SpyWare VI

SpyWare VI
By NAMB

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Disclaimer: This story mentions a discussion board known as FemNet. There are several domains in cyberspace with this name as part of their name (It's also for sale). The FemNet discussion board in this story is totally fictitious and has no connection whatsoever with any real domain, site or discussion board.

Spyware VI

"What's this?" I said as mom opened the box and handed the device to me.

"It's your key. For your ... you know."

"How does it work? I mean it looks like you have to plug it in."

"Sarah said you have to plug it into your UPS Port on your computer."

"That's USB Port." I said, but my heart sank.

"Whatever. Sarah said to attach it as soon as we got home."

The device looked like a much smaller version of a common door lock mounted on a block of wood. I carried it upstairs and put it on my desk. I tried to remove the key, but it didn't even turn in the lock. I tried pulling it out, and it didn't budge.

Not knowing what else to do, I plugged it in as instructed. I hoped that in the powered up mode, I might be able to do something with it. I had no such luck.

Moments later, there was an email from Sarah.

"My Dearest Peter," it began.

"I see that you connected my wonderful device to the computer. Leave it connected at all times.

The device will tell me when the key is in and when it is out. You can't take the key out until I send the correct codes to your computer. Then you will be able to remove it. I will know exactly how long the key is out.

I'll send that signal when I am ready for you on Wednesday evenings, and make sure you put it back when you are done. You can leave the key in the lock to keep it safe. You'll be able to take it in and out until I send the lock code.

In case you are wondering, Travis' dad is a locksmith, and he's developed similar devices for companies. You need both a key and an access code specific to that key to turn the lock. Travis gave me a detailed description explaining how it works on the principle of freezing the tumblers. I don't really know, and I don't really care. I traded a "crack" to Dungeon Quest for it. Travis would have done just about anything to get it and was surprised when this was all I asked for.

I haven't told him that I also have the commands to get to some of the upper levels of the game. I wonder what I can make him do for those? :-)

Anyway, don't try to force the key out. You'll only break it. And you don't want to do that!

TTFN. See you on Wednesday.

Sarah."

So much for my being able to get hold of mom's key when she wasn't looking. Sarah was always looking.

I figured that if I couldn't get it off, there was no sense in frustrating myself by surfing even those sites Sarah had approved for me. I was so desperate to get my mind off my damned device that I actually resorted to doing my homework. This had an interesting side effect. I almost aced my English test. That never happened before. I don't know who was more shocked, me, my mom or Old Mrs. Spagnolia. I guess there is an upside to this chastity thing after all.

Nonetheless, I couldn't wait until Wednesday night to get it off literally and figuratively. I was at the computer as soon as I finished my after dinner chores.

Mom came by and knocked on the frame of my open door. She had two small buckets maybe a half gallon sized each. One had what looked like hot water in it, and the other had some rags and a sponge. I've seen her use these all over the house for cleaning one thing or another.

"What's that? I asked."

It's water and a bar of soap. When I talked to the doctor about it, she said you should take advantage of having your penis out to wash it. The shower does a good enough job, but without your ... well without you ... I mean, if your hand isn't ... Anyway, there are dead skin cells that need to be rubbed off and running soap and water through the device in the shower doesn't get off. Don't forget to remind Sarah about letting you wash."

I hung my head, "Yes mom." I said rather woodenly. I was sure I wouldn't have to remind Sarah about anything that could be potentially humiliating to me.

"I'm off to my meeting. I'll be gone for a couple of hours. Make sure you behave yourself. Do whatever Sarah tells you to do. Remember, this is for your own good."

I wonder what else "the doctor" was telling my mom.

I just sort of browsed around the vanilla sites, catching up on the scores and some action of some of the ball games I missed. I couldn't believe that I was eagerly anticipating my cousin coming on line to dominate me. Just the thought made my penis uncomfortable in its prison.

Finally she called me. I clicked on the icon and answered. The screen showed her full face. My webcam had a wider angle it showed my full body. I could see that Sarah could switch feeds between the original webcam that caught me and the newly installed webcam at my computer.

