male chastity

He was a wreck. Pure and simple. She had completely taken him to the deepest depths. There was no way out. He lost count after a dozen edges and then after a dab of icy hot on his anus she told him that the only way she would stop is if he agree to a video confession.

Even after he agreed she palmed him and edged him again just to make she he understood her. Then once they were done she told him that at the end of the year, if he didn’t reach phase four then the video would be sent to all of his contacts. He had one month to start phase two. During that time she wanted him to get four milkings and save them for her. She would contact him then.

He watched, hopelessly as she left the room. Drowning in his own desires. Victim of her hidden agenda.

All week he thought of Tweets. Wishing he’d stayed with her. He’d called her twice, but she never answered. He got one text from her saying she had a date that night and they would catch up on the weekend.

A date. He was devastated. He wanted her. He needed her. She had become his rock in the storm he found himself in. That’s when it struck him. She would save him. Before it was to late. Before he lost her again.

That weekend he arrived punctually. After he stripped down to nothing he dropped to his knees and kissed her feet. “Oh, Tweets I missed you.”

“Get up!” she said stepping back. “What’s wrong with you?” She was still in her bathrobe. She put her hands on her hips. “A video? Are you stupid?” She never looked so beautiful to him. “Have you seen it?” She started walking to the kitchen and he meekly followed. “Of course you have. You made it. Moron!”

She stopped and spun around. “Sucking cock?! You let her make a video of you saying you wanted her to train you to suck off guys!”

“But I’m not gay! I told her that…….”

“Nobody will believe you, not after seeing this. Anyway, Who said anything about being gay? I’ve had sex with my roommates in college; that doesn’t make me a lesbian. But I never made a video proclaiming it.” She shook her arms above her head as she spoke.

“Tweets you have to help me.”

“Again?!? Why?” she sat down at the table and sipped her tea.

“Please. I’m begging you. Anything!” he sat down next to her and grabbed her arm.

“That’s a dangerous word.”

His voice trembled. “I…I…know.”

“What should I do? How can I help you this time?” she glared at him. “I mean really. What am I going to do here?”

“I don’t know, but never expected this.” He looked down at his fidgeting hands. “I guess I…I wanted…to. I enjoyed the teasing. The denial. Being brought to the edge. Knowing that my sexual release was held by another.”

She sat silently. He was coming apart.

“Heck, even drinking my own cum wasn’t that bad, but now she’s…she’s..” his voice cracked. “She’s going to far. She ruining me. I’m going to lose my job, everything.”

“So your problem is with the..uh..I guess you could call it blackmail? Wait! Did you say drinking your cum?”

He thought about it for a second. “Yes, She made me drink the cup I brought to her and yes, the blackmail is too much.” He looked up to see a devilish grin across her face. “Wha…”

“And you feel the blackmailing violates the trust between you and your key holder.”


“Well, I think that blackmail was implied from the outset with the pictures you gave to her, now wasn’t it?”

He felt dumb at the obvious question. “Yes.”

“Secondly, You’ve been seeing her for how long now and have not given her a dime since week ten, right?”

“Yes.” She stared at him blankly. He understood her point.

“But you don’t mind the teasing? The denial? The chastity?”

“No. No. Not at all.”

“You want to please your key holder, not be threatened by her, right?”

“Yes. Yes. Right.”

“Well, I don’t think she is going to let you go and I don’t know what you want me to do.” She paused, looking at him. “I’ll talk to her, if you want, but I’m not sure as to what I’ll accomplish.”

“Yes. OK. Anything.”

“That’s twice you said that. Do you mean it?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes.” She was his only hope. He took a leap of faith.

She walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. After a few minutes she called for him. He walked down to her bedroom.

He was shocked to see her standing there, her robe open holding a strap-on. His cock stirred in its cage as their eyes met.

He was embarrassed by his reaction, but the sight of her like that excited him.

“You must be so very horny. Either that or you like seeing me with a fake cock.” She eyed his swelling member and looked up to see him eyeing the dildo. “I think the latter.”

He blushed at her remark. He wasn’t sure himself. There was something so irresistible about her like that. Powerful. Strong. Sexy. Yet, what was she doing? How could she think of sex at a time like this?

“I’ll help. Again! However…” She walked towards him, stroking her dildo. “How far will you go for me?”

“Oh, Tweets. Please.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax. I want you to wear this. Maybe later I could wear it for you if you want.” She held out the strap-on. “I haven’t had a good fucking in a while and I need it bad. Come on. It’s been years since you gave me a good ride.”

Finding it hard to believe he took the strap-on and fumbled with the harness. She was a goddess. Why wasn’t she getting laid? She had him turn around and look in the mirror. Any other time he thought this would be comical, but now he felt helpless. At some level he thought he deserved it for the way he left her.

“Stroke it.” she said from behind. He put his hand on the fake cock and slowly pumped it. She came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Look at how hard you are.” She reached around and stroked along with him, nibbling on his ear.

She spun him around and kissed her way down his neck, across his chest and body to the dildo. “Remember how you used to beg me to suck you off. I used to think that was so hot. How you wanted my mouth on you so bad.” She flicked the head with her tongue. One hand holding the base and the other kneading his balls. She kissed and licked the shaft. “Mm, That could feel so good. Too bad I don’t have the key. Would you like that?” She sucked on the head. Moaning. “Uh, If I held the key. I could have your cock any time I wanted.”

He watched as she deftly worked it in and out of her mouth. Sliding along each side, sucking on the balls and taking it into her throat. His mind was flooded with the memories of having sex with her. His caged cock leaked and ached for release.

Pausing, she took the life-like phallus in to the hilt, then back out. “Imagine my lips on your cock once again.” He was going mad. Just the sight of her making love, no, having sex with a dildo that he was wearing. “Imagine if I could have it whenever I wanted. Imagine you giving me orgasm after sweet orgasm.”

He closed his eyes, but even the sound of her was like a siren song in his head. Soon she dragged him to the bed and pulled his head into wet pussy. His tongue stabbing inwards as his lips sealed around hers. Soaking up her juices as he went to work. She was writhing in ecsatcy beneath him. He probed her, finding all the spots that would satisfy her lust. Her taste was intoxicating, yet also maddening. Her wanted her, but he knew that tasting her was all he could hope for right now.

The tensing of her thighs on his head let him know he was doing a good job. She squeezed tight and pulled his hair as her climax consumed her. He struggled to breath as she clamped down hard on him.

She only needed a moment to catch her breath before pulling him up on top of her. “Take me.” she whispered. “Make love to me.”

He kissed her passionately. She gyrated under him, the dildo stimulating her, running her hands across his body. Her nails scrapping his back. Moans of pleasure escaped her lips. His trapped cock strained against its confines.

“Please.” she hissed. “Oh, please.” He grabbed his fake dick and rubbed it against her hot and wet pussy. Matching her gyrations as he slowly worked it in. Awkwardly at first, but finding his rhythm in no time. Her arms and legs were all over him as he kept a teasingly slow pace. Her cries filled the room. “Oh, so good. Yes, fuck me good and slow.”

On and on he went. Slowly grinding away on top of her.

He knew he would have never been able to keep this up with his own dick. However, watching her was driving him mad. It was like being trapped in some futuristic simulator. Everything was so real, so life like.

Except for his own pleasure. That was bound and bridled. Unable to participate. The tension and frustration reach a new level.

He watched as her orgasm built. Groaning and moaning as he’d never heard before from her. Without warning she flipped him over and she whipped herself into a fury. Her nails digging into his chest as he grabbed her hips.

She screamed out his name as her orgasm exploded from within her, before collapsing on top of him. “Oh my God! That was awsome. We should have done this while we were dating.”

“What? Why?”

“Oh, come on be serious. You never had this kind of stamina.” She looked at him. A confused and hurt expression on his face. “Don’t pout. You know it’s true. Your real talents lie between your lips not your legs. Besides I’ve never seen this kind of commitment from you when we were together. Maybe that thing your wearing works better than you think.”

He was devastated. Was she saying he wasn’t a good fuck? Before he had a chance to dwell she had them clean up and return to the bedroom. “Time to empty those swollen and aching balls of yours.” she said mockingly while shaking an empty cup in front of her. “Don’t want to disappoint your precious Mistress now do we?”

He knelt down on all fours on the bed and she began to milk out his load. “Mmm, I sure would love to bend you over and let you be my bitch.” He was taken aback by her words, but he was obsessed with trying to orgasm. “It would be the same as what we’re doing right now, except I could have both my hands on your hips.”

He wasn’t so sure, but it did make sense. He tried to rationalize what was becoming a guilty pleasure. Her massaging of his prostate was the closest thing to an orgasm he had had in ages. His body wasn’t listening, it was responding to her actions. The touch of the massager was intensifying the need to cum. However; it was only building, like water behind the wall of a dam.

Unconsciously, his body began matching her her thrusts. Craving anything sexual. Her actions were driving him like a runaway train.

Then, without warning, it stopped.

