The dignity of the mandrill II

The night was colder and darker than usual for this time of year. There were almost no people on the road. He passed through a police checkpoint, but they didn't stop him. He was glad about that. He wanted to arrive as soon as possible.

Was it madness to go back there? Yes, it was. This wasn't what was expected of a man like him. He was a real man, with a good job, money in the bank, his own motorcycle and car, access to influential people. What was he doing going in the middle of the night to an apartment in Trinitat Vella to be mistreated by a woman older than him? Did she really mistreat him? No, it wasn't fair to say that. She treated him as he wanted, put him in his place. But why did he desire her so much? It wasn't just how she treated him; it was her. Since he saw her photographs, he began to imagine her. What was her scent, what perfume would she wear, what was her voice like? Borja's worst nightmare was not the condescending, almost disdainful way she treated him during their first meeting; it was that she turned out to be more attractive than he had imagined.

During the two weeks that separated their first meeting from the second, he tried in vain not to think about her. It was impossible. And every time he did, he relived the memory of the heat that emanated from her skin, the aroma of it mixed with a citrus fragrance, the whitish color of her skin, the crimson of her lips. He desired her senselessly and senselessly he desired her.

He still couldn't understand how he desired that being, who he knew showed herself as a man in her daily life, who he knew had a penis, who towered over him in heels, who contained her flesh in a corset to emulate a more feminine shape. He had been with enviable women; he had made love to them in all positions. In some cases, they had fallen in love with him, in the unfounded blind faith that some women have, believing that they could change him. They had suffered for him, and he had secretly enjoyed it.

He parked his motorcycle in front of the building. Just as she had ordered, he sent a message upon arrival. Jennifer took several minutes to reply. He didn't know it, but she was watching him from the window. She enjoyed watching him become desperate, impatient, constantly looking at his phone, waiting for a response that didn't arrive.

Ten minutes passed before she replied. He felt terribly uncomfortable. He imagined that someone he knew would see him there in the middle of the night. He didn't want to have to give explanations. He looked at his phone at intervals and then at the deserted streets.

- “Take off all your clothes except your shoes. When you do, I'll open the door, and you come up. Bring your helmet and clothes in hand.”

Borja was stunned by the message. She had already made him go out naked to the street the last time, but he didn't want to relive that embarrassment. He didn't want to. He didn't want to. Did he want to? Why was she doing this to him? He wanted to be with her. He needed to be with her. He had to win her over. Why did she treat him like this? Perhaps he deserved it.

A second message arrived, reading his thoughts: “It's easy. Either you do what I say, or you don't waste my time. No one is forcing you.”

With glassy eyes of desire and biting his lips in helplessness, Borja looked at the balcony that he knew belonged to his mistress as if gathering courage. As he could, in the most orderly and discreet manner possible, he took off his clothes, stuffing part of them into his helmet. He was lucky that no one passed by, although he thought he saw someone looking at him from a window.

- “I’ll count to five, and I'll open the door. If you’re not on time, you leave,” the message said, arriving almost at the same time the buzzer sounded.

He hurried across the street. He arrived just in time to open the door. He climbed the dark stairs to Jennifer's apartment. This time, no one turned on the light. When he reached the door, it was ajar. He entered the hallway and closed the door. Through the stained-glass door that separated the hallway from the living room, he saw a dim light. He didn't know what to do. Should he go in? As he asked himself this, he left his belongings on the floor, next to the entrance door.

- “Come in,” he heard the order from the other side of the door.

A reddish light barely illuminated the room. In a wicker chair, one of those from Ikea, he could see his mistress's silhouette sitting. She was with her knees together and her ankles together, leaning to one side.

- “Get on your knees and crawl toward me."

He swallowed hard, feeling the shame of being desirous of that treatment. As he approached the figure, which seemed divine and imposing, he noticed that his mistress wore high heels, garter stockings, a bodysuit, a wig, and a black corset, or at least dark. Her breasts, which looked like a woman's, were proudly displayed, ready for him. He couldn't see her face, but he guessed the makeup made her look even more majestic.

- “Kiss my feet,” she ordered while enjoying watching that man, who was everything society considered desirable, humbling himself before her for a moment of her attention.

He hesitated for a moment, but he had come this far, so he kissed both insteps. Then he left his head close to the floor, with his ass and hairy genitals presented high.

Jennifer grabbed a dog collar and tightened it around Borja's thick neck, which began to tremble almost imperceptibly. She noticed and petted his back.

- “Don't be afraid, I'll only give you what you deserve. Or are you going to tell me you’re not an idiot who deserves to be shown respect?”

Those words were a revelation to him. Yes, he was an idiot. That wasn’t the first time he had heard it. But the moment of real epiphany was recognizing that he needed a firm hand to put him in his place. He didn’t just desire it; he also needed it.

- “Yes, ma'am. I need it.”

- “Ask for it and thank me,” she said as she brought down a lash on his exposed strong thighs.

- “Thank you, ma'am! Yes, please, punish me.”

- “Why do you deserve punishment?” she asked dismissively as the second lash hit one of the boy's buttocks.

- “Because I’m an idiot,” he whispered, alleviating the pain of the third blow.

- “And what else?” after several more whips.

- “I don’t know, ma’am. Please! It hurts!”

- “You can’t take much,” she added as she continued punishing him, which was already marking his light buttocks. “You’re a spoiled little brat. You only serve to be used as a toy. Say it!”