"Peter! You're not naked. Don't you know you're supposed to be naked. Take those clothes off." I got up and then she said, "Wait a minute." Soon there was some music coming out of the speakers on either side of my computer. "There," she said, "get undressed to that."

I always figured myself to be a good dancer, but I had never been required to shed pieces of clothing while doing it before.

"Is anyone there with you?" I was bold enough to ask.

"Are you kidding. This is a school night. Mom's in her den; this is one of her nights for FemChat, so I won't be hearing from her for a while. But don't worry. I'm recording the whole thing. The girls won't miss a thing."

"Gee thanks," I said sarcastically as I removed my shirt.

"Can you swing those hips a little bit more?"

I slowly gyrated a well as I could. I did well enough with the shirt and shoes, but there was just no graceful way for me to get off my socks. I figured I could have left them on, Sarah wouldn't notice that I left them on and the dance would have been more graceful for it, but it was the only subtle resistance I could mount. I couldn't do anything to offend or annoy Sarah outright. She held all the cards, and controlled my environment; or at least that part of the environment I most cared about. I needed release and could not bear the thought of waiting another day.

Releasing my belt and undoing the button was enough for my pants to fall down and I could step out of them. The only thing left to do was wiggle out of my underwear.

I stood there naked in front of the camera that was the electronic eyes of my 12-year-old cyber mistress.

"Good boy," she said as I could see her eyes shift on the screen. I heard some typing noises coming from her keyboard, and then a little green light illuminated on the key box accompanied by a crisp click.

She smiled at me on the screen and said, "Your friend can come out and play now."

I reached for the box, turned the key and removed it. I felt like King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. Here was the symbol of this girl's power over me, and it was in my hand.

But I soon realized that it was a symbol only. Sarah had woven a net of control around my life that included my mother, my aunt, her friends, and the women of FemNet. She had pictures and movies of me in the most compromising of positions. My fleeting moment of elation was soon extinguished. I was still hers to do with what she wanted.

All I had managed to do was extract a few hours of pleasure from an otherwise sexually oppressed life ruled by the females in it.

"Take it off," she urged. "I'm glad you waited for me to give you that command. I don't want you touching that thing ... those things, without my permission. I suppose you want to get it and yourself off now?"

I nodded. I removed the device, and it felt funny not to have it on. It was almost like the feeling I got when I broke my leg when I was 8 years old and the cast finally came off. The doctor made some comment about how the muscle atrophied after non-use for a couple of months. I was hoping that this would not be the case here. My penis and balls felt weightless and so unrestricted after only a couple of days. It was almost like they were not part of my body yet I was so keenly aware that they were there and attached to me.

"First I think you have to let that birdie fly a little after being cooped up all week. I think we need to air it out. How about another dance?"

This time it wasn't just music but a video. It featured a scantily clad woman doing a pole dance. My penis rocketed into hardness as I stood there transfixed on my screen.

Sarah shattered my rapidly forming fantasy with two words, "Move it!"

I started dancing. Occasionally, Sarah would split the screen so I could see her smiling and licking her lips. Her eyes brightened each time I swung my hips and made my now rigid penis sway and rock in rhythm with my dancing.

The music and my dancing lasted for quite a while and I was actually getting tired from the exercise of it. Finally it stopped abruptly just as the dancer on the screen looked like she was going to remove her top.

Sarah's face filled the screen. She said, "step forward and stand in front of the camera." I could see my own video again and I knew that she wanted a close up shot. I move forward until my penis filled the little screen.

"Naughty boy," she giggled. I looked as she switched views again and now my penis was full screen. It was plump, flush with color, and pulsing with the beat of my recently exercised heart. The head mushroomed out wider than I ever recalled seeing it before. The pee hole seemed to be winking at me. Of course, I've never seen my organ under such magnification or from such an angle. A long, viscous line of pre-cum stretched with beads like a string of pearls from the tip to off-camera. It was my own body but the sight of it in this condition was turning me on.