“Please, don’t. Keep going.” he implored.

“But I’m done. See.” She took the cup and showed him. “I’ll keep this here for you.”

“I think you want my strap-on more than your letting on.” She strolled off as he got cleaned up and gathered up his things.

They met at the front door. He stood there awkwardly waiting for her to speak.

“I’ll make the call for you, but like I said I don’t know what I can do for you, but I know what I’d like from you.” She opened the door and held her hand out, motioning him to leave. The door slammed behind him as he walked through.

He had not heard from his Mistress all week and began to wonder. Plus, he had not heard from Tweets until he got a message around dinner time to come over and clean up. As usual he undressed and went to work like every time before this one.

Half way through she had him stop so she could get her obligatory orgasm from him and then milk his prostate as he was required to do. Shortly after he cleaned up and went back to work the doorbell rang.

And again.

“Are you going to get that or not?” Tweets yelled from the other room.


“But nothing. Answer the door.”

He peeked through the curtain and his mouth fell open when he seen his Mistress standing at the door. He hurriedly let her in and knelt down before her. She walked right past him into the dinning room and sat down.

He went the other way and told Tweets, before going to the kitchen and fixing them drinks. He put them down and was dismissed by both of them. They talked quietly as he went about his tasks. After what felt like an eternity they summoned him back in and had him refresh their drinks. His Mistress then had him kneel down in front of them.

“Your girlfriend tells me that you wish to end our arrangement.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I can’t see why.”

He hesitated “Your phases, Mistress.”

“I love them. They let me know how devoted to me you actually are.”

“But…” she waved her hand and cut him off.

“How about this then. I will release you from this on the following terms.

“One. You’ll get married in the next three months.” she paused.

“Two. The day after you are married you will sign over all of you assists to your wife.” again pausing to ensure he was listening.

“Three. I will give her the key to your cage after your honeymoon and” she emphasized “she tells me that you have given her your virginity. Then I will give your bride all of the items I have of you.”

He stared at her blankly. “Do we have a deal?”

He looked to Tweets then back to Mistress. “I… It’s just…I want…”

“It’s irrelevant what you want. What’s relevant is what I want and what I want is a decision.”

He lowered his head. Her psychological grip tightening around him. “Yes, we have a deal.”

“Good. You can go now. I’d like to talk to your friend here. . . alone.” She turned her back to him and continued speaking. “Leave your clothes though. I want to think of you later. Trying to get back home with nothing but my cage covering you.”

He picked up his keys and left them to talk. He raced off to his car in the driveway, thankful the sun had already set. He found his way back to his apartment and luckily got inside without being seen. He lay there in bed nervously thinking of how he was going to comply with her request.

It took him two days to realize what he had to do and just shy of the three month mark it was done.

The wedding was a very ornate affair. He paid and over paid for everything Tweets had asked for. He had spent the prior day closing bank accounts and giving her the funds. All of his assets were placed in her name. The car. His apartment. Everything. He wanted nothing to interfere with her wedding. He was also milked by her just after the reception and before they left for the airport. He dutifully consumed all of it at her request.

The only hitch to their tropical destination was the metal lock on his chastity device that had set of the alarms at the airport and after an embarrassing search and interview he was on his way with her.

Once there he found that she had replaced all of his swim trunks with smaller, tighter ones that were all white. He didn’t realize the significance of this until he got out of the water for the first time. His cage outlined by the trunks that clung tightly to him when they got wet.

That first evening after dinner, dancing, drinking and a walk on the beach under the moonlight they went back to their room. She had him shower up and told him to wait for her on the balcony. She turned off all the lights as she went to shower.

He waited in for her patiently. The moon cast enough light to make out the waves rolling on to the beach. It was a fairly quiet night and he could make out other couples in the distance out on their balconies, but those around him were dark and, from what he could tell, empty.

He heard her leave the bathroom. As he turned around she appeared out of the darkness like a ghost. A long robe covered her as she walked up to him. He was lost in her eyes, captured by her beauty.

“Are you ready?” She leaned in and kissed him deeply, passionately. “Are you ready to consummate our marriage?”

“But Tweets…” She put a finger on his lips.

“It’s now ‘my bride’ and yes, we must. You promised.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. He didn’t resist as he fell to his knees. She undid her robe and let it fall off of her. She was a goddess bathed in the moonlight. As his eyes moved down her body he came face to face with her strap-on dildo.

“It’s time to prove to your bride you are committed to my happiness.” She put her hands on the sides of his head and pulled him in. He did not fight as he parted his lips for her. She held him just at the head. “That’s it, take it. Kneel before your bride and take in her cock.” She started pumping his head onto her, taking in a bit more each time. “Mm, oh yes. Make your bride happy. Take it all.”

Soon she was gently and slowly thrusting her hips to match the movement of his head. Her dildo sliding in to the hilt each time. His hands grasped her ass, speeding her up. Their eyes met. “Look at me while you suck it, suck it good. Suck it while I tell you how you can please me.” She slowed her pace again. “I have a bottle of lube in my robe. I want to use all of it while we’re here. I want you to want me to use it all while we’re here.” She paused to let her words sink in. She stopped when his mouth was filled with her. “Because if we don’t I might not be able to get the key from mistress.” She restarted her slow tempo of fucking his mouth.

The implication was clear and he understood it. As he pulled back and looked up at her. “Please, my bride, take me.” An angelic smile spread across her face. “Please, my bride, use me for your pleasure. Here, now. Under the moonlight, make me yours.”

She ran a hand through his hair. “Get us ready.”

He reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the lube. It wasn’t a big bottle, but he also wondered how many times he would need to do this over the next two weeks. He drizzled some on her cock and began to stroke it. Slow and easy he moved. Thinking about how he would want to be stroked. Mindful of where it was going he tried to be generous.

“Oh, that feels so good. Stroke it good. Get it nice and hard for your bride.” He moved one hand down between his legs and began to lube his anus. “That’s nice. Finger yourself for me; get yourself nice and wet for your brides hard cock.” He continued for a while longer. One hand sliding over her shaft, the other working its fingers in and out of his ass. “Can you still imagine what that feels like my dear? The pleasure you’re giving my shaft. Warm oily hands caressing your hot rigid member?”

She pulled him to his feet and she kissed him deeply; her tongue penetrating his mouth. “Do you want it?” Her hands caressed his body. “Do you?”

“Please my bride. Please fuck me.” He turned and bent over the balcony. “Take me. Be the first on our wedding night.” he said as he spread his cheeks for her. He watched the reflection of the moon in the water as he felt the tip of her shaft press against his anus.

Her hands gripped his hips as the head pushed past his sphincter. “Is this what you wanted?” He was surprised at how easily it slid in despite him clinching down reflexively at her intrusion. “Is it? Your bride fucking your ass on the first night of your honeymoon.” He moaned softly as the dildo brushed across his prostate. “Yes, tell me. You’ve wanted this more than you knew. Tell me your true feelings.” By now she was buried deep and moving back out.

“Yes, please my bride. Fuck me.” He started pushing back into her. “Yes, yes I want it. I want it so bad.” She held a slow and steady rhythm and slapped his ass occasionally. The warm breeze tingled her skin and hardened her nipples as she watched her dildo thrust in and out of his virginal hole. He moaned softly each time she filled him up.

“Oh, I bet that feels so good. My hard cock making you so so horny. So hot. So very hot.” She raked her nails across his back.

She found his prostate once again and began short quick thrusts across it. It had its desired effect. “Oh, yes. Right there. Oh, yes fuck me good. Make me cum. Fuck my ass and make me cum.” She switched on the vibrator beneath the harness and joined him in vocalizing his pleasure.

“You like that my hubby? Uh? You like that? Do you?” She picked up the pace. “You like getting fucked in the ass by your wife?” Her nails dug into his sides. He’d never been so desperate, so frustrated, so horny. His engorged prostate brought him to the very edge and his hard cage kept him there. Denied.

“Yes, please. Harder, fuck me harder.” He pleaded. She complied, ramming her cock in and out as hard and as fast as she could. He moaned and groaned. He pushed back; matching her thrusts in a vain attempt to bring himself to an orgasm. The pressure was unbearable. The urge to cum was right there. Just a little more he thought.

Her orgasm swelled within her like the waves of the ocean beneath them. “Oh yes. Fuck yes. Oh my God. Take it. Fuck yes. Take it bitch.” She grunted hard and loud as she pounded him mercilessly. Almost pushing him over the balcony before collapsing on his back. She ran her hands across his body. Her heart beating like a drum. She was shocked when she reached down for his cage. His cock was dripping and swollen inside its confines.

“Mm, I think someone really did enjoy having their cherry popped tonight. I can’t wait until I’ve had you again. And again.” she whispered in his ear. She kneaded his balls in her hand. “I can’t wait to get that key. Can you?”

After a few minutes she un-clipped the harness. Leaving the dildo buried in him, kissed his neck and walked inside.

