Obey - 8. Chapter 8 -- Obey

From Obey: Sunday, 42 days! 6 weeks, Sir! And there’s no way I’m giving in – I’m all revved up for the 60 days. That’s why I’ve been counting so carefully. And I appreciate the distraction but you’ve got to remember, I’ve been dealing with my dick 24/7. And it didn’t get any harder in my car than it does when I take off my chastity device. And I get hard on and off through the evening and at night and even during my workout. And I’ve run with Henry once or twice and the bouncing against my jock took me right to the edge but I knew how to handle it. I slowed down or stopped completely and breathed. So yeah 60 days. A few days longer if I can manage. That’s only 20 days away.

From Alan: All right. It’s your body. But I wouldn’t want to be Henry right now. Also, something I keep forgetting to tell you – you look great in that second photo, the one that duplicates the first. You know I liked that, but you almost look taller in the second – that much more confident.

From Obey: That’s the nicest thing you could have told me, Sir – Taller. I’d give an inch off my dick for another 6 inches of height. And this is Monday, Sir. 43 days.

From Alan: I notice you didn’t offer an even swap – an inch for an inch.

From Obey: I’d be a gelding, Sir. A eunuch. A castrato. Or am I using the words wrong? What’s it called when they cut off your dick? And this is Tuesday, Sir. 44 days.

From Alan: I don’t think there’s a word we use commonly – maybe because we don’t want to think about it. But the Internet says the medical term is “penectomy.”

From Obey: There’s a mouthful, Sir. And what’s a guy called who’s had his dick cut off? A Penectoman? You wouldn’t think Man would have anything to do with it. And this is Wednesday, Sir. 45 crazy days.

From Alan: Penectoman sounds like a warped super hero. An Anti-man. Or maybe someone who just fucks things up – even without a dick.

From Obey: That sounds like a woman hater, Sir, and I never meant that. And I know horniness is turning my mind to mush but it sounds like its got yours too. And this is Thursday. 46 mushfilled days.

From Alan: Well, I’ve got a little confession, too. Since your ride, I’ve been trying to match your celibacy. I promised I’d only have sex if my wife initiated it. Though I had a pretty good safety net because we usually don’t go more than 3 or 4 days – I don’t mean to rub that in. But I couldn’t handle it for more than 2 days. I managed to keep my hands off my dick, but then I eased my wife into something. I tried not to let her to think anything was wrong – like I was having an affair and was trying to seem overly affectionate. But it was the only way I could keep from jerking off.

From Obey: Well, it helps to have Henry there saying No. You don’t have that. And you really did rub it in – it’s a good thing I don’t know how pretty your wife is or I’d feel really insecure. And some of my control is having too much practice at putting off what I want. Right now, if I could get Henry to fuck me, I’d shoot all over his chest. But that’s not going to happen so it’s Friday, Sir, and I’ve been good for 47 days.

From Alan: You’ve been good for a lot longer than that, and it has nothing to do with your dick. And maybe we need to pace ourselves better if you’re going to make it another 2 weeks. Maybe we should cut back all communication except the daily count. I’m beginning to find it difficult to focus sometimes, and I’m also getting increasing kinky. Yesterday, I nearly called a guy who I knew would tie me up and make me tug against the ropes.

From Obey: I wish you hadn’t told me that, Sir, because I can picture it and I want to be that guy. Or I want to be tied down instead of you and I want you to be that guy. 48 days. Saturday. And I’m breathing hard.

From Alan: Maybe we could both be tied down, and Henry could be the guy.

From Obey: Oh. My. God. 49 days, Sir. Sunday. And you’re a pervert.

From Alan: Or maybe my wife could practice her knots. Her name is Lizbeth, by the way. Our daughters are Kerry and Emma.

From Obey: And your dog, Sir? 50 tortured days. Monday.

From Alan: I never told you we had a dog. And 2 cats and a bird and fish.

From Obey: Every married guy I want to fuck me has a dog. And you didn’t tell me his name. 51 puppy days. Tuesday.

From Alan: Dog: Coral. Her. Cats: Fitz and Mark. Both male. Parakeet: Bradley. Sex undetermined. Fish: too many to name, but one of them’s Clownhead, and one of them’s Groper.

From Obey: I’d be Groper, Sir, and you know what I’d be grabbing. Only I still have 10 handcuffed days to go since it’s only 52. Wednesday.

From Alan: I have a question: how did you get through the last 10 days the last time? Do you remember?

From Obey: Thursday, 53, Sir. I don’t remember anything except that I was doing it alone without even a chastity device or a guy to torment me. I don’t know if that made it easier or harder. But I’ll bet I was so bored I was glad to have anything to do. This town can be really dead in the summer and I was looking forward to getting back to school. And right now, the horniness is coming in waves. Sometimes it’s so intense I almost shake.

From Alan: I can’t imagine that, and I can’t imagine you putting yourself through this. Are you sure you don’t want to stop?

From Obey: Frenzy is cool, Sir. Friday, 54. And I can last as long as I want. As long as you allow it.

From Alan: That’s garbage. Even if I insisted, you wouldn’t come tonight.

From Obey: You’re right, Sir. I wouldn’t. Fuck you again and I mean that with the greatest respect, you asshole, for pointing that out. I’m suddenly in control here and I don’t want to be. So tell me to come and I will. Can you do that? And it’s Saturday, Shithead. Almost 8 weeks.

