Note: this is a story, fiction. None of the facts are correct, and all the names are false, invented. So enjoy!
(Re-posted with the above clarification, and links deleted).
Nocturnal Anal Stimulation in Orgasm-Denial Relationships – A Study
NOCTURNAL ANAL STIMULATION IN ORGASM-DENIAL RELATIONSHIPS. A STUDY
Willsoin,D.E., Arangji,T.F – UCNYCE – Dept of Psychology
Published: 1 Nov 2011
The authors wish to thank a number of sites for providing access to subjects, and for financial support for data analysis. They know who they are!
The purpose of this study is to investigate nocturnal stimulation of males in relationships where their orgasms are controlled. Such relationships are common, but can be time-consuming for both parties, especially if chid-care is also an issue. For example, substantial time (and privacy) may be required for prostate milking, and for the repeated stimulation of the male to the point of orgasm (but not beyond). We suggest that sleeping time might be utilized for this purpose, and we evaluate alternatives. Findings and recommendations are discussed below
anus, anal, denial, tease, chastity, prostate, milking, sleep, unconscious, nocturnal, emission
This study involves an investigation into relationships which have an element of orgasm control/denial. The subset we focus on is that of a male being controlled by a female, though there are other possibilities, of course.
Such relationships involve the male being restricted in orgasms by domination. This can range from the verbal through to chastity devices. At the same time, the literature of denial usually suggests that an occasional release is beneficial for the male – a ‘pipe-cleaning’ effect. There is a contradiction here, of course, leading the female to find a way of extracting semen without giving pleasure to the male. Prostate milking is often used for this purpose, in which the semen is massaged out, rather than being forcefully ejaculated.
In addition, the control aspect is often supplemented by ‘tease and denial’, in which the male is stimulated close to orgasm, but is prevented from obtaining relief.
Such activities need time and privacy, and here we investigate if sleep time could be used for this purpose.
With the permission of several websites (see above) we enlisted the help of 48 couples who lived this lifestyle. Each couple had to have a smart-phone. (We thought that a control group of ‘normal’ people would not be useful in this study.)
An electronic questionnaire was sent to every individual – the male and female versions were slightly different. The questions (often involving rating on a 5-point scale) covered such areas as:
- how often is orgasm allowed?
- what was the mood of the male one day after orgasm?
- what was the mood of the male x days after orgasm?
- does the male wear a chastity device? What periods of the day?
- how often do nocturnal emissions occur?
- what is the mood of the male following a nocturnal emission?
- does the male enjoy anal stimulation?
There were 50 questions in all.
The second stage of the research was novel. The subjects had to download a smart-phone app created specially. It was a combination of two existing apps:
- a security camera app, in which periods with zero movement were ignored.
- a baby alarm app, which detected noise, movement, and changes to breathing patterns.
In addition, a thin net sheet was needed, similar in nature to net curtains, or a mosquito net. August was chosen, as temperatures were very high. (Thank-you to our websites for offering free membership to the subjects, to offset the purchase price)
For 14 days, subjects had to sleep with the app running, and its camera directed at the male side of the bed. In the morning, the compressed video was uploaded to our servers for analysis. The software drew our attention to interesting parts, which were sampled. It took 5 minutes on average to view the significant parts of a whole night of sleep from one male.
Before videoing begun, the males were split into 3 equal groups, which we nominated as ‘coverers’, ‘fingerers’, and ‘pluggers’. The terms had these meanings:
- coverers were instructed to try and sleep with one of their palms held gently over their anus. This was made easier by suggesting that they wore pants or panties. The (invented) justification for this was that it was a form of security or protection used by Buddhist monks, to ensure a peaceful sleep.
- fingerers were instructed to sleep with the first two joints of a finger up their anus. Again, pants were suggested, and they were told that the justification was that it was comforting for people with an element of sexual stress in their lives, akin to thumb-sucking.
- pluggers were instructed to use a thin (3/4″) butt-plug, with a loop at the outside end. They should attempt to sleep with a finger through the loop. The diameter was small, as the point was not to dilate the anus. Again, the reason was said be for comfort, rather like sucking a pacifier or dummy.
2 days before the videoing started, emails were sent to the females, with the above appropriate instructions to be given to the males. It was thought that this method of indirect communication would have more impact. All males were told that some unconscious movement of the hands might occur, and that this was normal (though it was not part of the study). In addition, they were informed that movements during sleep were normal and expected. They might only spend one hour in the correct position.
We wanted the females to have a full night’s sleep, but in the event of them waking up and seeing that the male’s hand was in the wrong place, they were to whisper “hand”, “finger”, or “plug”.
The study was then initiated. There were 8 drop-outs: 6 due to illness, clild-care problems, or app problems. Two males (pluggers) insisted on masturbating whilst awake in bed, and were deemed unsuitable to continue. The remaining 42 thus became our 100%.
After the 14 days, different questionnaires were distributed and analyzed.
Firstly, we review the physical findings. For analysis of questionnaires and videos, it was found that 90% of males exhibited rhythmic hand movements during sleep. Many of the coverers inserted a finger, and many made in-out movements, with speeds varying from 1 per second to 4 per second. These movements typically lasted for 1 minute.
There was a 110% increase in nocturnal emissions. None from those wearing a chastity device of course, but this is one of the most interesting results and is covered below.
Secondly, the emotional side. From the post-video questionnaires it appeared that the males’ behavior tended to be more considerate after the 14 days. Looking at all the questionnaires, it was apparent that behavior became more considerate and helpful as the time between orgasms lengthened, and also as the amount of stimulation (teasing) increased.
We can conclude that increased desire for release can create gentle helpful behavior, and that the evening anal stimulation helps this.
Nocturnal Emissions – a re-evaluation
The traditional view of nocturnal emissions in denial relationships is that is it inappropriate, and is the fault of the male.
However, the male questionnaires revealed that it brought no pleasure – they woke up mid-way through an orgasm, did not enjoy it, and felt guilty.
Additionally, the female answers revealed that males were super-considerate during the day after an emission.
Our view is that nocturnal emissions can be viewed as being similar to prostate milking – it produces semen with no pleasure for the male. If time for a full milking is not available, we suggest that such emissions should in fact be encouraged!
On analyzing the three groups for emissions, more occurred in the fingerer group, and the pluggers were a close second.
How might these results affect the lives of couples? For those who employ tease-and-denial techniques, unconscious anal self-stimulation can be used to increase sexual tension, and change male behavior. In addition, we recommend that couples review their opinions on nocturnal emissions. It can be regarded as a form of self-milking, with no pleasure.
In both these cases we recommend that fingering be adopted. If it proves impossible, plugging should be used.
Thanks go to the participating websites, and to all the subjects involved.
Those in the know attributed to original idea to an undisclosed European source. To the wider public, though, this acclaimed initiative had come straight from Number 10, and seldom had a government project been greeted with such widespread support.
The idea itself was a miracle of ingenuity. The public couldn’t stand bankers, and the armed forces could only prevent public lynchings for so long. Bankers, on the other hand, refused to amend their wicked ways and rumours of bonus-fuelled orgies of sexual depravity and indecent manipulations of statistics ran like wildfire. In other words, a civil war between the City and the rest of the country looked inevitable, and there was little a cash-strapped government could do to avert it.
This is why, Cameron announced in the speech that he would later credit with his overwhelming victory in the following general election, a compromise would have to be reached. There would now be a bi-weekly free for all on bankers – provided there was no actual manslaughter. This is what family values are all about, he insisted: if people can have their wicked way with the evil bankers, but under tightly health-and-safety overseen regulations that still allow said bankers to keep their bonuses and their dangly parts more or less intact, civil society’s cohesion will be preserved.
A side benefit was, of course, to allow the bloodthirstier members of the community to unleash the violent passions on those who justly deserved it, thus leaving foxes, badgers and East European human-trafficked streetwalkers alone. The vegetarian lobby’s newfound support for the Tories after the new policy was introduced counted for a good 10 percentage points.
Instructions on how to proceed on Banker Cull days were duly issued by the various local authorities (with versions in French, Bengali, Sanskrit, audio and large print available upon request). Members of the public would have to form an orderly queue outside of the City’s tube stations. Once issued with the government-standard leather leash and wide collar, they would have to patiently wait until 4 pm, when the first bankers complete their working day, and use it as a lasso to catch a specimen of high finance evil.
Now this may sound a bit too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel when all they have to defend themselves is a little briefcase filled with hedge-fund performance graphs and carefully clipped out extracts from the Sun’s page 3. Many a seasoned buffalo hunter would however disagree and explain that wild animals, when smelling danger, have a tendency to herd together in a forward stampede, oyster card on the ready, thus enabling most of them to get through the turnstiles unharmed. It is a fine combination of luck, innate skill and months of assiduous practice that allows one to sling the leather leash just so, feel it fall at just the right angle and, most importantly, pull it back with a banker’s neck secured inside.
History doesn’t say whether Parsifal the banker considered himself more pisces or bovine, or indeed what emotions the feel of leather tightening around his neck aroused into him one sunny Thursday in July. It can only be surmised that a fleeting regret for having agreed to keep his bonus on those terms may briefly have been evoked, followed by the uncertain pondering on what the next few hours held in store for him.
Most people would agree that bankers were best used either for hen do entertainment or as recipients for mindless violence. As he meekly followed the pull of his leash that brought him to his new owner in front of a jeering crowd, Parsifal probably hoped for the former. Hen parties usually involved large amounts of alcohol, and, not unlike the universal pull of gravity, some unwritten law of nature translated into its inevitable finding its way to the nearest banker’s lips.
From then onwards, things proceeded very much like a standard night out in the land of Nelson and Cromwell. Clothes would be shed, nipples would be twisted, more vodka would be ordered, and a somewhat dishevelled but still good-humoured banker would find his way back to his office in the early hours of the morning, mindless of the lipstick smears on his underwear and tie, just on time to quickly run a cocktail umbrella through his hair before the start the daily nap more commonly known as the morning team meeting. Nothing, in a word, to distinguish that night from any other in said banker’s private career. He might even keep the leash as a trophy, a keepsake for his well-spent youth – a memento to pass on to the younger generations along with wise advice on how to pass a drunken hiccup as sound pension-fund advice.
Parsifal’s heart fell when he caught a first glimpse of his owner for the evening. No pink tutu, no tiara, and no half-dozen inebriated ladies in tow – he was looking at mindless violence.
“Jackpot,” the woman said. “We’ve got a pretty one this time.”
He tried to assess the situation. Jones from the retail banking department had been caught by a bunch of Trotskyites a few months back and hadn’t been able to sit straight since then. This lot didn’t look particularly left-wing, though. Conservative attire. Maybe they were a secret banker protection squad, come to whisk him away to safety, maybe with a blow-job or three for his trouble.
He brought his hand to his collar – rather uncomfortable, these things, when someone kept tugging at them so – and hung on to that thought for dear life as he followed his new owner meekly.
All residual optimism however disappeared when he saw the spanking stocks.
He had watched their erection, with, he was ashamed to admit, one of his own. They had been built to maximise banker exposure and to minimise banker chances of escape. The wood was thick, the openings of neck and wrists were small, and the locks very secure indeed. What’s more, a well-placed stool propped one’s bottom up, giving a jeering crowd full view of one’s exposed private in the all too likely event of one’s owner divesting one of one’s trousers.
Parsifal had often wondered how it would feel to be trapped that way, head and hands secured in the heavy wooden board, his hindquarters left rather vulnerable to anything the tormentors had in mind. The general rule was, he realised with a touch of panic, that everything was fair game as long as no banker actually died. That left a lot of possible playing around – possibly a lot more than his buttocks had previously experienced or indeed wished for.
“Come on, up you go,” his handler said, pushing him up the to slightly elevated platform, cutting his musings short.
He hadn’t really noticed it before, but the stocks themselves were on a wooden construction, not unlike the edifices the French had erected to support their guillotines. This, he came to understand as he walked up, had the unfortunate consequence of rendering the victim very visible to any onlooker. This wasn’t too bad as long as he wore his clothes-
“Come on,” his owner prompted. “Don’t keep us waiting, take your clothes off!”
“Couldn’t you, er, spank me with my trousers on?” he queried.
“Who told you I would stop with the spanking?”
He blushed and tried to keep his composure.
“He’s not obeying!” an unhelpful voice shouted from the crowd.
His handler stepped on the platform too. She was now holding his leash in her left hand, and her right one, he realised, held a crop, the tip of which she placed right under his chin, forcing his head upwards.
“You heard the reminder, and yet you’re still not obeying…”
“Shut up. I won’t be amused if I have to repeat the order.”
His hands shook slightly. There was being comfortable with your own body, and there was disrobing in front of a mob of horny and possibly sadistic women. The two shouldn’t be mistaken for one another!
The crop disappear from under his chin and violently smacked him on the cheek.
He brought his hand to his cheek, staring at her in disbelief. What on earth-
The second smack came on the other cheek, harder.
“I’ll do it! I’m doing it!”
He swallowed hard, breaths quick and shallow, trembling hands fumbling with his belt and fly. His trousers fell on his ankles.
The crowd cheered.
It would be hard to envision a more humiliating position, he mused until he was interrupted once more with violence. His tormentor had grasped both sides of his shirt, pulling hard until it tore in the middle.
“You’re not a quick one, are you? Also didn’t see that banking crash coming, I bet, hmm?”
She pulled the shirt away and twisted his right nipple with what could only be described as a savage grin.
“Too bad it’s time to pay for this now, hmm?”
Although never usually one to lack a witty repartee, he was at loss for words. There was something about standing there in your underwear in the middle of a hostile crowd, nipple on fire, waiting for one’s punitive spanking to commence, that hindered polite conversation somewhat. He placed his hands in front of his stubborn erection, hoping to conceal it from view.
“Now now now. Let’s not be shy…”
He could swear the witch had the hint of a French accent. If a millenium of ritual humiliation in various battlefields by the hereditary enemy was to be believed, this did not bode well for him.
“Hands off now, let me see what we have here.”
She took hold of his other nipple and pressed gently. He felt himself harden even more.
“You do realise that you’re not in your bank any more, do you? Lack of co-operation now will only make me angrier when we come down to business… hands behind your back, now, if you don’t want me to call a few members of the public to hold you down.”
He swallowed, hard, and slowly moved his hands away from his crotch. It was a better bet to let everyone watch than to let everyone touch, surely? Had to be…
Her hand slid down his stomach to his side in a sensual caress.
Their eyes locked.
Please don’t let her touch me there, he thought. It could all too easily lead to an accident, and something told him that, humiliating though his arousal was, it would be easier to bear through the evening still horny than after an orgasm.
Her hand curved around his balls and he could see the hint of a smile on her face.
“My, my, my… what do we have here…”
She squeezed his cock through his underwear and then pulled them down, leaving him completely exposed.
“Are we having fun? Ladies, this banker here is finding the situation very interesting!”
She walked around him and held his arms firmly behind his back, exposing him, and his erection, to the crowd.
His cheeks were on fire, and the early cropping was only partly to blame. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. This wasn’t like the time he got caught red-handed fiddling with the short-term interest rates: no amount of quick thinking could get him out of that one.
“You know what I think? You should bend over now so I can secure you in the stocks…”
He shuddered. This was the point of no return. If he didn’t escape now, he certainly wouldn’t be able to later in the evening.
As if reading his thoughts, she twisted his right arm behind his back, forcing him to bend forward, chest touching the thick wooden stool. She maneuvered his neck on the stock and single-handedly clicked it shut. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the thick padding of the restraint. It had been precisely tailored to be just on the verge of discomfort, he noticed – not tight enough to strangle, yet snug enough to be felt. There must have been countless panic attacks caused by the feeling of near oppression it caused.
“Hands, now, you naughty boy, or do you need another taste of the crop?”
He very slowly, very reluctantly brought his left wrist into the thick padded cuff.
She let go of his right arm.
He paused for a bit, trying to relax his shoulder muscle as much as possible. Something told him that, once secured up, there would be no untying until the wee hours of the morning.
She was waiting for him to place his right hand in the other cuff, he realised. There was a certain something in having to place himself in a position of increased vulnerability that was far worse, and far more humiliating, than having her manhandle him into the stocks herself.
She caressed his naked back, hand lingering on his buttocks. He shuddered – not at the discomfort, but at the implied intimacy of her touch. He was itching to turn around and touch her in return. To grab her bottom and squeeze a bit…
He must have twitched. She chuckled and unhurriedly bend forward, her breast touching his back. She leisurely secured his hands – those padded cuffs were just as secure as they looked – and kissed him on the cheek.
“Eager to start, are we?” she pointed at his cock, still visible as it dangled between his legs, and more than a few laughs came from the crowd.
Damn. He was as hard as ever.
She went back to touching his arse, massaging each cheek. This didn’t help. It must have something to do with increase in blood flow to his nether regions, he thought… and then she started to caress his balls and he stopped thinking altogether.
Her touch was light. He found himself closing his eyes, partly to block out the spectacle of a few hundred demented females staring at his nakedness with far too much interest, partly to focus on what she was doing to him.
Two fingers inched forward, caressing the length of his erect cock and then travelled back across the glans, circling the coronal ridge just too lightly at first, firming up with every stroke.
He found himself thrusting forward to get more contact on his cock. Forget the stay aroused to make the beating easier to take – he wanted her to touch him more and he wanted to cum. Hard. Whether being naked and humiliated in public played a role in that was something he was not prepared to examine at the moment.
“Right,” she said, removing her fingers. “I think we’re all ready.”
“Ah…” he uttered, almost prepared to beg.
“It’s a good thing I always wear a scarf,” she went on. “Never out of blindfolds that way!”
Without further ado, he felt the cloth being tightened around his head, and all went dark.
“Now, ladies, I’m going to take some advice from the public. Who votes for a sound caning?”
Scary sounds of assent rose from the assembly.
“and who votes on a sound paddling?”
The cheers were indiscernible from the previous ones, but she seemed to be of a compromising disposition.
“Fine, we’ll have both! Now, I would need a volunteer…”
Before he knew what was happening, he heard the sound of high heels walking on the raising platform, sensed something brushing his stomach, and felt a warm mouth close on the tip of his cock.
He instinctively thrust forward and the mouth withdrew.
“Rookie mistake, darling. You’re not allowed to do that. Whenever you move, you’ll get this…”
He heard the swoosh of a cane, heard the impact of wood on flesh, and a split second later, felt the pain of the impact hit him.
He was still crying out when the wet, soft mouth engulfed him once more.
“Now, now, now. Crying like a little girl already? You should get punished for that…”
There was no whooshing this time, just a dull thud, and then pain.
He yelped and tried to focus on the mouth on his cock. She was settling on a rhythm, he realised – in, out, in out, and then tongue circled around the tip of his cock. His handler started rubbing his bottom and he let himself give in to the sensation. He wasn’t very far from orgasm.
She started spanking him lightly, her bare hand hitting his bottom methodically. As if on cue, her acolyte quickened her in, out, in, out, tongue around-
He could cum from this, he realised. He tried to focus.
And she started to hit him harder.
It was difficult to tell at first – she continued to strike him with her bare hands, but it felt more painful every time. She was hitting harder, he realised, and focussing on those area that already hurt him most.
He thrust as discreetly as he could into the other lady’s mouth. He was so damn close, all he needed was a bit of additional stimulation-
He heard the whoosh and the crack before the soaring pain settled in.
“What did I tell you about moving?”
The crowd started booing.
“Now be still if you don’t want the worst paddling of your life, you little slut,” she whispered into his ear.
She started massaging his bum once more and God forbid, the cool hand on his tormented flesh felt good. He let out a sigh and once more focussed on the ongoing blowjob. A hot, moist mouth around him had never felt so good as it did now. Oh, to be untied and to be able to thread his fingers through her hair, to watch her sucking him, to let himself cum…
And once more, she started hitting him, slowly at first, then harder and harder. It was more noticeable this time – his abused flesh was more sensitive to the ongoing abuse. And yet… and yet… he had never felt so hard in his life…
“I think he’s ready, dear…”
He didn’t as much hear the order as feel the cold evening air on his now bare cock as she withdrew her mouth.
He groaned and it must have been loud enough to be heard as more than a few chuckles erupted in the background. His cock pulsated into the void at the sharp reminder of his audience.
Cool fingers teased the top of his crack and slowly went down towards his bumhole.
He shivered as she reached her goal.
“Do we like that?”
“Let’s see if he likes his nipples touched…” the other female voice echoed.
He swallowed hard. He didn’t know how, or when, but they had done their research right. Those were precisely the two things he had been fantasising on for so long.
Emphasis on fantasising. Actual enacting… now that was something different entirely.
The fingers were swirling around his tight arsehole, half-massaging, half-teasing.
Other fingers circled around his nipples. This time it didn’t hurt.