He stayed there, leaning over the railing, still impaled by her cock. Watching the waves in the moonlight. Thinking. He should have felt humiliated or at least embarrassed by the way she used him, but he wasn’t. He was happy that he brought her pleasure. It made him feel good. He clenched down on the dildo, reminding himself of what just happened. How close he came to cumming. So near. His balls ached more than ever and his cage had dug into his frustrated cock as it had swelled to its limit.

Soon he thought. Soon he’ll get this cage off. Soon Tweets, his bride, his wife, will set him free.

He was startled by the clanking of ice inside a glass. He looked back, but she was not there. Looking around he seen two figures on the balcony next to his.

Without a word he waddled inside to get cleaned up. He heard a woman speak softly as soon as he was out of sight. “Oh my God. She just fucked the shit out of him…” He kept walking and her voice trailed off. Some faint giggling was all he heard as he closed the door to the bathroom.

And so it went for the rest of their honeymoon. As many times as he could he would ask his bride for sex. She never refused. She always wore the strap-on though. The afternoons were always in the room and at night she had her way with him on the balcony.

Twice though she dared him to let her have her way with him on the beach. He didn’t refuse. She laid in the sand and he mounted her cowgirl, squatting. She made him face the hotel. “How many people do you think are watching us?” she asked. “Not knowing who was really getting fucked.” His eyes moved from her to the dark balconies looking back at them as he buried her cock within him.

The sound of the waves were crashing behind them. He kept moving around, trying to get her shaft to rub his prostate. Soon he was leaning back, his hands on her knees as he began pumping like a piston, faster and faster. She switched on the vibrator and encouraged him to fuck her cock good. “Ride it. Faster. Make it cum. Make your bride cum for you!” she hissed. “Oh yes. Fuck yes. That feels so good. Fucking your tight hole.”

Soon she was consumed by her climax, quivering and shaking beneath him. He continued to grind away futilely on top of her as she tried to regain her composure. Still convinced he could somehow cum. He eventually gave up and as always she un-clipped the harness and left her cock buried deep within him, got up and put on her robe. He did the same and waddled behind her back to their room.

Every time she put on the strap-on she had him try a new position. Her favorite was having him laying on his back and she would pin his legs to his chest and she would pound him for all she was worth while looking him in the eyes. All the while talking dirty to him; making him beg for her cock. He tried desperately to cum, but to no avail. His favorite was cowgirl as he found that was the best way to get the best friction he craved on his prostate.

She smiled to herself though. He didn’t realize that he was just fueling his torment.

On their last night they sat on the balcony under a full moon. Naked except for his cage and her strap-on. “Did you enjoy yourself? The honeymoon. . . Honestly.”

“Yes. I mean at first no, but… I don’t know, there’s something sexy, erotic, kinky about you wearing a strap-on. Then when you would fuck me I got the feeling that I could cum. I wanted it more. I wanted to cum. I wanted to cum so very bad Tweets. That’s not too much to ask for is it Tweets?”

“No, not at all. I know you want to so bad. Soon.” she paused and looked at him. “Would you still have married me even if you weren’t in this predicament?”

“Yes. Absolutely. . .” he paused looking down. “Oh Tweets. I. . .I fucked up when I dumped you. I should have never done that. I was an ass. You’re one of a kind and I’m never gonna let you go. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.” He got down on his knees and moved between her legs and started stroking her dildo. “And if this is what makes you happy then I’ll do it.”

“What makes me happy is seeing you so hot and horny for me. So willing to have me that you’ll do whatever it takes to please me.” He kissed her thighs as he stroked her and she ran her hands through his hair. “So devoted. So committed. So eager to satisfy, unconditionally.”

“Whatever it takes; I’ll do it for you.” His hands deftly working her cock and balls.

“Mmm, would you suck a real cock for your wife?”

A look of dread and horror spread across his face. “Wha. . .?”

“I’m kidding.” she said with a grin. “I’d want that only if you wanted to do it.”

He moved towards her shaft and took the head in his mouth. Looking up at her he began to suck on the tip. “Please your bride. Please her as no other man is willing to.” she said as he engulfed her completely. “Mmm, take all I have to offer you.”

He deftly and eagerly sucked and licked her shaft. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Your cock makes me so horny. I want it.” he whispered. “I want to cum with you inside me.”

She watched him carefully. He was different this time. He actually seemed to be making love to her dildo. Wanting it, as if it were the only thing that could relieve is plight. Her mind drifted off to when they were back in college and she had that same look in her eyes.

She was jolted back to the present when he stood up and straddled her. She looked up at him and he locked his lips onto hers as he lowered himself onto her. He kissed her long and passionately as he worked the dildo in.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Yes.” he hissed rapidly as his ass came to rest on the base of the shaft. “I want to fuck your cock. Fuck me with it till I cum.” He rose up and lowered himself again. Slowly he moved. Moaning and biting his lip. Up and down. Up and down. Methodically he drove himself like a slow motion piston; in and out. “Oh, so good. Your cock feels so good.”

He pulled her head into his chest. “Yes, yes.” She kissed his chest and bit and sucked his nipples. He threw his head back as he picked up the pace and intensity. A drum beat of flesh on flesh echoed into the darkness. Faster and faster. “Yes, fuck me harder. Harder.” she moaned.

She looked at him in disbelief. Riding her hard and fast. His mouth open and his eyes half closed. He was consumed she thought. Consumed by his own pent up passion. So consumed that any guilt or fears about his actions were long gone. Lost in a sea of denial and frustration. So desperate to cum in any way possible. To please her in any way he could.

She switched on the vibrator and soon she was caught up in his sexual frenzy. He was pumping and grinding on her like a porn queen. She pulled up his legs so that he was now resting on her lap and could only grind into her. This did him no good, but everything for her. “Fuck yes. Fuck yes. Oh yes.” she cried. “Ride my dick. You like that. You like getting fucked. Take it. Take it all.”

Her words soon gave way to garbled grunting and groaning as her orgasm washed over her like the waves on the moonlit beach below them.

After resting in her for a while it was he this time who unbuckled her harness and then moved back to his chair with her dildo still buried deep within him. She got up a few minutes later and went inside. She tossed his hair as she went past. “My little nympho.”

As he walked in to follow her he stopped and turned to the balcony where he’d seen a couple watching them. This time there were two women there. He paused and they stared at each other for a moment. “Goodnight.” he said as he walked inside.

“Yes it is.” said one of them. They broke out into muted laughter as he walked inside.

After cleaning up and packing things away he went to bed. His aching balls reminded him of his situation and the fragrant scent of his wife caused his cock to stir. The silence was broken by soft sounds of passion from the balcony next door. He fought the urge to go and watch. Reminding himself that they were going home and his wife was going to get that key.

Tweets would finally bring him release. Sweet release.

This is my first story and would like feedback. I have plans to add a lot more to this as a series. Let me know what you think! :)

5:00 AM

Cindy was lying in bed next to me. Man does she have an amazing body. It’s a shame that she’s totally shy and doesn’t really appreciate what she has. Once we got married, I talked her into getting breast implants. She had pretty nice tits, but B cup is just too small for me. I like my women with large, full breasts. She still hates me for having her do that. Not only did I have her get implants, not too long after I had her go down and get laser hair removal. She sometimes wouldn’t be on top of her upkeep which annoyed me, so I had her get it done. All at her expense, of course. You see, I just work for the bank and I don’t make nearly enough to have my wife get these things done. Cindy is a trust fund baby and when her grandfather passes she inherited nearly thirty million. I probably wouldn’t have stuck around and married her if I knew she wasn’t completely loaded.

I jolt up out of bed as my cell rings in the living room. Cindy doesn’t move a muscle. I answer the phone; it’s Sarah on the other line. “Hey, I told you not to ever call me, I’ll call you!” I whisper in an angry tone. “No, she’s still asleep, I’ll be right over.” I snap my phone shut and begin getting dressed quietly to be sure not to wake up Cindy. I check on Cindy one last time to make sure she’s asleep before I sneak out of the house. I don’t need her catching me. This happens a lot during the weekdays. I never thought Cindy would catch me, but boy was I wrong.

Nearly a week later I stroll into the house after a typical meeting with Sarah. When I walk into the house Cindy is waiting for me at the kitchen table. “Come join me.” She beckons me in a very serious tone. I toss my keys down and sit down beside her and put my hand on her leg as I always would, but this time, she grabs my hand and throws it off her.

“What the hell is your problem?” I scold her.

“This is my problem Jake!” she says as she flings a plain folder in my face. “Take a look at these.”

I grab a hold of the folder and open it up. My heart begins racing and my stomach drops.

“Honey I can explain this.” I say as I look through the photos of Sarah and myself at Sarah’s place.

“No need to explain shit. I’m not stupid, I know you and Sarah have been having an affair for weeks. I was just waiting for my private investigator to get the proof.” She says.

“But Honey-” I cry.

“But Honey nothing!” she interrupts. “This is what’s going to happen, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of here. We might even get a divorce.” She says.

“Hey wait, I don’t want a divorce, I’ll do anything to make this better, ANYTHING!” I cry out.

