Stamina ... and Other ... Training

Malee crawls up the bed toward you, but you're so embarrassed ... twice in two nights! ... that you can't look at her. You close your eyes and cover them with your forearm.

She's lying atop you now, tits pressed against your chest, legs straddling your hips and groin massaging your spent, overly sensitive penis. You try to roll out from under her, but you aren't strong enough.

She's close enough that you can smell your cum on her breath as she says, in that same weirdly thick voice, "Open your eyes, Flower. Kiss me. Now," which would be an intensely erotic scent in any other circumstance.

But she's using that tone again, the one that says she expects immediate obedience, and you've already learned in just the last couple of days that good things happen when you obey that voice, bad things when you don't.

But it's only much later that you consciously consider these things at all, much less figure any of them out. For now, you just open your eyes and part your lips slightly, like one of Pavlov's dogs.

Malee drops her lips to yours, presses her tongue forcefully into your mouth, and lets what feels like a huge dollop of warm, salty, slimy, bitter goo drop into your mouth.

It takes a moment ... maybe half a second ... to figure out what she's just slipped you, but in that half-second she pulls her tongue away, sits up on your chest and presses her left palm against your lips.

She's snowballed you! **** your own cum into your mouth. You try ... briefly ... to object through her hand, but realize almost instantly that trying to talk lets some of the slimy goo slide down your tongue and into your throat. So you try to wriggle out from under her instead, even though you know you're not as strong as her even when you DON'T have to concentrate on not swallowing your own spend.

But Malee is ready for that, as well, and she doesn't just sit atop you and let you struggle. Instead, she lets you move just enough so she can slip behind you, wrap her legs sround your thighs and her arms around your upper arms, her one hand remaining over your lips, the other over your throat, and leaving you basically as helpless as a trussed pig.

"Calm down, Flower," she orders, breaking through your panic but not your anger, "You know I can hold you like this all night, right?" You struggle a little more, but she'd right. How did a girl no bigger than you get so strong? Eventually, you stop struggling and let your muscles relax ... a little.

"Good boi," she says, her own grip tightening. "Now, what we're going to do is find out if you like cum. I told you we'd work out how much you like men, and this is part of it.

"I could just hold you here until you do as you're told, or I could do this," she continues, using her thumb to pinch your nostrils closed against the ridge of her hand ... very briefly before letting you breathe again, "until you swallow, or this," stroking your esophagus with her other hand, "which will make you swallow. But I won't do that. Because you are going to do it voluntarily ... roll it around on your tongue, really get the taste in your mouth, then swallow it down. Do you want to know why?"

Her breathing is getting heavier and faster, almost panting. Is she ... wearing out? Getting tired?

"Mmm!" It's the only response you can make right now.

"Because you have to KNOW. Know how much you like it, if at all. Know if it turns you on. And to do that, you need to volunteer for the experiment."

You close your eyes for a moment. You still don't want to do this, and you hate the way she just sprang it on you with no warning, but her logic makes a kind of twisted sense. You hesitantly nod your head. It doesn't move much at all, the way she's holding you in place, but she can feel it against her palm and shoulder.

"Good. Good boi. Swish it around on your tongue for at least three minutes. Really let the taste fill your mouth."

You do as she demands, slowly, reluctantly. You swish the bitter glob of your own cum around until it fairly coats your tongue. The slimy stickiness seems to dissipate, but the taste remains strong. It tastes ... familiar. And while you're coating your tongue with it, you feel thick, calloused, muscular male fingers pressing their slimy payload between your teeth, your tongue cleaning the salty goo, and ... you start to get hard again.

You're not sure how long Malee holds you in place like that ... it feels more like three minutes short of forever than three minutes ... but eventually she reaches down to feel your groin and chuckles, "Oh, my. Looks like we might have a real cumslut in the making on our hands, doesn't it? Go ahead and swallow now, Flower."

You do so, her forefinger on your Adam's Apple to confirm, and then she lets go of you, stands, and begins replacing her bra.

"What ... what the hell was that?!"

She calmly finishes replacing her bra and picks her blouse up from the floor, putting it on and beginning to button it up, before replying. Her face is utterly serene as she says, " Part of 'that' is exactly what I said it was. Part was a test of your trust in me ... which you failed. And part was because you were about to fall into a deep depression over your little man's 'stamina problem.' Tell me, are you depressed right now?"

"N - no. I'd almost forgotten."