"I want you to take your index finger and catch that liquid and spread it around the head."

It felt funny doing this. I was trying to watch myself do it on screen and wasn't doing very well. Everything was backwards: backwards from a mirror which is backwards to begin with. I finally gave up and looked down to do it. Sarah had me finger painting the head of my penis with my own pre-cum. This, of course only made it harder, moving up on the scale from steel to diamond, and excited it even more.

I realized, given the limited amount of contact with the penis itself, that I was not going to get it off this way I needed more fingers, or I had to rub faster than I possibly could. I never attempted single-finger masturbation, and I didn't think it was going to work. Every couple of seconds I could feel a contraction in the base of my penis, it would stiffen, the head would bulge a little and slowly another drop of pre-cum would leak out. I flicked my finger over it and spread it around the head.

"That's a good boy," Sarah encouraged, "Keep diddling yourself for me. It looks so sexy."

It might have looked sexy but I could feel the pressure. The slowly building sexual stimulus was having other effects on my body. My already energized heart was pumping harder, and I could feel it not only in my penis, but also in my temples. I had no idea what my blood pressure might have been, but I was concerned that it was getting unhealthily high.

I took a quick glance at the clock. Between my dancing and my stroking, Sarah had me performing for her for almost 40 minutes. In my olden days I would have humped and dumped twice by now. I was about to ask - nay beg - for release when Sarah suggested it herself.

"I give you permission to cum now," was all she said.

My hand was wrapped around my penis almost before the sound of her words bounced back off the wall behind me.

"SLOWLY!" Sarah admonished. "I have something I want you to keep pace with." I was expecting another music piece to "dance" to. Instead, she clicked on something and a sound like a metronome came over the speakers measuring out a tempo of about one beat per second. I was expected to beat in the same rhythm.

As I stroked, in measured meter, Sarah flashed up a slide show of the pool party at her house the previous Saturday. Most of the shots were simply of her and her friends doing the silly things that pre-teen girls do when they get together. There were even some candid shots of me from the week before. One of the girls must have had a telephoto lens on her camera. Some were simply of me working on the bushes, others were cropped to show the bulge in my shorts.

Eventually some of the shots included me and the things the girls made me do. Sarah knew her psychology well. Here I was pleasuring myself (if you can call it that) while looking at pictures of her and her friends. This combination forged links in my brain between sexual humiliation, sexual pleasure and the girls. I know that I could never look at any of the girls again and not have simultaneous thoughts of sexual pleasure, but also sexual domination and control.

Even at one beat per second, I had enough contact to stimulate me to ejaculation. Unlike my normal jerk offs, I could feel this one coming from far off. It started deep inside, but radiated outward, up and down my body slowly, stretching its ticklish fingers to every nerve from core to skin. If it felt this intense at the onset, how would it feel at the moment of ultimate orgasm?

Time slowed down. I could feel the nerve impulses traveling through my reproductive tract followed by the fluid that would announce my orgasm to any who were watching. Deep inside, behind my penis, I felt the bursting of a dam. A muscle cramped and I felt a wave of contraction moving, looping its way along the pathway to pleasure. I could feel my penis pulse as a large slug of semen forced its way through the tubing. It gushed through the shaft, bust forth from the pee hole and arched through the air, leaping out at least as high as my head and splattering onto the monitor and beyond.

My brain screamed with pleasure as my blood pressure plummeted and then peaked again in preparation for the next blast. I had no idea where this shot was headed as a black tunnel converged and then closed around the swirling spots swimming before my eyes. I was vaguely aware of Sarah's voice in the background, but I couldn't make out if she was saying anything or just squealing.

Wave after wave slammed into my body and I became weak and dizzy. I breathed for the first time in minutes, and barely managed to aim my falling body into my chair. I sat there slumped, gasping for air. My body was so given over to pleasure that even basic metabolic functions seemed to have ceased. There may be truth in calling it "the little death."