His erection was almost painful.
He couldn’t focus any more. All his erogenous zones were stimulated; his bottom burned; he wanted to come; he was painfully, acutely, humiliatingly aware of his audience.
Before he could sum up his thoughts, the very tip of a well-lubricated finger slipped inside him.
This time his groan sounded loud even to his own ears.
The finger slipped out, then in again.
He was beyond reasoning. He pushed back against her. Participating in his own debasement didn’t really matter any more. He wanted her to take him, there and then, in front of all these witness. He wanted to feel something hard inside him. He wanted to cum and to cum now.
“Eager, are we?” she chuckled.
Her sidekick redoubled her efforts on his nipples. They were hard little nubs of sensation now and were it not for the action down south, there would be nothing in the entire universe capable of diverting his thoughts from it.
She withdrew her finger as quickly as she had pushed it in and grabbed his hips, her right hand still slick with lubricant.
“Let’s see who’s fucking the banking code of ethics, now, shall we? Or should we stick to fucking the banker?”
He felt the tip of something cold against it.
A strap-on dildo.
Those may or may not be on his all time favourite fantasy wishlist and he had already prepared a long explanation on the topic of how so many videos featuring them had magically slipped into his “private bookmarks” tab. To have it done this publicly, though… by a stranger he couldn’t even see…
The dildo pushed inside him, further… and further… and even further than a finger ever could go… and touched his prostate at long last.
It’s hard to believe it all started with some talk on a chat room. I was in college then, and always straight in real life, although not very successful with the ladies. But my dirty little secret was that I liked to go online and indulge my fantasy: being enslaved, feminized, and kept in chastity by a man.
At first, I’d wander through chat rooms and find a guy to be my Master for a night, and for an evening I’d be his little slut, giving my mind over to his pleasure, trying to be the girl he wanted. My fantasy was always being forced to serve while kept in some sort of chastity device: a belt or a cage, usually. In my mind, I’d be locked away, sucking my Master-for-a-day off, getting fucked hard in the ass, all the while my own little cock unable to stiffen or experience any pleasure at all.
But of course, in real life I’d be beating off like crazy. And then I’d cum, and the fantasy would be over, forgotten for a while. It was like that for a long time.
I’ve always been the monogamous type, though, so I guess it was natural I’d eventually find just one Master. And I did. Sean.
At first, it was just like any other time. But with Sean, even after I came, I felt strangely drawn back to him. There was something about him that drew the fantasy out of me: he probed me with his words, forcing me to bring up new wrinkles, new ideas, planting kinky new seeds in my imagination. Even now, I’m not sure how much of it was my idea and how much his: probably much more his.
Sean turned me on like no other. Instead of trolling around the chat rooms for new guys and new fantasies, I found myself drawn to him over and over. He was just so cool, so confident, and it seemed like his desires were the perfect complement to mine: he obviously wanted a feminized slavegirl as badly as I wanted to be one. It wasn’t long before I was talking to him every night. Sometimes I’d find myself waiting up until 2 or 3 A.M. just to talk to him for a few moments. Soon after that, every time I masturbated, I was thinking of him (my mental picture of him, anyway) and my — our — fantasy. Over the weeks and months, it developed: me turned from a college boy into his slutty little housemaid slavegirl. My penis would be locked away in a chastity belt, and he would have the only key. If I ever wanted to come again, I’d have to serve him well with my mouth and my tight little asshole, working hard for one paltry orgasm a week. And meanwhile, he’d be mercilessly using me for his pleasure several times a day. My body would be transformed into that of a nubile little girl through a variety of fantastical means, whatever struck our fancy: surgery, drugs, magic.
Eventually we switched to phone sex. We always talked about this fantasy, always adding new episodes, new wrinkles. And I always came at the end, as did Sean. But gradually Sean began to probe me in questions about my real life (somehow he always dodged mine). I told him my problems: about how hard it was to make ends meet, about how I was failing out of school (mostly because I was talking to Sean and neglecting my work), about how I had no job, about how I was alone in a strange city.
And one day I was short on my rent. I told Sean. Sean said, “I can help you, my little slavegirl. But you’ll have to do something for me.”
I was nervous. “What do you want me to do, Master?”
“I want you to stop masturbating, slave. It’s not proper for a slavegirl. And you are my slavegirl, right?”
I gulped, but said, “Yes, of course, Master.”
“Then show me your faith, slavegirl. I want you to stop masturbating.”
There was a pause while I considered this. “But– but I don’t think I can, Master.”
“I know that you can’t, slavegirl. You’re weak. And that’s what makes you such a good little slave. But I want you to try, really try. If you do this for me — if you be my slave — I’ll take care of my slavegirl, like a good Master should. Do you understand?”
I considered it. Knowing I’d try, knowing I’d fail. I’d masturbated every day, more or less, since I was twelve. But Sean asking me to do this — give up my orgasms for him, start making the fantasy a reality — was just so hot. I was already rock hard, just thinking about it. And I did need the money — my rent was already late. “I… yes. Yes, Master.”
“Yes what, slave? I want to hear you say it. Promise me.”
“I… I promise I’ll stop… touching myself…” I stammered. “…stop masturbating, for you, Master Sean.”
“Good! And I promise I’ll take care of you as long as you remain true to me, slavegirl. Now go to bed.”
And with that, he hung up. Leaving me alone, in my apartment, with my hard cock in my hand.
I thought about it. But I kept my word. I stopped touching myself and crossed my arms, gripping my forearms tightly. I went to bed like that, and laid there for a long time, trying not to think about how turned on I was, trying not to think about Sean and what I had agreed to.
Eventually I fell asleep. Without coming. The next day in the mail was an envelope, shipped express. Inside it were ten crisp new hundred dollar bills. And a note:
“I keep my word. Do you, slut? – Your Master”
I was instantly very, very turned on. It was mostly the note, but the money didn’t hurt either. And being turned on by the money only made me feel sluttier. But I was good, all that day.
Inevitably, though, I cracked. Later that week, I jerked off, as I had known I would. And as my Master had known I would. But I did the right thing: I told him. He wasn’t surprised.
It went on like this for a few months. Master was paying my bills, and I was servicing him at night on the phone. I’d talk dirty to him, hear him cum, and then go to bed quivering and horny but trying so hard to be good. And when I failed, I’d tell him. He seemed understanding.
But then things changed. I had failed out of school, and still had no job. I was just barely making ends meet on the $1000 a month Master was sending me. Eventually, the rent was late again.
“Master… your slavegirl humbly informs you that her rent is late.”
“Is that so, slavegirl?”
“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”
“How many times have you touched yourself in the past month, slave?”
“Errr… I… don’t–”
“Seven, slave. Seven! This is entirely unacceptable, don’t you think? When I’ve honorably kept my end of the bargain?”
I blushed. “I… um… I’m sorry, Mast–”
“Shut up,” he said. My blush deepened. “Are you serious about being my slavegirl?”
“Yes, Master, very, Master!”
“Good. Then I will need a greater commitment from you.”
In panic, I said, “Of course, Master, anything!”
And I could hear him laugh. “Good girl.” I squirmed when he called me that, as I always did. “We’ll see how much you mean it. Tomorrow, slave.” And he hung up.
The next day, in addition to the usual $1000, a smallish box was in the mail. As always, there was no return address — typical of Sean. I rushed back to my apartment, eager to open it.
My fingers fumbled at the brown cardboard of the box, tearing away tape, and at last it was revealed: some odd metal thing, made of rings and tubes and sliding parts. I had never seen anything quite like it, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
There was a note. It said:
“Will you be true to the terms of your bondage, girl? You have until midnight to decide. Wear it in love, bitch, or never trouble me again.”
I shuddered with terror and sexual excitement as I picked up the metal object again. It was a chastity device, of course. And unlike any I had ever seen.
It was like some kind of cock cage, made of a matte gray metal fitting on behind the scrotum, with a tube that would slide over my cock, imprisoning it. The lock was incredibly complex, with a surprising amount of sliding parts, but it was obvious how the device was to be worn and locked.
There was no key.
I pretended to myself that I would think about it. But I couldn’t really think any longer. Every time I looked at that device, I just got so turned on. I masturbated seven times as afternoon faded to evening and to night.
At 11:30, I knew I had to do it or lose Sean and my fantasy forever. And what kind of life was waiting for me? No more school, no job, no friends or family. If I wore it, all I’d be giving up was my inhibition and my seven stolen orgasms a month. And I could always get a locksmith to go at the thing if I backed down.
And so I put it on, sliding myself into it. It fit perfectly; I guessed Master had somehow sized it based on the nude pictures I had sent him. Before I could psych myself out, I slid the clasp closed. And suddenly, I understood what all those mysterious moving parts were for: the device clamped onto my small, exhausted penis with a series of swift click-click-clicks, forcing it down and under my body at a shockingly steep angle. Simultaneously, I felt a burst of blinding pain as it forced my balls up against my body.
With a shriek of agonized surprise, I dropped to my knees in shock. When the pain subsided, I looked down in horror at my newly transformed crotch. Before, where I had a penis — small, sure, but well-used, by myself if not the ladies — I now had only a short gray tube of inert metal. It wrapped under my scrotum, pinning it against my body, to where it pointed slightly downward. It was now clasped at both ends to the ring that encircled my scrotum. In short, where I used to have a set of male genitalia, I now had nothing but a little mound of metal-girted flesh.
My mind reeled as I tentatively poked and prodded at the device that now imprisoned me. It was devious: my penis was kept imprisoned and tucked underneath me in a space and angle that prevented the slightest degree of stiffness. The ring around my scrotum somehow pulled my balls up incredibly close to my body. Yet the initial wave of pain had passed; now the whole device felt disturbingly comfortable. Clearly, I could be kept in this thing indefinitely — if Sean wanted.
I confusedly thought that my days of peeing while standing up were over. Yes, I’d have to sit or squat to pee, like a bitch, for as long as my Master wanted –
A whimper escaped me. I was getting turned on thinking about my newly chastised condition. But now my poor penis was trapped, imprisoned in an utterly inflexible metal casing. There was no way for it to get erect. The only feelings I had were a hot flush throughout my body and a warm, tingling pressure inside my chastity cage. I rubbed at the tube, then at the whole slave-mound between my legs, but there was no relief. The feeling only got tantalizingly stronger.
What had I done? Peeing sitting down was the least of my troubles. My normal life was over. I could forget about getting hard for anytime in the near future. Orgasm was obviously out of the question. Certainly there was no chance of the delicious pleasure of penetrating a woman. Even the paltry pleasure of masturbation was quite impossible. What the hell had I been thinking? A fantasy was one thing, great in small doses that ended with a nice orgasm. But now I’d gotten carried away, and it was real, all too real.
I picked at the lock with a fingernail, but of course this was fruitless. The panic was rising inside me. I began to tug at the device, then pull hard, and was greeted only with aching pain for my efforts. There was no way to remove the thing short of tearing off my trapped genitals.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt true fear as the enormity of what I’d done to myself set in. No, there was only one way I could get out: the key. And who had it? A man. A man I had never met or even seen. A man who could be anywhere in the world, for all I knew. A man who I had promised to serve with my body. A man who I had on many occasions begged to keep me in brutal slavery and chastity. A man I had taken money from, as a good faith deposit on my servitude. I had sold myself into slavery, for a few measly grand, and now the bill was coming due. Thinking about this was terrifying, but it was also making me very, very excited, and that agonizingly delicious sensation was building up in me again. As I stroked at the tube, wishing for the slightest sensation, I began to weep.
That was when the phone rang. I looked up at the clock through a blur of tears: Midnight.
I leapt for the phone and answered it with a shaky hand. My voice was choked with my sobs.
“He– hello? Master?”
His voice was perfectly calm, as always. “I see you’ve decided to honor your part of the bargain.”
I felt cold. “But how could you know that, Master?”
“I have had several cameras in your apartment for some time, slave. I look after my investments. That’s the only reason we’ve progressed this far: because I know you were honest in reporting your previous failures of discipline to me. But that aside, I can tell by the sound of your voice. You wouldn’t be crying like the bitch you now are if you hadn’t put it on.”
“But how –”
“Shut up.” I blushed. “You know, slave, you’re lucky. The springs in that device are quite powerful. If you had put it on incorrectly and then locked it, it probably would have cut your little boy-clit clean off. Or maybe crushed it into pulp. And while a penectomy is probably in the cards for you some day” — I swear I could hear his smile as he said this — “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, hm?”
I felt light-headed, dizzy, sick. I closed my eyes and listened as Sean kept speaking.
“Don’t try going to a locksmith. He’ll just scramble the lock, and then you’ll be in that thing forever. Because it can’t be cut off, at least not at any temperature that would leave you with genitals when it was done.”
“Yes, Master,” I whimpered. I had already suspected as much.
“Is it comfortable, slave? I had to guess on the fit a bit.”
If I said it pinched or rubbed me, would he release me? I doubted it. And I didn’t want to lie to him; it could only make things worse. “It fits perfectly, Master.”
“Good! Because you’re going to be in it for quite a while.”
This was hardly a surprise, but a little moan escaped me anyway. Not least because my Master’s deep, calm voice was turning me on as it always did.
“I see you have the money. You know the exchange — you get the money, I get your chastity for another month.”
“A month! But Master, please, I’ll go crazy!”
Sean sighed, as if bored. “A month. Since you were unable to keep your word before, I shall force you to keep it now. Or was it your wish to break your word, slave?”
“That’s good. Because I’m giving you my word that I’ll grant you release in thirty days. After the month I’ve purchased.” My Master laughed. “You must be so excited, slave! All your fantasies are coming true at last! You’ll hear from me in a month. Be good, slave.”
“Please, Master, wait–”
But the line was dead. He was gone. The tears began to flow again, and I blearily made my way to bed. A long time later, I slept.
The next month was a dark time for me. Master no longer called or came to the usual places online. The only way I had to reach him was e-mail, and he never responded. I realize now that Master was testing me, but at the time all I knew was frustration and fear. I woke every morning, alone in my apartment, feeling the dull hot throb in my boy-clit (for so I thought of it now) that formerly would have been a nice stiff morning erection. And most nights I cried myself to sleep, alone and aching with unfulfillable need. It only got worse as the month progressed; at times I could feel the ache of lust all through my body. At the worst, it felt like my nipples and anus were spasming with hot ache. I couldn’t bear to meet the gaze of women in the street, for it just gave me a pathetic feeling of sick longing. They seemed impossibly beautiful and aloof, and there was no question they were utterly sexually inaccessible. To me, anyhow. I tried watching pornography a few times, but it just made me frustrated and sad. Every time I went to the bathroom, I had to sit. As such, I was reminded multiple times a day of my stupidity, my new humility, and what I had really given up — not just my orgasms but my gender.
As the days stretched into weeks, my sadness deepened into depression. I was in a constant haze of unfulfillable lust, and Master had left me alone. On the worst nights, when the ache was utterly unignorable and sleep eluded me, I drank myself into black unconsciousness. I couldn’t fulfill or relieve my libido, but I could blot it out for a little while. This only made the mornings worse. I had no school, no job, no family to occupy me. I contemplated going to a locksmith. I might get out, and if not, I could have the thing cut off. Sure, it might destroy my cock and balls, but it wasn’t like I had them now. And it would be an escape from the delicious tingly ache that was my only companion. I contemplated suicide.
The only thing that kept me going was my hope that Master would keep his word. And he always had, so far. I had no reason to doubt that he would release me from this infernal device after the agreed term of one month. But even so, doubt I did. I began to irrationally think that something had happened to Sean, that he had died in an auto wreck or some other senseless accident, and the key to my chastity tube was lost forever. I would just wait in vain for a call that would never come for the rest of my life.
But Master had always been true, and I true to him. And so my hope survived, and it carried me through the month. I woke on the afternoon on the thirtieth day, blackly hung over from the previous night’s liquor, and rushed to my mailbox. Sure enough, there was a note:
“Go to the Ritz-Carlton downtown. Thirtieth floor, midnight. I will be there in person to grant you your release. Almost there, slave.”
My heart raced. He had kept his word! Tears welled in my eyes again. I had been crying a lot lately, which I attributed to the hormonal imbalance of a long month without ejaculation. But this time, it was only due to the overwhelming feeling of love I felt for Master. But I was nervous. He’d be there in person. I was still a virgin when it came to men; I’d never even seen a cock besides mine in person. But I had a feeling that was going to change soon. Master was going to want to taste his slavegirl’s sugar…
All the sudden I was overcome with a throbbing flush of excitement. I ran back upstairs to begin g ettingready.
And so at 11:55 I found in an elevator, rising to the 30th floor of the nicest hotel in town. My mind raced and my boy-clit throbbed with a month of stored passion, anticipating its imminent release. I tried to imagine what Master would look like and came up blank for a moment. I’d never been with a man before, and I’d never found myself particularly physically attracted to one. All the same, I imagined him having a body to match his dominance and self-assurance: tall, muscular, maybe blonde with a tan and a cold smile. Older, too, maybe even in his forties. It was hard to tell from his voice, which was deep and had a slight, undefinable accent.
Myself, I was quite short at about 5’5″, and skinny, little older than a teenager. My hair was brown and my eyes green. I had showered thoroughly, and then I had shaved off all my body hair — at least what wasn’t covered by the chastity tube. I knew Master would like that. But I didn’t have anything nice to wear, so it was just my usual jeans, boxers, and a T-shirt. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be wearing it for very long anyway.
The elevator dinged and let me out. I found myself in a small foyer with a small sofa and oak paneling. Ahead was a door with a small plaque that simply read “30″. As I approached it, I was trembling with anticipation and involuntarily rubbing at my tube-encased boy-clit. Soon I’d be with my Master, serving him in slavegirl fashion. And I’d be free of the damned tube, at least briefly.
Working up my courage and trying to control my anticipation, I knocked on the door. Fear struck me, and I had to suppress an urge to run away. But then, I heard him, unlocking the door.
And at last, I was face to face with Sean, my Master.
Well, he was tall and muscular, indeed. At least a foot taller than me, and brawny. And dressed sharp, in a gray pinstriped three piece suit that screamed of money as much as the massive hotel suite behind him.
He was black. I hadn’t expected that. I realized with weird exhilaration that, most likely, I’d be a black man’s bitch in a few minutes. I felt my ass clench involuntarily.
Sean looked down at me with his deep, rich brown eyes and favored me with a smile that melted something inside me. I submissively dropped my gaze to the floor.
“Welcome, my slave.”
And I could only mumble back, “Master.”
At that, he stepped back from the door and gestured me inside. I stumbled into the living room of his suite. I looked around, taking in the oak furniture, the persian rugs. This place probably cost in a day what my apartment cost in a month. He stepped behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. They were quite big and they felt palpably heavy there. I could smell him, his scent, so very masculine, and feel the mass of his large body just inches from mine. I realized I was shivering hard.
Master turned me around to face him. I met his gaze again for a moment. He seemed to stare right into me, seeing all my vain little self-centered thoughts. I looked away again, still shuddering with nerves. He was looking at me, at my face, at my body, in a coldly evaluating way that I’d never experienced before.
Sean chuckled, shaking his head. “Those clothes are awful. Off. Time to inspect my new property.”
At once, I began to undress, not daring to look up or challenge him. I fumbled with the buttons and got snagged on a sleeve, but soon enough I stood there nude, shivering at the cool air and my pumping adrenaline, clad in only the unremovable chastity tube. And still, his eyes on me. I had never felt so vulnerable. He said, “Walk for me,” and I obliged. I walked around in a little circle, feeling utterly graceless and awkward. I’d never really been comfortable with my body.
But Master seemed to like it. He chuckled softly. “Very nice. Nice little virgin white boy ass. Come.”
I flushed, sharply ashamed but tantalizingly excited at how forcefully blunt my Master was. Apparently it showed, because Master laughed.
I shuffled to him timidly. He reached down with a firm, slightly calloused hand and gripped the slave-mound between my legs. I flinched hard. My balls held a month of stored-up slave cum and were achingly tender. He kneaded me briefly, and I felt a surge of desire, with the corresponding tingle in my boy-clit. A low, soft moan escaped me. I wanted to beg Master for the key, for my promised release. But I couldn’t quite dare to speak. Something about his presence, his confidence, was just so overwhelming. Master turned me around and groped my ass roughly. “Yes, a very nice little ass. But I can see we’ve got a lot of work to do in order to get this body into shape.” And he smacked my ass, hard. I gasped and jumped at this, and shot Master a hurt little look. Master was making me feel like a piece of meat, like a sexual object, in a way nobody else ever had. It was just so degrading. Part of me loved it. A trapped part.
Master turned me back around and lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. Again, I felt something in me melt as I sensed his raw will, his ability to dominate.
“It’s time for a show of fealty. On your knees, bitch.”
