Silken Embrace by Christina Shelly

Author:Christina Shelly [Shelly, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780753538753
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2010-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

Part Three

8

By the end of my third day in Ms Gillette’s elaborate and perverse nursery, I have begun to understand the true nature of ultimate submission. Within the pretty pink confines of the large room, I have lost the last vestiges of control over my identity. Smothered in the most outrageous of babified frillies, tightly dummy gagged, most of the time kept in some form of immobilising bondage, my cock sheathed and tightly ringed, my arse plugged with the buzzing and ingenious anal vibrator, I have very quickly lost all sense of time and place. Indeed, by the end of the first 24 hours, it is as if my mind – the last essential part of any true consistent personality – is beginning to melt. And this, of course, is a quite deliberate effect of the torment I am being so cruelly and systematically exposed to.

Strangely, I have seen very little of Ms Gillette and nothing more of Ms Ambrose and the rather lovely Rupert. Yet I have thought of them, especially of Rupert and his astonishing mother. As I am constantly and quite wickedly stimulated, as the enema probe fills me with its soapy cum and as I void this matter in such a humiliating manner from my bowels, as I endure a suffering of truly epic proportions, I remain helplessly and darkly excited. My erection is permanent and fights its cruel restraint with a savage and disturbing determination. I enter a new extremely powerful stage of my already fierce masochism.

And as I writhe in my erotic sufferings, I am tended to by Myriam. Yet this is not the meek sexy Myriam of the Sissy Maids Academy. No: this is a far more confident Myriam, Myriam wielding power and control on behalf of the buxom, cruel and stunningly beautiful Ms Mary Gillette.

It is Myriam who, twice a day, unbinds me, removes me from the large playpen, then straps me tightly into the adult-sized highchair for my meals. It is Myriam, always dressed in the elaborate and wildly sexy uniform of Ms Gillette’s personal French maid, who feeds me a pink plastic bowl of some strange pink-dyed mashed food and two large baby bottles of full cream, heavily sugared milk. It is Myriam who whispers teasing baby talk as I suck helplessly and desperately on the huge clear rubber teat of the bottle. It is her expensive erotic perfume that torments my helplessly flaring nostrils and her large tightly restrained breasts, held firmly in place by the black silk of her uniform dress, that fill my sex-addled vision.

Yet as she feeds me, I notice one important and new fact: there is no longer desire in her pretty eyes – a desire for me. I no longer see that strange counter-need that has led us to become fugitives from the Bigger Picture. No, her eyes are now filled with detached amusement, with ironic regard, and with a hint of true sadistic pleasure. Within a few hours, I have become an object

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