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This is a fairytale.
So sit back, perhaps with a glass of red wine and a crackling fire in a grand fireplace and listen to a story about an Italian lady called Domenica.
Domenica, truly a beautiful woman. With her flame red curls and her alabaster skin, Domenica was the perfect Italian Princess. A voluptuous Venus, she would have inspired many a renaissance. In that college town in the north east of the kingdom of the United States of America, her Juliet in her final college year was such a triumph; it was whispered that her next stop was Broadway or London.
Her Juliet broke the heart of every Romeo in the private darkness of every stunned audience that entered the drama of Shakespeare’s Verona. She could have been a great actress or, as they now say in this politically correct world, a great actor.
Instead, she returned to the family compound close to New York to be a dutiful daughter to assist in the family business of imported salami and other important but vague interests. She worked balancing the books and becoming very familiar with the delicate nature of the salami business and all it entails.
Her father would boast to his colleagues that a better daughter could not be found. As her mother had died giving life to Domenica, she worshipped her father and felt deeply bound to him.
Some years passed and life was very predictable for Domenica and her father. Then, it changed.
While shopping, she met the handsome Paul, a struggling actor younger than her who immediately recognised Domenica’s stunning beauty and her wealth. Marshalling all of his meagre acting talent and his considerable charm, like many a fairytale prince, he swept her off her feet.
The wedding party and guests travelled from the cathedral to the garden of the compound for an extravagant Italian wedding full of wine, singing, dancing, speeches and tears. Domenica’s father was happy for his daughter but shrewdly, asked his trusted adviser, his younger brother Enrico to put Paul under careful surveillance. It was well known that Domenica’s father trusted only three people, Domenica, Enrico and himself.
The newlyweds moved to a luxurious apartment in the city, a gift from her father, and they settled into married life. Paul constantly searching for the role that would make him famous and Domenica, hopeful that Paul would settle down and share her desire for children.
After only three months, Domencia’s father became very ill and, without hesitation, she moved back to the family compound to care for him while Paul remained in the apartment. Although she was disappointed Paul chose to remain in town, she didn’t show it. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.
Her father deteriorated quickly with Domenica sitting by his bed constantly, holding his hand while he muttered about long dead family and friends in Sicily.
Shortly before he died, a letter was hand delivered to her while she sat in that dimly lit bedroom. It was from Paul and she blinked the tears away as she read. He had, apparently, found someone else. Domenica’s personal effects would be sent to her and he suggested that he keep the apartment in the coming divorce settlement.
Dressed in the black of mourning she stood by Enrico’s side as the priest muttered over her father’s coffin. A large crowd of mourners surrounded the gravesite but Paul was noticeably absent.
In the limousine driving back to the compound, Domenica broached the subject with Enrico. “How long has my husband been seeing that woman?” she asked coldly.
“Domenica,” he protested, “now is not the time.”
“Now is the perfect time,” she interrupted. ”My father would have had Paul watched and you would have organised it.”
“How did you know?”
She smiled grimly. “I am my father’s daughter, Enrico. How long?” she repeated.
Enrico shrugged. “Since the wedding. All the time, little one. I’m sorry.”
“I see,” she said, staring out the tinted windows. The driver and the bodyguard were seated in the front, separated by thick glass.
“We can talk to Rome. Arrange an annulment. A small cost to tidy things up.”
“No,” she said sharply. “No annulment. He is my husband and he will remain so.”
Enrico shrugged again. “Men, especially young ones, think with their little head instead of this,” he said as his gaunt finger tapped his temple. “It is life, little one.”
It was then that Domenica got her idea.
A week later she summoned Enrico to her father’s study. Seated behind the desk her father had used to run his kingdom, she explained her idea to him.
Her uncle laughed softly. “Your father would be very proud, little one,” he chuckled. “This is so subtle, yet so cruel.”
“Nothing could be as cruel as sending me that letter while my father was dying,” she said coldly. “You’ll do it?”
“It is done,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Just like that.”
Paul was very pleased with himself. He had just completed an audition for a new TV soap and was convinced he had the part. It wasn’t major but it would be the start of what he knew would be a booming career.
He avoided a puddle on the pavement and almost skipped into the lobby of his apartment building, bumping into deliveryman in a uniform with a bunch of flowers who entered the building at the same time.