"And now you can forget it again. I spoke to my villóage shaman ... a couple of them, in fact ... and I know how to help you increase your stamina until you'll be able to please me when we finally f- make love."

"Really?!! Th - thank God ..."

"No, thank Thai folk medicine. But you may find the training process ... difficult. Unpleasant, even. You might not even want to go through with it."

You leap off the bed and place your hands on her trim hips. "Nonsense, Malee. I'd do anything to please you. Anything,"

Her smile is beatific as she replies. "That was the sort of brave response I'd hoped for. Thank you, and I will hold you to that promise.

"The way to train your little pee-pee's stamina is to first, cut your little man off from all direct stimulation, and second, find OTHER ways to stimulate you sexually. The combination of an herbal infusion the shamans taught me to prepare, the constant stimulation from other sources and your little soldier's inability to climax through direct contact, should build up your stamina to acceptable or even extraordinary levels ... eventually."

"Cut off from ALL direct stimulation? How are we gonna do that? And how long is 'eventually'?" you ask, trying for the moment to ignore how often Malee has called you "little" and "tiny" recently. By comparison, "cute" is almost complimentary.

Her smile fades a little at your questions. "How long the treatment takes, at least according to the people with whom I've spoken, depends entirely on you ... how healthy you are, what your stamina is already like, how ahhh ... FAITHFUL you are in following the treatment. But I can help there. As to how to prevent direct stimulation, well ... just a moment."

She digs in her purse for a moment before pulling out a rather small ... well, it looks like an oversized jewelry box, the kind a wristwatch might come in. She opens it and holds it out to you.

Within is a small, complicated-looking metal device covered in bright, almost fluorescent pink powder coating. Its largest piece appears to be a curved steel tube, mostly closed on one end, though it does have one small hole in its domed, chromed cap, slightly off-center. At the other end the tube is open, and there are a couple of adjustable-looking steel rings or hoops depending from the tube, with what looks like integral locking mechanisms at their apexes. The interior surfaces of the hoops consist of series of uneven ridges, something like smoothed, oversized clockwork gears. They, too, are chromed rather than powdered pink.

"What in the world is this?"

"That, my little flower, is the very finest male chastity device the world has to offer."

"Oh. Oh! And you want me to ...?"

"Wear it, yes, Flower. I would keep the keys so you would not be tempted to 'cheat' on your treatment. We would start with, say, a week of treatment, and then a test of its effectiveness. Would you like to see if it's comfortable?"

You really, really don't. But you DID say you'd do anything for the sake of pleasing Malee ... which is to say, getting in her panties.

"Why so ... pink?"

"It was the only color available in your ... size. Would you like to try it? You can keep the keys until we make a decision, if you like."

"Sure, I ... guess ..."

"Oh, good!" she says, eyes sparkling, "We are going to have SO much fun ... and my flower will become SUCH a good lover ..."

Malee's voice devolves into amused chuckling, and she holds her hand out to you. You nervously place the chastity device in it. She takes a pair of small keys out of her purse, and opens both hoops at the base, then uses a weird, complicated-looking hand movement to remove one of the rings. She hands it to you along with the keys, saying, "We won't need that piece just now. Put it in the box please, Flower."

You do so, hanging on to the keys, amazed at the sturdiness and light weight of the thing. It must be some kind of alloy, you think.

Malee opens up the other ring and makes another complex hand motion, and the entire tube apparatus opens along the outside edge of the curve. "Come look at this," she says, "hinged and lockable, but completely smooth inside and out when it's closed. The hinges and latching mechanisms are all internal to the cock cage, see?"

You do look, crossing the couple of feet of floor space between you to examine the details more closely. Malee is right; it's an amazing piece of engineering ... but the interior of that tube is so small! "What's it made of?"

"Titanium alloy. Nothing but the best for my lover!"

That ... doesn't comfort you much. "Looks and sounds expensive."

She smiles at you again, eyes glittering. "Don't you know better than to ask the price of a gift, Flower? Yes, it was expensive. You're worth it ..."

Your chest swells with pride until she finishes her thought. "... or you will be. Want to try it on now?"

You nod nervously; this is what you agreed to, after all, and if you really don't like it, you tell yourself, you can always tell Malee that the two of you will have to work on your "stamina problem" some other way.

Malee kneels in front of you, opens the apparatus again, and ... plants a light, almost-chaste kiss on your cockhead before carefully fitting the remaining titanium-steel-chrome ring behind your balls, placing your penis into the opened tube, closing it with a tiny, metallic *CLICK* and then closing the hoop and locking the entire apparatus.