Before I could even think about what I was doing, I knelt at Master’s feet, still staring into his deep eyes along the way. As I looked up at him, he unzipped and hefted out his cock.
I couldn’t believe the size of it. It looked huge. The only penis I had ever seen before outside of a porno movie was mine, which was five inches — and that was measuring generously. Master’s was only semi-hard, but from my position below him on the floor, it already looked bigger than that. And as I looked up at Master’s big black dirty cock, I realized with a hot flush of embarrasment that it was growing. Sean was getting turned on as he stared down at me. He was smiling. I could see in his eyes he was considering what to do with me. Stroking his cock to stiffness, Master asked, “Ever seen one of these before, slave? I mean, aside from that pathetic little boy-clit you used to call a cock?”
I couldn’t say anything. I was scared now. I had promised Master I’d serve him, and had known intellectually what that would mean. But now I was confronted with the reality of that promise: all ten thick throbbing inches of it. It shocked me. The heterosexual part of me was horrified. Had I really agreed to suck that thing? To take it into my ass? I looked down in shame, unable to face it, and saw my own trapped little dick, could feel it tingling, aching, throbbing with a month of stored unfulfilled lust.
Suddenly Master gripped my hair and pulled, turning my head up to face him, pulling me up so that I was at eye level with his cock. I gasped and cried out in pain and surprise. It looked even bigger head-on: ten inches at least. And thick. He was still stroking it softly.
“Answer me, slut. Have you ever seen a real cock before?”
I winced; he was still tugging roughly at my hair. “Ahh! No!”
With a startlingly quick motion, Sean smacked me roughly across the mouth with his cock. It was surprisingly forceful. It stung my face, and it stung my pride. I had never imagined he would really treat me like this, even if I had fantasized about it. Tears welled in my eyes, and I found I was angry. I looked up at him (as well as I could with him gripping my hair, anyway) and spoke with gritted teeth.
“Let go of me. I made a mistake. Just give me the key to this… thing… and let me get out of here.”
Master looked amused. “What was that, slave?”
My anger rose. “Don’t call me that!” Was I shouting? I struggled to stand, but Master held me down with a muscular arm. I tried to push it away, but to no avail; he was amazingly strong. “Look, I made a mistake. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m…” I hesitated. “I’m not gay, all right?”
Master sighed, and gently relaxed his grip. I stood swiftly, almost losing my balance, and backed away from him a step. Then I scrambled for my clothes, gathering them up in my arms. I looked at Master, who was just staring at me disapprovingly, arms crossed, hard cock still out.
“Look, I’m sorry I wasted your time. I thought I wanted this, but… I can’t. I’m sorry. Give me the key and I’ll go.”
He chuckled. “You can go if you like, but the key?” He shook his head. “Out of the question.”
I just gaped at him for a moment; my eyes were still full of tears. “Come on, this isn’t funny. I’ve been in this damned thing for a month, okay? Do you know what that’s like? My whole body…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I just stood there naked, shivering for a moment. “I just need the key, okay? I’ll never bother you again.”
Master was still gently stroking his cock. He still looked serious, but a grin crept onto his lips. “I said no. But I’m merciful. So you made a mistake. If you leave, I’ll send you the key in a year. A year with no orgasms will be the price you pay for your mistake.” “A year! No way! I’m going INSANE HERE!” Now I really was shouting, yet Sean seemed unshaken. “Give me the key! Please! This isn’t funny! I’m a man, and I have rights!”
Master shook his head again, slowly, with infuriating calmness. “No. You aren’t a man anymore. And you gave up your rights when you put that thing on. What you are now is a little slave slut.” He sighed. “You told me your fantasies, remember? You told me this is what you wanted. Now, I promised you release tonight.” I brightened a little at this. “But you made a lot of promises too, slave.” His voice grew stern, loud, and harsh. “Well, Go ahead. Be a man like you say you are and walk out of here. You’ll pay the price for your ‘mistake’, but that’s what men do: accept responsibility. And you’ll be free — eventually.” I was shaking with fear, anger, and — after all this — raging sexual excitement. “Or stay and submit. With your heart and with your body. As you promised to do. And after that, I’ll grant you the release you want. As I promised to do. But STOP WASTING MY TIME AND MAKE UP YOUR MIND.”
I hated him so much in that moment. He seemed to be giving me a choice, but really, there was no choice at all. A year in the tube would kill me or drive me mad. He had trapped me a month ago, and I was still trapped. I dropped my clothes and stood there naked before him again, hanging my head in shame. All I could do was whimper, “…i’ll stay.”
Master grinned broadly. “Of course you will. But will you submit?” I nodded limply. “Then come here.”
I crossed the room to him, slowly, timidly. “Come here, girl! Give your new Daddy a kiss.” And he grasped me by the waist and pulled me to him. He held me against him, my naked body against his pinstriped suit, and I was overwhelmed by his presence, his strength, his smell. So masculine, so dominant. The rigid cock pressed against my midsection only strengthened the impression.
There was no point in resisting now. I had already given in. I wrapped my arms around his neck and, after a moment of hesitation, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on his stubbled cheek. Then his full lips. He responded, sweeping me up in his arms, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I’d never been kissed like that. Like a woman. And it turned me on, to be there under his power, following his orders, held against his body, so much bigger and stronger than mine. Looking back, that was the true moment I stopped being a man and started being a slave on the road to womanhood.
He kissed me deeply. When it was over, I moaned; my sexual ache had ratcheted up two notches. I couldn’t think consciously any more. He lowered me back down to my feet.
“Good girl. But you need to be punished for your disobedience a moment ago. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded, weakly. I was not surprised at this. Master was harsh. “Then come.” He took my hand and led me through the suite to the bedroom. The bed was massive, king-size, with huge oak bedposts and a fantastically ornate headboard. He sat down on the edge of it and with firm hands laid me across his knees, gripping my wrists together with his left hand. I went willingly. His cock was still hard, hot and throbbing against my flat, naked stomach.
His right hand was on my ass, stroking, pinching. I was aware of my asshole, exposed to the cool air, tingling and clenching with excitement at his proximity due to my trapped libido. “This is the price of disobedience, slave.”
And he spanked me. That first blow was soberingly hard. This wasn’t going to be like the playful foreplay-spankings I had gotten from women before. This was discipline. I drew in a sharp breath. Master ran his calloused, firm hand across my cheek, then swatted again. I jerked at the stinging heat, but Master held me firm and struck again. And again. And again. He found a rhythm, alternating from one cheek to the other every few strokes. The heat on my ass began to grow, even between strokes. I gasped out, “Ahh god damn that hurts!”
Master didn’t stop, or even slow down. “Complaining, slave?” “No, Ma–AAH! Master! AAWH!”
The blows kept coming. I wished I had counted the strokes. I wondered if Master was counting them. I wanted to be good, to take the punishment like an obedient slave, but he just hit so hard. The aching sting was rapidly becoming unbearable. At first I had been turned on, but as the spanking continued, sexual thought was driven from my mind. My ass felt like it was bruised, then like it was bleeding. I struggled thoughtlessly, desperate to escape, but Master’s grip was like iron. I’m not sure how long it went on; less than an hour, probably. Maybe only a few minutes. But it felt like an eternity. I begged and pleaded with him to stop, probably incoherently. The humiliation was bad, but the pain was worse — especially because I knew it would hurt long after he was done. And the whole time his hard cock was pushing into my belly, proof of how excited he was to train his new slave.
At last, it ended. I was sobbing heavily, unable to catch my breath; tears were streaming down my face. I felt ashamed, but not angry. All I felt was gratitude that Master had finally stopped. Master let go of my wrists, which were sore from struggling, and lowered me to my knees on the floor. Then he stood up in front of me and grabbed me by the hair, as he had done before. But more gently this time.
“Let’s try this again.” He pulled me firmly up to eye level with his huge cock again. “Have you ever seen one of these before, slut?”
I struggled to catch my breath. I could barely see through my still-flowing tears. The ache in my ass was pulsating fire. “N-n-n-no, Master,” I mumbled through hitching sobs.
“You’re going to be seeing a lot of this one, slave. I know you’re scared of it. Somebody who’d only ever seen a pathetic white boy-clit should be afraid of a REAL cock. But we’ll break you of that. You will learn to love it. Now reach up and take hold of it.”
I brought my right hand up and timidly wrapped it around the sturdy shaft. It was so hot, so… alive. And so much bigger than mine had been. He was right: I was afraid of it. I had given up my own vastly inferior penis; now the only sex I was going to have was going to be on the receiving end of this monster. I stroked it softly, tentatively.
Master sighed. “Good girl. It won’t hurt you — not yet, anyway. Make friends with it. Play with it.”
I gripped it tighter and pumped it. I had to resign myself to this. The decisions had been made, and now I was going to have to learn to pleasure Master’s cock. I tried not to think about where this was going. I was catching my breath, although my face was still streaked with tears. “It’s just so big, Master. I never… never expected…” Master grinned down at me as I stroked him. “What, slave? Did you think I’d have a limp little white thing like you used to? Mmm.. That’s good. Faster.”
I obeyed. I tried to remember how I had liked to jerk off, but after a long month, the finer points of technique were hazy. Master seemed to like my style, because he let out a soft groan. I brought my other hand up to his shaft — God, it was so long, I could wrap both my hands around it with room to spare — and pumped a little harder. And I realized something: despite the brutal stinging on my bruised, purple ass cheeks, and the tears drying on my face, I was getting turned on again. For all of Master’s cruelty, part of me still wanted to be Master’s slave. And he’d taken the choice away from me, now, just as I had wanted him to do. I felt my lust rise as I realized that now I was living my fantasy of being a chastized pleasure slave. Master was forcing me to. And I loved him for it.
Then I was kissing him on his shaft, all over it, lifting it to reach the underside and sliding my tongue there. I could smell his sweat, his musk, potent and attractive. I was lapping at his chocolaty scrotum, then taking one ball into my mouth, then the other. I paused and looked up at Master lovingly, and he looked back, the amusement in his eyes evident. I knew what I needed to do. Master stroked my face affectionately. “Good girl… don’t stop…” And with that, I closed my eyes and slowly took the head of my Master’s cock into my mouth. I was amazed at how wide I had to open my mouth to accept it. I was careful to stretch far so as not to scrape Master with my teeth, both because I wanted to please him, and because I was afraid of what he might do if I scratched him. I licked at his head, running my tongue broadly across it, then tried sucking it. Master let out a soft sigh of pleasure. “Ohhh, yeah. That’s it.”
I felt a flush of shame as I realized that now I was a cocksucker, but I also felt quivering lust in my imprisoned loins. I didn’t want to stop. I tried to relax my throat and take Master deeper into me, feeling his hot meat slide across my tongue. Suddenly I felt it hit the back of my throat. My gag reflex hit, and I backed off, spluttering for a moment. Master chuckled.
“You only got about half of it. Try again. Slowly, girl.”
I took him into my mouth again, trying to relax, lowering my head oh-so-slowly onto his length. I grabbed the base of his shaft and pumped it softly, feeling his head throb against my tongue. Master put a firm hand on the back of my head. He didn’t push, but he prevented me from moving back. I inched down on it, feeling him push into my throat.
I didn’t gag this time, but I still couldn’t take all; Master was deep inside me, but there was still enough of his shaft for me to wrap a hand around. I tried to ease off, but Master held me there. I realized I couldn’t breathe. My airway was blocked by a thick mouthful of black cock. I looked up at Master imploringly, and he looked back with a smile.
“Not bad for your first time, slut. You sure you never sucked a cock before? Now get to work, girl. Make your Master cum.”
And his hand eased off, enough for me to slide back and draw in breath through my nose again. I started bobbing my head on his shaft, slow, wet motions at first, gradually gaining speed. Master groaned with pleasure as I did. I tried to remember how I’d liked my penis sucked, back when I had had one, and that I’d have to please Master if I ever wanted to earn the key to my chastity tube or have another orgasm. I tried to ignore the growing ache in my jaw and my knees, the smoldering fire of my smacked buttocks, the sickeningly strong arousal I couldn’t satisfy. I just focused on his cock in my mouth, on sucking him deeper and faster and wetter, on pumping his shaft in rhythm with my sucking, on judging by his groans what he liked and what he didn’t.
It seemed to take forever. Over and over, I went too deep and gagged myself, causing me to pause and collect myself. I scratched him with my teeth, once or twice, and Master pulled my hair harshly to let me know he was displeased. My jaw felt sore, my knees felt weak, and my right hand was exhausted from stroking. After what must have been at least twenty minutes of furious sucking, I began to slow from exhaustion. With a groan of exasperation, Master said “I can see we have a lot of work to do.” Then he reached down and grabbed my hair with both fists and began fucking my face. I was instantly ashamed — I had failed even at cocksucking. Master thrust into my mouth, over and over, quick and shallow, faster and faster. At last he shuddered and let out a noise of pleasure that was almost a roar. I felt his cock throbbing in my mouth for a moment before my mouth flooded with an enormous load of hot cum.
The taste was bad — hot, salty, sour — but not as bad as I had imagined. The amount was worse. It shot down my throat and coated my tongue. It seemed like Master continued to pump it for almost a minute. Some of his jizz leaked out of my full mouth and dribbled down my chin.
I didn’t dare swallow. For the first time, I thought about disease: I had agreed — begged — to be Master’s cum receptacle, and now I was. It was a little late for a condom.
Master pulled out of me with a contented sigh, softening, sated. I, of course, was still as horny and frustrated as ever, with nothing to show for it but a mouthful of cum that I didn’t have the courage to spit or swallow. Master was amused.
“You like the taste of it that much, girl?” He reached down and pushed the runaway strand of cum up, rubbed it across my lips. “You need practice, a lot of practice, but you’re definitely a natural. Now swallow it.”
I was blushing bright red, but I gulped it down, felt his seed slide warmly down my throat. And realized something: Master was right. I had liked it. It was gross, but it gave me a sense of feminine submission that nothing else ever had. I wanted to get better at it.
Master stroked my face, my head. “Good girl, good pet.” He sat back down on the edge of the bed, catching his breath, looking down at me on the floor. I kneeled in silence for a moment, but then I had to ask. He was likely to be most merciful right after he came, and he had promised to let me out of the tube today, after all.
“Master?” I said, so softly that even I almost couldn’t hear it.
Choosing my words carefully, I said in a meek voice, “Master, your adoring slave humbly requests that you give her the key to her chastity tube, as you promised.”
Master looked surprised. “What? I didn’t promise you that, girl.”
He was right, of course. “Forgive me, Master. The key is of course yours to keep, as is the tube, and your humble slave’s body. But please unlock your obedient, loving slave as you promised to do.”
Master shook his head slowly. “I promised you no such thing, slave. I promised you release, slave, and I will keep that promise.” I didn’t understand, but my blood ran cold. “But you’re a slavegirl now. Isn’t that right, slave?”
“Y-yes, Master, of course, Master, but –”
“And little slavegirls don’t have cocks, do they?”
I started to weep. Through hot tears, I said, “..no, Master.”
“There’s only going to be one cock in this relationship — mine. You stay in the tube. You might as well forget about your pathetic little penis, because you lost it forever the moment you put that tube on. You’ll never have another erection again. All you have now is a soft little boy-clit. And do you know why, my darling little slave?”
I was sobbing, hard. All I could do was shake my head.
“Because this is your fantasy. And because I’m a compassionate Master, I’m going to make it come true for you. But don’t be afraid, slave. You’ll still get to cum once in a while.”
“But– but how?”
“Come here, and I’ll show you. Up, on the bed.”
I clambered slowly up onto the bed as he beckoned. I hid my face from him, ashamed of my flowing tears. I couldn’t sit, because my ass was still raw and stinging, so I just lay on my stomach.
Master slid me to the center of the bed with his strong hands. I felt him moving behind me, but with my face buried in the sheets I couldn’t tell what he was doing. I didn’t care; I didn’t have the strength or will to attempt to resist any more. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me up, so I was on my knees with my face down and my ass in the air. Then he spread my legs, gently, and carefully parted my buttocks, making sure not to touch the reddened cheeks.
And then I felt his tongue, wet and soft, rubbing up and down the cleft of my ass. I shivered at the sensation, so powerful and yet so delicate, on my most secret place. Nobody had ever done anything like this to me before. Master focused in and lapped at my tight asshole, wetting it, making me aware how tightly it was clenched.
The feeling was almost overpowering, and definitely pleasureable, though very strange. I gripped at the sheets and moaned softly. Master licked persistently, and I felt my ass respond to him, loosening up.
I gasped when he pushed the tip of his tongue into me briefly. Master kept at it, and I felt my whole body relaxing, particularly my rear. All I could do was lie there and whimper in pleasure.
Under Master’s tonguing, my rear began to tingle and throb in a way I’d never experienced before. It felt very, very good, the closest thing to a sexual sensation I’d had in a month. My lust was screamingly out of control, my boy-clit completely engorged in its metal prison, and I became aware of a certain erogenous itch I’d never noticed before in my rear. I had known Master would inevitably take my ass if I gave myself to him, and I had always imagined being anally fucked would be humiliating and painful and utterly unenjoyable. Certainly it had been that way for the only girl I’d ever tried it with, when I’d been a straight boy. Now, with his wide, wet, dextrous tongue, Master was making me understand that it didn’t have to be that way. And before I knew it, I found myself panting, “…oh god, fuck me, fuck me, Master, please…”
He paused and sat up. I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You’re not ready, slut. I’d break you in half if I stuck my big old cock in your tiny little ass. But a virgin little cockhole like you needs something in there, that’s for sure.”
And he was right, I did. My asshole felt gapingly wide and empty now that he had stopped lapping at it. Then I felt Master dribbling something down my crack, squirting it into my gaping rear. He smeared it around, coating his long index finger in the process.
“Now spread wide, slave. Breathe deep. Try to relax. You’re going to love this.”
I followed his instructions, holding very still, concentrating just on my thoughts. And then I felt the tip of Master’s finger slide into me. The feeling was almost overwhelming. I gripped the sheets tightly as my ass clenched involuntarily around him. My rectum was extremely sensitive; I could feel the edges of his fingernail. I probably could have read Braille if it had been on there. I just breathed. Master paused there, waiting for me to relax again, and when I did he slid in a bit further. This repeated for a few minutes, Master pushing in, waiting for me to relax, then pushing just a little more, adding more lube as necessary. All I could do was whimper, a nonverbal plea for him to keep being gentle. His finger felt huge, the way I would have imagined a cock would feel. I was very glad he wasn’t fucking me. Yet.
“Good, good girl… easy… you like that, don’t you, having something in your ass. Now another.”
And Master repeated, this time using two fingers. It was easier this time; I felt very relaxed, almost sleepy, from the deep breathing. The contractions of my ass grew softer, welcomed him in. Master chuckled, then began finger-fucking me with delicious slowness. I let out a low, long moan. The feeling was agonizing, uncomfortable, like a slow burn in my rim, but somehow pleasurable. I could feel my boy-clit throbbing with excitement in its tube, and something in my rear I’d never been aware of before was throbbing with it. And every time Master’s finger brushed by that spot, it felt sooooooo good. I sighed and groaned, feeling completely submissive.
Master, gauging my soft noises of pleasure, gradually zeroed in on that one tingly spot deep inside me, rubbing and massaging at it with his lubed fingertips. I gasped and arched my back involuntarily, found myself pushing back against his hand. I felt very tight and hot and full, and that spot deeply ached. “Mmm… there it is. You like that? When I rub your little slave-spot?” I could only groan incoherently. Master kept rubbing, pushing, for what seemed like an eternity. There was a month of lust stored up inside me, and it was screaming, building by the moment. I still felt a million miles from orgasm, though; my penis was still small and trapped and cold in its cage, and there was a stretching uncomfortable pain that was impossible to ignore.
Master didn’t give up; he kept working his fingers inside me, massaging firmly, quickly, with an insistent rhythm. He whispered filthy things from my fantasies, about how I was his little cumslut, how I’d serve him forever, how he’d already begun transforming me into the perfect little slavegirl. He reached around and grabbed my balls and imprisoned boy-clit, my little slave-mound, and kneaded it gently in his left hand as he worked my ass with his right.
And at last, I felt that slave-spot inside me begin to spasm wildly. A flash of heat, centered there in my ass, rocked through my body and my mind. I think I was shrieking; I don’t remember. My asshole clenched tightly around Master’s wonderful fingers, and that spot kept spasming hard, with unbelievable force, and each time it sent a wave of relief through me. I was having an orgasm, for the first time in ages, and it was utterly unlike any I’d ever had before. Cum was pouring out of me, into Master’s hand, which still firmly cupped my quivering slave-mound. My whole body shuddered and shook with it. It lasted much longer than a normal orgasm, almost a minute, and even after the cum stopped leaking out of my chastity tube I could feel my ass and slave-spot spasming.