“Hmm, I was hoping you’d say that.” She says very coyly. “Anything eh?

“Yes ANYTHING!” I blurt out again.

“Ok, this is what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to have to quit your job. Secondly, you’re going to have to stay at home and do whatever I say. And lastly, you’re going to have to go take a shower while I prepare your Punishment.” She says. I just keep my mouth shut, nod, and do as she orders.

After spending nearly ten minutes in the shower, I cut off the water and dry myself off. I wrap a towel around my waist and head out into my bedroom. When I arrive, Cindy is sitting on the bed with a box next to her. She is wearing the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever seen her wear. She was wearing a corset that pushes her large breasts up making them look very delicious. She’s also wearing a black garter belt, a black thong, and black lace hose with matching gloves that go get below her elbow.

“Come lie down” she orders in a seductive manner.

I sit down onto the bed right beside her and lay back and scoot my whole body up onto the bed.

“Very good.” She says.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask.

“You’ll see soon enough.” She says as she gets up on top of me.

She soon discovers my massive erection as she is straddling herself right on my cock.

“Oh my. It appears you like this.” She says. I just nod. “Are you ready to see what’s in the bag?” she says.

“Yes.” Is all I can reply.

She reaches back and grabs the bag to pull it closer. Reaching in, she pulls out four Velcro cuffs.

“I already tethered up the ropes at the corners of the bed.” She says and smiles.

“Oh, this is fun.” I say really getting into it now.

She gets off me and walks around the bed, attaching all of the cuffs to my wrists and ankles. She tugs at the restraints after applying to each hand and foot making sure they’re not loose.

“Are you ready to see what else is in the bag?” she asks me while grinning ear to ear.

“Oh my yes.” I say trying to hide my excitement.

She reaches into the bag and pulls out a small box. She sets down the box and begins to open it up. She stops and looks over at my cock and sighs.

“One moment.” She says as she darts off to the kitchen.

After about a minute she returns with a plastic bag full of ice and places it right on my pulsating, thick, nine inch long erection.

“What the hell, that’s cold!” I shout out.

“Damn right it’s cold, just like you have been to me.” She blurts out.

I begin kicking and pulling my arms and realize I’m stuck. She begins laughing.

“Let me tell you what’s going on. Right now you’re stuck. What I got is a steel chastity cage that I picked up. It’s going to be placed on your cock and balls and you will not be able to remove it. There is only one key and only I know where it is. I’ll be putting it on your cock as soon as it goes down.” She barks at me.

I try to plea but she interrupts.

“Things are going to be different around here. You’re going to be taking orders from me now. You’re not going to have any sexual pleasure for a really long time. You’re going to be doing all of the house chores since you won’t be working anymore and you’ll be dressing differently to my taste. Effective starting tonight.” She says as if she was briefing soldiers.

“Wait this isn’t fair-” I cry out in tears.

“If you want to leave, if you want to stay, just nod and don’t say a single word the rest of the night.” She says as she cuts me off.

I nod.

“Well it appears your cock is ready for its cage” she says as she removes the ice from my cock.

She reaches back for the box and pulls out the device. She attaches it without any problem.

“All set.” She says happily. “Oh almost forgot your clothes left in the bathroom. Need to toss those out since you won’t be needing them anymore.”

She walks off to the bathroom. My eyes follow her perfect ass as she leaves the room. “I wonder why she’s tossing out ALL of my clothing.” I think to myself. She returns shortly and begins to detach all of my restraints.

“Now it’s time for bed. You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow with chores and what not. Sleep in the nude tonight, that’s how you’re going to be sleeping from now on anyways, naked except for your cage.” She instructs.

She turns off the lights and crawls into bed with me. I crawl under the covers too and she is soon fast asleep. I lie there for hours, mostly sobbing at what just happened, and fearful for what tomorrow brings.


The next morning, I wake up to find Cindy is already gone. I crawl out of bed and walk to the bathroom. As I walk across the view of the mirror I stop dead in my tracks. I had already forgotten about the chastity belt. I immediately begin to try and remove it. Nothing works; it’s really stuck on there good. Discouraged, I walk over to the toilet to relieve myself. My piss begins going everywhere and I have to sit down to pee. Like a girl. After cleaning up the mess I had made, I head to the kitchen to see if Cindy is there. She is not. I notice a letter on the table. It reads:

“Good morning Jake. I went out shopping and I’ll be home around 11am. When I get home I expect you’ll be dressed and already working on your chores for today. You don’t have many chores to do today since it’s your fist day. What I want you to do is:

1) Clean up the kitchen. Make it spotless.

2) Vacuum the house.

3) Take the trash out.

Easy load for today I think. Anyways I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Love, Cindy

P.S. I have your outfit for cleaning house in your closet. You had better be wearing it all before I get home or you’ll be punished. You don’t even want to know what the punishment is.”

How odd I thought to myself. Sounds simple enough I think. I walk back into the bedroom and open up my closet. My jaw drops. All of my clothes are gone. Every last bit. Only thing in my closet is a pink bag. I pick it up and bring it to the bed. When I set it down and look inside, all I can see is hair. I pull it out and it appears to be a wig. It’s a long haired blond wig. Puzzled I set it down and continue pulling out items from the bag. I pull out a set of thong panties, matching bra, and a French maid outfit that comes with panties and all. This can’t be real I think to myself. I look to the clock, Cindy will be home in thirty minutes.

This is a new idea, not something I have much experience with, so I am writing from a relatively novice point of view. Constructive feedback would be appreciated.

They had talked long and hard about this particular decision, whether or not it would be a good idea, whether the theory would match the reality and so on. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. They had decided on a trial period of a month to see how things would go.

Marcus smiled at his partner nervously, he loved her very much, and was excited by what they were about to attempt. However the crux of the matter was simply that he couldn’t or rather soon wouldn’t be able to become excited without express permission after this day, for 30 days at the very least, and possibly much much much longer, if things went according to plan.

Jennie smiled back, holding tightly to the piece of plastic that would soon change their lives, and dynamic forever.

“Are you ready for this then honey?” She asked a nervous smile on her lips.

“Um, well, I guess,” he replied nervously.

“You know what you have to do now then don’t you?”

He nodded, not able to reply the butterfly’s fluttering dangerously in his stomach, as he stripped down to his birthday suit. He stood, thankful for the cool air, keeping his excitement to a dull minimum, as he knew the consequences he’d have had to suffer had it risen to attention.

They both looked at each other nervously, a slight smile gracing Jennies lips as she slipped her warm hand around his manhood, making him jump. He tried to control his thoughts as she slipped the ring around the base behind his balls, the tightness making him groan. Then she slipped the sheath on and locked the whole thing in place, quickly pocketing the key.

The whole thing took less than a minute, which made him all the more aware of his lack of control, making him grumble slightly under his breath.

Jennie simply raised an eyebrow and gave him one of her most evil grins to date, before telling him to get dressed, it wasn’t like he was getting any action any time soon.

Marcus quickly obeyed not sure that he wanted to disappoint her or make her angry knowing that his little man would soon be feeling the consequences of all his actions.


Several days after the event Marcus was starting to feel the effects of not being able to raise the mast. He was getting very frustrated and his balls were starting to ache. He had never really been aware of the effects the things Jennie did day to day that turned him on. However he had kept himself on her good side, knowing that soon she would milk him, or if he was lucky she would just let him masturbate.

Of course he was hoping for the latter but then he didn’t know for sure what really was expected as this was all new for the both of them. He was sitting watching television, trying hard not to think anything remotely erotic as this would only lead to bad places.

“Marcus, go upstairs and get naked, kneel on the floor and wait for me!” Jennie called the command from the kitchen where she was currently preparing dinner. Marcus sat for a moment longer, nervousness causing his inaction before realising that stalling would likely lead to more problems than it would solve. “Yes Mistress,” he replied quickly as he started up the stairs to their bedroom.

In the kitchen Jennie smiled, knowing that he was nervous and knowing also that he had no idea what she had planned or what he was letting himself in for. She gave him 5 minutes to complete what she had asked him to do before preparing herself to go to him.

She had read on the internet of cunning and evil ways to milk a male who’d been in chastity, firstly that it was a good idea, good for overall prostate health, and also could be a wicked and evil experience for the person being milked.

As such, and after much reading, while he’d been distracted with his cock, she’d created an ice cock ring which he would have to wear while being milked, making the process so much less enjoyable for him, but also keeping him healthy and flaccid so that she could quickly lock him up once more. Then her truly evil plans would come to fruition.

Quietly she climbed the stairs, stopping outside the door to hear Marcus muttering to himself, almost like a prayer that she’d let him masturbate or even better have sex. Slowly she opened the door, the item hidden in her hand, and smiled down at him, in all his vulnerability.

“Hello slut,” she said, a wicked grin on her lips, “What were you just saying to yourself there my pet?”

“Um,” he blushed profusely, “Nothing of importance Mistress. Honestly I just … was wondering what you are going to do with me Mistress.” He dropped his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at being caught talking to himself.

