Bill called me up one night, complaining of boredom.

It seems he’d finally run out of ways to touch his dick that brought him satisfaction. Poor thing, to be so burdened. Tsk, tsk. Imagine, if you will, a man so jaded at the thought of masturbation that he just can’t find the interest needed to get it up. How sad, how pathetic, how incredibly funny!

Think of all the ways you know to touch your cock.

Now think about how it’ll feel, that day when you finally run out of new and entertaining things to do with your dick. Well, Bill had finally reached that point, which would be why he now finds himself in the predicament he’s in. You don’t come to a Mistress and complain about touching yourself; that’s like tempting fate way too much. Or possibly waving a red flag in the face of a pissed off bull. Not that I’m a bull, just that I can’t resist temptation.

Poor Bill, so bored with jerking off.

So I locked up his cock in a nice shiny new CB6000. Snick, locked. And I’ve got the key on a chain around my neck, nestled right between my breasts. I never take it off. Ever. Not even when I’ve got my lover over for a fun game of ‘fuck the Mistress.’ Of course, Bill gets to watch. In fact, since he was so bored with his sex life, I demand that he watch. He can even take notes. Legible notes. In full sentences, grammatically correct, and yes, I grade his notes when play time is over.

For every misplaced comma, every sentence fragment and every single time his penmanship wavers, he gets a forfeit.

I like to be creative with poor Bill, since his original complaint was a lack of creativity on his part. Sometimes, I’ll copy the notes he took onto his own skin, with a black Sharpie marker. Sometimes I’ll put him over my knee and spank him, one swat for each mistake. Sometimes, but only when I’m feeling very very sweet, I’ll take the chastity device off and let him re-read his notes, one stroke per letter, minus a stroke for every mistake. But he still doesn’t get to cum for me.