strap-on play

This is a work of fiction. It involves female domination and forced bi-sexuality. If you don’t care for this subject please feel free to go elsewhere.



*



I met Ginger a few months after her divorce from “Mr. Right”. His name was Scott and I guess was perfect in every way except one. Ginger thought she had won the matrimonial lottery. Scott was incredibly handsome, well off financially and appeared to dote on her. She was head over heels in love. At least until she came home unexpectedly and found Scott and Ginger’s best friend doing the big nasty in Ginger’s marriage bed. In flagrante delicto, as they say. In a fit of jealous rage Ginger packed her bags and left. Never spoke to Mr. Right again except through her lawyer.



I met Ginger at the club where we both work-out. She’s a knock-out in every way, funny, smart, sexy and playful. Our romance progressed slowly but steadily until I was ready to broach the subject of marriage. Ginger shut me down cold. She started backing away from our relationship. Growing colder, more distant. Things went from bad to worse until I finally confronted her. Ginger confessed that she was scared of committing to another marriage, afraid that I would prove as faithless as Scott. I tried every thing I could think of but Ginger was adamant.



Then one night I was channel surfing my cable service and stumbled across a brief story concerning male chastity. I’d never heard of such a thing so I went on line and ran a generic search for male chastity and turned-up over a million links. To make a long story short I found the web site of a German company that makes high quality stainless steel male chastity belts. I thought this could be the answer to Ginger’s concerns. When I first presented the idea her response was cool. It seemed too weird and impractical. I persisted (fool that I am) and eventually bought one. After a long break-in period I finally turned over the keys to my beloved and presented myself to her fitted into my belt. I gave her the lock and all the keys and told her I was hers and hers alone there would never be, could never be any other as long as she had the keys. If she was willing to try a trial period we would move in together and live as husband and wife for a year and prove to her that the belt was effective and my commitment to her was absolute. She finally agreed.



Our year started out with very few changes. Ginger only kept me locked when we were apart. The rest of the time I was free of my metal underwear. We made love like always, with the same frequency and intensity. We were a happy couple without a care in the world. As the end of our year approached, though, things began to change. They were subtle almost imperceptible shifts. The most disturbing one to me was when Ginger called out Scott’s name while we were making love. When I brought it to her attention she denied it said I was imagining things. I knew what I heard. After that I noticed that the frequency of our love making began to diminish slightly. I passed it off to the end of newly weds bliss. What was more ominous but less obvious was that I wasn’t being released from my chastity belt quite as often as before. Now I sometimes wore it 2 or 3 days straight.



At the end of our year Ginger said she wanted to extend the experiment for another year. She liked the way things were progressing but still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. She said if I truly loved her I would wait. She said that while the first year had gone well it had gone too well. Nothing had happened to stress our relationship so she couldn’t gauge how we would fare under adverse circumstances. I reluctantly agreed. Ginger was happy. She told me that in the beginning she was uncomfortable with the idea of being a key holder (where did that word come from?) but she had worked her way through it and in the process had been on-line reading about people in similar situations as ours. From her research she thought there might be some untapped potential benefits in having me chastised and she was anxious to explore some of them this upcoming year.



Ginger said that she wanted to “celebrate” my chastity, not hide it. From now on she wanted me to wear the belt 24/7. I would only be released for sex and periodic cleaning. She said that it was too easy to forget I was wearing the belt most of the time so from now on when we were alone, she didn’t want me to wear anything which would cover any part of the belt. I protested that this was ridiculous. Ginger replied that it was not ridiculous. She said that always being able to see me in the belt was a constant reminder to her of the depth of my commitment and it would inspire her to commit as deeply to me. I am such a gullible idiot. I agreed. In the end I wound up living totally naked except for the belt. But that was still in my future.