With his firm arm, Master rolled me onto my side, then laid down behind me, holding my shivering, quivering body against his as I came. He held his left hand up to my mouth, and I licked my hot cum off his palm, slurping and lapping gratefully. I think I fainted or dozed; I’m not sure which.
Then Master was talking to me. “Did you like your release, little girl?”
In a weak voice, I said, “Ohh, yes, Master, thank you, Master. But…”
“But there was no, you know, pleasure, Master. In my pe.. my boy-clit. I couldn’t feel anything at all inside the tube.”
Master let out a gruff chuckle. “Of course not. That’s the whole idea. You feel the relief, right?”
I did. The screaming lust of the past month was gone, replaced by the wet, loose, sated feeling in my rear and a pleasant sleepiness inside my chastity tube. “Well, yes, Master, but…”
“But that’s a slave’s orgasm, the relief. You can forget about the other kind of orgasms. You’ll never have one again,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Previously that had been a terrifying thought. But now I understood how that could be.
“And once a month is probably a good frequency for your slave-orgasms. That should be more than enough. At least while you’re learning your place.”
“But… but Master, I need…”
“Shut up.” He sighed and pulled me closer to him. I could feel his hot, hard cock pushing against my sore ass now. “Just say Yes, Master like a good little girl.”
Another flush of shame as I did. “Yes, Master.” How had I gone from being a free man to this? I loved Master for doing it to me. Master chuckled. “I was worried, slave. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to give you your release without freeing your little boy-clit and letting you rub yourself off. Almost unlocked you. And then I would have had to let you do that every time you needed a milking. But you didn’t disappoint, little slut. You like it in the ass enough that you’ll never get to feel a hand on your penis again. I knew you would. You’re made to be penetrated.”
I was horrified at how close I’d come to having a real orgasm. If only I had held off, fought the feeling… And now I’d never get out…
Master chuckled again, then said, “You know, my sweet little slave, you’re probably going to be in that thing for at least a year anyway. And if you ever get out, you can be sure your boy-clit won’t work any more. If you even still have it.”
“I know, Master.”
“Hmm? Then why didn’t you take my offer?”
“Because I want to be your slave, Master. I wanna be your fine sweet-ass bitch.”
Master mmmmmed in approval. “Oh, you are, slut. You are.” And then I felt him rubbing his rock-hard, huge cock up and down my well-lubed asscrack. “You are such a dirty little cockslut. I was going to wait and break you in gradually, but sluts like you just demand a hard fuck in the ass, right?”
And before I could react, Master rolled me back onto my knees, with my head down and my red ass in the air. I gasped in surprise: he was just so strong, he did it so easily. And then, just as easily, he pushed his hard cock into my loose, lubed rear. I cried out as he did. He was huge, and my little rear felt like it was about to tear. I struggled, tried to get to all fours so I could crawl away, something, but Master grabbed me firmly by the neck and forced my head back down to the bed. Then he solidly thrust into me, penetrating me more deeply than I had thought possible. I moaned in anguish, but this only seemed to make Master more excited. He thrust again. And again. And again. Gaining speed. And each time I let out a pathetic whimper that only encouraged him.
I was getting fucked in the ass, and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to relax and breathe deeply as I had done before, but it didn’t help. Master’s thick, long shaft had split and stretched me. No amount of relaxation could lessen the pain as he continued, working in faster and deeper, and when his hips hit my sore buttocks those stung all over again. Master was using my body to satisfy his own pleasure, hurting and violating me in the process. Was I being raped? Maybe, but the worst part was that despite the pain and humiliation, I found I liked it, that my boy-clit was responding in its little tube again. With every thrust, Master was proving that I was now his bitch slave, and there was nothing he couldn’t do to me if he wanted.
The pain grew and grew, until I thought I couldn’t bear it any more. But Master kept going, parting my buttocks with his rough hands. So there was nothing for me to do but take it and try to ignore the pulsing lust that grew in my trapped penis, back so quickly after a short reprieve, undeniable proof that I loved being abused like this, being mercilessly pounded in the ass. I gasped and squealed and cried out until my voice was hoarse, but Master kept going. He bent over me and pinched my nipples as he thrust away, making me squirm, but there was no way to escape. This was the worst humiliation of all, having my body selfishly used for Master’s pleasure, unable to do anything but lie there and enjoy it in spite of the pain.
Master’s breathing roughened, and the thrusting reached an unbearable pitch. And then he let out a groan of pleasure, and with a final thrust, I felt his cock throb inside me as he squirted me full of his hot cum. He gave me a few final panting thrusts, and pulled out. I couldn’t move, only lie there and gasp. My rear was achingly hollow, gapingly wide. It felt like Master had ruined it, like it would never close again. And it didn’t close, because before I knew it, Master was shoving something else into me. I thought for one awful moment that Master was going to fuck me again. But this thing, whatever it was, was a lot smaller than his cock. It was almost comfortable by comparison. Then he spoke, still somewhat out of breath. “Get used to having a plug in there, bitch. We’re gonna have to make that asshole a few sizes bigger, if you’re ever going to learn to cum from being fucked in the ass.”
Cum from that? It seemed impossible. The idea of being fucked in the ass was sexy, but the feeling itself was brutal. Then Master rolled me over onto my side again, and laid down beside me, looking into my teary eyes. I didn’t dare look away.
“So tell me, girl. Did you like your first taste of slavesex?”
And I nodded. It had turned me on.
He grinned. “That’s good. Because it’s the only kind of sex you’ll be having, for the rest of your life. The kind where you get filled with a cock, and then filled with cum. And you know why?”
I sniffled. “Because I’m a bitch slave, and I wouldn’t want it any other way, Master.”
He ruffled my hair in a gesture of affection, then encircled me in his brawny arms, drawing me close. I snuggled against his chest. “You did good, girl. I know that must have hurt you. It always hurts girls their first time. But we’ll get you broken in. It can only get better, hm?”
He held me against him, and I laid there. There was nothing else I could do. Eventually, I slept.
When I woke, morning light was streaming in through the blinds. For a minute before I opened my eyes, I wondered if the past night had been real. But the condition of my body removed all doubt. My scalp hurt, from where Master had pulled my hair. My nipples were sore. My arms, from the struggle. My boy-clit throbbed in its usual morning excitement inside its prison. My knees were shot from all the kneeling I had done. My asscheeks felt even more stingy than yesterday; the pain had settled in, and I was sure they were both bruised and purple. And my rear, still stuffed full of buttplug, felt like it was destroyed. My mouth tasted like cum — Master’s and mine — and I realized with shame and excitement that Master’s jizz was still in my ass.
And Master lay next to me, snoring rhythmically. For a while, I was afraid to move, worried I would wake him up. But I had to pee, and I couldn’t ignore it for long. So I got up, very carefully, without making a sound. My legs ached and almost buckled when I stood up, but quiet as a mouse, I limped my way into the bathroom, shut the door, and flicked on the light. The bathroom was huge and clean, all gleaming white marble. I felt anxiety rising inside me.
Okay, I thought to myself, you have to get out of here. You have to get out of here, or you’re gonna be that black man’s slave for life. You loved last night — it’s okay, you can admit that to yourself — but deep down you’re still really a straight boy. What you really like is fucking girls, not being fucked like one, even though, yes, last night was the most intense sexual experience of your life. But nobody could live like this, kept as a chastized feminized cockslave. So now you have to clean yourself up, get your clothes, find that key, and get the hell out of here. Before Master wakes up.
The first thing I did was gargle softly with some mouthwash. I swished till it burned, but it got the cum taste out of my mouth well enough. Then, balancing myself against the sink with one hand, I reached around and tugged at the plug in my rear. My asshole was sore and raw, and pulling at the plug made the ache back there unbelievable.
But at last it pulled free. I felt a dribble of Master’s cum leak out of me back there, and I shivered. I couldn’t sit on the toilet like a girl, the way I had for over a month now, because my asscheeks were too sore. So I squatted while my Master’s cum leaked out of my abused anus. Then I washed myself up in the sink, afraid that the noise of the shower would wake Master. One glance in the mirror confirmed that, yes, my ass was covered with purple marks. I could even make out a clear handprint on the left cheek.
I didn’t want to, but then I took the plug and slid it back into my bruised rear, biting off a moan as I did. If Master woke up before I left, I was going to be in enough trouble. I didn’t need to make it worse by getting caught without the plug in.
All right. I felt a little better, a little cleaner. Now if I could just find the key… it was probably in his pants. Maybe even on his keyring. I opened the door, very slowly and carefully, and stepped out into the room. I felt very vulnerable, naked except for the chastity tube, which was somehow worse than being completely naked.
I looked at my sleeping Master, lying there in bed, his naked dark flesh, his semi-stiff cock bigger than mine had ever been. And the smart part of my mind screamed to find the key and run, to get out, but my heart and my cursed boy-clit demurred. I loved him already, pathetically, helplessly, and I wanted to be his slave. I had given myself to him, and he owned me. All that was left was to serve. And so I padded softly over to the bed, climbed back in, and curled up against him.
Master was still asleep. I couldn’t fall back asleep, because I was sore and horny. As I lay there, I found my attention drawn back to Master’s cock. It was just so big and black and thick… Well, if I couldn’t play with my own any more, at least I had Master’s. I slid down between Master’s legs and began stroking him gently, watching with amusement at how quickly he stiffened. Master shifted and groaned softly, but didn’t wake. I ran my eyes up and down his shaft hungrily. It had to be ten inches, at least. I thought then that God had cheated me, giving me such a tiny white dingaling when there were huge man-cocks like this in the world. And this one owned me, could penetrate my mouth or ass whenever it wanted…
A true story, though the names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent…
“Why don’t you get dressed?” I suggest, knowing that he had been waiting for me to tell him to change. Wanting it.
Earlier, as we settled into our room, he had stripped down to his shorts so he could put on the chastity device, and gave me the key. We lay on the bed for a while, watching “Story of O.” Female submission is something that goes against my nature, and so I found it difficult to really get into the film. I was also finding it hard to concentrate as I lay there in lingerie, he in his white t shirt and boxers, knowing that beneath the cotton was a cock caged in metal rings and leather straps – mine, to do with as I pleased.
Wanting to be closer, I sat up and positioned myself so that his body was between my legs, knowing that he would touch them, wrapped in thigh high fishnets as they were, with little black bows along the seam that runs up the back of my calf. They were held up by garter straps attached to a black bustier with pink accents. I put on his collar. (Later, in the throes of my orgasm, I would grab and pull at that collar to the point of nearly choking him – no safe word was uttered, so I didn’t hold back.) We watched the movie a little longer, and I idly ran my fingers through his hair, around his collar, over his shoulders.
Then, I told him to get dressed.
I watch him get ready. A pair of black panties. The black slip with lace at the hem and neckline.
“These are the slutty ripped stockings from last time,” he remarks as he searches for the second thigh high in his bag.
“I like that they’re ripped. They make you look like a whore,” I tease. I’m glad he saved them, since we inadvertently left the pile of other stockings in last week’s room after we sorted through what he calls the travel version of Caligula’s sex pit, paring it down to one laundry basket of lingerie, shoes, restraints, and the little cardboard box of dildos that occasionally turn themselves on when jostled in the backseat of his car while he’s driving. Bzzzz.
As he pulls the second stocking from his bag, another item trails along.
I’m sure my eyes light up. He hasn’t worn a garter belt for me before. “Put it on. I want to see.”
He moves away from the desk, so I can’t see him around the corner, but I can see his reflection. Bent over, hair hanging over his face, putting on the piece. “I can see you in the mirror…”
He disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. I smile, finding it endearing that he was embarrassed to have me watch him put it on. When he emerges, he clips the leash to his neck.
“Show me.” He barely lifts the hem of his slip. “Show me more, I couldn’t see! Now, turn around and show me the back.” He complies, then shuffles over to the bed, kind of ducking his head in that self conscious way he has when he’s in sub-mode. In every day life, Nick is an outgoing, confident guy, which he reverts to as soon as I make him cum. But when that lock clicks shut and it’s time to play, he’s a little sissy cross-dresser who wants nothing more than to lick my pussy and let me use his body any way I wish. And that’s what makes it so damned sexy.
He lays next to me on the bed and we kiss, our hands wandering. I run my hands over the smooth fabric of the slip, imagining that he likes the feel of it moving across his skin, and I am delighted by the sharp intake of breath that I hear when my fingers barely graze his caged cock. Usually, I like to take my time and use my hands and mouth all over his body, lick and suck on his cock through the leather and metal device, and drive him absolutely crazy with lust. But I decide that tonight, I will begin the tease by avoiding his cock.
His fingers stroke my pussy lightly over my panties, and his touch makes me want more. I tell him to put his fingers inside of me. I know that he wants to taste, but I like making him wait.
Most men would beg a woman to stroke him, to suck him, to let him fuck her. But this man, he begs to be told to eat pussy. He will lick and suck until he has to come up gasping for air. I can tell how much he loves it because he is so fucking good at it, and it turns him on so much it makes his cock drip.
When I need a break, I sit up, and he is on his knees near the edge of the bed, waiting to be told what to do next. My juices are on his face, and I kiss him, reaching down to run my thumb over the tip of his cock, knowing that it will be slick with precum. I slide my thumb between his lips, then cradle his face in my hands, kissing his mouth, his jaw, his face.
“You are so fucking beautiful, you know that?” I murmur as I kiss his mouth.
“What?” he asks softly.
I turn his face so that I can speak into his ear. “I said, you are so fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you, Goddess.”
“Now lay down.”
“Yes, Goddess,” he whispers, laying face down in the pillows.
I use my lips and hands to explore his body, starting at his neck and shoulders, and then moving lower, sliding up the back of his slip to expose his panties, which he has pulled on over the garter belt. I know that he wants me to fuck him. I feel like I’m unwrapping a gift as I slide his panties down to his thighs, exposing the black lace of the garter belt, framing his sexy ass, and I can’t help smiling. I know that many people would not understand why this sight is so erotic and beautiful to me, but those of you reading this will need no explanation.
I run my hands over his ass cheeks and down his stocking-clad thighs and calves, touching and kissing. Nick has told me that he had never experienced domination quite like my style – that I make him feel subjugated and yet adored, when I’m the one who is supposed to be worshipped. But this is just how I am. This is how I express my ownership of him, my love, my appreciation for his willingness to give himself to me and please me. Yes, I can and will use his body to make myself feel physical pleasure. But there is a feeling of power in bringing a man to a state of arousal where every caress of my fingers or lips or tongue or teeth on his skin make him gasp with pleasure. It goes far beyond the arousal that one feels by simply turning on their partner.
I lay my cheek against his skin, running my fingers across the light layer of soft hairs on his cheeks. “I love seeing your hairy ass in a garter belt and stockings, with your panties pulled down like a little whore.”
“Do you want me to shave my ass?”
“No! No way, I don’t want you to look like a woman. I want a man dressed in lingerie. And men have hairy asses.” I straddle his hips and lean forward to kiss his neck and shoulders as I tease him in that quiet, calm tone of voice that I use when I’m talking dirty.
“You are so sexy, face down, with that collar, and your panties pulled down, and your ripped stockings.” I start moving my hips as he moves his ass beneath me, letting me know that his ass is mine, that he wants to be used. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you Nick?”
“Yes, Goddess,” he murmurs into the pillows.
“You want to be my little bitch, don’t you? You want to be fucked.”
“Yes,” he breathes.
I go to my bag for my small dildo – it’s slender, and about 6 inches long – and I tell him to get up so that I can sit at the head of the bed and position him over my lap. He is on elbows and knees, face down in the pillows once more, and his caged cock is between my thighs, his ass on beautiful display, framed by black lace and garter straps. I drizzle lube onto his skin, letting it run down the crack of his ass, and use my finger to rub it over his asshole, then slide my finger inside of him. I move in and out, then slide in as deep as I can go, running my free hand over his back, asking him if he likes it, if it feels good.
I want to fuck him, I want to use my strap-on, but for me, the preparation is a huge part of what turns me on about assplay. I have a fetish for male ass, I enjoy taking my time, but I also want the experience to be pleasurable for him. I don’t just want him to LET me fuck him, I want him to WANT me to fuck him. And so, I take my time to lube him up and stretch him. Too much lube is just enough, when it comes to anal.
I pour some lube onto the dildo, and it drips down onto him, and onto my thigh. I grab his left ass cheek with my left hand so that I can have a look at his asshole as I position the toy and start to press inside of him. I move the dildo in and out, slowly moving a little deeper each time, asking him if he likes it, enjoying the groans and the way that he’s moving his ass back, wanting more.
Hearing his deep, sexy voice as I work the toy inside of his ass, telling me to fuck him, telling me to go deeper, is such a turn on. The entire dildo is inside of him, my fingers are slick with the lube, and I pull the dildo out, then slide it back in, fucking him slowly, and he tells me that he feels like he’s going to cum.
He had told me in the past that he had never had an orgasm while locked in chastity. I don’t want him to cum yet, so I stop moving the dildo and leave it buried in his ass. I can’t help teasing a little, pressing on the end, and caressing his skin, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of this man, bent over my lap, dressed in lingerie, and on the verge of having an orgasm without having his cock touched.
And then, it happens.
“I’m going to cum,” he groans, and I watch in disbelief as an orgasm overwhelms him, and I am fucking loving it. I have made a man cum before with my fingers inside of his asshole, without touching his dick, and it was an extremely gratifying experience. Nick had clenched the toy, wanting to keep it inside of himself, and after how close he had come to orgasm while I was fucking him with it, it was just enough to put him over the edge.
He sits up, and I look down because I want to see his load on the blanket. I reach down and feel the cum on my left inner thigh, on my stockings, and look up at him, smiling. “I’ve got cum on my left leg and lube on my right.”
He laughs, and is embarrassed that he came so quickly, but he hadn’t masturbated all week… Though I like to think that even if he had, perhaps he still would have cum like that, like a sissy bitch, bent over my lap with a dick up his ass, locked in chastity…
Because I’m good at what I do.
As always, would love your feedback. Please take a moment to rate my story if you loved it! I’ve never posted a true story before… hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed living it
Mistress Jeanette and myself played for several years, moving into ever more intense situations which also included more slaves, but it was the first time when Mistress Jeanette introduced me to her good friend Mistress Alicia that I thought of myself as lucky…
This feeling of being lucky lasted only until both A and J were taking turns at tormenting me in a way I’d not experienced before. They seemed to get more vicious when around each other. Later on Jeanette would lend me out to Alicia when she would have no need for me for a weekend, and under those circumstances I would discover how thorough Alicia was at dishing out pain. But put them together and it was just so much more intense.
So here I am, out on the town with Mistress Jeanette and she introduces me to her friend Alicia. The way J was standing I was shielded from public view, and whilst that should have been a clue, I was still surprised that Alicias’ hand went past my offered hand and grabbed my crotch instead. Taking a firm hold of my nuts, giving them a ruthless squeeze and then rocking her hand up and down, she just grinned at me. “Mmmmmm, these nuts are gonna be sore later slaveboy,” she growled at me. Next she let go, and with her knee groined me hard and fast. Jeanette was next, bringing her knee into my groin even harder. Within thirty seconds of meeting Alicia I had sore nuts, but that was nothing….
We went to an adult movie theatre, the ladies taking a seat either side of me and had my pants open in no time. They had done this before no doubt, for each of them took one ball and with the tips of their fingers yanked to the side began rolling it around, thus almost tenderising the ball. Picture an hour and a half of having your nuts groped, squeezed, pinched and squashed…oh boy, I was having trouble walking upright!
We began our walk to Jeanette’s place, thru a small park with a playground. Stopping at the swings, Jeanette got me on a swing and while she pushed me from behind, Alicia took up position at the front. The second swing forward and Alicia just punched me straight in the nuts, one of my balls retreating into my pelvic cavity and then popping back out…the agony! I couldn’t hold on and fell off the swing, now placing me in an even more vulnerable position as Alicia kicked me in the side, rolling me onto my back and then stomping me in the crotch with the tip of her high heeled boots. My moaning got rather loud and she stopped, flipped up her skirt and showed me her dripping wet cunt. “If you want to fuck this pussy, you’ll have to take more pain than that you weak little slut”, she growled as she squatted over my face to give me a good sniff of her juicy pussy.
I made the mistake of extending my tongue and giving her a lick, she didn’t immediately punish me for this, instead letting me lick her to orgasm and then sliding down onto my thighs. Jeanette simply sat on my face now, her knickers soaked as well, but when Alicia began slapping me in the crotch again I understood why Jeanette sat on my face. I stopped counting after a dozen slaps, for I was having trouble breathing at the same time.
