Darker Devotion: Chapter Six

Disability: Spina Bifida / Genre: Erotic Romance


“Problem…yeah. Yeah I guess, there is.”

Melissa sighed. “What now?”

“Well, see the thing is, I’ve got Spina Bifida, as you’re very well aware. Um, but the thing is…” he let his voice trail off.  

When he didn’t continue, Melissa prompted him “the thing is what?”

“Well, look, with Spina Bifida, we’re not always just gimpy in the balance and walking department. See, I mean,” he sucked in his breath and exhaled sharply, “this is embarrassing.”

“Tell me, Dustin.”

“The thing is. Ok, I’m just going to say it. I wear diapers. Alright?”

“Oh, is that all?”

“What do you mean, ‘is that all?’”

“Dustin, sweetie…I’m a dev, remember? I research these kinds of things. You aren’t the first guy with this problem. Besides, you should kind of be getting the idea now…”

“What idea is that?”

“The less control you have over things, the more it turns me on.”

“You mean…”

“Yes. But I think it’s sweet of you to be so concerned for me. I assure you, there’s no need,” she said with a wink.

“Alright,” Dustin said as he reached for his belt to unbuckle, but forceful hands pushed him away.

“Allow me,” Melissa said. He moved his hands away and saw the gorgeous devotee slowly undo the belt buckle. There was already a bulge in those jeans. But that would have to wait.

The belt was undone, and the button and zipper came next. Slowly, Melissa slid Dustin’s jeans off. She saw his firm dick pressing against his underwear and diaper, but the morning was young, and there were so many things to do before even considering that area.

Dustin was trying to control his breathing. Lying on the gorgeous redhead’s bed with her delicate, pale fingers tugging his jeans off was more “action” than the disabled man had seen in many years. He watched as his pants were removed completely from him and tossed carelessly on the floor, in stark contrast to how Melissa treated his braces. She laid down on the bed, next to his legs.

“Well, aren’t you going to give me the tour?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, sitting up. “My legs, they’re as weird as my feet. If you touch me from my hips down to my feet, I’ll feel everything the whole way down, as long as it’s the front side of my legs. If you did the same with the back sides of my legs, only a small area under my thighs has any feeling at all. The rest is numb from my butt to my toes on the back side.

“And what about the sides of your legs?”

“Here’s where it gets even trickier. The outsides of either leg have very little feeling, while the insides, pointing toward each other, are very sensitive, especially my thighs.”

“You mean, right here?” Melissa asked as she brushed her nails over his inner thighs. Dustin shuddered.

“Yes,” he said weakly. She let her hand linger there, and her finger rubbed his thigh almost imperceptibly.  

“Turn over, on your belly,” she ordered Dustin. Without thinking, he complied. She could see the scars on his legs, near his lower thigh and above his knee joint. She traced the surgical scars lightly. No reaction. He wasn’t kidding about the loss of sensation.

His legs were not proportional. Above his knees, his thighs were meaty and normal looking, but under the knee, where those delicious plastic bindings necessary for his day to day functions resided, those wonderful braces, the calves and shins were quite atrophied. Disproportional legs were a real shtick for Melissa. She loved them as much as she loved deformed, lifeless feet. This man was perfect through all his imperfections. What society rejected, she relished. She began to breathe fast, and felt waves of pleasure building in her stomach which traveled to her groin.

Melissa quietly had her first orgasm of the morning, and her boy-toy was only partially undressed. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes as the pleasure hit her. Dustin still had his face down against the pillow, but he wondered why she stopped.

“Is everything alright, Melissa?”

In a raspy voice, she replied, “yeah, more than alright. I’m…going to massage your legs,” she announced, regaining her composure.  

“Ok,” Dustin agreed. He could barely feel her kneading away at his fleshy thighs, and often he felt nothing at all. Melissa was in heaven. She had her very own little crippled love slave to play with. It was better than a dream come true. She constantly eyed his scars, paying close attention to them, getting no reaction.  