I was now committed to 24/7 in the belt. The frequency of our love making had dropped a little more and I was soon so horny I couldn’t think straight. I kept trying to initiate sex. I was attentive and increasing physical, rubbing against her, gently fondling her breasts, stroking her sex when I could get to it. Ginger, more often than not, rebuffed my advances. Sometimes none too gently. Finally I tried to talk to Ginger about this and she got really angry. Ginger said “Scot, men like you use sex as a weapon to keep women in an inferior position in a relationship. Well you screwed-up the last time but it isn’t going to happen this time. From now on all sexual activity is my sole prerogative. I say when , where and how. If you argue it will just mean a longer interval before you are released. Understood? ” I was stunned speechless. She was talking to me as though I was Scott. We both broke down and cried. Ginger apologized profusely but said that the essential truth of her argument was still valid. She wanted to try a more than an egalitarian relationship, she wanted a measure of control, so for now could I live with having her in charge? Stupid me, I agreed.



When I originally ordered the belt I also ordered all of the possible accessories that were offered. I really didn’t think we would ever use them but I didn’t want to find out later that we wanted something we didn’t already have. During the second year Ginger began experimenting with them. There was a lifelike dildo attachment for the front shield and a lockable rear shield which had removable butt plugs of various sizes. I also ordered a T.E.N.S. unit for receiving minor electric shocks via a remote unit held by Ginger, stainless steel slave collar, wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. I hated the rear shield and its attachments. If you have never experienced the humiliation of having someone else control when you’re allowed to go to the bathroom you can’t imagine why I felt so strongly about that rear shield. Additionally, I was not used to having any thing penetrate me there and it was very uncomfortable, especially when Ginger would forget and leave the plug in for extended periods, sometimes overnight. Likewise, the T.E.N.S. unit was miserable. Ginger loved to deliver mild to moderate shocks at random times and places, just to see my reaction. When I complained she said, “Don’t be such a baby. You agreed to let me explore this chastity thing and that’s all I’m doing. Besides, you seem to really like some of the other parts of the belt”. It was true. For all I hated some aspects of wearing the belt I found that I really liked having Ginger in charge of our sex life. It was thrilling, in a way, to be someone’s sex object. And, I really liked being restrained by the collar and cuffs during sex. Ginger hadn’t failed to notice my reaction. The tighter she restrained me the harder I came. At the same time I was becoming more attentive to her and found pleasure in pleasuring her. Eventually I just took the good with the bad and stopped complaining. Besides, even the mildest of complaints on my part were beginning to set her off.



I suppose it was inevitable. Six months in to our second year together we had a pretty serious row. I wanted to take Ginger to a nice restaurant for a romantic candle lit dinner. Before we left I asked Ginger to please remove my collar and cuffs. This was normal. We never flaunted my “condition” in public. Ginger always removed the collar and cuffs before I went out any place. Tonight she refused. She told me to find some clothes to wear that would hide them. Finding a long sleeved shirt and trousers to cover the cuffs wasn’t difficult but there was no way to completely hide the collar and I told her so.



“Quit whining and let’s go.”



“I’m not whining. I’m not going to be humiliated in public by having everyone see me in a slave collar.”



“No one’s going to know you’re wearing a collar. They’ll think its some kind of medical brace and ignore it.”



“Why are you doing this? I’m not your slave. I never agreed to any such thing. I only agreed to wear the belt to gain your trust. Not to be humiliated or treated like your slave.”



“Don’t you dare raise your voice to me. Who do you think you are. This whole thing was your idea. I’m just trying to give you what you want and make it a little fun for myself. This is so typical of you Scott”……



I won’t bore you with all the details. Just take it from me it got ugly. When it was over Ginger was locked in our bedroom and I was sleeping on the couch. We didn’t speak to one another for the rest of the weekend. On Monday morning Ginger left for work without unlocking me. There was no way I could go to the office in collar and cuffs so I took the day off and contemplated my situation. I was still in love with Ginger, maybe more than ever but I wasn’t happy about how some of this chastity thing was turning-out. Much to my surprise, I found that, more and more, I enjoyed letting Ginger take the lead in our daily lives. It was comforting, in a way, to allow myself a subservient role, to let Ginger make my decisions for me. I didn’t mind that sometimes I gave her pleasure without receiving any in return. That was just one more unpredictability in her spontaneous flair for sex I didn’t mind helping more around the house, cooking, cleaning and so forth. But I didn’t want to be made a spectacle of in public. Besides, the whole idea here was just to reassure Ginger that I would remain faithful, not to take away any of my freedoms except sex. Not to turn me into a slave. When Ginger got home that evening we sat down to talk. I told her I loved her and how I was feeling. That I was willing to remain chastised to win her trust and to allow her to continue making decisions for me but I didn’t want to be publicly humiliated. Chastity was only meant to reassure her of my good intentions. Not surrender my dignity.