Jeanette hopped off my face, my nuts now tender and glowing red, or that’s how they felt anyway. Alicia was just laughing out loud at my groaning and whincing. She walked a few paces to a park bench, bent over and flipped her skirt onto her pert little arse and said: “If you can get your cock in here in ten seconds…you can fuck me for as long as you like later…”
Time stood still as I got up and while looking at her juicy cleft and spread thighs, my only focus on Alicias’ wet hole and my cock entering it…I forgot completely about Jeanette. I had my jeans unzipped and my rigid cock almost at Alicias’ cunt when Jeanette came up behind me and kicked my nuts from behind, now with a ferocity I’d not experienced from her before. As I dropped to my knees, Alicia laughed so nastily as she turned…her pert rear and juicy cunt now hidden behind her short skirt and Jeanette growling at me. “How dare you even think about fucking Alicia without asking Me first”, Jeanette said menacingly. She walked to my front and then kicked me in the groin so hard I just fell over backwards and rolled into the foetal position, the intensity of the pain now beyond anything I’d experienced for some time.
“Get up and walk slut!” Jeanette ordered, and thus we walked the remaining few hundred metres to her house, me out front and walking with such tenderness I was having trouble walking straight.
Once at the house I was soon stripped and shackled to the cross in Jeanettes’ playroom. The smell of perfume permeated the air, and the scent was different to either Alicias’ or Jeanettes’ and I was wondering what was up…when the blindfold they’d put on me was removed I was faced with another four women. All four women I’d gone out with recently, prior to meeting Jeanette, but admittedly I was seeing three of these four at the same time…not that I had always been upfront about that.
“So ladies, we’re gathered here today to humble this horny slut in my preferred manner,” Jeanette calmly stated, as she horsewhipped my balls with one sharp motion. The stinging pain in my already tender nuts made me whince and brought a smile to the faces of the women.
“Who wants to have a go first?” Jeanette asked as Mel readily stepped forward. Jeanette passed over the horsecrop and without any delay Mel just brought the crop up from below and on my sack five times in close succession, making me groan loudly.
“Nice work Mel, but why were you so gentle on him?” Jeanette asked. Sarah stepped forward and took the crop from Jeanette, then moved forward and took hold of my nuts with the proven thumb and forefinger encircling the base of the sack, then squeezing tight. “Mmmmm, I always wondered if I’d get the chance to exact some revenge for your actions,” Sarah grinned as she squeezed my nuts tighter and tighter. “Oooohh, does that hurt little boy, shall I release my grip some?” Sarah smiled. Next she brought the crop to bear on my tightly held nuts, and once Sarah had delivered five blows she just let go of my nuts and passed the crop back to Jeanette.
“Who is next then?” Jeanette proffered, but neither Barbara or Cheryl were keen to take part yet.
The punishment Jeanette dished out to me over the next half hour, while Alicia, Mel, Sarah, Barb and Cheryl watched was something to remember. Her ruthless method of delivering maximum pain with little effort was also a tremendous turn-on for me, and I couldn’t help but throb wildly for the most part. Not even a brutal caning of my cock that left bruises for weeks could make me go soft, the excitement mixed with fear in this situation was just too much for me.
By the time Jeanette had finished her demonstration my balls just felt the size of grapefruit, with numbness setting in. She had taken me to the point of crying, then just carried on, ignoring all my pleas for her to stop…and why should she, for I had not used my safeword yet. Jeanette whispered in my ear that she loved me taking all this pain for her, and it would all be worth my while at some point….
The next position I found myself in was shackled over the table, once more spread wide and vulnerable and while I was worried about more pain in the balls, not a single kick or grope was dished out for the duration of my restraint in this position. Once I was securely in position I felt my bumhole being lubed up roughly, a gloved finger being shoved into me to make sure I was well lubed inside and next I felt a hard dildo being slowly forced into me. “Just relax slut,” I heard Alicia say as she slowly worked all six inches of strap-on into my tight sphincter. At times I couldn’t help but tense up, but Alicia just countered that by ramming the whole length into me. Next I felt her withdraw and another dildo, slightly thicker was in its place. I didn’t know yet who was driving this one, but when I heard Barbara asking me whether I liked a nice fat one in my arse…and now knowing what it felt like for her to be taken like that by me…that I got worried. I’d fucked Barbara in the arse rather harshly, and as much as she eventually enjoyed it, she was now exacting her revenge for me doing so against her will. Oh well, I kinda enjoy fucking a woman’s arsehole, so here was my punishment I suppose?
“Oh yeah, I love this big dildo going into you”, Barbara howled as she would almost completely withdraw and then slam me with it, forcing me open again and again. Barbara actually came from fucking me like this, and then she withdrew.
“My turn, my turn,” I heard Mel cry out excitedly. No sooner had I heard her, I felt another dildo, this one both thicker and longer than the last one, slowly it crept into me. Mel was being careful to start with, but once she got the feel for it, she too was brutal and fucked me hard. “Oooohh yeah, I like this!!” she yelled as she rammed me full force, my balls swinging each time Mel hit bottom. The pain in my nuts was now superceded by the burning in my arse, the repeated reaming making my arse now soooo sore.
“C’mon Mel, it’s time to get serious with this two-timing bumfucker,” Cheryl said. Mel withdraws and I feel the gloved hand putting more lube inside me, and spreading lube around the cheeks as well. Oh shit, I thought. And oh shit was right, for once I felt the girth of the two and a half inch diameter, ten inch long prong being slowly fed into my arse…the pain in my nuts meant nothing, for now my arsehole was stretched as wide as ever and not only that, once the whole length was inside me it just felt like I was going to shit myself.
“That hurts doesn’t it?” Cheryl asks in a cool voice. The pace she is setting is slow, but she is using full depth strokes. More lube is added and soon the pace is getting faster, now about two seconds per return stroke. I feel water being splashed into the crack of my cheeks, now making the lube react and as the edge is taken off the burning sensation I hear Jeanette tell Cheryl to ream me properly. I hear the ladies cheer Cheryl on and she is now doing about three strokes every two seconds and getting faster. “Oh fuck this is hard work,” Cheryl groans as she keeps increasing the pace. Before long Cheryl cums violently, even though her moans are lost in my groans of pain.
A cool splash of water is dribbled into my arse and the gloved finger probes with a soothing motion to spread a different lube into my abused arsehole. It was when I was shown the dildo Cheryl fucked me with that I am just lost for words and utter: “Why?”
“Simple slut, you now know not to mess around with any more women than I give you permission to,” Jeanette said matter-of-factly.
The four guests left and I was now allowed to eat pussy, both Jeanette and Alicia being more than just wet from the evenings’ events. “Mmmmm, this is one horny painslut you’ve found here Jeanette,” Alicia commented between orgasms induced by my tongue. It was later on, as the sun was coming up after a brief snooze, that I found myself being both fucked and face ridden by the two women, balls and arse extremely sore, that I felt soooo lucky. OK, I had endured both physical and mental torment but the reward of seeing and feeling my two lovers now so turned on and giving that made it all worthwhile….
My nuts ached for almost a week, and my arsehole took even longer to feel normal again after being invaded for so long by that huge dildo. It did teach me to obey a dominant woman though, for never again did I two-time a domme again after that.
This is part 1 of a series. This story is “FICTIONAL.”
“Come in and have a seat Mrs. Jackson,” Dr. Emerson said to her patient who was waiting in the waiting room.
After sitting down, Dr. Emerson introduced herself to the patient.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Emerson,” As she put her hand out to shake Mrs. Jackson’s hand.
“Pleasure to meet you Dr. Emerson.”
“Pleasure to meet you too.” Replied Dr. Emerson.
Dr. Emerson is a Psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling.
“How are you doing today?” asked Dr. Emerson.
“Ahhh…..Not too good actually Dr. I am having a really hard time with my husband and marriage lately. We have been married for over 20 years and it seems our relationship is getting just a little bit worse every year. I’m sure you have heard this a million times, but in the beginning it was great. We had a great relationship, but it seems that as the years pass his attention is focused more on other things in his life than me. He seems more content with hanging out with his friends and going out than he is with staying home with me.”
“I see,” replied Dr. Emerson. “Continue please.”
“When he is home, all he does is watch TV and complain about his job. In the beginning of our relationship he used to help out with chores around the house, but that slowly faded as the years went on. Now he basically just lays around like a lump!”
“Have you tried to sit down and talk to him about your feelings?” Asked Dr. Emerson
“Yes, I have, but he just says that I am “overreacting,” and that everything is fine.”
“What does he do for work?” Asked Dr. Emerson.
“He is an executive at a large company.”
“I see.” Replied Dr.Emerson.
“Don’t get me wrong Dr., he is a hard working guy when he is at work and he provides for us monetary wise, but when it comes to our relationship it seems like he is on vacation.”
“I understand. Well, since this is our first session together I am going to suggest that you start from the beginning with him. First, sit down again and have a serious talk about how you are feeling about him and your relationship. Then, try and come up with a sort of plan for you guys. For example, if you do the cooking he has to clean the dishes, or vice-versa. Try and designate a day that is reserved for just the two of you. Pick a day like Saturday when you are both off of work and go see a show together, or go out to dinner. Make the focus of that day solely on the two of you. Give that a try and then come back and see me in two weeks. Let’s start there and if that doesn’t work we can talk about some other things that you can try, or maybe you guys can come in together and we can discuss it further.
“Thank you Dr.” Mrs. Jackson said as she rose from her seat to shake the Dr’s hand.
“My pleasure.” Replied Dr. Emerson.
Dr. Emerson sat back down in her chair after Mrs. Jackson left and began to cry.
“How can I give advice to other people when my relationship with my husband is just as bad!!” She thought to herself as she cried.
Mrs. Jackson’s relationship seemed to be an exact mirror of the relationship she has with her husband. After crying for what seemed an eternity, she pulled herself together and began to get ready to take her next patient.
“I don’t know what to do!!!!” cried the patient in her office, but Dr. Emerson’s mind was wandering and she wasn’t even paying much attention to the patient in her office. It had been months since she heard anything from Mrs. Jackson, and she was wondering what had happened with her and her husband.
When she was done with her patient, she walked her to the door and opened it for her. “See you next week,” she said to her patient as she walked her out. To her surprise Mrs. Jackson was sitting in her office.
“Mrs. Jackson! “Dr. Emerson said with a surprise.
“Sorry to just come in without an appointment, but I was in the area and I wanted to talk to you.”
“No problem.” Replied Dr. Emerson. “That was my last patient for the day, so I am free. Come on in to my office.”
They both sat down.
“So, how’s everything been with your husband?”
“Great!!!” She replied with enthusiasm. “Things couldn’t be better right now.”
“Wow! That’s quite an improvement in a relatively short amount of time.” Replied Dr. Emerson. “I guess that talk really helped huh?’
“Well, not exactly.” Replied Mrs. Jackson with a smirk on her face.
“See, I tried what you had suggested, but I didn’t get anywhere with it. I had to take a let’s say, “non-conventional” approach to my problem.” Hahahahahah She laughed
“What do you mean by that?” Questioned Dr. Emerson
“Well, after trying what you said and it not working, I was at work the next day and I guess my frustrations just got the best of me and I started crying uncontrollably to my co-worker. After she calmed me down we met up during our lunch break and I explained everything that was happening. She just listened to me for almost an hour, and then went on to explain how she basically had the same problem with her husband as well, but she found a way to change his bad behavior. She said that a lot of people that she has talked to have this problem in their relationship. I guess it is unavoidable as time goes on in a relationship because sometimes people lose interest in each other, but it usually seems to be the male that loses the interest. She tried the whole talking to him thing as well, but to no avail, so she hit the Internet for help and found some interesting information that other women have posted on there. Needless to say it has worked for me and I just wanted to stop in and tell you thanks for your help, but we are doing fine now.”
Mrs. Jackson got up to leave.
“Wait!” What is it that you had to do?” She questioned.
“I really don’t want to get into it, because like I said it is a very “unconventional” way of solving a problem, and you are a Dr. so you probably wouldn’t approve.”
“Wait Mrs. Jackson. Please tell me what you did! I’m embarrassed to say this because I am a Dr. and I do this for a living, but I have the same problem with my husband. I have tried the whole psychologist approach and it isn’t working!” She explained on the verge of tears.
“I am really lost on what to do!”
“I understand Dr.” She said as she tried to reassure her. “Have a seat and I will explain what I did to solve my problem.”
“Thank You.” Replied Dr. Emerson.
“Have you ever heard of Operant conditioning?” Asked Mrs.Jackson
“Yes, I have.”
‘Well, that’s basically the basic principal of our “unconventional” solution. I had to basically train him to understand that if he wanted something, he had to give something.”
“I don’t think I follow.” Said Dr. Emerson
“See Dr. Guys are very primal type of beings, not like us girls who need a lot of affection and things like that. A guy’s main concern is having sex and having an orgasm. Have you ever noticed that when a guy wants sex he will do basically anything to get it, and once he gets it he could care less and loses interest?”
‘Yeah, I think every girl has noticed that.”
“Well, that can be a very powerful tool that you can use to get what you want. Understand?”
“Yeah, I see what your saying, but how do you do that? Just give him more sex?”
“No, actually, the exact opposite. You only give sex when he deserves it. You know, kind of like when you give a dog a treat when he does something you want him to do, same principal.”
“Yeah, but won’t they just masturbate if I don’t give him sex?”
“Yes, they will and that’s where the “unconventional” way of solving this problem comes in. Have you ever heard of a chastity device?”
“Yeah, for girls, but not for guys.”
“Well, they make them for guys too, and it is a must! Now, you will have to get a little creative to get him to put it on because obviously he is going to say no, but once it is on he is going to be all yours. Then, once it is on I can give you some tips on how to enforce it, because it is going to take a little while for him to accept this new role.”
“So, what do you think? Sound like something you are willing to try?”
“Honestly, it sounds a little crazy because our relationship and sex life has always been kind of on the “vanilla” side, but I would try anything right now! Our relationship has been bad for quite sometime.”
“Where do I get one?”
“Just go on-line. You will find a ton of them.”
“Okay, I will give it a try.”
“Good. Once you get him into it, give me a call and I will give you some more advice. Here is my number.” She said as she jotted down her number on a pad on a nearby desk. She turned to leave the office.
“Good luck” She said to Dr. Emerson as she left. “Thank You.”
Immediately she jumped on her office computer and began to search out a chastity device. She was amazed at what she found and the amount of information, including testimonials from girls saying how well it worked for them. She picked what she thought was the best one and paid for overnight shipping. She chose a clear plastic one, so she could see her husbands locked up member.
The next day the package arrived to her office. She couldn’t wait until her full schedule of patients was done. Finally, at the end of the day she opened the box and examined her purchased.
“He is not going to want to wear this.” She thought to herself as she handled the device in her hands. He is going to freak!”
She read the directions on how to put it on him very carefully so that she would know what she was doing when the time came, because she knew that she would probably only have one shot at this. Once she was familiar with the process, she locked up the office and drove home. All the while thinking of ways that she could coax him to wear it. She arrived home and he was sitting on the coach as usual watching sports.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked
“Ahhhh….nothing much! Another shitty day at work!” he griped.
She sat next to him.
“I hear you. How about tonight I help you with that?” she teased as she kissed his neck. “I will make it all better.”
“How can I turn down that offer?” he said jokingly
“Okay, just give me a few minutes to take a shower.” She said
She immediately went upstairs and took a shower. Then she unboxed the device and put it in her nightstand so she would have easier access to it when she needed it. Then she went downstairs in her rob wearing nothing underneath and took him by the hand. “Come with me,” she said in a sexy voice.
Once they were upstairs she pushed him onto the bed and began to pull off his pants.
“You seem extra excited tonight.” He said jokingly
“Oh, I am.’ She replied.
She immediately began to give him a blow-job. “That feels good……” he moaned.
After a few minutes of an intense blow-job, she made sure that his cock was nice and wet with her saliva, and laid next to him slowly stroking his cock.
“Baby, I have to talk to you.” She whispered in his ear as she continued stroking.
“What isssssss it……” he replied as he moaned in ecstasy.
“I want to take our relationship to the next level. I want to make you and me happier!” she said as she increased her strokes.
“But we are happy……” he moaned.
“I want to make us happier.” She said. “Do you trust me?”
She said as she vigorously stroked his cock.
“Ohhhhh…….Ahhhhh….. Of course I do.” He moaned
She knew that he would agree to anything at this moment. She stopped stroking his cock and reached for her robe that was on the floor.
“What are you doing?” he asked all flustered. “Aren’t you going to finish?”
“I will.” She said. “Put your hand up above your head.
He complied, and she quickly tied his hand to the bed post.
She again began to stroke his cock and within a few minutes he exploded all over his own stomach.
“Man that was intense!” he said.
“Glad you liked it.” She said as she began to clean the cum off his cock and stomach with the bed sheets.
“Okay, untie me now.”
“Not just yet.” She replied.
“Are you ready to make our relationship happier and more exciting?”
“What?” he replied in confusion?
“You forgot already huh?” She couldn’t help but to think what Mrs. Jackson said about men doing whatever they needed to get what they want, and then as soon as they cum they are no longer interested.
“Two minutes ago you agreed to trust me into making our relationship better.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“You won’t be forgetting soon.” She thought to herself.
“Well, so tell me how you want to do this.” He questioned
“Will you promise to at least give what I am about to say a try for at least a month?”
Thinking to himself, “Sure, what would I have to do wash dishes? No problem he thought to himself.”
“I promise that I will give it a try for at least a month!”
“Swear it to me she insisted!”
“I swear already! Tell me what it is already.”
She reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the chastity device and showed it to him.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Ummmm….No! What the hell is that thing?”
“It’s called a chastity device, and this is what I want you to try for the next month.”
He became visibly upset and started to raise his voice.
“What are you crazy or something? Untie me!”
His reaction sparked an angry reaction from her as well.
“SEE!!!! I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T KEEP YOUR PROMISE!!” she yelled
Kind of surprised by her angry reaction, he lowered his voice and tried to talk to her.
“Honey, it’s just that……You know…….This is kind of weird that’s all!”
“It’s not weird, and all I wanted you to do is try something for me for a few weeks, but you are too busy to do it. You are ALWAYS to busy to do things for me. You don’t do anything for ME anymore!”
Seeing how upset his wife was getting, he contemplated his options in his head.
“If I don’t do it I will never hear the end of it! I guess I can wear this stupid thing for a month to make her happy!”
“Fine! I will give it a try for a few weeks if it makes you happy okay?”
“Thank you!” she said sarcastically
She began to attach the locking ring around his balls. Once that was secure, she began to slide his cock into the chastity tube. She glanced at her husbands face as she was attaching the device and she could see an expression of slight terror and worry in his face, which to her surprise was a bit of a turn on for her.
“There we go.” She said as she snapped the lock closed. “All set!”
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now nothing.” She replied as she began to untie him.
“So, I just wear this thing and that’s it?”
“Yup.” She replied.
“This sounds easy?” he said to himself
The very next morning, she called Mrs. Jackson.
“I got him into it!” she explained with enthusiasm.
“Hahahah” chuckled Mrs. Jackson. “Good! That’s real good!”
“What do I do now?” Dr. Emerson questioned.
“Well, use your imagination to get what you want. Start off by teasing him sexually to lets say get him to wash the dishes, or cleaning the house…etc. But don’t go letting him out of his chastity just yet. You will be tempted, but you have to enforce it. Just tease him with the idea of letting him out and giving him an orgasm, but don’t actually do it.”
“Okay, I think I understand.” She replied.
“Call me again in a few days and let me know how it’s going.” “Okay, will do.”
That night when she arrived home her husband was sitting on the couch as usual watching T.V.
“Hey.” He said as she walked into the house.
“Hi.” She replied
She sat next to him on the couch.
“So, how are you today? How was your first day with the chastity?”
“Fine, but its quite uncomfortable.” He replied
“Really a pain to wear all day.”
“I’m sure it is, but you will get used to it” She replied
‘I guess.” He responded
She went upstairs and noticed that the bed wasn’t made a usual. Usually she would go ahead and make it, but she decided to give her new found power a little try.
“Honey. Can you come here for a minute” She called out to her husband.
He came upstairs. “What’s up?”
“Make the bed while I take a shower okay.”
She said it more like an order and not a question, which he seemed to pickup on because he gave her a weird look at first.
“Ummm…Okay.” He said hesitantly as he began to make the bed.
“I can get used to this.” She said to herself as she watched him make the bed.
After her shower, she decided to see just how far she could exploit her new founded power. She began to make a list of chores for him to do the next day while she was at work. They included things like laundry, cleaning the bathroom, etc….. These were all things that he had never done since they have been married. At the bottom of the list she wrote “If you do these things for me, I will do things for you!” and she finished her statement with a little smiley face that was winking with one eye. The next morning before leaving for work she left the list next to his car keys, so that she would be sure that he got it. All day she thought about if he would actually do the things she asked.