"Bye-bye, little Erinn," she says, smiling up at you, "How does it feel?"

It feels ... strange. It's not exactly uncomfortable, but you can definitely feel its weight, and that combined with the rather **** curve of the cage itself is going to make aiming to pee a ... challenge. And the tube itself is ... tight? Not exactly. It's not uncomfortable or anything, but you can feel the cold, hard titanium-steel alloy over every square millimeter of your skin. You hope it warms up soon.

"Okay, I guess. It'll take some getting used to."

Her eyes light up and widen simultaneously, and she throws herself at you, knocking you back onto the bed and following you down, kissing you passionately, her silk-covered boobs grinding into your soft, underdeveloped pectorals, her groin against your cage.

"Oh, baby, does this mean you're willing to give it a try? There's my brave little soldier! I'm so proud of you! Oh, we're going to have such fun ..." All of this accompanied by passionate tongue kisses to your mouth, neck or nipples with every third or fourth word.

Of course, you didn't actually mean that at all; it was just a comment about the cage being strange but not especially uncomfortable. But now, well, how can you disappoint her after ... almost ... misleading her like that? You can't, that's what.

Besides, you're even more hungry for pussy - her pussy - than ever before. Funny how being close to the Holy Grail makes you even hungrier for it. And if this is what it takes, and she's made it obvious that it is, then you're all in. Still ...

"One week?" you ask.

She stops her kissing and licking ... and good thing, too; the cage is becoming uncomfortably tight around your cock ... eyes still sparkling. "Of course, Flower. If we agree that it should come off after your vacation, off it will come. Now, give me the keys."

She holds her hand out, palm up, and you, reassured of both the duration of your "imprisonment" and of having retained at least some dignity, hand them to her. She stands and replaces the keys in her pocketbook, then turns to face you.

"Good boi," she says, the smile leaving her face, "That was both very brave and ... minimally ... obedient. But now we need to talk about some OTHER things that you've said and done this evening."

Waitaminnit. Obedient? "Minimally" obedient?

"Erinn," she asks, "I have taken you under my wing because I see so much potential in you. I told you that, yes?" She looks at you with a piercing, gimlet eye. You quickly agree that she did, indeed, tell you this.

"And have I led you wrong since?"

This is a more complex question. You could certainly question her choice of wardrobe for you before your interview with Mister Dan, but that turned out okay, didn't it? And some of her conclusions about your sexuality ... and fixing your "little problem" ... seem a bit off as well. Not her logic, just her leaps of intuition. But you don't KNOW she's wrong yet, do you. In any case, her gaze is far too intense ... too intimidating ... for argument. You just shake your head.

"Good. Then since you acknowledge my good intentions ... my beneficence, if you will ... and my superior knowledge of Thai culture and the fashion industry ... right?"

Again, you simply nod.

She returns your nod curtly. "Since you acknowledge these things, if you EVER AGAIN question my orders or advice ... or motivations ... regarding your well-being, sex, fashion or business, I will leave you to make your own way. YOU can deal with Kuhn Dantanavanawong without an interpreter. YOU can deal with upset masseurs after you wag Little Erinn at them. You can ..."

You cut her off. She's not just intense any more; she's angry, and she's headed towards furious. "I'm sorry," you babble, "Please, Kuhn Malee, I'm sorry. Please don't leave, I'll be good I swear let me makeituptoyou ..."

She looks at you with that piercing gaze once again. Her face ... her face doesn't soften, exactly, but the fiery anger goes out of her eyes. "You will 'make it up' to me through obedience and deference, and that may take some time. But you could make a start, a symbolic gesture, if you like ..."

"Please."

She crosses the room to the armchair where she had been working earlier today, when you woke up. Was that really just today? Sitting, she kicks off her shoes and says, "Down on your fours, then ... no, leave the robe there ... crawl to me naked, bitch. Worship me with your tongue, since your tiny, useless peepee won't be doing us any good ..."

It doesn't even take any thought at this point. The thought of wandering Thailand without her company and advice is just ... unacceptable at this point. Besides, the fact that she still wants to play a sex game, which is obviously what you're doing, tells you she's maybe not as mad as she pretends. Thank God. As you drop to your knees and then to your hands, a tiny piece of your mind seems to be saying, "We can't leave now, but maybe someday soon." You tell that piece of you to shut the hell up.