“Are you ready to be milked my darling?” She asked her voice all sweetness and light.

“Um,” he looked totally despondent, “I guess I am Mistress.”

He looked up with saucer filled eyes as she placed the ice cock ring on the bedside table, followed by opening a drawer and pulling out a prostate massager, and some lube too. His eyes went wide at the sight of these things, gulping convulsively.

“Stand up boy,” Jennie said without pre-emption, she was as nervous as he but refused to show it. “Now spread your legs nice and wide.”

He did as he was told as quickly as he could, trying to forget what was about to happen. Although they were both into BDSM, he’d never really had anything up his ass, it wasn’t something either of them had been inclined to try until now. He hadn’t really thought she’d do that but obviously she was about to, and he was more than a little nervous.

She picked up the cock ring and after unlocking his cock quickly slipped it onto him, which made him gasp at the icey coldness on his cock. Even if he had been excited, it was unlikely he’d get hard and he knew it.

“Now slut bend over the end of the bed and put your hands down on the mattress flat and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

He moved into position, spreading his legs for balance, feeling very vulnerable and on show suddenly, especially when Jennie stepped up close behind him, with the lube and massager in hand. He also noticed that there was a cup on the floor below him, which he hadn’t even noticed before.

He jumped when she poured the lube on his virgin ass rubbing slowly pushing her finger inside, stretching him a little, preparing him for what was about to come. Once she felt he’d started to relax she began forcing the massager into his anus, which at first resisted but soon had it snugly inside him.

She lifted the cup from the floor, holding it under the end of his penis, while she began to use the massager as the instructions had told her to, stimulating his prostate, making him moan and whimper simultaneously.

She kept up the constant stimulation for about 8 minutes before he started to beg her to stop, that it was too intense and he couldn’t take it. She simply shushed him telling him that if he wasn’t quiet then she’d just gag him, and that anyway this could take up to forty minutes. The tone of her voice warned that if he didn’t behave then he would be punished severely.

As it happened it took much less than the 40 minutes advised, only about 25 till he had given his all, the liquid accumulating nicely in the glass. Once it was done, she removed the massager, and the now nearly melted cock ring and replaced his chastity before allowing him to stand up on weak legs.

“Now for my fun,” she said sliding onto the bed in front of him.

They were at the make or break point of their relationship. Would they stay together or would they split? He felt sick. Another failure. He wanted to blame her; he did blame her. She never said what she meant. She couldn’t tell him what she wanted, needed, and he suspected it was because she, herself, did not know, but unfairly expected him to guess and get it right.

They’d agreed to take a week off from each other, to think. Her idea, obviously.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her smile, when she was happy, but she hadn’t been happy lately. The wild auburn curls of her fly-away hair, though it had been subdued by scarves lately. Her milky skin, peppered with freckles across her nose, across her shoulders and arms, but so clean and perfect and white everywhere else. She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny it, but she was also sad. She was putting on weight and using it as an excuse to cover up all her creamy skin. She was like a fading flower in a way, withering under the cold skies of their relationship.

They each worked full time. They each had to make time for each other, and lately they just hadn’t.

He’d call her on Saturday and end it. Why postpone it any longer?

Instead, Saturday morning, awoken from a brutal hangover, his phone buzzed. She’d texted him.


‘I have an idea.’

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, splashed cold water on his face, collapsed on the couch and fat fingered his response.

‘For wht?’

When her reply didn’t come right away, he repaired myself with some coffee and toast. He’d lost his appetite for the most part. How long would he let this thing between them shrivel and die before he put it out of its misery?

His phone vibrated on the counter. Another text.

‘For us.’

He accidentally smeared butter on his phone as he replied.

‘What idea?’

It took another minute or so. He crunched the last of his toast, brushing the crumbs from his hands until his phone vibrated again.

‘Call me.’

He sagged in the chair. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

* * *

Her hair was loose again, wild and seductive. If she had gained weight since they’d been together, he’d gained more. She still had her perfect legs and perfect little white belly, it just had a little roll when she sat down that she hated. Her breasts weren’t the taut perky things they’d once been, but he made do.

But there was something about her, a new life, a new spark in her eyes, and he could’ve sworn he saw a smirk on her lips. He saw a hint of fear, too, though. She wasn’t certain about what she was doing.

There they sat. On the patio of their favorite restaurant. Ella and Jim. Jim and Ella. Failed lovers.

“We haven’t been good lately,” she said.

He nodded, sick to his stomach. “I know.”

“Are we going to break up?” she asked. Her hands trembled as she spoke. She sniffled and he saw tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” she swallowed, choked off her sentence and reached for the water, “before we do, I have an idea.”

He nodded and sighed. “I know. You said.”

She waited, looked idly away. “So . . . do you want to know what it is?”

He laughed and nodded. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She smiled. It lightened their moods. “Yes, you are. That’s good, I guess. You know . . . makes me think there’s still some hope.”

He took a big long breath. “I hope there is, Ella. I really do, but I know you haven’t been happy lately.”

“Neither have you.”

He made sure her green eyes were on him.”Only because you’ve been so unhappy.”

She blanched. “So, it’s my fault.”

He winced. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean that. Shit, I don’t know, but I do know I want you to be happy. I just don’t know how to make that happen.”

She nodded, made a path through the condensation on the side of her glass with a finger. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

They sat quietly and the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

“So,” he tapped the table idly, “what’s this big idea of yours?”

She sat back and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure. I mean . . . you’re probably not gonna go for it.”

He chuckled. “Well, I can’t unless I know what it is.”

“Okay,” she said, and her eyes had that hopeful look again, “there’s something we could try. I found this website.”

“O-kay,” he replied, “what thing? What website?”

“It’s, um, called–” She licked her lips, dropped her eyes, whispered, “It’s called ‘Divine Tantra’.”

He tried to replay her words, but they didn’t make sense. He needed a dictionary. “Divine Tantra? Like a cult or something?”

She laughed. “No, but maybe a philosophy.”

“Isn’t tantra like a religion or yoga or something?”

“Well, it’s a lot of breathing and chakras and all that, but that’s not what this really is.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, “you know I’m not a big believer–”

“I know,” she said quickly. “It’s not like that. I thought you could read the website and tell me what you thought.”

He thought about it. They were just postponing the end, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. “Okay.” How long would he let this go on?

“Promise me,” she said, and made sure his eyes met hers. “Promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

He smiled and lied. “I promise.”

* * *

His phone buzzed. He expected a text, but she was calling. He smiled. She hadn’t really been calling him recently. He thought, in a way, they’d both been avoiding each other in order to delay the breakup. It was easier to be too busy to talk right now than it was to finally fight it out.

“Hey.” He smiled. It really was nice; she seemed interested in him again.

“Hey.” She could hear his smile. It was almost too good to be true. “Did you look at the site?”

He collapsed on to the couch. “Yep. Last night. I couldn’t read it on his phone, so I looked it up on the computer.”

“Oh, did I send it to your phone? I thought–”

“Well, email, but I can only look at that email address on my phone.”

“I can never keep all your email addresses straight.”

He chuckled. “That’s okay.”

“So . . . what did you think?”

He was reluctant to tell her what he really thought. “Well . . . it was interesting.”

“Wasn’t it? I know it sounded a little strange, but it’s all about refocusing love and attention on each other. You know, increasing the anticipation and the intimacy.”

“Hmm, yeah.”

“You didn’t like it?” He could already hear the suspicion and disappointment in her voice.

“No, I didn’t say that. I mean, it does sound good, us being close like that again. I’m up for that, but–”

“But what?” More suspicion. The disappointment was making her voice heavy and broken like an old smoker.

“Well between all the fancy concepts and idea, there seems to be a whole lot of me not having orgasms basically.”

There was a pause, a long one. “Well, maybe less of them. And the ones you have would be with me.”

“Yes, and only with you or didn’t I read that right?”

He was no chronic masturbator, no porn addict, but he was a typical guy, and asking a typical guy to flat out not touch himself . . . ever . . . was a biological impossibility. Guys have needs.

“Yes,” she finally said with a heartbroken tone. “I suppose that’s a real tragedy for you.”

He felt her utter sadness in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t want to lose you. I’d do anything for us to stay together–”

“Well, not anything.”

“Anything within reason.”

“And us directing our sexual pleasure at each other is so amazingly unreasonable?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He thought about it: what was he saying? He was saying, ‘I don’t want to do this, but I will if you make me feel obligated.’ That’s not something she wanted to hear, and he couldn’t actually say that, but then he didn’t have to; she already knew.

He thought about it some more, the silence between them deafening.

“Fuck it.” The words left his lips before he could stop them.

“What does that mean?” The anger was creeping into her voice.

“It means . . . it means. . . . Ella, it means that I’m tired of losing people. I love you. I know we haven’t been getting along. I know you haven’t been happy. I want you to be happy. I don’t know how to make that happen. So . . . fuck it. Whatever this is that you want to try, fuck it. I’ll do it.”