From Alan: I suppose I could have waited one more week to point that out.

From Obey: Nah. If you’re gonna put the clamps on my nips, you may as well clamp them hard. And it’s so much fun playing with you, Sir, sometimes I barely know what I’m typing. So I apologize if I said anything really rude. 8 respectful weeks, Sir. 56 humble days. Sunday, a usual day of prayer.

From Alan: You must be great fun at work.

From Obey: Right now, I’m grinning all the time. I usually just smile. People keep asking if I’ve won the lottery. 57 lucky days, Sir.

From Alan: You haven’t won yet, kid. Don’t lose control.

From Obey: Tuesday, 58. My turn to confess, Sir – I haven’t worn my chastity device since last Thursday. It was chaffing a bit so I took it off before lunch and then left it off through the weekend. And I never put it back on.

From Alan: Does that make it easier or harder?

From Obey: It makes it more fun, Sir. My dick’s like iron. The erection comes and goes but my mind’s always hard. Sometimes I just sit in the john and play with myself. My dick springs up and down. Boing! Boing! Wednesday. 59 non-motherfucking days!

From Alan: And you don’t think you’ve lost it? It’s time to invoke the safe word. Or I’ll call Henry.

From Obey: You would think of that now, Sir, when I’ve almost hit 60. Fortunately, you don’t know how to reach Henry. And I’m not drooling yet. So just hang on.

From Alan: Congratulations, by the way. You’ve equaled the record of the dimwit you were at 19. And you don’t think I could find Henry if I needed to? The Internet is all powerful.

From Obey: Thank you, Sir. I feel like I’m 19, at least I’m acting that way. And it’s weird how I can stay soft for hours and it doesn’t change a thing. I’m still flying. And I did something I’ve never done before – to celebrate. I stayed in for lunch, locked my door, stripped, and sat watching porn. Hot guys too – our age – and I was putting us in their places. That might have made other guys cum, but I just laughed. Friday. 61 impossible days.

From Alan: Watching porn could push you over, but it’s your call. How do you actually plan to come tomorrow? And when?

From Obey: Good question. Tomorrow is today, Sir. Saturday. 62 days. And I dreamed about you last night, doing some of the things one of the guys did in the video. Only he kept showing up too and was more interested in you than me. I was pissed.

From Alan: Just tell him to fuck off. I’m with you. And what you did last night?

From Obey: Nothing. Ha-ha! 63 days. Sunday. 9 everlasting weeks. How do you like that, Sir?

From Alan: I think you need to quit, Denny. I’m not telling you, but you’re seconds away.

From Obey: Monday, 64, Sir. I was wondering what you’d say. I’m not in the office yet. It’s 1 am and I was waiting for your message. If you told me to cum, I was going to do that – sitting in this chair, staring at my favorite pic of you.

From Alan: Denny. It’s time. Let go.

From Obey: 5 more minutes. I promise. I’ll be good.

From Alan: You’re bargaining like a kid. That’s desperate.

From Obey: I just need to figure this out, Alan. How to make it worthwhile.

From Alan: Do it with Henry

From Obey: How?

From Alan: Nuzzle him awake. Ease him into sex.

From Obey: I’d love that.

From Alan: Then start with what you do every night. Kiss him awake. Then let it go out of control.

From Obey: He’d go right back to sleep.

From Alan: He’s been waiting for 2 months. I’ll bet he’s willing.

From Obey: I’d give up chastity – forever – to lose that bet.

From Alan: Try.

From Obey: It’s too risky. He’ll just say No.

From Alan: You’re a lot more confident than that. If he tries to ignore you, ignore him. No one can think straight when someone’s sucking his cock.

From Obey: I want him to fuck me.

From Alan: Don’t ask the moon, Denny.

From Obey: I want him up my ass.

From Alan: Try slipping your dick up his. Maybe he’ll get the idea.

From Obey: That would be amazing. He’d wet his PJs.

From Alan: There’s your in.

From Obey: Oh god. I’d almost do it.

From Alan: When was the last time you fucked him?

From Obey: I’m can’t remember.

From Alan: It’s the perfect end.

From Obey: But I want to get fucked!

From Alan: Man up, Denny.

(No response)

From Alan: Are you still there?

From Obey: Yeah, but I’m a little pissed at you for saying that. It’s the guy in Atlanta – saying I was too short.

From Alan: I’m sorry. It’s late. I was trying to help.

From Obey: I wish you were here. If you showed up in my office tomorrow, we could fuck on my desk. We wouldn’t even get off our clothes.

From Alan: If we fucked, Denny, the moment we were through, we’d both know it was a mistake.

From Obey: Maybe for you, Sir. I’d be fine.

From Alan: And my wife would file for divorce.

From Obey: Why?

From Alan: How could I possibly explain what I was doing in Georgia?.

From Obey: It would be the biggest thing here since the gold rush.

From Alan: You’re gone, kid. Dangling over the edge.

From Obey: Then I’m going to bed – back to bed. You’re right. It’s time.

From Alan: Good luck.

From Obey: I’ll let you know what happens.

From Alan: You might want to keep it to yourself.

From Obey: Nah.

From Alan: We’ll see.

(continued)