After 20 minutes of looking at the videos that consumed Frank Lecher’s soul and free time, Stacy figured that Frank Lecher was either an idiot or an addict. This was a distinction without a difference.
“Okay,” said Stacy, “he’s seriously into CFNM.”
“What is CFNM?”
“Clothed female, naked male. It seems to result in the male being sodomized by a strap on dildo worn by a clothed female, being kicked in the balls by a clothed female, or being forced to jerk off in front of clothed females. I need to be way less naked when I go over to return the tools. Those white painter’s pants you’ve got?”
“You said they were stupid and made me look like a lesbian, Stace.”
“That was just me being me. I was jealous ‘cos they made your ass look like a million bucks. Can I borrow them?”
Bridgett sighed even more heavily. “Sure, why not?”
“Great! Thanks. And those awesome pockets will be perfect for holding my phone.”
“The phone sticks out of the top, it doesn’t fit in the pockets.”
“As long as the lens of the camera sticks out and the rest of the phone stays in the pocket, it’ll be perfect. Do you have any button-down shirts?”
“Are you going for lumberjack chic or business appropriate?”
“Something in between.”
“Yeah, got that too.”
“I’m going to owe you a ton of orgasms and a hot, soapy shower when I’m done.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re weird.”
A few minutes later, Stacy was ready to go in lace thong underwear, a plaid button-down shirt tied at the waist, nearly skintight white painter’s pants, and somewhere along the way, she seemed to have forgotten to wear a bra. With a laptop under her arm and a Vise-Grip in each hand, she looked ready to take on the world.
Frank’s door was knocked upon. The door opened. A face and a bare shoulder appeared and all was as it should have been.
“I hope you don’t find my appearance disappointing,” said Stacy, “But given your reaction to me, it seemed like a pretty good bet that you were into CFNM, so I put some real clothes on.”
“I can’t imagine anyone finding you to be a disappointment.”
“It’s a shame I can’t just drag you around with me everywhere I go so you can explain that to people. So, Frank, since we’re talking about it, are you into CFNM?”
It’s much easier for a man to bare his body rather than his soul. He’d never done this before, but Frank decided to be completely honest about his fetish. He pushed all of his chips in.
“I am…if I could be a woman’s naked servant, I would. I have a job and something of a career, and enough people respect me to help me believe I’m not a total loser. But I don’t really have a life. If I’m not looking for porn, I’m busy covering my tracks. I’ve always taking down videos and, in a couple of cases, paying people off. Despite all of the caution I’ve tried to employ after the fact, there are probably some truly embarrassing things that are out there in cyberspace.”
Stacy did something uncharacteristic; she was still and listened.
“It has cost me two marriages and more time and money than I care to think about.”
The naked man in front of her was on the verge of tears. Her little voice gave her a nudge.
You know what to do, whispered the voice.
“I think I know why you told me this, Frank. You told me because you want to quit.”
“I’ve tried so many fucking times, so many strategies, so many meetings, but only two shrinks. They freaked me out.”
Stacy smiled and let the silence grow to awkward.
“I came here to learn about porn. I see the result, but could you watch some videos with me so I could see the appeal?”
“You’re not afraid to be in a house alone with a pervert?”
“I don’t think you’re a pervert, Frank, I think you’re a victim.”
“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
“No one will ever say that to me for the rest of my life. Thanks, Frank. I think you need to be more comfortable with people. The first step is calling them by their name. My friends call me Stace.”
“Thank you…Stace.”
“That was hard, wasn’t it?”
“A little.”
“But you did it. Maybe you just need a little more confidence. Most people like being called by their name and not just simply “Hey, you.’”
Frank smiled. “Is it video time, Stace?”
“Oh yeah, absolutely.”
Stacy plopped down on the couch, made sure the phone sticking out of her pocket was recording, and patted the couch indicating where Frank should sit.
“So, the first video is something that I’ve actually done. I’ve gotten on several video chat platforms to watch men jerk off. I thought the whole thing was shocking at first, then I thought it was silly, then I began to see how much the men on the other end needed to express themselves. God knows there are enough girls out there who are willing to masturbate in libraries, and I can understand that. I understand that they just don’t feel fulfilled, but I NEVER want to get caught doing anything like that. So, let’s say that the guy is you and the girl is me, what would you be thinking?”
“…Keep my face out of the camera, my God, she’s pretty and she’s looking at me without laughing. She’s waiting for the cum and I hope it’s a big one.”
“That is crazy, isn’t it? Almost none of the men want to show their face, and then there’s this girl.”
The next video showed an enthusiastic nude blonde who would periodically check to see if anyone was watching her masturbate and was getting off repeatedly in front of her laptop in a college library. Her face was completely visible, too.
“What do you think about that, Frank?”
“I’m impressed by how brazen and uninhibited she is…Stace. It must be wonderful to be that honest about what she wants.”