When she got home that day she was pretty disappointed. There he was sitting on the couch as usual. She could tell that it didn’t look like he had done anything that she asked.
“Hey babe.” He greeted
“Hey.” She responded
“Didn’t you get my list this morning?”
“Yeah, I got your list.” He said with a smirk
“Well what? I was busy today. Maybe I will get to it tomorrow.” He responded as he walked to the fridge for a beer.
Thinking to what Mrs. Jackson told her about teasing him into doing what she wanted, she didn’t waste much time. After he sat back down on the couch, she straddled him and whispered into his ear.
“It’s a shame that you didn’t have time. I had something special for you.” She teased as she sucked on his ear and grinded her crotch into his locked up member.
“Don’t do that to me!” He moaned. It makes my cock hurt in this thing.
Kind of turned on by the idea of his discomfort, she made him explain what he was feeling.
‘What do you mean your cock hurts?”
“Yeah, well, when it tries to grow and it can’t because of this damn thing you are making me wear and it hurts! So, you aren’t helping that right now!”
This whole chastity thing was really starting to excite her. “This was only the second the day and he was starting to complain. Imagine what it would be like in a month!” she thought to herself.
“I will tell you what. If you go and do half of those things on the list right now, I will take that chastity off of you for a little while tonight. Sound good?” she asked as she continued to suck on his ear.
She got off of him and he started to do his chores. She was kind of in awe as she watched him do the chores.
“I still can’t believe he is doing chores.” She said to herself. ‘I can definitely get used to this.”
While he was doing his chores, she took the opportunity to call Mrs. Jackson.
“You won’t believe what I got him doing right now.” She said in excitement. “He is doing house chores!” She giggled
“Hahahah Chuckled Mrs. Jackson. I told you using sex is a powerful tool. How did you get him to do that?” She asked
“Well, I left him a list of things to do while I was at work and he didn’t do them, so I said I would take off his chastity for a little while tonight if he would do half of the things on the list.”
“Okay, that’s a good start, but remember don’t let him cum yet! It’s way too early and you will basically have to start all over again with him if you do that. The goal is to prolong and tease as long as possible understand? In the future, when he doesn’t do his chores he should be punished, but we will get to that another time. Keep at it.”
“Okay, will do.” Replied Dr. Emerson said as she hung up the phone.
About an hour later her husband was finished doing his chores.
Mel always liked the fetish porn – girls in those crazy latex outfits were performing the weirdest things ever… Add to that insane piercings, multi-colored tattoos and such – and you can cum in no time when watching. He was somehow skipping the idea of trying stuff like that himself, but his new girlfriend resulted to be an exact person for some fetish fun…
Diana was bossy, a bit on the plumper side – though young and full of energy. She had lots of small tattoos all over her body and enough piercings to live marks on him every time they were making love.
Diana was also bisexual and polyamorous – a dream come true for a crossdressing sissy boyfriend!
So when he told her about that latex idea, the answer was obvious – she immediately handcuffed him to the bedpost, spanked his ass shiny red and told him lots of nasty and arousing words, encouraging him to give it a try… Mel was excited and began the preparations immediately.
The costume was expensive as hell, but he didn’t care. It was a custom made full-body latex catsuit with condom-like tube which supposed to go inside his ass, and a huge artificial “pussy” enclosing the balls and leaving a head of his cock protruding as a clitoris, on top of the latex labia. Mel have seen those parts separately and decided that together they should look and feel much better! Costume had a zipper on the back, and could be completed with an ugly female mask, covering his head.
The mask had lace on the backside and another “condom” tube going directly into the throat, so the only way to breathe was through the open nostrils. To make the things even more interesting, the “hands” were ending with latex gloves without fingers. So once inside, Mel would not be able to get out without external help.
When Diana saw the costume next week, she was beyond crazy – Mel had to don the costume right away, she tightly laced the mask on his head, donned a wig over it and ordered him to look at himself in a mirror. Mel expected that, but still was shocked to see a pink rubber doll with slutty face and gaping mouth. The only two things missing were fake breasts and something to keep his mouth open. Yes, he wanted to look like a whore!
Both things arrived next week, and Diana was at his place almost immediately. She packed Mel into the costume again – now with huge false boobs pasted to his chest and a ring gag keeping the mouth open. Mel realized that he can either drool or gulp his saliva. He moaned and raised the hands asking her to get him out, but she was bursting with laughter and slapping him around the room…
He guessed that seeing a huge live sex doll asking to let her free from itself was fun, but now the idea was not looking as appealing to him as before. So when Diana undid the costume head and removed the gag, he started to mumble something about changing his mind – and got an angry slap in his face. She told him quite a couple of nasty words and caged his cock in a CB for a week. She also kept on teasing him every day, so by the weekend Mel was absolutely horny, defeated and ready for anything.
Diana arrived in Friday and milked him, softly explaining that there would be an all-girls party tonight – and through all the weekend. He will participate as a rubber doll, dressed in a naughty schoolgirl uniform. To make things more fun, his eyes will be covered, so he won’t be able to see who is playing with him. Then Mel was tied to bed, his cock throbbing, and the only answer he could think about was “yes, Mistress!” She smiled and told him a safe-word – actually a safe-sign, as he would not be able to speak. If things will go bad, he was expected to squeeze both hands simultaneously – moaning and doing anything else would not count…
Guests began arriving about 10 pm – Mel was standing at the entrance, dressed in the slutty schoolgirl attire on top of his costume. He couldn’t see who was there, and hysterical laughter of the guests was only interrupted by another joke from Diana, pointing out the usefulness of having a live sex doll in the house. Mel was aroused, horny and nervous. The gag was annoying him, and breast forms were wiggling side to side when he was walking, guided by Diana.
The girls were totally having fun – chatting and flirting, talking silly things, cuddling and kissing each other. Head of Mel’s penis, exposed as a fake clitoris, was swelling badly against the latex every time he was hearing an especially erotic “soundtrack” of the openly lesbian event happening around him. Diana was participating without minor doubts, and he was able to hear her moans more than one. Frequently after making up with one of the guests she was slapping him, encouraging her friends to follow – so just about an hour later he become a quite abused sex doll at the girls’ night…
After an hour or two, Mel couldn’t remember, he got his “clitoris” licked and scratched once again. Something that felt like hundreds of soft, determined hands were stretching him, pushing him to the floor, smacking him and leaving him totally helpless at the mercy of the girls – all that accompanied by a hurricane of nasty jokes and insults. At some point he heard Diana ordering him to suck her strap-on and immediately gagged on it – but that was nothing compared to another toy that started ripping his ass apart when someone else took him from behind!
Mel was dizzy, horny, raped, humiliated – he was just losing his mind when the girls finally got tired of their game and left him somewhere, apparently tied to bed. Finally there was silence, with just remote voices still enjoying the night and Mel was simply lying there, still in shock… then he heard Diana’s voice and felt her hands touching him.
“Are you doing ok, honey? Having fun?” She sounded a bit drunk, but so completely happy, like a girl who’ve got a long awaited gift on her birthday party. Mel half-moaned, half-breathed and squeezed both hands. He felt her sitting on the bed next to him, removing the wig and undoing the laced mask. His eyes had hard time adapting to the shadowed light of the room, when he saw her face – so totally happy that he was unable to complain.
Diana removed the ring gag and wiped his face with a blanket. She untied him and helped him to get out of the busted schoolgirl attire and a costume. He was soft and powerless, still deep in the subspace. She left a room for a minute and returned with the chastity cage. Mel did not object – his body was feeling like a ragdoll. He barely held a scream when she lubricated his penis and slipped it in a cage, locking the device…
“Please go down, darling. I need to handcuff you.” Still out of that world, Mel dropped on the floor and moved under the bed, following Diana’s pointing finger. She pulled his hands to the bed legs and locked the handcuffs. Now Mel was lying under the bed, wasted and peaceful. Sudden change of light made him look at the door and he saw a woman in a theater mask with feathers, completely naked except for the high heels and a strap-on.
He saw Diana approaching the girl – looking noticeably smaller and submissive, as compared to a confident stance of the strap-on lady. “Lisa…” she said and the woman touched her face, slowly kissing her. Mel’s heart was pounding. “If you open your mouth, you will have to go home and never return” – calmly stated Lisa, barely looking at him, then turned back to the strap-on lady. Her body language was clearer than anything, saying – she is a girl, and her beloved man has arrived.
Mel closed his mouth and swallowed. He saw both women caressing each other, and then getting in the bed. Sound of kisses, occasional squeaks of the mattress, movement of the blankets, soft chuckle… It was going on and on, growing in intensity – then Diana screamed and Mel bites his lip. After an eternity of hard breathing and sounds of kisses, that laughing scream of a satisfied woman repeated. His cock helplessly and painfully moved in the cage. The long, endless night was just beginning, and he was not going to make any sound…
Many thanks for all your contributions both in Literotica and privately. I write for my pleasure primarily and, of course, from my experiences. To the anti-cuckold folk, I have two points to make; firstly, that many of us in such domme-transvestite marriages do experience this and, secondly, as our sexual libido drops back because of the hormones, the female needs to feel a hard cock in her. This does not mean, in most cases, a devaluation of the relationship, accepting that there is some risk that things may come off the rails. I would be the first to agree not to enter a cuckold play if the marriage is fragile. In the context of this story which borrows off truth and embellishment, I felt it was important that Joanna experienced the other side from her domme play with Mattie and Louise so that she could add new angles to their play and relationship. A number of you have pointed out that it is obvious that Mattie is besotted with both Jo and Louise as the other two are with her. In addition, that there is no reason to be suspicious or fear the role of Duncan with Jo. Duncan is but a minor character in the overall thrust of the story. However, I will shortly write a side Chapter or two to describe in depth Joanna’s experiences and feelings of what went on with Duncan
I am back in writing mood. I am sitting here in my nightie, a black bra and a pair of my favourite ‘writing panties’ on, a black pair of Wacoal’s hi-cut lace trim briefs, similar to their Allure ones. They are so soft and comfortable to wear and I have them in black, pink and nude. Therefore, I will make a start on Chapter 11.
It is now seven months on from the opening evening with Duncan. Although I could say that not much has happened, life goes on and it slowly evolves, as we all know. Unless there is a major disruption caused by family, health or financial incidents that instigate rapid and often emotional change. Fortunately, that has not been the case with Joanna, Louise and I. However, things have changed of course.
The house is all finished and settled in to full use; the fact that we now have a wonderful bathroom, dressing area, a private lounge cum adult playroom and that we have our own connection through to Louise’s cottage is brilliant as it allows us to mix and match our sleeping arrangements.
The kids are fine with the situation and especially with my changes; the last seven months have been more subtle but their old Dad now has some pretty impressive boobs. I will go into some more detail on that in a minute. One of the key things in all of this with the children is for Jo and me to talk to the kids so that they are fully aware of my transformation and issues. We do this regularly and are always open to their questions; they have had concerns that my health may be impacted and we have, hopefully, reassured them that I am fine.
As to Louise, they really love having her around the place and, from my angle, it is wonderful to spread their care and never-ending taxi service with her. Louise also has a horse in our field now and they enjoy helping her with the filly and riding when they can. She enjoys being with them and they are as much her children as ours; she is a much loved Auntie Louise to them and that is fantastic to see and a big strength in the relationship that she enjoys with Jo and me. The family have been wonderful in their support of us too and I have been accepted as a woman by both Jo’s and by my own family. Louise’s family do not even know that I am still technically a male.
As to the three of us, well I think that our love has grown even more. It may sound a daft thing to say but one can love two others in your life romantically, sexually and in life at large, just as one loves your family. Louise and I are very much on a par and Joanna we both see as the head of the family, our alpha, our mistress. As to an update, I will start with Louise, then myself and finally Jo. From that, I will give some insights to our fun and experiences.
Louise has gone from strength to strength. Her business has been growing and she has taken on a young assistant to help her with the heavy work. To give her more time with customers though I would prefer her to be making love with me, I do her books and marketing for her. We have finished the ‘construction’ work on the outhouses so she has some super premises to work from and, for Jo and I it made sense as it helped bring our property right up to scratch.
Nothing much has changed with Louise; she has kept her hair the same, she is still the same Louise in her work clothes. Underneath though, she has taken to a lot more skin care and beauty sessions as we generally went to the salons together. All three of us have kept our mons naked of any pubes though Jo has been thinking of moving to a French landing strip style. Louise also has a lot more nice lingerie, as with her business succeeding in terms of substantially increased profit and between Jo and I, she has accumulated a massive drawer full. It is really both of ours as, on a daily basis, I usually wear her used panties to remind me I am also hers. We will buy two bras of matching styles being of different sizes and then size 10 to 12 (M to L) panties. Jo loves this concept of us being in identical lingerie for her and she calls us her harem.
Louise has also increased her latex wardrobe in terms of clothing, lingerie and accessories; this has been something she has engaged in more with Jo who also enjoys the scene. Jo keeps her clothing for this over in Louise’s cottage. They take the occasional weekend away together often to attend events and for their heavier play sessions; these often involved breath control and Jo using Louise for all her toilet functions.
I do not mind this at all and indeed I have encouraged them to play so; I have the children to look after and also plenty of other time to enjoy both of my lovers. From time to time, I have joined them in wearing latex and have been involved with some of their plays but, to me, it is fun and not a fetish. I quite enjoy making their bed up with the latex sheets we have, and I love being played with when they were wearing their gloves.
As to me, I am very happy. My transformation is now well advanced. The only cost was like a few months ago in Chapter 10 with some loss of libido but I can have my moments. My breasts have grown further and I am now a very full B cup, pushing into a C cup. Both Jo and Louise love how my breasts and nipples have developed. I now have nice aureoles with pert brownish nipples. I rarely get any growth pain or itch in my breast and the girls have regularly taken to subjecting my nipples to the female pleasures they think that I am due. The tightening of my testicles has ceased but it must be said there has been a fair amount of shrinkage and my clit now can not muster much more than just under five inches.
The big change has been the redistribution of my body. My shoulders and chest have shrunk back to a 36; I am a little wider than Louise but the same size as Jo. However, we are different on the cup sizes as she has lost size with her dieting and wants to be flatter; indeed, I now have many of Jo’s old bras and panties, pre the start of my transformation. My waist has really lost of its former squareness and I have picked up a lot more curve, meaning a bigger, but more female bottom in my ‘globes’ being fuller and lower. This also means that my waist chain now sits firmly in position. Talking about clothing, I have no male clothing left at all. All of this we have dispatched to a homeless charity to make space for Jo’s clothing while I have taken her larger dressing room closet over, not that we are short of space in there.
I have been back to the clinic in London. I am generally in good health though they are watching for any osteoporosis effects. Indeed, they have cut back a little on my hormone intake. Apart from my chest and shoulder loss onto my bottom, the other major sensation of the transformation has been the psychological one and I truly feel a lot more feminine in my thought process. Jo is very much our hardheaded thinker and decision maker, something she had always been through our marriage.
The other thing that the clinic has suggested is some sculpting work and I am now in the medical pipeline to have work on raising my cheekbones and a little modification to smooth off my chin. I have ‘managed’ to avoid a rhinoplasty and a tracheal shave. I was asked again about castration as a step to full sex reassignment surgery but have put that one back on the burner for the moment. On one hand, I do think about functioning as a woman and being in a total lesbian relationship with Jo and Louise; on the other hand, it is nice to offer them my small gurl-clit for their pleasure and Jo still has Duncan to provide her with manly cock when she needs it.
Jo’s great strength has been in seeing sex with him as being purely transactional; indeed, Louise and I have joked with her that this cool emotion to him is an appealing male trait in her. Anyway, back to the subject of reassignment, I am still a few months away before being fully considered as a possibility. An orchidectomy can be arranged at fairly short notice and is just a day surgery procedure, at worse an overnight stay.
Apart from my work for Louise, I have still managed to gain some income from writing and proofing for my old company. My days have otherwise been taken up with cooking, cleaning the children and keeping the household running. Jo now has full control over our finances but keeps me abreast of matters, and she has helped Louise manage hers as well, especially her investment portfolio. I do have Louise for the garden work and also I have assistance now for the house heavy cleaning, as well as for ironing, but there is still all the daily clean up, food, supplies, and the laundry to do.
The latter, as mentioned previously, I enjoy as it does have the benefits of little reminders in handling Joanna and Louise’s lingerie. Apart what she wears for Duncan and that lingerie can be very classy and sexy, I can not call Jo’s smalls as lingerie, rather they are underwear as she still prefers straps or Hanro male briefs, and her bras are sports ones from Triumph and others, full of lycra to flatten her out as much as possible.
Indeed this brings me naturally onto Joanna. In fact, she has been thinking of having breast reduction surgery to reduce her back to an A cup. She wants to keep the sensitivity of her nipples but much prefers to have a boyish look. Louise and I are fine with this and support her in her want to adjust her look.
Life for Jo has been good over the past year and she has enjoyed a lot of success at her work. More importantly, she is very happy working and in her role as our principal bread earner and financial manager. This is not to say that she does not have time for the children or us. She does and it is my role to maximise her time for this, also including giving her time for what is a fairly voracious sex need and preparing herself for her various outside plays with Duncan. I think it true to say that she has never been more in love with Louise and me.
In many ways, Louise, and occasionally Duncan, have been a blessing for me, especially with my sporadic libido. Since our role reversal, she has always loved sexual service of her first thing in the morning, usually involving the queening of us, or that we give her good oral servitude on the Stool. And she has loved toilet play first thing as well, pee with me, both with Louise; from time to time, Louise has used me for pee too. Our toilet seat that I bought her Jo for her birthday has got good usage.
Evening sex has been given over to domination plays, fetish play, toys and from, time-to-time, romantic sex. It is usually with her mainly in the male role with us. She has also learnt to mix and match her play with us and, furthermore, to help direct the way Louise and I engage with each other. If she is away travelling, she still likes to get a daily report from us on the situation scenario we have created, what we have worn, how we have enjoyed each other and how we have cummed. It is fun writing up these e-mails and Louise and I often put a joint one together over breakfast. I write a paragraph, she writes one and then a repeat of the process and so on. Jo has told us that her pussy got a lot of work out in the hotels she stays in from her toys when reading these.
Jo’s biggest change sexually and physically has probably been as a result of Duncan. She has learnt an enormous amount about technique, fetish play and deviancy by being in the sub role to him. Duncan has been true to his word about not being involved emotionally with her but, at the same time, takes care of her, which gives Louise and I confidence, not that we have had any misgivings. She is very much just a sex toy to him, or a fuck-slut as he calls her. She is expected to obey him at all times when she is present with him and he has indeed put her through the mill with scenarios; we often have to use Arnica and other creams on her bottom, breasts, back or pussy to soothe her bruising from the beatings that he has rendered. Not that Duncan has ever broken her skin, and she certainly enjoys exploring this side of BDSM. I shall shortly write a separate side chapter or two on some of her experiences with him.
There have been certain pre-requisites that Duncan prefers such as Jo’s presentation on arrival at his house in Oxford. Louise and I have been involved in these preparations so we too have been teased ahead of sex between us when she is away with him. If she is coming home to us and then on to him, we receive an e-mail with instructions on how she is to be presented, what she has to wear and any bondage required. The nature of these instructions usually requires us to have the children out of the cottage. If she is going to see him direct from work, she will receive an e-mail in advance, with what was is required of her so that she can take the necessary with her or get things arranged.
The first pre-requisite is that she has to be freshly waxed or clean so that she is devoid of any body hair underneath her eyebrows and absolutely smooth in her ‘offerings’. At this time, we have no idea if she has discussed having a landing strip with him as being denuded of hair has it advantages for the restraint wear that she often has to put on, and also for hygiene, given Duncan’s various plays. We were requested to deliver the cleaning and we have precise instructions to if she is to be brought to any early orgasm and how. We have been requested to send a brief summary e-mail back to him when she has left the cottage to indicate that she is ready, her compliance and state of mind. Such instructions that we have received have often included orders to Louise toileting into Jo’s mouth and even to give her a strap-on fuck session, or to be pre-teased with some beating on our whipping bench or other equipment.
The other pre-cleaning requisite has been a set item and that is she has to receive a major enema. This has been very much my task to deliver this to her and to ensure that she is squeaky clean down under. When she is travelling, she uses concentrated micro-enema phials that are used in hospitals.
Duncan likes Jo to be well made up and both Louise and I assist her with this. The standard is usually dark eye colourings and mascara, with quite strong earth based foundations and burnt coloured lipsticks, the reason being below. Perfumes are always powerful ones, liberally used, such as Estee Lauder’s Private Collection and she even has sourced some Middle Eastern sandalwood perfumed oils.