“Sorry,” Paul said automatically, turning away.
“No, excuse me,” the young man said, following Paul into the elevator. The doors closed and Paul stared vacantly at the flashing lights, dreaming dreams of stardom. Suddenly, he felt a sting on his neck and turned to look at the man behind him when blackness hit.
Paul awoke as the weak morning Sun filled the apartment with a grey light. He lay on the bed naked from the waist down and, to his horror, saw his cock was threaded through a stainless steel tube that was fastened to a flat ring of steel between his balls and his body.
Panicking, he switched on the lights and used a hand mirror to inspect the device for locks or a release button. All he found was a small slot on the steel ring.
The reaMegtion that he couldn’t get it off and that he had no idea who put this evil device on him sunk in. “Oooo noo,” he wailed, falling back onto the bed he had shared with Domenica.
Two weeks later, Domenica sat in her father’s study, going through some papers regarding the family business. Since her father’s death, she had taken on the role of the head of the family and found that she was very good at it. Not only did she receive respect from all those in the family who obeyed her every decision or request, she also derived great personal satisfaction. She was, she had realised, been born to rule.
Enrico cleared his throat as he quietly lowered himself into the chair next to the large desk. Domenica brushed her curls off her face and glanced at him. “The business with the unions done?” she asked.
The older man nodded. “It is done.”
“And,” she smiled,” how is the other business going?”
“Ah now,” he chuckled, “that is very amusing.”
Domenica put the calculator down, picked up a glass of wine and sipped on it as she settled back in her chair. “Good. Tell me about it. From the beginning.”
Enrico poured a glass of wine. “After the device was fitted he telephoned here in panic, demanding to talk to you but we explained you were away in Rome. We also persuaded him we had no idea what he was talking about."
“Good. He may have tried to record the call.”
“Exactly.” Enrico sipped the wine.” He then went to the police precinct to lodge a complaint. I’m told he claimed he had been assaulted.” Domenica laughed softly. “The detectives took the complaint and questioned him. Of course, he had to show them the device.”
Domenica giggled. “They took him to an interview room?”
Enrico shook his head in mock sorrow. “Unfortunately no. It was a very busy time and all the rooms were in use so he had to show the detectives in the crowded squad room. I am told many of the female detectives found it very funny.”
“I can imagine,” laughed Domenica.
“The police accused him of getting involved in doubtful sexual practices, dismissed the complaint and threw him out.”
“Thank our friends in the precinct.”
“Taken care of, little one.”
“What did he do then?”
“For the next week he called on shops that sold devices like it, visited locksmiths but, unfortunately, no one could help him. He has come to realise the device is unique and he has no way of removing it.”
“It was worth the money we invested in it.”
“An excellent design, apparently.”
“There may be a market for these devices,” she said thoughtfully. “We may make some money out of this as well.”
“Excellent idea. Do you wish me to investigate distribution?”
“Yes. Thank you. And what does he do now?”
“He sits in his apartment. Alas, his girlfriend visits no more.” Domenica raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, she could see no use in the relationship with the device in place.”
“Of course she’ll tell her friends.”
“How unfortunate,” she said. They both laughed loudly and saluted each other with their glasses of wine. “I’ll wait one more week.”
Enrico nodded. “Now,” he said, “we have a troublesome politician.”
“Tell me about it.”
Paul was miserable. His life was he realised, absolutely ruined. At the end of the third week, the longest period in his life without orgasm, he was so aroused he could not even bear to watch TV. His poor cock swelled fruitlessly against its steel prison and any glimmer of sexual arousal brought him discomfort.
He still flushed in embarrassment when he recalled his humiliation in the precinct squad room and his girlfriend’s reaction when she’d discovered what had been done to him.
Meg, a perky blonde woman who was in her early twenties, laughed uproariously when he had meekly explained his predicament to her. If he had been expecting sympathy, he was disappointed as she left the apartment, still laughing.
Suddenly the phone rang. “Paul,” Domenica’s cool voice echoed down the line. “How are you?”
“You bitch,” he said brokenly. “You did this to me”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said innocently. “We need to talk about the divorce.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
“Why don’t you visit me tomorrow night at seven. You may find divorce is the key to your problems.”
His ears picked up at the last remark, even though her husky voice was causing discomfort. “What?”