Another long silence. “You’re doing it because I’m making you do it?”

He was about ready to crawl in a hole somewhere and stay there. “I’m doing it because I want you to be happy. And there is no ‘but’. I’ll do anything. So, I’m ready to do it, whatever it is.”

“It might not be a bad thing you know. You’re making it sound like the end of the world.”

He laughed. “Well, maybe the world you and he are living in right now needs to end so they can build a new one.”

She giggled. He would never get enough of that; the sound of her happiness. “Okay. I’ll be honest; I didn’t think you’d even try it. Thank you.”

“So,” he gulped nervously, “what do he have to do?”

“I have a plan,” she said, and in the tone of her voice was the biggest grin he could imagine.

* * *

He had seven days. It was Sunday. He was not to touch myself for seven days. No masturbation, no orgasms. he was free to look at porn or fantasize about anything he wanted, but he was not to touch himself. That was rule number one.

Rule number two was that he had to be honest. If he fell off the wagon, got himself off, even if he masturbated but didn’t cum, he was to tell her the truth.

Rule number three was for her. She was not to get mad if he fell off the wagon. But his seven day period would start all over again until he completed it.

Rule number four was that he was to call her during the week and ask her out for Saturday. It was to be a formal date. “Formal” meant he was to treat it like a first date.

Rule number five was that she could ask for daily updates, and he was to give them as promptly as possible.

Five rules. That was it. Pretty simple. He wasn’t sure if it was something she’d come up with on her own or read about somewhere. He hadn’t seen her “plan” on the Divine Tantra site anywhere. Maybe she’d contacted someone. Maybe they were giving her ideas, a map for getting their relationship back on track.

He knew he could do it. He’d quit smoking by myself. No patches. No therapy. Just him and a whole lot of willpower. If he stumbled and had a drag, he started over. He didn’t let it get him down.

Would this be any different? It was just him and his willy. How hard could it be? No pun intended.

On the first day, he got an email from her. They wouldn’t be seeing each other until Saturday and he hadn’t formally asked her out yet. He was thinking about how to do that. He thought she’d want it to be special, but he wasn’t sure how to make it special yet. Her email was pretty straightforward.

‘Day one, having fun?’

He emailed back. ‘Fine. No worries.’

It was true. He usually masturbated either in the mornings when he first got up or more often after work. It was stress relief, going through countless Tumblr images, blogs, porn videos. He didn’t even always like the images or videos. There were nights where he couldn’t find “anything good on”, but he still got off.

On the second day, she texted him.

‘Day two. How did you do?’

He smiled, and texted back. ‘Good, a little antsy but good.’

The fact was he didn’t feel much difference. He was starting to wonder if all this Divine Tantra business wasn’t a bunch of malarkey. He did feel a little antsy and his balls felt a little . . . “tight”, a little full, like he’d forgotten to empty them. Every once in awhile he would notice they felt a little warmer and they ached a little. Well, not ached exactly, not burned exactly, but he was feeling something.

‘Day three. How we be?’

He laughed. He texted back. ‘I miss you. When should I call about Saturday, forgot to say?’

She texted back. ‘:) anytime. Not my choice.’

He dialed her number. When he heard her voice, he felt a little thrill. He hadn’t felt that since they’d first met. “So . . . Saturday?”

He heard the smile in her voice. “Hm? What about it?”

He grinned. She was playing a little game with him. A little game inside of a big one. “Are you busy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d have to check my calendar.”

He laughed. “Okay, you do that. If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you out.”

“Yes?” He could practically feel her blush emanating through the phone. “Hm, where to?”

That struck him. He hadn’t exactly planned it out. Time for some tap-dancing. “I can’t tell you. Some place nice though.”

“Well, I need to know what to wear though.”

“Uh . . . well, not shorts or anything. Something nice, but it’s not like formal or anything.”

She giggled. “I’m intrigued. I suppose I could make time on Saturday.”

He had to make plans. He was already thinking he needed to find a nice restaurant, some place they hadn’t been, some place nice.

“So, um–” she asked, “how are things going?”

“Good,” he told her.

“Have you been following all the rules?”

He chuckled. “Yes. I haven’t broken any of them yet.”

“Oh, don’t say ‘yet’. But I mean, you’re not having any problems or anything?”

He didn’t hear that smile in her voice anymore. She was concerned, about what he wasn’t sure.

“Well,” he admitted, grinning from ear to ear, “I did wake up with a raging hard on this morning.”

She giggled. “Oh, really?”

“Yes,” he laughed, enjoying the sound of her voice – it was penetrating him in a way he hadn’t expected, in a way that it hadn’t for a long time. “And all the way to work this morning. I was fine when I got to work, busy and all, but then all the way home. In fact, I’m glad you texted because I was tempted to sit down at the computer.”

He could hear her moving the phone to the other ear. “To look up porn?”

“I never start looking up porn, but I always seem to end up there, so probably that’s a yes.”

“Is it too tough for you? You know, not looking at it?”

He thought about it. In his head, he knew it was a bad idea; it wouldn’t be long before his hand was on his dick, but his body was being very sneaky and persuasive. “It’s not tough exactly. It just sort of creeps up on me. There’s a whole rationalization that goes along with it.”

“Like what?” she wondered. She was genuinely interested and true to her word, she wasn’t acting angry or petty or jealous.

“Like, ‘well, I won’t look up porn. I’ll just do other things.’ Then, ‘oh, one picture couldn’t hurt’, then one video, then I’m in the middle of it and my hand is moving all by itself.”

“It sounds like it’s too tempting.”

He grinned. “It is. Of course if I could see you right now, it wouldn’t be. I could take out all his pent up need on your fragile, delicate, luscious body.”

She laughed. He was starting to love the sound of her voice, more than he remembered. “I’m luscious? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word.”

“You’re not just luscious, you’re . . . delicious, delectable.”

His mind was filled with images of her soft, white thighs, her little belly. He wanted to lick circles around her navel. He imagined her in bed, everything white, soft and feminine about her revealed.

“Thank you, but we have a date on Saturday, don’t we?”

He groaned. “I have to wait until then?”

“Yes,” she laughed, “and until then you promised you’d be good.”

“I did. I know. I’ll try. It’s starting to get a little harder now.”

She got serious. “This is for us, you know?”

He nodded. “I know.”

* * *

‘Day four, want some more?’

He responded. ‘See email.’

He’d emailed her long passages about he missed her, about his dreams of her. He was getting horny. There was something missing. A big whole where he used to touch himself and get himself off. The forbiddenness of his own cock was starting to work on him. He hadn’t touched it except to take a piss and he missed it. He hadn’t looked at porn because he didn’t think he could manage it without breaking her rules. He was feeling antsy. He was feeling restless. He went to sleep thinking about her and certain pornographic images that haunted him. Images he thought he’d forgotten came rushing back into his head. Videos where the girl had moaned a certain way, had a certain expression, where she’d been utterly pleasured, used, overwhelmed by her partner’s needs.

It hadn’t been a week yet and he was starting to go a little crazy.

He went to bed with an erection and woke up the same way, rolling around in bed thinking about Ella.

He drove to work and felt his dick stiff in his pants. Thank god for work, for being busy. It took his mind off things.

He stopped going home right away. Home was where the computer was, where the porn was, where it was only him and his dick and his dick was persona non grata at the moment. He wanted it. He wanted her. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he was starting to need her, to need to see her, to need to hear her voice. They had a date on Saturday.

He went to the gym for the first time in months. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore, tried to burn off his sexual energy. He found books, technical manuals he’d been meaning to read. He tried to get lost in them. It wasn’t easy. In the middle of a passage, he’d lose all track of it and realized he’d been staring blankly at the page thinking about Ella’s perfect round ass.

He used his phone to look for a restaurant. He was scared to turn on the computer. He looked at emails on his phone. The screen was too small to really do anything too naughty, but even then he caught himself on a site, looking at a pretty naked girl bent over a couch, her long lean legs slightly askew in a pose only a woman could manage.

The girls of advertising began to plague him. He avoided magazines. In the grocery checkout, he marveled at how beautiful the women on the glamor covers were with their perfect breasts in their perfect swimsuits, their perfect smiles, pretty eyes, blushing cheeks–

By Saturday, he realized he was more than a little crazy.

When he made it to Ella’s door, she opened it and hurried away to the bathroom. He just caught a glimpse of her red dress.

‘Oh, god . . . not the little red dress.’

It was low cut. It was thigh high, loose and flowing around her legs, but tight on her hips. He groaned quietly. He couldn’t stand if it she wore that dress. She was chatting with him while she put on her makeup. He wandered restlessly around her apartment, knowing if he saw her cleavage, he was a goner.

She presented herself before him like a pretty wrapped Christmas gift.

For a whole minute he just stood there staring at her, blushing, salivating. He felt like a wolf eyeing a deer. He wanted her. He wanted to do things to her, with her. He wanted to wrap her around him, to split her in two.