Her under-dress varies from being absolutely naked to very basic underwear to exquisite lingerie or being enclosed in a latex or leather outfit. We never know what he will request as to Joanna’s outfit or whatever items he sends over to us. For example, what has proven to be one of his favourites arrived by courier when Jo was away. This is a rather special bra known as a Mister G’s Bondage Bra and consists of broad leather chest and bra straps as well as a strap the circles the breast. Off it are eight double wires holding in a studded broad leather disc that really pushes and flattens the aureoles in. The addition of the tight lacings helps increase the sensitivity of the breast and the nipple or modesty shields can be adapted so as to add further torment to Jo. The bra has eight padlocks so she can not remove it.
With this, the time it arrived, he combined a simple chastity belt consisting of a wide leather waist belt and a crotch belt that all fixed with one padlock in the front. Duncan requested the fitting of an anal and vaginal dildo in before we padlocked the strap up.
Her clothing varies too but there has been a strong theme to it, unless she is to be presented just in her lingerie or completely naked. Duncan has a thing about Middle Eastern women and Louise and I think he lived out there or has had a Middle Eastern wife or girlfriend(s) in the past. More often than not, Jo has to be dressed in tailored clothing that he had sourced in the Midlands or overseas, and sometimes he had adapted it for his wants. Very often, she has to wear a black Abaya; this is a covered robe-like dress that drapes from the neck to the toes and also covers her arms down to her wrists. Duncan has furnished Jo with four of them, two traditional ones, one of which covers the head so she can wear the Muslim veil, the Hijab, and the other is ornately stitched with an Arabic pattern. As to the other two, one has been made in fine latex and the other in very thin, soft leather.
On top of the Abaya, or by itself, she also has to wear a Burqa. This is the full length, head to toe, drape worn by women in communities under the Taliban and traditional sects. This, of course, is primarily intended to prevent the woman’s body and face from being seen in public, particularly by men who are not her husband or in her family. Wearing a Burqa can be seen as a declaration of religious faith and sentiments and faith but, in Jo’s case, it is an expression that when it comes to a man, the Burqa is a symbol of her ownership by Duncan. It is worn always by her outside his house when in his service. And apart from travelling to him, he has taken her to a number of sexual functions and for tasks to be completed for her overall education, experience and pleasure.
When it has come to transporting her over from us, it is also an unspoken pre-requisite that she has to wear the Burqa; she has three of them all in blue, the traditional colour, and a conventional light fabric one with a light muslin eye screen, a latex and a leather one, both with black mesh eye slits.
Invariably, and in addition, Duncan requests her to arrive hooded under the Burqa. If arriving from business or wherever, she uses a Spandex hood that has an open mouth and coverable eyes. If arriving from home, her hood is far more intricate and something that she really enjoys wearing. In fact, she is very rarely allowed out of it whilst with him so as to de-personalise her and it reminds her that she is his sex toy, nothing else. It is something that she has brought into play with us.
The hood requires our assistance to put it on Jo. The particular hood that Duncan has given her is made of soft, high quality perforated leather; the visual effect for Jo is more like being in a cage than in total darkness and the Burqa just adds to the effect of her isolation and servitude. In addition, there are no nasal holes; she can breathe comfortably through the small perforated holes of the hood. When he ordered it, Duncan commissioned a couple of modifications from the original model; these ware a snap on eye cover to quickly blindfold her and also a mouth opening to take cocks or render oral service or whatever. He has often used spider mouth gags and dental ratchet gags on her to keep her mouth open. Her mouth opening on the hood can be covered by a tough snap on plate.
One special feature of the hood is a strong, thick, buckling collar strap complete with a D-ring and locking buckle. Duncan had this collar made in pink leather and the idea is that the collar serves to add to the secure look and feel of the hood as well as in providing him with points of attachment in front and in the back for attaching a leash, locks, chains, rope, or for whatever other bondage purposes you can imagine. With the addition of a small lock, the hood can be locked on to Jo so that she can not remove it even if her hands are free. We always lock her in and also secure the buckle with padlocks. The chosen chauffeur for her, sometimes one of us, or a third party of his choice, deliver her to Duncan with a leash and the keys, usually walking her down his street from the car some hundred to two hundred yards from his front door.
The other reason that the hood needs our assistance is that the hood is laced up in the back of the head using a strong, pink, leather lace strung through nine pairs of silver cinch rings. The basic model can be sourced from World of Dreams.
One of the most dramatic physical changes to Joanna that Duncan has requested significantly impacted on all of us. She has now been pierced with five thick silver rings in her pussy. Two on either side of her lower labia and one smaller one through the clitoris. In fact, he did want her to similarly pierce her nipples with D bars, but with her thinking about breast reduction, we have felt that is a step to far at this time. Louise and I accompanied Jo to the piercing in Oxford, run by someone that Duncan knew well. She was put on the table and he tackled her labia first in full view of us before the final piercing right under her clit hood and the placement of that ring into the created hole.
This of course led to us being pierced Jo had Louise enthusiastically go for a similar arrangement, plus she had her nipples done, the latter being the most painful she said. I wanted my breasts done too but we thought it a little too early as to my overall breast development and I believe that Jo also consulted with the Clinic in London. I ended up having a tummy button ring inserted and one under the head of my clit – that was fairly painful. The overall effect was that we had to have some interesting oral sex while the wounds healed. It did lead to some interesting sex and bondage though.
Jo loves the sensation of her rings on her pussy as Duncan frequently uses the rings as part of his bondage to hold open her vulva and pussy entrance with various chains and clips, often secured off wrist and thigh attachments or from his bedroom furniture. Her thing with it though is in feeling his huge size coming into her, past her ringed lips before burying himself deep in her cunt and then the to and fro of his sliding cock as she is fucked. She also enjoys being laced and secured by padlock by him when he wanted to deprive her of sex.
Jo has had many different experiences with Duncan from being totally used and ‘abused’ by him in the confines of his bedroom to being on public show at a function whilst being blindfolded. With that, she reported back to us in graphic detail how she was fingered and played with by anonymous people and made to take several cocks in her orifices as well as servicing unknown pussies; she was also spit roasted that evening. She had no idea of how many men or women she had been involved with but Duncan referred to her as his ‘cum dump.’ The amazing thing, and given her previous prudishness, was that she wants more experiences like this.
Her most dramatic experience though, that she had told us about in depth, has come with being ‘sold’ as an escort to two wealthy Middle Eastern style men, in their mid fifties, both well endowed, well skilled and seriously into bondage.
In all such cases, Duncan ensures her safety and health, but she said the thrill of being smuggled into the hotel and led down the corridor by him, as her pimp, in her leather lingerie, her hood securely on, her pussy already splayed by little clamp clips and their chains attached to thigh bands and her wrists, two dildos already lodged in her love channels to open her up and held in place by a leather thong over her crotch, with very high heels on and with the outer clothing of her leather Abaya and Burqa. It was a sensationally orgasmic experience for her and she was, apparently, dripping wet in anticipation of what was to come at the door of the hotel bedroom. Then had come the moment when one of the two swarthy men had passed over two thousand pounds to Duncan, via her hands so that she saw the money involved. Apparently he knew them and he had had them fully screened medically before letting them near her. And then to be left to them overnight as they took her together and alternating between them their fucking and the profound ‘use’ of her. She admitted that she had so enjoyed it and could now understand part of the ‘raison d’être’ for becoming a high class escort.
The first of the experiences that past directly back to us was the arrival one Sunday morning of Joanna back from Oxford. She was clothed in her cotton Arabic clothing and wearing the hood still, despite being with Duncan for two nights. Louise and I had enjoyed a night with the children as ‘Mum One’ was working and then we had slept together having enjoyed each other. The Saturday night we had been left to our own devices as the kids were off staying with friends and that had allowed us to dress in our matching basques, panties and our nighties to watch pornographic lesbian movies, kiss and play with each other, and then indulge ourselves in bed with plenty of oral sex, queening and toy play before both of us heavily came. Louise had made me take her scent in from her panties as was Jo and her norm before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Louise went to pick Jo up and had to lead her down Duncan’s street to the car. Apparently, she had been well and truly used with Duncan making love to her at regular intervals through the nights and the day and then giving her very little respite from pleasure with pressure applied on her nipples and pussy with the use of clamps, weights and chains. She estimated that she had managed only seven hours sleep through two relief periods in the nights and an afternoon nap, the rest of the time being devoted to pleasing Duncan or having her pleasure levels mercilessly pushed.
She repeated to me what she had told Louise when she got back home and also gave us more details of how her pussy had been splayed this being only the second time with Duncan after our en-masse piercing. This was after we had removed her Burqa and hood and over a cup of coffee. What she wanted was to get out of her Abaya, her lingerie and have a shower, then to have some pleasure from Louise and I, before climbing into her striped male jammies and catching up on her sleep.
We took Jo to the bathroom and as we removed her Abaya, we could see what had been done. Jo had been put into a Neosteel chastity belt. I think that our mouths dropped open. Jo explained that she was to wear it until Tuesday evening and then she would go to Oxford from work and be released; she wasn’t travelling overseas in the meantime.
The Neosteel belts for those of you who do not know are top of the range German chastity belts with systems designed for women, men and transvestites and with various modules. Jo had on a Total Chastity belt and their Ergo Rear Module was designed for its ability to sit ‘camouflaged’ under panties and also to allow comfortable sitting and in addition allow free access to the anus.
The belt itself is some inch and half wide stainless 1.5mm steel and in some cases with neoprene lining. From this waist or hip belt, the difference being the height of the band, there is an attachable front crotch plate again designed for the comfort of each style of wearer and that can be adjusted for any ‘activity.’ This runs through the crotch to an attachment at the back of the band. For one example as to different designs, the transvestite version has a ‘clit’ tube but is flattened to resemble and shape a pussy under any panties. There are securing locks and very tough padlocks to secure everything in and so secure that it is difficult to extract oneself if the keys are lost. In addition, on Jo’s belt there were four heavy duty D rings at ninety degrees apart on her belt, and two underneath her crotch plate to aid in her bondage, not withstanding opening her plate and using her pussy D rings. She said that the belt was unbelievably comfortable to wear, even with her piercings.
Her “Ergo Rear Design” was shaped to fit the rear body of the wearer, this was achieved by splitting the stainless steel crotch shield around the anus opening and coating it completely with plastic. This way resulted in two separate straps which can then be adapted by bending it to the individual bottom and anal shape, and allowing access to the wearer’s anus or for them to use the toilet freely, or in Louise’s case… These two straps narrowed and ran up to the nape of the bottom to join the rear of the belt. The belt was beautifully finished.
In Jo’s case, the only keys were with Duncan. What was evident, therefore, was that Jo’s pussy was going to be off limit to us; however her anus hadn’t been secured down, as it can be; so this was going to be her only love channel open to us. She also told us that, while with Duncan, she had worn a matching collar, and wrist and ankle cuffs, all similarly finished and with heavy duty padlocks, along with matching D rings and with chains off them. Duncan had been really awful in leaving an acrylic ‘wave’ four centimeter diameter and fourteen centimeter dildo inside Jo’s pussy; this was attached to the crotch plate and we later learnt the anal plate could take all sorts of toys too.
We both stripped her down and then ourselves and helped her into the shower. We soaped her up, using our bodies against her; we washed her hair and took care with her bottom and crotch area. The Neosteel is totally hygienic and is designed to be worn for days, though some ‘training’ is needed for that. Duncan had mentioned that he expected her to quickly adapt to wearing hers for at least a week and thereby to deprive her of her pussy to Louise’s pussy sex or sex from me.
Furthermore, he wanted her to continually wear wider diameter acrylic and stainless steel dildos, up to 7 centimeters, and longer dildos, up to 18 centimeters or more, with a target of more quickly opening her pussy up for any invasion of her love channel that he so chose. However, our continued ‘assault’ and pleasing of her anal channel would allow that to more easily take wider dildos, plugs, Duncan’s fist and any wide girthed cock he wanted in there.
We got out of the shower and dried ourselves down. From there, it was a short walk over onto our bed and we lay her down. Our first act was to rub soothing cream into her marked and still red bottom. She said that through the stay she had been repeatedly paddled, cropped, caned and even had experienced the rattan for the first time as Duncan accused her of being a deviant Middle Eastern girl. A rattan whipping is done by swishing a long cane but with a book under the elbow so not to break the arm above the elbow. It is very much a fast and cumulative punishment up and over her body. Jo was discovering her love of such pain associated with pleasure though.
Joanna motioned for Louise to come and queen her; this in itself was unusual and Louise duly climbed on top of her, stood over her sand slowly lowered herself downwards so that Jo could inspect her lover. Seeing this rare act of submission, I went and fetched our chin dildo and attached that to Jo’s chin, with the strap buckled behind her head.
Louise lowered herself into position onto the chin dildo facing down the bed, forcing Jo to serve her anus. I went down between Jo’s legs and started to firstly play and kiss Louise’s breasts and nipples, quickly bringing heat into them and her chest, though that was also partly the actions of Jo. Louise rode Jo’s chin cock hard giving Jo chance to breathe and quickly was climbing her own mountain to an orgasm, heavily squirting her cum. Louise jumped off the chin cock and turned Jo over and moved back up the bed to present her cummy pussy to Jo to eat out and keep her on her high. Meanwhile, I pushed a pillow under Jo’s tummy, over the belt and raised her bottom so as to go to work on her anus with my tongue. I could taste her sweet, heavy cum that had seeped out from alongside her acrylic penis in her and under her crotch plate. I opened her with my tongue and then went to mount her, pushing my hard gurl clit so easily into her second love channel. What had Duncan put her through to have her anus so easily open to me? I quickly rode her hard, feeling her friend next door where I should naturally be, and came into her, leaving my cum inside her.
Louise then donned one of our double straps, one with a protruding eight inch cock by two and a half inch diameter to fuck Joanna. Deeming that Jo was already wide open enough as her anus was now gaping open revealing her pink love channel, Louise slid her cock home and fucked her hard and rigid, enjoying her vibrations off Joanna as they came back into her own vulva. Jo screamed her pleasure, again a rare event, as her orgasm derived from the frotting of us against her hard cock in her vagina, and duly pressurising her in there, hit home. Louise came hard and I had the pleasure of cleaning Louise’s cum out of her as she wound down.
We let Joanna slowly come down and then gently showered kisses and sweet love nothings on her. The very fact that we had taken her like this was just so unusual. Jo was absolutely shattered but managed to mutter something along the lines, “Just wait you two, I’ll get you; but it was a brilliant orgasm to wind down on.” The next rare thing was that Louise took the panties that she had been wearing before and slid them over Jo’s head and secured them into place as she would with me, her stained gusset presented to Jo’s nose. She accepted this with no protest and collapsed back enjoying Louise’s scent. She quickly fell asleep.
We left out some tracksuit bottoms and a soft cashmere top for her along with a pair of her white Hanro briefs for later. However, she emerged wearing a white nightie and robe, one of those that she had got for sleeping at Duncan and showed us that she was in a soft white Triumph Amourette bra and matching white panties.
We lunched in our nighties and then all changed to more informal clothing to go and pick the kids up and have supper with my parents. That evening, Jo asked Louise and me to make love as she watched and gave orders. She was beat and slept in between the two us, safe in our love.
Her revenge on us came fairly quickly. Jo returned to Oxford from London on the Tuesday evening, having left her car at our station and then driving over to Duncan in west Oxford. On her entry, there were little formalities and she was led straight through to his playroom behind his bedroom. He had quickly had her strip completely naked and then she had to give him a slow blowjob so she could appreciate the size of him, if she could forget. He then had retrieved his key and removed her chastity belt commenting on how good she was to have worn it but the next time would be for a day longer and her resident cock would be that little bigger. Slowly he had removed her acrylic cock and made her slowly lick it clean of the heavy accumulated female crusty residue on it, especially that which had built up in the longitudinal ribs of the dildo. His next act was to make her gently masturbate herself, playing with her clit ring, for roughly five minutes but not to the point of any real excitement, just to taunt her. She then had had to pee in front of him and empty herself into a transparent potty.
Duncan then attached ordinary wrist and ankle cuffs to her and had chained her over a gym horse, wrists attached to the front legs and legs to the back ones, forcing her legs and pussy area wide open for him. He gagged her with a large penile gag, as he knew that she would likely scream with the pleasure of being taken.
He took the hooks on the end of four chains and slowly attached each of these to each of her pussy rings. He then attached, one by one, another chain, to which was attached an elasticated sailing cord, with the ring on the loose end of the pussy chain. He slowly pulled on the first of the overall chain and cord combination, gently tugging her labia to open; he threaded it around the horse leg and hooked it onto a ring. This he repeated three times and the four chains were now duly pulling at her labia so as to open up wide her now wet pussy, still gaping from having had the acrylic cock in her for so long.
He commented to Jo that she was now that much looser for him and this was a good thing and how he wanted to see her develop so that she would be permanently looser in her pussy walls. This would mean that she would always need and crave really large cocks and toys in her to satisfy her, underpinning the increasing cock slut, when it came to men inside her, that she was becoming. It was early days though, she would need many training sessions, and he also wanted her anus to eventually behave in the same way. When she told Louise and I what Duncan had said to her, I said that I knew what he meant as I had been told from my then lover when I was young that once I had experienced a good cock like his in me, I would always crave more of a decent one at various points through my life. He had forgotten strap-ons though!
Duncan briefly played an electric large wand over her clit and pussy entrance, teasing her cunt and the vibrations of which pulled accordingly on her lips as the elastic cord took the tension. This set up a strong flow of pre-cum from her.
He mounted her from behind, pushing his large hard cock deep into her cunt as he could, almost roughly and like a rape. Quickly, Jo came, quivering hard as an intense climax washed over her. He didn’t stay long in her to let her relish his manly cock. Instead, he quickly withdrew, plugged her cunt to hold his semen in and had her quickly dress and be on her way. From start to finish, she was only in his house for fifty minutes. He let her bring the Neosteel home, with the master key, for me to clean it and, unknown to us, play.
The following Friday, Jo arrived back from work early and took a shower. By now, she had reverted to her usual self, dressing in her boy like fashion and asking for our servitude, something we readily gave her. Nothing was mentioned about the previous weekend. She appeared for a glass of New Haven Sauvignon Blanc wine dressed in a beige shirt and khaki military style pants, her hair swept back and her usual very little make-up on.
Jo’s parents had taken the kids off for two night’s fun, so we were left free for a major play if we wished. I had proposed to Jo about going away for a weekend but after the previous weekend’s exertions, she naturally wanted to stay closer to home. Louise finished around six and came into the kitchen. I poured her a glass of wine too and put out some healthy nibbles for them.
Jo proposed that Louise should go and shower and asked that our love orifices were clean. Mine already was done and, so, in the bathroom I helped Louise have an enema. On Jo’s request, we both put on underwire quarter cup white bras on, so that our nipples were exposed. Louise was to insert a butt plug into me and that I had to the same with a vibrator into Louise’s pussy but no play.
I then had to lace Louise’s pussy up with a pink ribbon. There was to be no jewellery other than our normal matching waist and ankle chains as well as our “I am Joanna’s girl” necklaces that we always wore. We were to wear thongs and for clothing a matching blue parachute-material body suit that she had brought us back from France some weeks ago. We each buttoned up over our fronts up to our collars this ‘step-into’ suit. A Velcro strap came across at the collar securing us at our neck levels.
Author’s note: This story doesn’t seem to be as popular as some of my others, I don’t know why that is particularly… it’s a lot more ‘real’, certainly more ‘real’ than ‘Owned!’ or ‘Out of Your Hands’ which are both quite far-fetched really… It doesn’t bother me particularly I’m just interested to know people’s opinion and so I really do welcome your feedback. I do think maybe I should have posted this story all in one go as I think it will read better that way… still, it’s too late for that now. Perhaps people who don’t find the story until it’s finished will like it better than those who have discovered it piecemeal? I guess we’ll see.
Happy reading, Mali
After Monday’s spectacular events, the rest of the week was almost bound to be something of a let down. And so it was… Mistress’s period arrived on Wednesday and so for the rest of the week she kind of lost interest in our game, save for a few gentle strokes on Friday night as we were drifting off to sleep.
I noticed something else around the tail end of the week too, Mistress seemed to be up to something. Every time I walked into the room, she was on her laptop, which in itself was quite unusual as, unlike most of the population, Mistress firmly preferred reading a book to any ‘online’ entertainment. Not only that, but she would always minimize some of the pages when I walked in, leaving something innocuous on the screen in it’s place, like a shopping site or something.
This at once worried and excited me.
Worried, because there’s a lot of twisted shit on the internet about ‘Chastity’ and ‘Tease & Denial’, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted her to find it.
