleeve back on, and when i had that done She        
gently pushed me forward over the horse. It was fixed to a circular wooden     
  
base, and i could see that sunk into that base was another eyebolt. She        
took a leather lead and snapped one end to my collar. Forcing me to bend       

even further, stretching all my muscles to their limits, She snapped the       

other end of the lead to the metal loop.        
        
   She showed me what looked like a rubber cup with straps attached, only      
 
as She turned it i could see a big, fat penis sticking out of the center.      
 
        
   She didn't say so, but i think She held it out like that to give me one     
  
last chance to back out.        
        
   In Her other hand She had a squirt bottle with what appeared to be        
urine in it.        
        
   "It's not piss," She explained, squirting the penis in the gag        
liberally. "It's much worse than piss."        
        
   She let me see the label before shoving the gag into my mouth. It was       

bitter apple extract; used to discourage dogs from chewing on themselves       

or the furniture. It tasted like a dead skunk's ass.        
        
   She moved around to the rear of my gagging, writhing form and tenderly      
 
put Her hands on my ass. The soft warm skin against my cold, tense flesh       

felt unbearably good. She began to massage me: my ass and thighs and lower     
  
back. Nothing i had ever done to myself could ever hope to compare with        
the pleasure She was giving me.        
        
   my body was used to thinking of pleasure as only stemming from one        
place. Whenever anything sensual had happened to me, the signals were        
instantly rerouted to my groin. But now all the nerves in that area were       

busy: lit up with wave after wave of excruciating pain. i felt a rush of       

epicurean warmth deep in my anus that i had never thought possible.        
        
    "Do you know why I chose you?" She asked. Not that i could answer. Not     
  
that i wanted to answer and disrupt the feeling growing inside my body.        
        
   "Out of all those E-mails I get daily, what could have possibly moved       

me to respond to yours? Hmmm? Haven't you wondered?"         
        
   i had. Obsessively. But it hardly seemed to matter now.        
        
   "It's because you're a virgin, michael."        
        
    That actually surprised me enough to break my reverie. i'd agonized        
over putting that fact in my initial message, but i knew when the time        
came i wouldn't be able to fake experience i didn't have. i was convinced      
 
it would be the one thing that sent Her scrambling for the DELETE button,      
 
but i also felt that honesty was about all i had going for me. It was a        
shock to hear that for once i was right.        
        
   "All we do here, all the games we play, michael, are all really about       

power; and power, for a man, translates as his manhood."        
        
   i heard the snap of a rubber glove.        
        
    "I do what I can to strip them of that. I degrade men, dress them as       

women and deny them their cock, but it's all symbolic. I can't really take     
  
away the one experience that really makes them a man. You don't have that      
 
experience, michael. Your body is mature, but you're not a man, and as        
long as you're my slave you never will be."        
        
   Her gloved finger began to play with my asshole, smearing some cold,        
slimy lubricant around it. She slipped it in me a little bit and out        
again. In and out, playfully spreading the jelly. i could hear Her peel        
the glove off and drop it to the floor. Her hands grasped my hips firmly.      
 
        
    "Can you imagine how excited that makes me? How hot I get knowing that     
  
you're sacrificing your manhood? That its very existence is in my hands?       
 
Just to please me."        
        
    Cold, hard rubber poked at my hole. i felt the tension building in Her     
  
through Her hands as She prepared to ram it home.        
        
   "I'm very pleased."  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun  

               William Shakespeare


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