I wrote previously about an episode in which my wife placed me in bondage in our car while she went shopping.

She loves to torment me as much as she likes to put me in predicaments or humiliate me. In truth, she only started any of these activities after I told her of my needs and desires, and she never does anything with me she doesn’t enjoy doing, though she is very open to trying things at least once that I indicate I would like to experience. I am truly blessed that we have such an active and varied sex life after all these years of marriage.

One of the things we’ve learned, for which I feel quite blessed, is that she loves seeing me in torment. Weird as it must sound, I love being in torment, particularly if someone else is involved. Sometimes she will place me in bondage and torment me herself, and sometimes she will simply tell me that she wants me to please her by tormenting myself while she watches and plays with herself (if the mood takes her). “I love the expressions on your face when you are in agony, and I love to watch you torture yourself for me.”

A favorite of hers is to have me torture my nipples. She will simply tell me, “Torture your nips, my one and only.” I drop whatever I am doing to comply. I begin to pinch and twist and pull my nipples, which are always quite sensitive already since she has me do this often.

After a few minutes of what she calls warm-up, she’s ready to get serious. “Come to the family room,” she’ll say. And I follow her into the room. “Undress,” she’ll tell me as she begins to remove her own clothes. “I love to see your cock swell while you torture yourself.”

Of course, I love to see my bride naked, too. She has a lovely body for her age, which I cannot reveal except to say that she is an ‘established firm.’ I’ve always said I prefer her body to some of these young, nubile things. I have nothing against looking a young, firm bodies, but I like a woman of mature years because they have more substance to them than young, flighty heads have.

And my cock does swell when my nipples are pinched. There’s something about torturing my nipples that really hardens me. I won’t say anything about my length or girth except that my bride has always found me adequate, and that’s good enough for me.

Once we’re undressed, she will assume a comfortable, yet provocative position on the sofa or in a chair or even on the carpeted floor. I stand before her about five feet away so that she can observe my facial and body contortions–and watch my cock bob–while I continue twisting, pinching, pulling, and generally abusing my nipples with my fingers. I’m not allowed to touch my cock, even though it will ache for a touch, any touch, as time goes on.

What I do to myself hurts. A lot. She does not want half measures. “I want to see you in pain, real pain,” she has told me. “Roll your nipples between your thumb and forefinger so that it hurts. You know what I want.”

I do know what she wants, and as much as it hurts, I must say that I enjoy it, too. I enjoy that she is watching and sometimes directing me. “Pull your nipples out until they are as long as possible. Now pull them up until you are on the balls of your feet.” I try to pull myself up by my thumbs and forefingers of each hand. It is excruciating, especially if I’ve been at it for any length of time. The more tender I am, the greater the effect on my cock. As I stand there, nipples sweating and slippery and slipping through them so that I have to dig in with my nails to keep them from slipping out, I feel an electric current running from my nipples to my cock so that it points straight out and bobs on its own.

And she is caressing herself: breasts, nipples, thighs, vulva, and clit as the mood strikes her. I’ll hear her moan. I’ll smell her musky aroma. It drives me wild as I stand there, my feet firmly planted but the rest of my body gyrating to the torture of my nipples and her smell and her sounds and the sight of her pleasuring herself while watching me torture myself for her enjoyment.

Time ceases to have any meaning at these times. Our play goes on and on, her moans and writhing rising to a crescendo and falling back as her arousal waxes and wanes. My arousal stays at a peak or even rises higher than I could have thought possible. I am in agony. I am in ecstasy. I am in heaven!

Eventually she will have an orgasm. It drives me wild! I want her to touch me. I want to touch myself. I want to be inside her, riding her while she abuses my poor nips even more as we cum together. That’s what we often do. She will have an orgasm, then invite me into her spread legs while she grabs my nipples in a fearsome pinch as I drive us both over the edge together. Then we’ll lie together wherever we are. She will coo in satisfaction and lovingly, tenderly massage my poor nipples, which are on fire from upwards of an hour of abuse.

My wife will take a more active role in torturing me as well. Something she did the other night illustrates her devious mind, as if you needed more convincing.

She took me downstairs to our basement playroom. It’s really an ordinary looking space. She does some sewing there, and there’s a television and one of our computers, a sofa and a couple of comfortable chairs. A perfectly ordinary room, most of the time. Yet we have some additional features to the room that we make use of. One of those features is a ceiling hook from which she can suspend clover clamps connected by a chain. She had me modify the connection so that she could set the length of the chain as she desired it. She makes the chain shorter if she wants my standing on the balls of my feet or longer if she wants me flat-footed with my legs spread, or any length in between that strikes her fancy.

On this occasion, she had the chain relatively long as she clipped the clamps to my always sensitive nipples. Then she tightened the clamps quite a bit. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I realized things would get worse before they got better, but I had no idea how much worse they would get!

Once she was satisfied with my nipples, she put cuffs on my wrists, and cuffed them behind my back. Then she cuffed my ankles and spread my feet and attached a spreader bar between them. It wasn’t a long spread, maybe two feet. But it added additional tension to the clamps and my nipples. Needless to say–but I’ll say it anyhow–my cock went to full extension.