“I’ll see you at seven,” she said calmly and rang off, leaving Paul staring at the phone.
It was after seven before she greeted him in the study, a glass in her hand and dressed in an elegant black dress with dark hose. His cock swelled and constricted in once quick and cruel moment.
“Fix yourself a drink,’ she said curtly. “We have much to discuss.” Glumly, he poured a scotch. “Just so you know,” she continued, “the device is one of a kind with only one key. It can not be removed without that key without surgery.”
“Why did you do this, Dom?” he asked plaintively.
“Revenge,” she said simply. “Sweet revenge.”
“So I fucked around,” he said hotly. “Was this necessary?” he demanded gesturing at his crotch.
“It wasn’t revenge for your little girlfriend, you fool! You dishonoured my father by sending that letter while he was dying. You dishonoured me! If you came to me like a man after he died, we would have settled it calmly but, no, you had to send a note!”
He had no defence. “What now?” His voice was a croak and his hands trembled.
“You and I are attending a small dinner party with several friends. You will declare your undying love for me and beg me to take you back. Of course,” she smiled, “I will bow to your pleas. Here,” she said, tossing papers at him. “That’s your script. You’re the great actor, learn it!”
White faced he studied the script. “I see,” he said slowly. “We are husband and wife again.”
“No,” she said sharply. “You live in the room next to mine and work as my secretary. That’s it. I will discretely entertain my lover in my room and we will have no communication outside your work matters.”
“And,” he said slowly. “If I refuse?”
“You leave and I dissolve the only key to your chastity device in the container of acid I have upstairs.”
“You wouldn’t!” he gasped.
“Wouldn’t I?” she said coldly as she walked to the door. “You have half an hour to learn your script. You had better be perfect.”
“Dom,” he said weakly. “What about me? You are going to have lovers but I need relief. It’s been so long!” he moaned.
“No lovers. I’ll arrange relief once a month. I’m wondering how long it will be before you beg me to cut your balls off.” The door closed behind her and Paul studied the script through blurring eyes.
The evening was a success. Paul declared his undying love for Domenica, they embraced to their friends applause and Paul moved into his new bedroom.
A few evenings later, the door to his bedroom opened and Meg strolled in, dressed in a short skirt and white blouse. “Meg,” gasped Paul. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “Your wife has paid me to provide this months relief.”
“You have the key?” he asked incredulously.
Meg nodded. “I know where it is. Take your clothes off.” Paul hastily obeyed and stood before her naked. With a slight smile on her face, she pointed at the chair and watched as he quickly sat.
“Take your clothes off, Meg,” he begged. “ We have all night.”
“Afraid not,” she said calmly as she handcuffed his hands behind him, chaining him to the chair.
“What are you doing?”
The door opened again and Domenica walked in, handing Meg the key. “This goes into the slot underneath. Turn it and the circle parts so you can slide it off. The reverse applies to put it on. Understand?”
Meg nodded, followed instructions and both women watched as Pauls freed cock stood to attention. “Before you remove the handcuffs put the key into the safe as I showed you.” Domenica nodded at Paul’s throbbing cock. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
“Never does,” Meg commented and Paul flushed.
“Look,” Domenica said sharply, pulling Meg’s skirt up to reveal black lace panties, garter belt and stockings. “This is all you will ever see. You will never see a pussy or naked breasts again. You had your chance but you lost it. I’ll leave you to your nurse.” She paused at the door. “By the way, my lover is coming tonight so you might want to use the earplugs that are in the bathroom cupboard.” She laughed as she closed the door behind her.
“Meg, please,” he moaned. “Let me at least kiss you. Kiss your panties! Anything!”
Meg shook her head and smoothed her skirt down. “You’ve had your last look.” She rummaged in her bag and produced a wad of tissues. “Kleenex pussy,” she mocked. “This is all you get and this is as good as it gets. From now on you’ll only get to use your own hand each month so enjoy,” she said, sliding her hand around his dripping cock. A few short tugs and he was shuddering as he spurted into the tissues. “There,” she said matter of factly as she cleaned him up. “That should hold you until next month.” Meg looked up at him. “Would you like me to wipe your tears while I’m at it?” she asked kindly.
And the Italian Princess and her young lover lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, her husband didn’t.
Just a fairytale. Or is it?
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Page last updated 00-Oct-31 by: Altairboy@aol.com