Ginger, for her part, said that she loved me too and wanted to make it work between us. I had empowered her to take charge of our relationship, to be the boss instead of a victim and there was no going back for her. If she was going to trust me I had to demonstrate that I trusted her. I needed to stop arguing and complaining and accept that this would never be a fifty-fifty partnership. I had allowed her to take control and she found that she enjoyed the part and wanted more. If I couldn’t agree then maybe we should rethink our plans. I admitted that I was surprised to find that there were some parts of having her in control that turned me on more than I ever thought they would but I still didn’t want to go public with it. As far as our not having a fifty-fifty partnership I was not comfortable in permanently having a less than equal voice. I didn’t mind taking a back seat for now but was uncomfortable in permanently giving-up a measure of control or at least equality in our relationship. Having said that, I was willing to continue our experiment for the remaining six months accepting a secondary position as long as we didn’t do any thing to publicly humiliate me. I would place my complete trust in Ginger just as I wanted her to place her trust in me. Ginger then asked me if I was certain I could give her my unquestioning obedience? Could I give up my macho, controlling nature and submit to her will without further argument? I swallowed hard and said yes.



Over the next six months things went fairly smoothly. Ginger continued to refine our respective roles in this increasingly strange relationship. She also continued her experimentation with the accessories to my belt. This was one of the areas that over time came to test my promise of obedience. Ginger never seemed to tire of finding ways of keeping me restrained and mobile at the same time. She would use the T.E.N.S. unit to control my movements in a “Mother May I” sort of game. Pavlovian house work training, as it were. Ginger frequently bound together my wrists and ankles with varying lengths of chain or rope while I had to carry-out my daily tasks. Those tasks got more numerous and difficult all the time. Complicated by varying degrees of restraint. Ginger started to institute a system of rewards and punishments for my performance. These were mild and not the cause of any strain. The problem came when Ginger discovered the dildo attachment to my belt. The first time we used it she just went crazy. I was restrained on the bed, hands over my head, ankles locked together and secured to the foot of the bed. Ginger attached the dildo and then just knelt there for a couple of minutes staring at it, gently stroking it, getting obviously turned-on as she slowly rolled a condom over its 9 inch length. She was already flushed and shining by the time she mounted me. I watched as it’s 3 inch diameter slowly stretched her cunt in a way my little member could never do. It seemed to take forever for her to fit the whole thing inside. She moved slowly and gently. When, at last, it was completely buried in her sex, she simply stopped moving altogether. She sat still, impaled on the biggest cock she had ever experienced, easily twice the size of mine.



The perspiration formed on her brow and upper lip. Her face and breasts flushed deep crimson as her breathing came in ragged gasps. As I watched helplessly her stomach muscles began to quiver and she let out a long deep moan. She was cumming and she hadn’t even moved a muscle yet. It was the most incredibly sexual moment I have ever witnessed. I was more turned-on than I thought possible and my dick was completely trapped in its stainless steel prison, less than an inch away from all the action. Hard as the steel encasing it and as remote as if it belonged to someone else. After a few minutes Ginger began to rock very slowly. Her eyes were closed and it seemed as if she was on an entirely different planet. Lost in the depths of a carnal lust she had never imagined. Her rocking increased in tempo and she began to move the giant phallus in and out. Only a short distance at first, then farther and farther until she was riding the full length of this amazing shaft. Harder and faster she went as I pumped my hips as best I could, giving me a small measure of stimulation. Not enough, normally, to satisfy but something was better than nothing and this situation was a long way from normal. Perspiration was flying from her soaking body. Her hair looked like she was standing in a wind storm. Harder and faster she went until, at last, she threw her head all the back and screamed at the ceiling. A primal scream of pure sexual ecstasy. She began cursing and calling Scott’s name as her cum pooled between my legs and soaked the sheets beneath me. The sexual energy radiating from Ginger was intense and I was crazy with lust with no way to relieve the agony of desire.