She worked her way down to his shins, and it was an area Dustin had at least some sensation present, so the massage was finally more pleasurable to the both of them. The fleshy, fatty softness of his thighs gave way to the bony, tough calves and shins, and she could feel the difference right under his knees. She traced her fingers up and down every imperfection, wrapping her hands almost completely around the atrophied lower legs. They ended at those glorious, deformed feet. She couldn’t help but play with them once more.

Melissa watched over Dustin. He was in her hands, under her protection. No one could hurt him here, no one but her, and it would be pain he would come to love. He was so insecure about himself, and it pained her to know he had suffered so much abuse from others and especially from himself. No one was crueler to Dustin than Dustin. She wanted to help him understand that what he saw as liabilities, she saw as assets. She wanted him tied up on her bed to break him, to break him into a million pieces. And then she would rebuild him. Stronger than he ever was. Stronger with her, because they would be one.

It was time.

“Dustin,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Alright,” he complied. All that was left was his underwear and diaper.  

“Lie back on your stomach again. Good. Now…spread your arms forward. That’s right.” Dustin felt something cold and hard wrap around his right wrist. Handcuffs! She secured his left.

His breathing began to quicken, but he said nothing. He asked for this. He told Melissa he wanted this, and he did. He was afraid, though. He didn’t know what she would do to him. Would she play with him? Truly torture him to the point of injury? Kill him? Those thoughts ran through his head, but they were interrupted by Melissa sliding off his underwear and tugging on his left leg to bind his ankle to the footboard. Then his right.  

Spread-eagled and facing down, held captive by the nerdy-hot redhead, Dustin felt scared, excited, horny as hell, and strangely at ease simultaneously. The disabled man had always dreamed of a day like this, but never thought he would see it happen. He fantasized by reading smutty stories, looking at porn, even chatting online with a few adventurous souls, but he never thought a lowly gimp like him would be fawned over by a girl most men would die to have.

Melissa stood up and looked down. There, on her bed, in her apartment, splayed in front of her was a man with Spina Bifida. She tied down several able-bodied men before, and she had good sex with them, but it wasn’t…the same. They were “normal.” Boring. Ever since she was a toddler, she knew she was different. She took masking tape and wrapped it around Barbie doll legs to give them “casts.” She stared at disabled people in malls. As a teen, she drew sketches of disabled guys in precarious positions. And now, as an adult, it all pinnacled with this. This man, wearing only a diaper, cuffed to her bed, ready…or perhaps not…for whatever she had in store for him.

She knew Dustin wore diapers. Even if she didn’t do her research on Spina Bifida, the faint crinkle when he walked was a dead giveaway. He also regularly received large medical box shipments. It wasn’t a case Sherlock Holmes had to figure out. So she prepared for this day. The vixen pulled out plastic sheets from under her bed.

“Lift up your body for a second. Good boy,” she said, as she arranged the plastic to protect her mattress. Accidents do happen, and she intended to keep the man here for…a while.

Dustin felt the cold, plastic sheets under him, and knew what was coming next. He winced as she unpeeled the tape. She slid off the diaper and put it in a garbage bag, then came back in the room. There he was, naked as the day he was born. Above his cute ass was the spinal surgery scar. It almost looked like a heart. Isn’t that precious? She knew it was an area of extreme sensitivity. Even in her wildest fantasies, she would dare not harm it. If she would spank him, she would cover it with padding as a protection. That didn’t mean she couldn’t gently tease it though.

Dustin’s dick was hard, and pressing against the plastic sheet on her bed. He felt so exposed, more naked than naked. Melissa left the room for a few moments and returned with a small plastic tub of warm water, a bar of soap, a wash rag, and towel. Without a word, she began to wash his most private areas. His ass, his balls, his hard and throbbing dick. They all were cleaned roughly, as a nurse would.

It had been so long since Dustin felt any hand on his dick other than his own, or his doctor’s. He had to think of baseball and big block Chevy engine statistics to not spread his seed all over her hands. Before he knew it, she had finished cleaning her love-slave off.