- “I’m a spoiled little brat. I only serve to be your toy, ma’am. I’m trash. Use me, please. Let me please you,” he exclaimed between moans.

Pulling on the leash, she made him kneel. Then, gently, she kissed him briefly. He wanted more. She knew it. Borja felt his entire body asking him to rise and gently but passionately wrap around the body of the one punishing him, but he couldn’t. He knew he had to hold back.

Returning to the chair, Jennifer sat with her legs apart and pelvis thrust forward.

- “Come and lick here,” she ordered, pointing with her finger to her genital area.

He hesitated. He really didn’t like the idea of licking a penis. She knew it. In fact, she didn’t order it as much for the pleasure it would physically give her for him to move his tongue there, but for the pleasure it gave her to humiliate him by consenting to something that repulsed him almost entirely, just to please her.

After a moment of doubt, he obeyed the orders given to him. He slowly brought his mouth closer to the dressed pelvis being offered to him and began to lick with some intensity, like a little dog, through the fabric. As a survival exercise, he tried to convince himself he was licking a clitoris. The truth was, Jennifer's penis was small enough, especially constrained by the fabric. Therefore, it wasn’t so difficult. Moreover, Borja was surprised to find that he smelled like a female.

After a while, Jennifer roughly tugged at his hair, forcing him to lie on his back on the floor. He thought about why she had put a collar on him if she was going to keep guiding him literally by the hair. The truth was that she enjoyed applying some aggression towards him.

Releasing the lower part of her bodysuit briefly, Jennifer sat on the boy’s face, almost suffocating him. He began to lick without her having to order him to. He spread her cheeks and began to lick that anus as if his life depended on it. The boy's penis began to jump slightly, as if an invisible motor were fighting to carry the flag at its highest. She noticed it but decided to ignore it for the moment. While he continued exploring the cavity with his tongue, she began pinching his nipples with her sharp nails. This only amplified the boy's arousal despite the pain it caused him.

When she grew tired of feeling him playing in her ass, she grabbed him by the hair again and made him follow her to a standing mirror.

- “Look at yourself in the mirror,” she ordered as she searched for something in the living room.

Borja kept his eyes fixed on the mirror, analyzing the unfamiliar person staring back at him. Although he didn’t fully recognize himself, he felt he wanted and knew more about himself than before entering the apartment.

- “Open your mouth and close your eyes,” his mistress ordered, and he did so.

Borja felt something tubular slowly and steadily enter his mouth. At first, he thought it was one of those gags with a ball inside, but that kept going in. It reached his throat and caused him to gag. As a reflex action, he couldn’t help but bring his hands to the object to try to stop it while opening his glassy eyes and feeling his own drool slipping down his hairy chest. Looking in the mirror, he discovered that what he had in his mouth was a latex dildo. Seeing himself with that in his mouth made him feel humiliated. Nevertheless, without being told anything, he placed his hands behind his back so his mistress could proceed with what she had planned for him.

Jennifer repeatedly pushed the fake penis deep into her submissive’s throat, all with the intent to make him choke and drool profusely. This was repeated several times, with breaks to let him rest. Then the scene would repeat but with more violence. After several minutes, Borja’s tears and drool began to mix with those of his mistress, falling onto the handsome young face, raining down on his naked body.

- “You’ve been a good boy today. I'll give you a reward.”

- “Will you let me make love to you, ma’am?”

Jennifer laughed at the bewildered look on the boy.

- “Make love to me? You’re not man enough for that. And if a piece of shit like you wants to earn that privilege, you will have to work hard.”

- “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Borja whispered, unable to hide his disappointment.

- “No, I won’t let you ejaculate,” she said as she comfortably sat back in the chair.

- “Will you at least let me lick your breasts, my queen?”

- “Don't come near me. Don’t you see how you are? All covered in drool. You’re disgusting. No. Start masturbating while you look at me. Show me you’re a man.”

That last sentence destroyed him. It put all the pressure he had always wanted to avoid on him. He couldn’t fail. He had to ejaculate gloriously, demonstrating his fertility, his exaggerated virility, proving that he deserved to be there for her.

He began to masturbate using all the tricks he had learned over time. He caressed his balls with one hand while with the other he pulled up and down the skin covering his potent shaft. Sometimes he left his balls free and caressed a nipple while continuing to indulge himself. While doing all this, he watched the figure of his mistress. She wasn’t perfect, but she was the most beautiful and desirable thing he had ever seen. Maybe because she wasn’t perfect, but above all because there was something animalistic between them.

She, relaxed and dismissively, caressed her breasts provocatively while enjoying watching that man so full of himself under her power. He couldn’t know it, but the micro-ejaculations she had during the session had soaked her panties.

After several minutes, his cum began to explode like a fountain, splattering on the boy's own body and the floor.

Upon noticing this, she approached, bent down, gathered his cum in her hand, and smeared it across his face.

- “Now leave. I’ll tell you something later,” she said after spitting on him.

- “Thank you, ma’am!”

- “You can get dressed before going out on the street,” she announced, having noticed that there had begun to be activity outside, “but you can’t clean either your body or your face until you get home.”

- “Thank you, queen!”

Borja quickly got dressed. He left the building, mounted his motorcycle, and headed home, following his mistress's instructions. He would barely have time to shower and sleep a couple of hours before going to work. He only wanted to be with her again.