She looked at him, worried. “What? You don’t like it? I thought you liked this dress.”

He nodded, finally tearing his eyes away from her hips. He’d always been a breast man, but now her hips had him hypnotized. He took a deep breath and made eye contact. “You’re killing me. You’re too beautiful.”

She blushed deeply.

* * *

It had been a week and he hadn’t had an orgasm. He hadn’t even touched his own cock. He was in a desperate state. He couldn’t do anything wrong. He had to be on his best behavior. He had no snide comments, no sarcasm. He thought about everything he said, twice, before he said it. He couldn’t let this night go by without getting between her legs.

She spoke about work. He was a sponge, soaking up every word in awe of every smile, every twinkle of her eye. Every facial expression was like the super bowl. He analyzed her, studied her. His focus was complete. Her and only her.

She told him he was acting unusually attentive. He blew it off, but she was right.

After dinner, they went for a stroll on the romantic river walk. When the path turned, where a lamplight flickered like a candle, he pulled her in close and kissed her and kept kissing her. He sank his teeth into her neck, filled himself up with her perfume, gorged himself on the smell of her hair. He wanted to fling himself deep into her until he was swallowed whole.

They made out for awhile, before she pulled away. They strolled some more, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, but together.

“So,” she whispered, “what do you think?”

He sighed, brushing her hair from her face, lost in her eyes. “About what?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed which made him laugh. “About this, all of this, what we’ve been doing.”

He thought about it. “Well . . . it’s driving me crazy. I want you so bad I can’t stand it.”

She blushed and pressed her arms into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her as she cuddled ever closer. Her hair was below his nose. He closed his eyes, the smell of her making him lightheaded. “You’re so attentive, so into me. It’s been so long since I felt you really, truly wanted me. I’ve never felt like you really needed me.”

He murmured. “I need you now.”

“So,” she continued reluctantly, “should keep going?”

He moaned and tightened his grip on her. “Yes, please.”

“No,” she giggled, “I mean our little plan.”

He pulled back enough to see her face. “There’s more.”

She grinned. “It never ends.”

He thought about it. Really thought about it. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I can’t believe I’ve managed to do it for a whole week.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

“But as desperate as I am to have you, I know what you mean. I haven’t felt like this about you since when we were first dating. Back then, everything was new. I didn’t know you and I wanted to, and I would’ve done just about anything to get you. It feels a lot like that.”

She blushed and snuggled closer. She was intoxicating. He was hard and he was pressed up against her and he knew she could feel it. “So, do we continue with the next step of the plan?”

“What’s the next step?” he asked, kissing the top of her forehead, down to her nose, and finally catching her lips warm, wet, open and waiting.

She grinned and whispered as she kissed him. “You’ll find out.”

* * *

They made it to her apartment. He was a bundle of nerves. He kissed her at every available opportunity. His erection stiffened just walking up the stairs behind her, watching her ass sway before him, her small hand gliding up the railing. One part of him expected her to stop at any moment, catch his lurid stare and scowl. The other part assumed this was why stairs were invented.

Inside, they’d made it to the couch, but not the bed. He kissed every bare inch of skin, her face, neck, shoulders . . He even kissed from the top of her arm down to her fingers, biting the insides of her wrists, licking her palms lightly. He couldn’t help it. She was the entree; she was dessert; she was everything he wanted in the world at the moment, and he wanted all of her.

He tried several times to move to the bedroom, but she resisted.

After a short break, bathroom and more wine, she eyed him from across the couch. It was a strange look. He hadn’t seen it before.


She sighed. “This is harder than I thought.”

He blinked and smiled. “What is?”

“Following the plan.”

His eyes drifted from her tussled hair, so messy and beautiful, down to the shapes of her breasts, barely covered by her low cut dress. “Bedroom now?” He’d regressed to a mono-syllabic caveman. He wanted to drag her by her hair to the bed and take her in every way possible. He ached. His pants were filled to the point of discomfort.

“That’s not the plan,” she said, smiling, sipping her wine.

“Oh?” he wondered, his eyes rapt by the sight of her sleek, shiny legs crossed at the knee. The underside of her thigh slipping under her dress made him want to cry with ecstasy.

She nodded. “Do you remember when you told me about how strip clubs worked?”

That got his attention. He made eye contact again. “What?”

“You remember, when you got a lap dance, what you told me.”

“Um. . . .” he wasn’t sure if he’d been rendered speechless or if he was being speechless on purpose.

She drew a long sip of wine, stood and set the glass on the coffee table. Sauntering towards him, face cast in shadow, eclipsed by the dim lamp, she said quietly, “You have to put your arms behind you while she grinds in your lap, and you’re not allowed to touch her.”

He realized suddenly that he’d stopped breathing. He looked up at her. “Wh-what?”

She grinned down at him. “I was thinking of giving you a lap dance, but you have to be good, just like in a strip club.”

He gulped. He was shocked, in total disbelief. “Uh . . . okay.” If he’d been a mono-syllabic caveman before, she’d just sent him spiraling downwards into an atavistic stupor.

She sauntered closer, parting her knees to fit around his and pointing with one red nail at the back of the couch. “Put your arms up there.” As he slid his arms up, she slid down into his lap, her dress rising, flowing around her thighs. She only had her panties on underneath; that knowledge made him whimper with desire.

She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and began to slowly grind herself against him. his dick began to twitch in his pants. He couldn’t stand it. He had to have her. He still wasn’t breathing. His eyes were hungry for every part of her; the movement of her breasts beneath the thin dress; the lithe way her belly stretched and swelled with each sway of her hips. He could smell her, her perfume, her hair, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought he caught a whiff of her arousal, her heat, her wet panties.

He groaned in miserable delight.

Her voice was low and soft, nearly toneless. “You know the rules. If you move your arms, the dance is over.”

She leaned over and kissed his neck, rising to slip her breasts across his face. His hands balled into fists. They released, his fingernails digging into the couch. They balled into fists again. They gripped the couch. “In fact,” she continued, “if you’re a bad boy, then the evening is over.”

He lifted his face, stretched for her, strained for her, hoping for her lips. She descended just long enough to let him taste her mouth. He could smell her makeup, could taste her lipstick and her breath, wine-flavored. “Over?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. “Yes. Over. If you’re bad, then it’s time for you to leave.”

“Jesus, Ella. Why are you doing this to me?”

Her eyes flashed with concern. “You don’t like it?”

He blinked. “I–I’m in heaven . . . and in hell.”

She sat heavily in his lap, her fingers winding around his neck, her nails softly scraping his skin. “Do you want to keep going?”

He nodded heavily.

Her eyelids lowered with her smile. “I meant with the plan.”

“Wh-what plan?”

She giggled. “There’s more. More rules for next week.”

“Like what?”

She licked her lips, making him envious of her tongue. “Mostly it’s the same. You can’t touch yourself, but you get to see me on Wednesday this time. If you ask properly, I can come over and spend the night, but you still have to be a good boy. You still don’t get to have any orgasms.”

He whined like a needy child. “Please, Ella. I can’t stand this.”

“Will you be good?” she asked.

He nodded. “Anything.”

She checked his eyes. “You say that now–”

He risked a long, deep kiss, aware suddenly of how the thrill of her lips rushed through him like an electric current. His dick was in pain, too hard, too constricted, too desperate for release, too desperate for her. “I promise. Just . . . please let me cum tonight.”

She smiled.

* * *

‘How’s it going?’

Ella sipped her tea and typed back. ‘So far, so good.’

‘Has he figured it out yet?’

She smiled. ‘No. I don’t think so. I think he knows something is up.’

‘But not what?’


There was a moment or two where she thought Jim would certainly revolt, where he’d throw his hands in the air and give up in disgust, but he hadn’t. “So far, so good” was right. She couldn’t believe it, but he seemed to be following the program. If he’d lied or been deceitful, he was certainly a good actor. He was behaving in a way he hadn’t since they’d first met.

‘How about you?’

‘I’m fine,’ Ella typed.

‘No. Hard part is coming up. Ready?’

She swallowed. That was a good question. The things she was supposed to do, the place where they were supposed to end up, she didn’t know if she could really take things that far. It was a good plan, but she thought it would all come crashing down well before that. The only thing more frightening than that possibility was the possibility that somehow it all really would work exactly as they said.

She typed: ‘Not sure I can do it.’

‘I wasn’t sure I could do it either.’

She tucked her legs under her, lifted up the laptop long enough to get a blanket over her legs and cuddled back into the couch. ‘How did you get past it?’

‘By watching him.’

‘Watching him?’

‘Yes. You’ll see. :)

She doubted, but she trusted.

* * *

‘Day one, having fun?’

‘Fine.’ He’d had an amazing orgasm a day ago and that had helped considerably. He didn’t need an orgasm today. He could do without. It wasn’t just an amazing orgasm; it was an explosion, a release, a relief, a cascade of pleasure. They’d been one melted sexual beast, messy, wet and beautiful. It had been pure sex and he felt for a moment that he’d spurted everything that made him a man into her.