And excited because, well… for pretty much the same reasons actually!
This went on for a few days and so I wasn’t entirely surprised when on Sunday evening she asked me to strip naked, fit a cock ring and to kneel at her feet as she wanted to talk to me (Mistress remained casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt).
To relax us both, and perhaps to get me into the right frame of mind before we began, she told me to worship her feet until she told me to stop. I was more than happy to do this and eagerly licked, sucked and kissed every millimetre of her gorgeous feet until I felt myself slipping easily into a relaxed and submissive state. It must have been somewhere between twenty minutes and half an hour before she finally told me to stop. I cannot really be sure of the time as I had been blindfolded throughout and Mistress did not remove my blindfold even when I had finished. I guess she (rightly) assumed it would be easier for me to give honest answers to her questions with the blindfold on…
“Very good slave, you have pleased me greatly.”
At last I reluctantly let go of Mistress’s beautifully manicured feet and sat up straight with my hands rested on my thighs, my lips stinging slightly, but enjoyably, because I knew I had pleased my Mistress.
“Thank you Mistress,” I said, my cock achingly hard despite not being touched and the twenty one days of cum weighing heavily in my ballsack.
“Now… as you may or may not have realised, I’ve been doing some research… and I have some questions I want you to answer. Are you willing to do that for me?”
“Do you promise to answer them honestly and to the best of your ability?”
“Good slave. Now, I’m going to say this… if you feel you cannot truthfully answer a question, I want you to make this clear to me. This is very important. Your answers to these questions may carry great significance over the future of our marriage, and I don’t want you to say anything now which you later regret. Do you understand?”
“Are you sure?”
“Very well then, we shall begin.”
I shifted nervously at her feet, the discomfort in my legs barely registering as I waited for her first question.
“Before I start, I want to say that I have been surfing the net for a few days now, and I have visited many sites with which I’m sure you’re familiar… after all, there’s not that many sites dedicated specifically to ‘Denial’… so I’m sure we have probably seen much of the same material. Some of it is without doubt utter nonsense… but some of it strikes true and has provided me with some valuable information… Nevertheless, without your input it is all a little meaningless, so….”
She paused for a moment and I became very aware of my own breathing.
“…I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this first question, but I’m going to give you the opportunity to answer it anyway…. Does the idea of… ‘sissification’ appeal to you in any way at all?”
“No Mistress,” I replied quickly and confidently, slightly relieved that the first question didn’t require too much thought.
“No, I didn’t think so…and I must say, I’m quite pleased actually. Okay, I don’t think there’s any need to continue that line of questioning.”
I heard a pen scrolling through a page of paper and then that paper being turned over.
“Next…. I’ve read a lot on these sites about how men kept in a state of denial for longer periods become very attentive and devoted to their wives. Do you think that is true slave? Do you feel that way when you are denied orgasm?”
“And do you find that feeling pleasant slave, as I have read?”
“Yes Mistress…it’s very difficult to explain but… when you aren’t allowed to cum yourself, well, I guess it’s obvious that your feelings become more focussed towards the person who holds the power to let you cum. Also, if you’re in a relationship, even one where you already care deeply about the other person’s pleasure and fulfilment, well, if only one of you can cum of their own free will, then that is bound to become the focus of the one who can’t… I mean, you know how much I adore going down on you and making you cum anyway, but when I’m in denial, I love it even more…. And for some reason, although there is the underlying frustration of wanting to cum, it does make you feel more connected and….well, it’s kind of like being in love all over again… you know, like when you first fall in love, it’s a bit like that….”
I worried that that answer might send the wrong message, but before I could clarify further she continued.
“But doesn’t it drive you crazy not being able to cum?”
“Yes Mistress, but…. not in a bad way. It’s like… being a horny teenager again, your cock gets hard all the time, and when you get older that’s a nice feeling to have… you think about … I think about you all the time, and though I want to cum so bad, and I do think about doing it myself… I know that it won’t be the same as being allowed to cum properly, and I know that if I did give in I would regret it immediately… Also, just going back to what I said before, because I know I can’t cum, I focus on making you cum and that’s why when I’m denied I just want to go down on you all the time…every day.”
I heard the pen scratching at the paper and then she went on…
“I also read that for a lot of men it’s not that they particular want to go for very long periods without cumming, it’s that they want the decision to be their partner’s. Going for long periods is just a demonstration of the partner’s power over them…”
“I agree about the decision being someone else’s Mistress… and probably the length of time isn’t as important as the ‘control’ element, past a certain point…”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well Mistress… I’m sure those men wouldn’t be happy if they were allowed to cum two or three times a week, even if it was their Mistress decision.”
“No Mistress, because most men crave denial more than they want to cum, so while they do want the decision to be their Mistress’s, they also want their Mistress to… well, to be ‘mean’ about it, I guess…”
“What do you mean by that exactly?”
“Well, to… make them wait, obviously… but not only that… also to constantly remind them of the fact that they are under control, by teasing them until they almost cum… and also verbally….I think most of those men would agree that having their Mistress reminding them that it’s them who get to decide… and….”
I paused feeling slightly uncomfortable, until Mistress prompted me to continue.
“…I think a lot of men would like their Mistress’s to be… umm, well…’heartless bitches’, Mistress.”
Thankfully, she laughed.
“Yes… I must admit I have seen that phrase a couple of times…and what about you slave, would you like me to be a ‘heartless bitch’?”
I felt my cock twitch before I could even speak…
“I think so Mistress, yes.”
“Really slave… but do you mean that as regarding granting permission to cum, or is there more to it than that…?”
My mouth felt extremely dry as I mulled the question over in my mind. Mistress could obviously tell from my body language that I was deeply immersed in my thoughts and did not push me to answer. Eventually I opened my mouth and replied.
I, think most….
I think… I, umm….
I would like it Mistress, if you… came to think, or rather… believed… wholeheartedly, that your pleasure is more important than mine Mistress. And also that…
The idea of you expecting to be given pleasure without any expectation on you to return it… is really, really horny Mistress.”
She thought over what I had said for a moment and then responded.
“So the idea of me demanding to be pleasured whenever I wanted it, turns you on slave, even if you knew that I was under no obligation to even touch your cock?”
I heard her shift on the chair and I wondered if she was touching herself, damn the blindfold!
“Is there any time you wouldn’t like me to do that slave?”
“Not really Mistress, none that I can think of.”
“Are you sure slave?”
“So you wouldn’t protest if I was hot and sweaty after exercise… or it was the middle of the night… or I was on my period…?”
“No Mistress… although, I’ve never gone down on a woman on her period, so I wouldn’t know….but I don’t think so.”
“But you like the thought of me just telling you I want you to make me cum, ‘NOW’?”
“Yes Mistress, I love it.”
“Why does that appeal to you so much slave?”
“Umm, because… well, because I like the thought of pleasing you Mistress, and… well, I guess, it’s something to do with the fact that you can have what you want whenever you want it, whereas I have to wait until I am given permission Mistress….and by demanding pleasure whenever you want it, I suppose you would be underlining that…”
“I see…. and what about the length of denial, how do you feel about that?”
“Well like I’ve said before Mistress, it doesn’t really start to take effect until the end of the first week, which is a pain, because obviously it means it takes longer to get back to that feeling of submissive frustration… and obviously if you go for three weeks instead of two then two-thirds of the time are effective rather than only half of it…”
“Okay that’s a good point… but if shorter periods were interspersed with longer ones that would work too?”
“Well, yes Mistress…. I think the key is in not knowing. If I know that I’m going to be allowed to cum tomorrow then it’s no big deal not to get to cum today, but if it might not be another two weeks, or longer, then cumming tonight suddenly seems a really big deal…”
“So you don’t think the idea of a ‘fixed term’ of chastity is ideal slave?”
“Well not really Mistress… I mean it works, but I think it…well, if you know that you aren’t going to get to cum for another two weeks, well, you kind of get used to the idea, but not knowing if it’s going to be another day or so, or another week or whatever, well it wouldn’t …. you wouldn’t ever know, so you’d always be on edge, thinking about it…”
“I see…so what do you think about going for much longer periods, like months?”
“If you wanted me to do that, I would Mistress.”
“Okay… but I want to know what you think about it…”
“I think….it would be hard, but it would be Heavenly too. When you haven’t cum for a while and you’ve got over that first week… you kind of start enjoying the frustration and a big part of you stops wanting to cum. You want it, of course, but at the same time you know if you do, even if you’re allowed to, that you have to wait to get back to the lovely feeling of being denied and waiting for that release, and it becomes hard to choose. That’s why most men want their partner to have control and to make the decision for them, because they know that if it was up to them they would give in too easily and then they would really regret it.
I know it’s hard for you to understand Mistress, but when you’ve been denied and then you cum, you have this monstrous orgasm, it’s the best orgasm you can ever have, because the more cum that’s in your balls the more intense the orgasm is going to be. So if you cum every few days you have a nice orgasm, but you know that if you wait and let it build up… and not only that, but mentally, all the time you are denied and waiting the pressure is building inside your head too… so when you’re finally allowed to cum, it’s not just the pressure being relieved from your balls, but from your head too!
And all the teasing fuels that even more and the whole thing of going down on you and making you cum…. It just adds more and more fuel to the fire. And I can’t imagine how intense that would be after months, but I imagine it would be absolutely mind-blowing… but I guess the flip side of that would be that the come down would be quite big too… I have read about where guys have gone a few months and been told they are going to be allowed to cum and they still begged their Mistress’s to make them wait longer… I know you probably can’t understand that Mistress, but I understand that very well… even from my limited experience.”
“And you would do that if I told you I wanted you to?”
“Yes Mistress. If it pleased you.”
“And what if decided that you needed to wear some kind of chastity device so that I could be sure you weren’t cheating slave?”
“If we could find one that was practical, I would Mistress.”
“Have you seen the birdlock device slave?”
“Does that look practical too you?”
“So going back to what you were saying earlier slave, about denial focussing your mind on the other person’s pleasure… are you saying that being denied makes that more pleasurable for you?”
“Well, yes Mistress… you know I love going down on you and making you cum… but when I know I can’t cum, it’s so much more rewarding and… I dunno, it just makes it an even bigger deal for me and…. It’s hard to explain Mistress, but when I make you cum, even when I’m not denied, I love it so much and I get so into it, that when you cum, mentally I almost feel like I have too… being denied just intensifies that feeling even more… it’s just amazing Mistress….”
“When you talk about it I can tell you really love it slave…”
“Yes Mistress, I do. When I’m not being denied, even though I enjoy the freedom, there’s a huge part of me that just can’t wait for it to start again…”
She paused for thought and then asked… “Are you okay down there still?”
“My legs are a bit stiff Mistress.”
“Stand up then slave.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
I dragged myself up to my feet, and enjoyed the feeling of the blood flowing properly through my legs once more. Though I still couldn’t see her I felt Mistress moving towards me and then I felt her warm lips closing around my cock. I was rock hard in seconds, especially as the cockring was still in place. She sucked my granite hard cock gently for a few minutes until I was breathing quite hard and then allowed my cock to slip from her mouth and ordered me to resume my position on the floor.
I sank to the floor once more and she waited for my breathing to return to normal.
“Now slave, I may come back to those other points later, but now I have a difficult question for you… perhaps the most difficult question of all. In a lot of the sites I’ve seen there are two main fetishes connected with chastity… one is sissification, which we’ve already discussed. The other is cuckolding. Can you tell me how you feel about that slave?”
“I….. I’m not sure if I can Mistress.”
“Okay slave, but at some point I need to know how you feel about that. The fact that you’re not dismissing it out of hand indicates that there’s something about it you like the idea of?”
“Can you tell me about it… can you tell me at least what you like about the idea?”
I licked my lips, this was a question I had been dreading and even with the blindfold on this was way too hard.
I could feel myself shaking as I tried to speak. Mistress leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips.
“Take your time slave, I love you and nothing you can say will change that…”
“Thank you Mistress.”
I sat, breathing deeply for several minutes as Mistress waited patiently.
“I…. like reading stories about it Mistress, but I don’t think I could handle it in real life.”
She said nothing, obviously waiting for me to continue…
“But… part of me loves the idea of being made to clean your pussy after you had been penetrated by someone else Mistress, especially if my balls were aching and full at the time… and… umm, I do…. if…. you…. ordered me to… suck another man’s cock for you… Mistress, I would.”
I was still shaking, and Mistress took her time digesting what I just said.
“I’d love to see you sucking a nice hard cock slave, and the thought of you eating another man’s cum out of my pussy is very hot… but I don’t think I could do it either. Some things are best left as fantasies slave, you know that don’t you?”
“Are you relieved by what I’ve just said slave, or disappointed?”
“Relieved Mistress… because if there was anyone else involved I would always worry about losing you, and I definitely couldn’t cope with being left alone while you ‘dated’ someone else. I don’t really get that…. I mean if you contact someone with the idea of having sex with them in front of your husband, or with your husband in some capacity… well that’s not the same to me as going out and just fucking someone else…”
“I agree slave….but you still like reading about it?”
“Yes Mistress, I know that is a bit strange… but then lots of people get turned on by stuff they wouldn’t really want to happen…”
I was still trembling and Mistress kissed me again, this time giving my cock a few gentle strokes as she tried to reassure me that it was okay.
“Okay slave, I don’t have too much more to ask…. so this will be the last question for now.”
I shifted on my knees again, nervously waiting for the question.
“I know you have been eating your cum for me about once a month for some time now… I couldn’t help noticing that when I allowed you to lick it off my breasts you looked like you were enjoying it a lot more than I expected. Was that because you’d been dreaming about doing that for so long or do you like eating your cum?”
The question wasn’t really what I’d been expecting somehow, I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that. But thinking about it, knowing the sites she been visiting there was a lot of talk about slaves being ‘forced’ to eat their cum, or that being something that was expected of them if they were allowed to cum. So I guess it wasn’t that out of the blue…
It was all his fault.
All he had to do was pick a female from his phone contacts and have them call his Mistress. He missed the deadline and in turn his Mistress used his email account to send a message to his doctor asking her to see him due to his concerns over locking himself in chastity and practicing orgasm denial for extended periods of time. Although covered by patient privacy, she was his family doctor for most of his life and would have to endure the prospect that she knew of his kinky secret.
In a state of panic he asked an ex-girlfriend to call his Mistress. They had dated in college and he remembered her being really good in bed and very open minded, but eventually he broke up with her for being too clingy and controlling. However, that was years ago and she seemed to have matured since then. He had, coincidentally, run into her a couple of months ago and they had seen each other on and off since. Lunch, dinner or maybe a movie, but nothing more.
That was until he asked her for help. She told him that he owed him big time. He reluctantly agreed, knowing that now, two women had him trapped. She thought it was funny that he placed himself in such predicament and jokingly let him know it. Her request was not, he thought, so funny. She wanted him to clean her house once a week for the next six months to which he agreed.
Then she added the caveat that he needed to do it naked. When he began to waffle, she asked him what his Mistress would think if he reneged on his end of their bargain. She chuckled at the prospect of having him clean up for her and seeing what a chastity cage looked like.
To make matters worse his Mistress had one more punishment for him. For the next six weeks he was to blindfold himself and wait for her naked. She would then handcuff him, unlock him, clean him, wait for him to go soft and then lock him back up. All without speaking to him. It was maddening. Now more than wanting to cum, he just wanted to be teased. Her ignoring him was more than she could bear.
Twenty-six weeks. A full six months. He was going mad. He had not see or heard his Mistress speak for over six weeks. She would simply contact him via text messages. His cock ached for release, for her touch, for anything. He didn’t know if he could go on. His frustration now gave way to desperation. He was on the verge of breaking down.
He talked to his ex-girlfriend about it. She told him he was silly for getting into such a predicament, but he had either end it or see it through. Shit or get of the pot she would tell him. Just don’t whine about it.
They had become more and more of a platonic couple the more he went over to her place to fulfill his debt to her. She had become quite comfortable with him being around her. Having taken to walking around in her panties when he was there and slowly starting to have him helping with other chores such as running errands or going shopping for her. He began to think she was playing games with him, taking advantage of his situation, but he dismissed this as crazy thoughts of a sex starved submissive.
In the absence of his Mistress he was growing fonder of her and began getting aroused just at the thought of going over to her place and see her. He began to think that it was a mistake to break up with her.
Out of nowhere, he received a message from his Mistress on his way over to do his weekly cleaning. He almost drove off the road as he read the message. He thought about it as he drove to her house. He decided that his girlfriend needed to see the message for herself. He just didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t think straight. She would help, she has before.
She read the message as he got undressed. “Umph. She’s got a point. This would definitely prove your devotion and your commitment to your key holder.” She put the phone down. “Have you done anything like this before?”
“NO! Never. I mean my doctor told me it would it help, but I mean really!”
“Well, It seems and no pun intended, she got you by the balls. I mean if you stand your ground you could lose your job. I’m not sure your boss would appreciate you letting her in on your little secret.” She could clearly see he was gripped by fear and indecicion. “Look, I’ll help you do this, but if I do this I’ll need to revise our arrangement.”
“Yes, of course. Fine.” He was blindly over zealous. His Mistress was ready to cost him his job. A great job as a matter of fact. She told him that she were to help then she would like to extend his obligation another six months. She also wanted him to service her orally at least twice a week for that time. He prided himself on his pussy eating skills and eagerly jumped at the chance to prove it. He was to clean the house and she went out to get the things they would need to accomplish his task.
She returned a while later and he was just finishing his chores. After she had him shower; she had him fix them a couple of drinks and join her in the living room. “Kneel.” she commanded as he put the drinks down.
She slipped off her skirt and stepped towards him. Her crotch almost on his nose. “Sniff it. Do you remember how good it tasted?” He took in her scent and moaned as he nodded yes. His cock stirred in its cage.
She inched towards him, the dampness of her panties tickled his nose. “Use your tongue.” He stuck it out and pressed it against the fabric. She cooed softly as he worked it around. Soon her hands were winding their way through his hair. His mouth was now pressed against her as he sucked and licked her through her panties.
“Take them off.” she hissed. “With your teeth.” By now he was dripping pre-cum on the floor beneath him and his neglected member ached for release. As he slowly worked them down, her well groomed crotch revealed itself. An arrow of hair pointing directly to her moist mound caused a painful swelling in his cage. She pulled him by the hair into her as she fell back onto the couch.
Lustfully he dove right in. Her scent filing his nostrils. She bucked and moaned as he worked his tongue between the folds of flesh. She pushed her feet into his back and her hands pulled at his hair as she was driven closer and closer to climax. He moved in for the kill and her shriek pierced the air as she was seized by her orgasm.
“Wow. I’d forgotten how good you were.” She sat up after a few minutes, resting, catching her breath. “Now let’s get you ready. Turn around.” Hesitantly, he spun around on all fours. She giggled at the slick puddle on the floor. “Is there anything left? Well, lets find out. OK. Face down, ass up.”
She hung a small cup off of his chastity device. A wave of embarrassment and humiliation swept over him as he felt the cool lube slide down his ass crack. Without warning she slid a finger into him. His ass puckered tight around it. Her invasion was just an attempt to lube him completely. “How’s it feel, Honey?”
“OK, I guess.” He jumped though when she brushed over his prostate.
“Jackpot.” she said whimsically.
She withdrew her finger and readied a prostate massager. Slightly angled and bulbous with a handle and an arm to stimulate from the exterior as well. Gently placing it on his ass she pushed it in. She smiled as she watched it slowly disappear. He gasped as it hit its mark. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, all things considered.” She began alternating between moving it in and out and rocking it back and forth, judging his reactions for the best technique. His cock futilely stiffened in its confines. He wondered if if was supposed to be getting aroused by this. “Oh, yes. Tweets. Please.” was a barely audible hiss that escaped him. He hadn’t even realized what he’d said or that he’d started rocking back and forth.
She was surprised also at his response. ‘Tweets’ was his pet name for her when they had dated. “You can do it, Honey.” She whispered back. “Fill up the cup. Relax and fill it up.”
He bit his lip as he felt the pressure of an orgasm build inside him. ‘Almost there.’ he thought. Like the pressure of a shaken bottle of soda, he just needed to pull the tab. “Please, oh, please.” He pushed back harder. “Almost!” he grunted. “There!” He started panting. He tried to will himself over the edge.
It was hopeless. He wanted to scream. “Please. Let me cum. Please!” He collapsed to his elbows and his head hit the floor.
“”All done.” She pulled out the probe from him and took the cup off his cage. “My, my, look at what you did!”
He turned to see the cup was almost full of a milky white fluid. His fluid. His cum! She took off the wires that held it to his cage and screwed on the cap. “Here you go.” She held out the cup. “You should clean up and get going.”
He did as she asked and soon he was on the road. Headed towards his Mistress.