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Cumming in the Closet

1599 words | 0 |3.83
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We started with our stocking, like always, but my sister snuck something in mine.

It jingled like bells, but it turned out to be brass rings, held together by a leather strap, and it hit the tabletop with a loud clank. The glass tabletop, luckily it didn’t shatter, but I tried to hide it, and mom noticed.

“What’s that?” Lucy asked innocently, and pupped a candy-cane in her mouth, half unwrapped, she sucked it suggestively, and I just said “I don’t know.”

Lying, I knew right away what it was. It’s called a Gate of Hell, and it’s a Chastity. A male chastity, I shook my head, and looked back and forth at my parents. My brother was oblivious, but he’s 4. So, he just unwrapped a Hershey’s kiss, and Mom finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Well, don’t spoil your breakfast, and head upstairs to.” I barely heard get dressed on my way to my room, before I got an erection.

Cyndie followed me, grinning like mad, and caught the door. “What’s it smell like?” She wasn’t grinning innocently, it was a dirty grin, daring me to smell it. I dropped it on the dresser, so she took it, and I backed up in the corner. “Huh, it smells like pussy.” She held it up, and I shook my head. “I aught to know, because I rubbed myself off, over, and over again. Put it on.”

“But,” I looked at the door, and shook my head. “It’s not hard.” It was getting there, though. I was so ashamed, and embarrassed from my family seeing it. That filthy thing, even before she told me what she did with it.

“That’s the point.” She held it up. “Take it.” She looked me in the eye. “Go ahead, and put it on.” My hand shook, but I took it, and she went back to lock the door. Before my little brother finished his candy, mom and dad had a lot of trouble making him stuff it back in the stocking, instead of his face, but they could come up here any moment, and catch her in my room.

She’s barely 11, and she’s got the innocent act down, but it’s no use resisting her. I know, she’ll keep pestering me. “How did you even get it?” She’s not even going to be 18, for another 7 years. Just my luck.

“I made it for you. You remember the old curtain over the sink.” It wasn’t a very big window, so it just took a short black wrought iron rod, screwed between the cabinets to hold the small cold brass rings, and my scrotum shriveled up. I shivered, stuffing my wilted dick through them one, bye one.

“Here, let me help.”

“No,” I pushed her hands away, but she slapped them.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” She shook her finger in my face.

I nodded, and left my head hanging in shame. “I know.” I don’t get to use that word with her. She won’t let me say no.

“Get the belt.”

“Sh, don’t yell.” She slapped my ass.

“Get the belt NOW!”

“Dad might hear you.”

“That’s right, he might come up here to find out what the fuss is about, and I’ll have to tell him what a dirty dick you have.”

“Huh!” It was heavy, so my erection was weighed down, and it stood almost straight out. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Give me your hands.” I nodded, and let her pull the leather tight, until the cold buckle bit into my wrists, and she held onto the door knob. “Get in there, and hold it.”

She didn’t have to tell me, I already figured out how to loop the end over the hanger rod, and hold onto it. I usually closed the door, so nobody could find me in there, and I could think. I tried not to think about, it.

I shook my head, but not being able to touch it also ment that I couldn’t stop her. Holding the last ring, and pushing my balls through one bye one, with her tiny fingers. She never touched me before, not like this, but I remember the first time she came in, and she dropped the basket. Her eyes wide open when she saw me hanging like this, and she let out a tiny little gasp.

“Huh, uh!” I shivered, and my knees knocked together. I had to bend them just to hang from the belt, so I felt the dirty fluid land, and roll down, sticking to my leg hairs. Just like the first time she caught me, not masturbating.

“Huh! She turned around, but not before I saw her grin. She held in a giggle. “You better clean up this mess before Mikey comes up, and sees it.”

My little brother, he’s 4, so he’s too young to understand, but then she unlocked the door, and stepped back. It swung open, almost as if by magic, my mom and dad were standing in the hall, and dad had on his stupid reindeer sweater. It was so surreal, I lost my grip on the belt, and fell down in a pile of dirty clothes.

“Lucinda, Anne, Moore.” My mother scolded her. “You got your big brother a Gates of Hell for Christmas?”

“No?” She hung her head, so I reached out to pull the closet door. “I made it myself.”

“How did you even know what that was?” My father asked, his voice getting louder, and I curled up in the mess. The dark closet used to feel safe, like a quiet place I could get away from.

Things. That happened to me when I was a little boy. I shook my head.

“The internet.” Lucy used her duh voice.

“She must have seen one of your porn searches, I told you to clear the history.”

“I did, every single time.” My dad insisted. I certainly hadn’t seen any popups, but of course. He knew there was porn on the internet, and he’s an adult, so it’s okay for him to go on those sites. My sister on the other hand. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine her getting spanked, even though she probably deserved it for touching my junk this time.

“You guys are into BDSM too?” She almost squealed with excitement.

“Huh, no but you better sit down. Those are adult games, and you really shouldn’t play them with your brother.” I wasn’t expecting mom to be so understanding, but then again. I wasn’t expecting her to know what a Gates of Hell was, or my father. He’s not, they’re not really. I mean, I know mom can be kinda bossy sometimes, and he’s usually one of those “Yes dear” dads, but he’s not submissive in bed, is he?

“I wasn’t playing them with him,” he plays with himself, I just have to watch, and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. I’m scared that he might die, and I don’t want to lose him, I love him.

“He hasn’t been playing with Asphyx?” He knows what Asphyx means. Asphyxiophilia, auto-erotic, but it’s not auto erotic, not any more. I tried to hold my breath, until he said that, but it’s a bad idea. Holding my breath, I tried not to moan out loud, but then the rush of air, with the dirt smells, and the post orgasmic glow. It’s addictive, okay? I got addicted to that feeling.

“Huh, I don’t know, not for a while, I don’t think.” She stopped talking for a long time, and finally, she took a deep breath. “You better ask him why he does it. It’s not my secret to give, but he’s not going to want to talk about it, so you’re going to have to make him tell you. I had to torture it out of him.”

There was another long uncomfortable pause before she sighed again, real close to the door, and knocked. “Paul, I know where you keep your secret notebook, but I need your permission to show them it.”

I nodded, “Yeah,” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “I think that might be best. Where’s Mikey?”

“Oh, he’s happy with a big plate of chocolate chip pancakes.” Mom made them for Christmas, even though she’s starting to get concerned about his weight, it’s Christmas. He just loves chocolate, and that’s normal for a boy his age.

I jumped when I heard the dresser drawer. Then, they left to go read my confession. All the drafts of my suicide letter that I never needed. I had this councilor at school, they sent me to her when I started acting out, and she said that maybe I could write about things that I wasn’t comfortable talking about.
Thank god Mikey is too young to read.

It was almost a relief when I came out, and the room was empty. The door was closed, and the bottom draw was left on top of the dresser. Nobody touched the buttplug I’d gotten when I turned 18, but it had taken a couple years to get this far. {Just for this site, let me point out that she was 8 when she caught me, but I was still 15.}

It was even a bit of a relief that the secret was finally coming out, and they weren’t too judgemental. My mom, and dad knew what the Gates of Hell was, and my sister didn’t abuse me. She helped me, I don’t even have to wear turtle necks to hide the marks the belt left around my neck.

I rubbed my wrists, and dropped the brass rings under the drawer, before I put them back, and took off my PJs to get dressed…

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