He’d never quite felt anything like it. All the teasing, holding back, leading up to the magic moment. If that’s how it could feel, why wouldn’t he sign up for more?

Day two. He thought about seeing her Wednesday. What did she have in mind. Jesus! He’d gotten a lap dance from her girlfriend! What had gotten into her?

Day three, how we be? We be antsy. It hadn’t taken along. He was starting to feel that same sensation of being charged up, his balls a little heavier than normal, a little fuller, little moments where they burned or ached, reminding him of what she had him doing.

When she arrived at the front door on Wednesday, he was waiting with two glasses of wine. He had no idea what she had planned, but he was eager to find out. She was not dressed in her work clothes. He noticed right away. She could’ve worn it to the office, but he thought it was a little too tight, a little too sexy. She had her skirt and heels on, but it was the shortest skirt he’d ever seen her wear, and it rippled with tension when she moved. She wore a button down shirt with the top half of buttons undone. She made him think of a secretary in heat.

When she smiled, he smiled. He took her all in, and she was something. She’d obviously spent a lot of time on herself. He complimented her, tried not to gush, but he liked to see her blush, like to see her claim it was nothing when they both knew it was something.

She’d never really dressed for him in this way before. It was a change, a major one. It reassured him. He wasn’t the only one struggling to make things better. She was really trying to turn him on.

That’s when he got his first clue.

He hadn’t touched himself in three days; no orgasms, no porn, no anything , and she knew it. She was purposefully trying to get him excited.

She kissed him long and deep and wiped the lipstick from his mouth, smiling. “You smell nice.”

He felt his cheeks burn a little. “I went and got that cologne you said you liked.”

She squirmed her body into his arms, nuzzling his neck with her lips, whispering, “Mmm, I like it.”

He reached for another kiss, but she slipped away, her heels clicking on the tiles.

He had the event catered, sort of. He’d picked up dinner, since he couldn’t cook very well. Her favorites, including dessert. She chattered away about her week, and he spent every moment noticing the way her collarbone caught the light of the candle. Her green eyes twinkled some times. Other times, they flashed with conspiracy. He hung on every word, surprised. He must be horny. He’d never spent so much time listening to her detailed descriptions.

She was surprised, too. After she’d spent twenty minutes describing her friend Eva’s outfit, complete with oversized belt and flowing white blouse, her side-zipped pants and her gorgeous heels, she glanced over at him and realized his eyes were on hers. Then, when he spoke, he didn’t change the topic. He asked her why she liked Eva’s fashion sense over her own. She was halfway into explaining how bold and sexy Eva could be and how she never had the eye for such things when she realized what he’d asked.

They stared at each other for a moment, before he burst out laughing, his face red. “That was kind of a gay thing for me to say.”

She giggled. “I never knew you were so fashionable.”

He laughed. “I’m not. I swear. I don’t know what got into me.”

He blinked, flinched slightly, then moaned.

Somewhere during the conversation she’d pushed off her heels. Her toes were between his legs under the table, flexing, squirming in his lap.

He went from zero to sixty in two seconds. His erection grew so hard, so fast that he had to reach below the table and adjust himself. He grew flushed. He looked at her with glazed eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

She grinned, sipping her wine. “It’s nice knowing you can’t do anything about it.”

His eyes turned wolfish. “I can’t?”

She nodded. “If you do, then I leave. Remember?”

He flexed his jaw. She could see the restraint in his eyes. “Would you really leave? If I got you going, got you all turned on?”

She blushed, but fought it, leaning forward and whispering. “Not in the past, I wouldn’t have. But ever since the DT website, I’ve been learning things.”

He swallowed, resisting the urge to grind his crotch against her toes. “What things?”

She sipped her wine again and feigned a bored expression. “Like sometimes it’s better to be wanted than to be had.”

He was just about to collapse forward onto the table, when she removed her foot.

It was a full second before he realized she’d moved to the couch.

He followed her, almost running to sit next to her.

He sat close, turning her face for a kiss.

She gave him one, a good one, but only one, then put her hand on his chest, pushing him away.

He panted breathlessly. “Aw, c’mon.”

She remembered her friend’s advice, ‘You have to be the strong one.’

She pursed her lips as if she were truly deep in thought. “Well,” she grinned and swept her hair over her shoulder, “if you promise to be a good boy, there is something we can do.”

He took a long, deep breath, his eyes fixed on her lips, watching them stretch and part and close. “What?”

“Assume the position,” she giggled.

He laughed. “The strip club position?”

She nodded.

He was already shifting on the couch, taking the time to adjust his aching cock in his pants yet again. “Really?”

She continued to nod, but did not sit herself on top of him. Instead, parked herself beside him, leaning over him, enjoying his smell. She unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, and stared deep into his eyes as she pulled his boxers down.

When her hand first wrapped around him, his eyelids fluttered, his head collapsed back on the couch and he groaned, both miserable and happy.

She remembered her instructions. ‘Talk quietly the entire time. Keep your voice low and soft.’

She leaned close until she was eye to eye with him. His forehead furrowed. He looked like he was being tortured. He smiled pitifully and kissed her softly. She whispered, “Does that feel good?”

He nodded.

She felt his cock twitch in her hand. It was fascinating. It was as if she could see the electric current run right up his rib cage, the rippling tension, all the way up to his face. He groaned and let his head fall back onto the couch.

She released his cock, whispering, “You’re not going to cum.”

His head rolled back and forth.

She smile and kissed his shoulder, repeating. “You’re not allowed to cum tonight.”

He panted and balled his hands into fists.

She wrapped her hand around his cock again and felt it tense and expand beneath her hand. It was turning deep shades of red and purple. “You remember that, right?”

His hands left the back of the couch and cradled her face, drawing her in for a kiss. “Please can’t we just forget the game tonight?”

She kissed him softly and began to stroke him slowly. “Is that what you want?”

He nodded and kept nodding, pleading quietly, whining.

“You can cum tonight,” she whispered, “if you really want to.”

He groaned and shifted toward her, trying to roll himself over her. She gently, insistently pushed him back down.

She let go of his cock. “Hands.”

He blinked. “What?”

She pointed, pulled away from him, moving to the end of the couch where she was not so easy to reach. “Your hands aren’t where they belong.”

His face twisted with misery. He draped his hands back over the couch and waited, breathing heavily. “But you’re going to let me cum tonight?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course, but Saturday is off.”

His eyes flashed with concern. “Why?”

She placed her hand his cock and lifted it until it lay perfectly in the center of her palm. “Because Saturday is the day we have sex, like last Saturday, but if you’ve already cum tonight, then you don’t need to see me until next Wednesday.”

“Why–why can’t we do both?”

She sighed. “Do you want to end the game?”

His eyes shifted nervously. “I don’t know.”

She began to stroke him slowly again, watching his eyelids flutter, his eyes glaze over with pleasure. “It’s up to you. You can cum tonight in my hand–”

He twitched again and she released him, listening to him groan miserably. After a moment, she began again, giving him long strokes.

“–or I can go down on you on Saturday.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

She nodded, smiling, and began to stroke him faster. “Yes,” she whispered, “really, but you can’t have both.”

It wasn’t that she never went down on him, she just didn’t do it often, and frankly, she hadn’t done it in a long time. This would be a treat.

She gave his shoulder a nibble and began to seriously pump her hand up and down.

He tensed, felt himself getting close, tightening his buttocks, lifting himself off the couch.

“It’s your choice,” she whispered, giggling, watching his body make the decision for him. “You can have my hand now or my mouth later.”

His hands whipped off the couch. He pushed her away, rolled on top of her, forced himself on her, began to hungrily bite her neck, nibbling at her chin, forcing his lips on hers. She knew she’d lost it. Whatever strength she had, had fled. He wanted her so bad and she wanted him to have her. She was ready. Let him strip her, rape her right here on the couch. To hell with the game.

Then he sat back and caught his breath, his hands still firmly squeezing her breasts.

To her shock, he blinked with all the seriousness of a surgeon making a life and death decision. “I . . . I want your mouth.”

She blinked. “Then . . . Saturday.”

He swallowed, collapsed in on himself, nearly whimpering. “Jesus . . . okay.”

He tore himself away from her. He settled on the couch and rubbed his face.

She cuddled next to him, smiling.

She hadn’t expected that.

For the rest of the evening, they were perfect snugglers. While they ate popcorn and watched a movie, she let her hand rest on his cock. She didn’t stroke it, but occasionally gave it a little petting. It stayed nearly rock hard the entire time, and when it didn’t, she’d give it a little squeeze or turn her face up to his and say “kiss”, and then it would be twitching back to life again.

She was beginning to be a little more than amazed at how much control she had over it. Her entire life, she’d never felt she had any control when it came to sex. She’d always been penetrated, and being penetrated meant she was the receiver, which meant, he or “it” got to make the decisions. Now, while she forbid it to do what it wanted to do the most, she not only controlled how hard it was, but she felt it was controlling him.

September 2018
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