I lost track of how many times she came that night. It was certainly a personal best. Maybe an Olympic record. After hours of totally consuming sex, Ginger collapsed on my chest, still impaled by the monster and slept the sleep of the dead. In the following weeks this became the pattern of our love making. Me, locked into my metal underwear, providing the platform for the monster on which my lover satisfied herself. A participant, witness and helper in the most fantastic sex I’ve ever known and totally unrequited. My need rose to unimaginable proportions. I was frequently reduced to tears by my frustration. I couldn’t get any relief and I couldn’t ask for any for fear of seeming like I was complaining. I’m not at all certain that I was completely sane after a month of this treatment. I walked around all day every day in a fog of lust and need.



Totally incapable of escaping the exquisite torture of it all. My performance at home and at work began to suffer. My boss suggested I take a vacation and get myself back together (I’m sure he thought I was on drugs). Ginger, for her part, seemed oblivious to the fact that I was being punished several times a day for poor performance at home. Finally, there came a Sunday morning that promised some relief. As had become usual, we spent Saturday night with Ginger performing her gymnastic routines with the monster while I watched helplessly. When Sunday morning arrived I was in desperate straits. Ginger unlocked me and restrained my hands. She washed me thoroughly and patted me dry. I was in heaven. This was the first real stimulation I had gotten in a month. I was laid back on the bed where Ginger really got down to some serious teasing. She started by gently blowing on my rock hard member, then proceeded to kiss it, ever so lightly. With agonizing slowness and a feather light touch she took me into her warm, moist mouth. I could have cum right then but Ginger said no, she would let me cum all I wanted when she was ready. I would have to trust and obey her. Trust and obedience was what we were all about. Ginger began using her nails to scratch the head of my organ and my nipples. I responded with a satisfying moan that told her more than I realized. Later she would use that little piece of information to torture my nipples in her sexiest manner. She was a fast study. It wasn’t long until I was lost in world of pure sensation. My entire body became one big frenum. There wasn’t anywhere Ginger could touch me that didn’t elicit a sexual response. My member was deep purple and throbbing. I was leaking so much pre-cum it almost looked like I was peeing. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore I began to beg for release. Ginger said no, I wasn’t ready yet .



She stroked me and stopped, stroked and stopped. I was on the edge and couldn’t get over. My body was shaking uncontrollably, drenched in sweat and my pre-cum was still pouring out of me but had now turned milky in color. I begged again, then I pleaded, I cried. I was completely unmanned. I was hers to do with as she pleased, I had no pride left. I just wanted release. This was what Ginger was waiting for.



“Do you want to cum now?”



“Oh God. Yes, pleeeeeese.”



“Will you do me one little favor before I let you cum?”



“Anything, please, anything at all!”



“Are you sure?”



“I swear to God YES!”



“Okay, I’ve got some papers I want you sign. As soon as you’re done you can cum.”



With that she produced a pen and a small stack of papers marked where I as supposed to place my signature. When I looked at the first one I noticed Ginger had already signed it and it was witnessed. Even through my lust filled fog I knew something was wrong. I wanted to read these papers before I signed them. Ginger sensed my hesitation and began her ministrations to my member again. I was lost. I signed everything she put in front of me without any further thought. It’s all about trust isn’t it? Just before I exploded Ginger asked one more favor. Would I promise that from now on to personally recycle all cum in this house. Even in my madness I knew what she meant but was powerless to resist. I said yes and then produced the largest load I would ever have to consume at one time. Ginger fed it to me with a spoon, one swallow at a time. Each spoonful was another step into the abyss. Abject slavery waited at the bottom.

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