[Part three of a series of stories about a wife who owns her husband. I get a lot of abuse from some readers who seem to think I am committing an unforgivable crime and personally insulting them by putting these stories in what they think is the wrong category. (I like a bit of abuse, but mostly from my lovely wife.) These stories have elements of fetish and domination and kink and homosexuality. They are not straight "loving wives" stories. But, surely, we can agree that wives and husbands come in many varieties and have many different interests. If this is it is not to your taste, there is a lot else to read out there. Though of course you're very welcome to leave any comment you want. Thank you.]


Last night Stephanie and I went to bed early. We were reading and talking. As usual, my wife wore one of her nightdresses; knee length slip in blue-grey in cotton, with embroidery at the chest and string straps. It was low cut, giving her heavy beasts a wonderful cleavage. Stephanie had her hair bunched up at the back, showing her long neck off. Glimpsing her tall and strong neck and the soft abundance of the top of her breasts left me excited and needy. I am always naked in bed; Stephanie likes me absolutely exposed all times in the bedroom. I often undress the second I enter the room, leaving my clothes on the chair at the door.

I cuddled up to Stephanie.

“Are you horny, Geoffrey?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“You’re such a little boy, ever-ready,” she laughed. “You can wank, if you want.”

“Are you sure? Do you mind? I’d like to, but can I do something for you too.”

“No! You wank. I want to read. What I don’t want is you rubbing up against me like that and wetting me with the dripping end of your hard little penis.”

Stephanie’s voice was cross, but her eyes were bright and she could not keep a slight smile from her lips. She knew the effect this was having on me – the humiliation, the dismissiveness, the tone you would use with a child. I was desperate to wank, I wanted so much to touch myself there in bed, with her beside me.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

I was uncertain. She had told me I could masturbate; she had told me to masturbate. Was it a trap? Was she going to stop me? She was perfectly capable of letting me wank for a while then stopping me, leaving me unsatisfied, unable to sleep with an iron hard erection? It was going to be humiliating whatever she had in mind.

“Are you sure? I mean I can go to the bathroom to… to masturbate, if you prefer.”

“No. Do it here. Don’t be ashamed. I really don’t mind. I know you’re an inveterate wanker, that you can’t help yourself, so let’s not pretend. Enjoy it. I want you to relieve yourself and stop bothering me like a horny puppy.”

I lay back, sliding down the bed a little and reached for my cock under the duvet. I was already hard. I stroked myself slowly with my right hand; with my left I cupped my balls and, squeezed and pulled. Stephanie went back to her reading. She picked up her mug of tea and drank. The duvet tented over my groin, moving up and down slowly. Stephanie reached over and pulled the duvet away from me. The cold air rushed over me. My wanking stopped. She glanced at me and went back to her reading.

“Carry on wanker.”

I resumed masturbating, drawing my feet up, bending my knees and letting them fall wide open. There I was spread before her, naked, masturbating. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, embarrassed, childish, and very excited. My left leg fell against Stephanie’s thigh and jerked away from her as if from an electric shock.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you.”

My fist stopped stroking, frozen in fear. She laughed.

“It’s OK sweetie. Slow down. There’s no rush. Enjoy it. I like watching you touching yourself. It’s so pathetic.”

Stephanie’s finger tips ran across my thigh, a feather light touch that seemed to give me further electric shocks. I let go of my cock, it twitched violently in the air as I bore down, tensed and tried desperately not to ejaculate.

“My God Geoffrey! You are so keyed up. I said slowdown.”

I was panting hard. I’d been so close. I was so relieved to have held off. I know she would have been furious if I had gone off so soon.

“Touch your nipples. You like that. Pinch them. Pull hard. Make it hurt.”

Stephanie wasn’t reading now. She turned on her side, propping her head up on an elbow.

“You’d better not touch your penis for a bit. You are not to come yet; not until I say.”

My fingers clamped on my nipples, pulling hard. I was deeply immersed now in the sensations and Stephanie’s directions. I was descending into a trance of need and shame. Stephanie watched me, amused, appraising. I held her eyes briefly and whispered that I loved her.

“I know you do,” she said.

She took my left hand away from my chest and manipulated my fingers until my middle finger pointed out. She put it into her mouth and wet it.

“Put that in your arse.”

I tuned on my side, away from her and pressed my finger against and straight into my arsehole. The intrusion hurt, but immediately my finger was jammed into me as far as possible. I tuned back onto my back. My cock switched and jerked.


I squirmed and tried desperately to hold tight. I was a desperate panting mess.

Stephanie got out of the bed. She pulled the duvet onto the floor and tilted the bedside lamp so that I was in a spotlight. She reached for her mobile phone and stood at the end of the bed.

“I’m going to film you, wanking, fingering yourself, coming. I am going to send this to Kate. I saw you flirting with her at dinner the other night. I think she’s fond of you. Probably thinks you are an intelligent, kind and manly husband. All my girlfriends think I’m lucky — so hansom and thoughtful and good with the kids. What they don’t know is that you’re a little-dicked wanker, a sissy who likes to wear my panties and dresses and likes nothing better that to be fucked in the bottom. Do you think she will be impressed with my queer wanker husband?”

My hand went to my cock. I stroked it very slowly as I pressed my finger in and out of my arse. I looked at Stephanie, I looked at the phone. What I was doing, what she was saying, was being recorded.

“If you want to get off, please do, wank away, fuck yourself silly. But I’m going to film you and Kate is going to see it. If you stop now, no-one will be any the wiser about my little pervert of a husband.”

My hand moved up and down slowly. I wanted to stop, I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. I told myself it was right that Kate, all my wife’s friends, see this, it was best that they knew what I was like, how Stephanie owned me.

She moved around the bed filming me from head to toe. I looked again into the phone’s lens. A red light blinked back at me, capturing my shame. She stood on the bed, right between my legs.

“You can come now. When you’re ready. Come on, get it over with.”

She pressed the toes of her right foot into my balls firmly, leaning her weight on me. I grunted in pain, my finger moved in me fast and I came hard, explosively, my arsehole clamping tight. As I let go of my spent cock, her foot pressed down on it, up and down, massaging the last of my sperm onto my stomach.

Stephanie was still filming as I she came to sit beside me .

“Was that nice?”

I nodded. The camera was pointed at my face now.

“Here eat this.”

She fed me my sperm, every last bit, filming all the while.

September 2018
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