“You know, her life might be a trainwreck. That kind of behavior is not going to be appreciated by very many people.”
“S’pose so.”
“Now here, the wife is waiting for hubby, gets him naked, trots out her lover, and sits on hubby’s face while her lover fucks him up the ass. Waddya think?”
“That this has to be awesome for the woman to have that much control over both men.”
“If someone offered you the opportunity to be one of those men, which would you be?”
“Neither, gay sex freaks me out, I don’t get it.”
“Frank, you could drive nails with your dick right now. You can be honest about gay sex. I wish the girl I was staying with for the next couple of weeks was more open-minded.”
“I am being honest. If the woman wasn’t there, I’d lose the erection in a hurry.”
“That’s interesting.” Stacy glanced at the bottom drawer of the cabinet next to the couch and thought, Yep, six times bigger.
“Now, here’s a weird one: two girls cunt-busting each other.”
“No. It’s not real and it’s obvious they’re faking and it just looks stupid.”
“Yep. Okay. So, this one scared me. This woman is out of her mind with viciousness and kicks this bastard so hard and so many times that he actually throws up. I’ve been looking at other videos and sometimes the guy passes out or starts bleeding. Does it really hurt that much? And why would the guy allow it to happen?”
“If you’ve been kicked in the nuts a lot, you lose a lot of sensitivity and can stand more punishment. Strange as it sounds, those guys are pros.”
“Have you been kicked in the nuts a lot, Frank?”
“Every guy remembers that first time his balls got nailed and the nausea, disorientation, and weakness are just terrible. When I was younger, I studied different martial arts. Eventually, I got pretty good and started competing and the guy running the dojo didn’t want to see any of us lose a fight because of a low blow. We spent time kicking each other in the nuts under his supervision.”
“That’s super weird. Do you lose any of that testicular toughness over time?”
The ball-busting video was still playing and Frank’s dick was leaking. Showtime!
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, come on over here and kick me in the crotch,” said Stacy.
“I couldn’t do that. You’re too young and pretty, I could never hurt you.”
“Well, if you just kick me in the crotch, it probably won’t. But I don’t know because I’ve never been kicked in the crotch. There’s a shit ton of nerve endings down there and something interesting might happen.”
Stacy stood in front of Frank with her feet separated and knees bent. She looked like a very sexy obstacle on a putt-putt golf course.
“C’mon, just a couple of light kicks, and then we’ll see what happens after that.”
Frank got off the couch still thoroughly fluffed. He gave Stacy an embarrassingly anemic kick.
“Oh, come on, Frank, my pussy gets hit harder than that after I take a piss.”
The next attempt wasn’t much better.
“Frank! If you had pants on, I’d grab your wallet and tear up your man card.”
Eventually, Frank got more comfortable abusing a 15-year old girl and kicked her hard enough that Stacy realized that she wasn’t going to crumple to the floor in searing pain, but she may end up sporting a bruise. This would definitely not be a look she’d enjoy. After eleven kicks, she decided she’d had enough fun and could probably bring Frank down with eleven kicks. It only took eight.
Stacy had enough self-awareness to realize that being a pain in the ass to everyone in her life might result in a fight, and she wanted to be prepared for that inevitability. She was on the cusp of earning a black belt and put everything she had learned into the eighth kick.
Frank looked as though he’d been shot. He temporarily lost his balance as a result of a brief blackout and face planted on the hardwood floor.
Just like the videos, she thought.
There was no “oh my God” or “are you okay” or “I’m so sorry” or even laughter. Stacy realized she had at least a minute for stage two. She dashed to the fourth drawer and withdrew the strap-on. She dropped her painter’s pants to her knees, donned the strap-on, pulled her pants up, fastened her belt, and let the phallus say hello to the world from the zipper in the pants. She saw a bottle of baby oil in the drawer and felt some degree of pity for this fool. She found lubing herself up to be fun and understood men a little better.
She got down on the floor beside Frank and whispered in his ear.
“Frank, I’m a nursing student [she wasn’t] and I’ve learned quite a bit about how to handle injured testicles to make them feel better. Can I try?”
After quite a bit of sighing and groaning, Frank said, “Sure, why not?”
Stacy moved on top of Frank and with one hand massaged his neck, and with the other guided Frank’s dildo into Frank’s ass.
“Jesus H. Christ, wait, I’m not ready, ohh shit!!!”
Stacy took the moment to flip Frank on his back and drive his knees into his shoulders.
“You are the dumbest son of a bitch I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot, Frank. Two women wanted to love you and live with you and maybe have kids, and you took years out of their lives because of this childish addiction. You let a 15-year-old girl put you in a situation where you could be dead and naked on the floor because I choked you to death with a scissors hold. And why did you do this? Because you’ve poisoned your brain into believing this is normal behavior. You want to quit porn, Frank?”