As if in a fog that was slowly lifting, reality emerged in little bits as my normal senses returned. I was able to see again and focus. I was able to hear again and comprehend. I looked over the ravaged roomscape that used to be my desk. I must have bumped it or pushed it in my wild abandon as everything was disheveled. Strings and splashes of semen were everywhere. I looked up to see several gobs crawling down the front of the monitor. Elsewhere it lay like steaming pools after the eruption of a geyser.

Sarah's face was wide with some emotion. I couldn't tell if it were shock or glee. We sat in silence for a while staring back at each other.

Finally she broke the silence, "Wow! That was really great."

"I don't ..." I gasped, "I don't think I can take it again."

"I hope so," she replied. "We do have time for one more. I'm sure you don't want that to be your only shot for the week."

"I don't know," was all I could reply.

I rested for a couple more minutes, and then recovered enough to start the cleanup. I was amazed at how hot my semen felt even after lying on cold surfaces for several minutes. It must have been warmer than body temperature when it came out, if that were at all possible.

In the meantime Sarah was busy with prattle about school, shopping, the latest gossip on movie stars, clothes and her friends. It was a monolog, which was just as well, as it was a conversation in which I could not take part, even if I wanted to. My social life and interests have little in common with that of a 12-year-old girl's.

All the while more pictures of her and her friends were playing on the monitor. She must have thousands of pictures! Is that all girls do? Take pictures of each other?

Sarah was right, I did recover. Maybe my previous psychological conditioning was taking affect. Seeing the girls on the screen, even in so-called "normal" situations was getting me hard.

Sarah pointed out the time and said, "We don't have a lot of time left. Even though your mom knows what's going on, or thinks she does, she still wants us to be discrete about it."

Then she said something that surprised me. "Why don't you just do it the way you normally do it?" She provided a new screen show mostly CFNM with some F/M spanking thrown in. I simply laid back in my chair, grabbed my penis and stroked away. I had a very satisfying orgasm that splashed over the front of my body, but it was nothing when compared to the first orgasm that I had under Sarah's orchestration.

There was one last task to do: clean up both my room and myself.

"You don't have enough water to wash your chest and stuff, so just do your penis, and we can call it a day. You can take a full shower later."

I grabbed the buckets my mom brought by. The water which I presume was hot at the beginning of the evening was still warm. There was a sponge, a washcloth, a bar of soap, and some more rags. I looked at them dubiously. Sarah laughed, "Use one bucket to wash, and the other to rinse. It's like nurses do in a hospital when they give a patient a sponge bath. Do I have to explain that to you?"

I looked at the camera and just nodded.

"OK, first get all your stuff off your desk. This may get a little messy. Then spread the big towel out over the desk to catch the drippings. Save the small towel to dry off."

Sarah proceed to instruct me on how to use the sponge to wet the area and lather it up with the soap and then use the sponge again to rinse off the soap into the empty bucket. In the process my penis became erect again.

Sarah reminded me, "You're never going to get it back in there like that. Why don't you indulge yourself one more time? Normally, I'd like you to take your time, but it is a school night, and both of us have homework to do."

I didn't know if I wanted to masturbate. One the one hand I had two wonderful ejaculations already; I was drained. On the other hand, I knew that this would be my last shot until the weekend. I didn't take Sarah's statement as a suggestion. I considered it a command. I stroked away and fired off for a third time.

Sarah clapped her hands and squealed with delight once again. "Now quick squeeze out the last drops, wash the tip off and get that thing back into your cage before it gets hard again."

I clamped the device around my penis and balls and reluctantly pushed the lock closed. There was just the slightest click as it caught. To my imagination it sounded like the heavy dull clang of the steel bars of a prison door slamming shut. Yet I was grateful for the brief time I was allowed out in the exercise yard.

"OK, put the key back," my female warden ordered. I put the key in the slot and turned it. Sarah typed some command codes, there was a click and the green light went out. I was Sarah's prisoner once again.