“There, that’s better,” she said sweetly.

“What….what are you going to do with me?” Dustin had the courage to ask.

“And spoil the surprises? Nah-uh,” she replied.

“Do…do I have a safe-word?”

“How about antidisestablishmentarianism?” the cinnamon-haired dominatrix suggested with a chuckle. Then she was serious and said “braces.”

“Braces,” he repeated, then whispered the word a few times.

“You know, being cuffed to my bed, it’s solely up to me whether I give you pleasure…or pain. I want you to know right up front, when I punish you, when I cause you pain, I’m not doing so because I think less of you. I’m going to be forthcoming. I want to break you. I want to break you so I can rebuild you. You’re going to feel better about yourself. In time. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or in a few weeks, but over time, you’re going to see you’re stronger than you think. You’re sexier than you’ve ever thought, and you mean more to me than just an ass to swat.”

“I…I think I understand.”

“I don’t need you to understand, not yet. You might feel confused. Even scared. But while I might cause you pain, I will never hurt you.”

The statement didn’t make sense to Dustin, but he didn’t care. He tried to prepare himself for whatever tribulations were in store for him. Melissa looked at her captive and smiled.  

She found a riding crop in her box of toys. A good starting toy. She placed it in front of Dustin’s face so he could see what was to come. He clenched his fists and prepared for pain. But pain did not come. Not yet, at least. Melissa straddled his naked body, resting her butt on his. She ran her hand on the small of his back, up and down his shoulders, along his spinal cord which so cruelly betrayed him in the womb.

Dustin was tense, he expected the riding crop at any moment, but her warm hand soothingly explored his backside. It was almost more torturous than the crop itself, for it messed with his mind. He braced himself for pain, and she gave him pleasure. Then, while her left hand still stroked his back and he let his guard down for the briefest of seconds, she struck. The smack of the leather crop on his shoulder wasn’t incredibly painful, but the shock and surprise of it cause him jerk under her straddling weight.

She massaged the area she just struck, and quickly gave him another moderately hard swat on the other shoulder. She continued to strike his backside in random locations while her hand provided pleasure and reassurance. The mixed signals his brain received wreaked havoc on his senses. He wasn’t sure if her fingers caused pain or the crop caused pleasure anymore. This process went on for quite some time, allowing red stripes to form on his smooth back.

“Are you alright, my love?” she asked him after she finished.

“Yes…Mistress,” he said. The Mistress bit was totally unexpected, but welcome nonetheless.

“Not too bad, was it?”

“No, Mistress,” he replied.

“That’s because this wasn’t a punishment. More of an…orientation class. If I wanted to punish you, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

“I understand, Mistress,” he replied.

“So, since you’ve been good; you after all came clean with me, and allowed me to do this to you, I think you’re due a reward.”

“Reward, Mistress?” he asked.

“Arch your butt in the air,” she commanded. He complied immediately. His cock was throbbing, and Melissa grabbed it.

“Well, I’m glad this still works just fine,” she cooed. He yipped at the sudden hand grasping his member.  

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied breathlessly. Melissa began to stroke his cock for him, an action he was familiar with on many lonely, dark nights in his bedroom, but this time it was her hand doing the jerking. He was already close, of this, she was sure.

“Can you hold it back?”

“I can try, Mistress,” he grunted.

“That’s all I ask. If you can’t hold back, I won’t punish you.”

“Thank you, Mistress, I’ll…try,” he groaned. She quickened the pace of her stroking, and used her other hand to fondle his balls. His cock wasn’t overly large, in fact, it may have been rather unimpressive to some women, but it was perfectly fine for Melissa. She rolled his testicles between her fingers rapidly and aggressively.

“Aahh! May I please?” he begged.

“You may,” she said calmly. Seconds later, he finished, covering her hand in it. She washed it off in the plastic tub.

“Rest a bit. We’re only getting started.”


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