Between the pain in the testicles that weakened and nauseated his body and the penetration of a large plastic adult toy, Frank found it hard to respond; not impossible, just really hard.
“Yes.”
“Okay, here’s the plan. We should see if your testicles still work, and if they do, you got a lot of sexual tension to release, so start jerkin’.”
“You’re not going to stop fucking me?”
“Hell no, Frank.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’ve been told to do this. I don’t care about you, but I care about being obedient to the little voice. Little voices told me to help you because I was the only one with enough honesty, cuteness, obedience, and viciousness to do the job.”
“Obedience?”
“You’re not even hard yet, dipshit. How long can you take this thing up your ass before it kills you? Now stop slackin’ and start whackin’. Saving you isn’t about being nice, it’s about being effective, and effective is rarely pleasant. I am obedient. I do whatever the little voices tell me to do and it always works out perfectly, so don’t fuck up my record!”
“Could you undo just the top button of your shirt,” Frank whined.
“NO! I’m not going…” Stacy fell silent and eventually said, “Shit! The little voices said one button but no nipples.”
“That’d be great.”
It did the trick. Stacy had seen enough guys jerk off to know when the money shot was cumming. She withdrew the phallus at just the right time and stood over Frank, watching him clutch his junk as he spewed all over himself. The orgasm lasted for 27 seconds. Stacy counted.
Frank had never felt this naked in his entire life. For the first time in his life, he felt embarrassed. A completely clothed 15-year-old girl was standing over him wearing a device which would allow her to fuck harder than he’d ever be capable of. She’d tricked him, humiliated him, and beat him to the point where he was not sure he could get off the floor.
Stacy stood over for a bit, then said, “Stay here. Therapy isn’t over.”
She went into the kitchen and got a bag of ice. The little voices told her to bring back the box of Ritz crackers and some water. She undid the strap-on in the kitchen.
As she came back into the living room, she said, “I’m leaving this on the floor for you. I’m not cleaning it off, and the little voices are cool with that. Here’s some ice for your balls, and I brought some crackers.”
Stacy sat cross-legged on the floor beside the withered Frank.
“Here’s the rest of your therapy. You’re going to give up porn. Then call in sick tomorrow. Then drive around the neighborhood in a five-mile loop that starts and ends at your house. Then go to a sporting goods place and buy some quality running shoes and socks…”
“What’s that on the cracker?” asked Frank.
“It’s your cum. It’s good for you and you know what they say: everything’s better when it sits on a Ritz!”
“Uhhhh…”
“Oh, for crissake, Frank, I’m 15 years old and I think jilling off is finger lickin’ good. You’ve never tasted your own cum?”
“No.”
“We’re expanding your horizons: eat up!”
Frank did. Stacy could barely contain herself, but she did.
“Then you’re gonna run/walk as fast as you can around that five-mile loop. When you get back, start checking out nudist singles sites. The little voices want you to run or at least bust your ass doing burpees and pushups and jumping rope in the backyard, rain or shine. After the first week, I’m going to come over and expect to find you wearing something, and we’ll talk about your week. Then…no that’s bull…obedience, right, got it. Damn, the little voice said that I’m supposed to be topless for the one-week meeting and, if you do everything you’re told, naked for my last day here, which is in two weeks. I’m right across the alley, Frank, so I will be checking and hoping you fuck this up. And if you touch me, you will have failed for everyone. Got it?”
Frank had been fed six crackers and nearly all of his cum. The ice had shrunken everything so badly his dick looked like it was hiding in a cave. The video from captured by Stacy’s laptop was the most life-changing thing he would ever see.
Stacy got her stuff together quickly and said, “Frank, check out my crotch. Anything weird there?”
Frank shook his head.
“If I find shit on my pants, I’m going to come back and really hurt you.”
He double-checked, then nodded.
During the two weeks, Frank did his running, stayed away from porn, and found interesting women his own age online.
For the next two weeks, Frank and Stacy were both as good as their word. After the two weeks, they Facetimed frequently for a while, but eventually that stopped. Six months later, Stacy sent an email to Frank with an attachment of all that her laptop had recorded. The heading was “Your Lowest Point.” Frank would never delete it because he wanted to be reminded of how sick he’d become. He never told his third wife about this adventure.
***
For all installments of “Ensnared,” click here.
Previous installments:
Warren is a proud father of three, husband to a wonderful, long suffering wife, former ballet dancer, and a perfectly adequate golfer. Although little acclaim has come his way as a writer, he believes that hope springs eternal. Warren is also something of a cave dweller when it comes to technology. The idea of creating websites, Twitter accounts, and the like give rise to a good bit of teeth grinding. People far less clever than he have apparently done this, but losing beer time and time at the gym are an uncomfortable pill to swallow. He has certainly consumed less palatable pills than this over the past 60 years. Perhaps time wasted pursuing self-promotion is in the offing.