“Excellent!” she crowed as she gently stroked it. Her touch was so erotic that I started to sag into it, but the chained clamps let me know that was not a good idea. I flinched at the pain. “Oooh,” she cooed, “this is gonna work out very well, I think.”

She stepped out of my field of vision, and I decided not to even turn my head. Any movement I made tortured my nipples, and I knew I was gonna get plenty of that without adding more. She always makes sure I get all the pain I could want.

When she came back in front of me I could see she had about a four inch long line of white in her palm. At first I thought it was a piece of chalk; then I caught a minty aroma. “I think you’re going to like this,” she said as she began to rub her hands together. “I know I’m going to like the show.”

I was trying, without success, to place where I’d smelled that smell before. Just as she placed her hands on my engorged cock I realized that it was an analgesic ointment used to “soothe sore, tired muscles” according to their advertising lotion. Uh, oh, I thought. This is gonna burn.

As soon as I had that thought, I had the burn. “Oh, God! Oh, God! God, that hurts!” I was shouting some variation of those words over and over, like a mantra. And it really did burn. I thought if I looked down I’d see flames, or at least smoke, rising from my poor tortured cock. And I could not help but writhe in agony, which practically tore my nipples from my chest. How long would this go on?

She smiled as she continued to coat my entire length and my balls with a gentle but firm application of the fiery white cream. “Yes,” she said as she finished up by wiping the residue across my stomach. “And you know what the best part is?” Through the haze of pain I was enduring–but not well–I shook my head, No. “The best part is that it can’t be stopped until the active ingredients have run their course. I read about it on the Internet. It could last for eight hours.”

Eight hours! I screamed in my head. Well, okay, I just flat screamed. Of course, no sound would escape our basement sanctuary.

I was in agony: from my nipples, my cock, and my balls. Each pain was different. Each seemed to subtly change in each location as I involuntarily writhed and twisted. But no matter how I tried, of course, I could not get away from the pain.

My wife pulled up the computer chair and sat down about three feet in front of me to watch the show. “Oh, I like this!” she said, but I could barely hear her. I could barely take in my surroundings, familiar as they were. My world closed down to one of pain and agony. Eight hours?!? How could I bear 8 hours of this torture? I lost all track of my wife and anything other than my world of pain.

Gradually, over some immeasurable time, the fire in my cock and balls seemed to lessen. I wondered if I was getting used to it? I made a conscious effort to bring my body to a halt: to stop the writing and torturing of my nipples. I got control and began to take deep, calming breaths, to breathe through the ebbing pain and achieve some sort of equilibrium.

I began to notice my surroundings again, and I saw that my wife had shed her clothes, moved the chair back another three or so feet, and was videoing me in my agony with one hand while masturbating with the other. I remember thinking that a lot of that footage will be too jiggly to see clearly. What an odd thought to have.

Just then she bent over in her sitting position and had a massive orgasm. Man! Did she enjoy that! How sexy she looked, I thought.

At that instant, I could feel my cock harden, and the fire, which had seemed to dampen almost to nothing, came roaring back. I couldn’t help myself. I started writhing and moaning and torturing myself even more. And then, somewhere off in the distance, I could faintly hear my wife.

“Damn, that was good!” she exclaimed. And then, “Oh, my GOD, how sexy you are like that.”

I heard the chair move and creak. I tried to focus on it and her. I saw her with some massive cock in both her hands (where had the video camera gone?), and she was plunging it into herself hard and fast. It looked huge! Certainly it was far bigger than I am. But damn me if she didn’t look like the sexiest thing I’d EVER seen!

And that lit the fire on me again!

On and on this went. I know I staggered once or twice, and I was very, extremely, tired. I was also afraid that if my legs totally gave out I would rip the upper part of my chest skin off. Clover clamps, properly applied, do NOT pull off.

Eventually, I think my wife was more than sated. She certainly looked pleased and exhausted when she brought the barstool over, unclipped my nipples, which caused me to scream in even greater agony than I thought I had experienced before. (God, I’m such a pain slut. My cock shot back to attention and I felt the fire, though, mercifully, not as strong as it had been (hours?) earlier.)

She sat me on the stool and released my from my bonds. Then she gently laid me on the carpet and fell into my arms. And went straight to sleep.

That caused a momentary disappointment because I hadn’t gotten to cum after all that pain. Part of my body was screaming out for it, but I realized that I was so tired I couldn’t even raise my hand to move it to my now smoldering cock. Shortly, I, too, fell asleep.

I’m still recovering from that experience. My nipples are exquisitely sensitive to even the lightest touch. The pain in my cock and balls was a memory only when I woke up, but that memory lingers to this moment. I know we’ll be doing THAT again, but I hope she waits a little while before doing it. And the video she shot was fantastic, right up to the point where she had her massive climax and took her finger off the button. But it’s a keeper. We’ve already watched it a couple of times and had very, very fine sex inspired by it.

July 2018
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