Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Wedding Night

"Monica," Paul called into the bathroom, looking for his bride, "you in there?" He opened the door slowly, caught a glimpse of sheer white fabric, opened the door the rest of the way, but was stunned to find not his new wife but instead her mother.

"Hello Paul, "she said softly.

"Jesus, Mrs. Traver, I...I thought you were Monica and...where...where is she? Why are you here? Why...why are you dressed like that?"

"Goodness," Mrs. Traver said putting the top on a bottle of perfume, "so many questions."

"Where is Monica," Paul asked again, suddenly very self conscious of his mother-in-law's semi-nakedness.

"With Trevor...I assume in his room."'

"T...Trevor?" Paul asked softly. "Trevor is here?"

"Of course Trevor is here, it's her wedding night. You expected me to leave her to you?"

"I...I thought...she said...I mean...she said after we got married...wait...you...you know about Trevor?"

Mrs. Traver put down the bottle, turned to her new son-in-law, smiled, looked at his crotch. "Paul, dear, Monica tells me everything."


"Do you think I'd let my daughter marry a boy like you without some assurances to her happiness?"


"Her sexual satisfaction, Paul."

"She...I thought...I mean...I thought after we got married she was going to...to stop."

Mrs. Traver laughed. "Paul, dear, a woman like Monica does not give up her sexual freedom simply by marrying a boy like you. Poor boy, you really thought you were getting unlocked just because it's your wedding day?"

My eyes went wide, she smiled. "Everything, Paul, she tells me everything."

"She promised," I protested.

"She was, Paul, most women are only a bride once. She looked beautiful, by the way. She knows you peeked and saw the lingerie she bought...she asked me to tell you how pretty it is."

"Of course she promised, Paul, she took pity on you. That's why I insisted on holding the key."

"You...you have the key?"

"Good thing, too, she may have actually let you out...imagine the confusing letting a boy like you think he got to stick that inside a woman. No, Paul, I'll be holding the key from now on."

"But...but I...I haven't..."

"I understand it's been nine months now? Since the night you proposed. I'm glad you're old fashioned and asked me for her hand in marriage before you asked her, it gave me time to talk to her, for us to shop for a cage, to discuss her response."

"M...Mrs. Traver, I..."

"Are you wearing the panties?"

"Panties?" I gasped, face turning red.

"I wondered if you would...I mean...I assumed...good to know I wasn't wrong. Shall we get started?"


"Started, Paul, we have all night, so there's no hurry, but to be honest, I've been looking forward to this for months now." She opened a drawer, took out a life sized dildo, held it up. "It's been years since I fucked a boy, let's see if I remember how."

Monday, September 9, 2019


"Jesus, Emily," I said the other night seeing her come into the bedroom after the baby went to sleep.

"What?" she asked? "You don't like?"

"I...I like," I swallowed with a grimace, "it just...you know...makes things...uncomfortable."

"I know it gets sore when I wear pretty things, sweetie, but since I'm not unlocking you, your only other option is for me to stop wearing pretty lingerie to bed," Emily said.

"But I...I mean...you could...you know..."

"Unlock it?" she asked. I nodded quickly.

"Sweetie," she shook her head, "why do you wear the cage?"


"Why do you wear the cage, sweetie?"

"B...because I couldn't stop touching myself."

"That kind of started it, didn't it? And are sissy husbands permitted to touch themselves?"

"N...no, Ma'am."

"Why else do you wear the cage, sweetie?"

"Because...because I'm not allowed inside you."

"Are sissy husband allowed inside pretty women?"

"N...no, Ma'am."

"No, no they're not," she said softly sitting next to me, her breasts close to my face.

"Why else do you wear the cage?"

"Because...because I'm not allowed to get...to get an erection," I said, feeling myself swell to the confines of the small cage.

"Men get erections, not pretty, feminized little boys," she said.


"It makes me so hot when you make love to me in your special way," she said, kissing me, "when you deny yourself the one thing you want so badly. All these years and you still don't always understand how excited it makes me to tease you and deny you."

"Emily," I swallowed.

"Do you miss it? I do," she said.


"I want to...it's been so long."

I caught her meaning immediately. "You...you don't mean with me?"

"No, love, I don't mean with you, no, I like you like this, soft, locked away."

"But...but who? Matthew...he..."

"I know...I don't know who, love, I don't how, I don't know when. I just know I miss it and I want it and I think you miss it and want it to."


"Do you miss it? We...I won't...if you...if you don't miss it."

"I...I do," I said.

She kissed me, deep, hard. "I don't know who, I don't know when, I don't even know for sure. But I miss it, love, I miss it."


"But...but you said...I mean...you said it wasn't...you know...gay," he moaned when his wife teased him about the thing he did the other night, the thing he wanted to forget but couldn't stop thinking about.

"I said that?" she asked.

"You...you did."

"You're obviously mistaken, why would I say something like that?" she asked innocently.

"I...I mean..."

"Of course it's gay, honey, what's possibly more gay than a boy sucking a man's cock and swallowing his cum?"

"Monica! You...you said you wanted to see me do it."

"Well I did, dear, but that's not the point."

"What...what the point?"

"To prove to you that sissy husband can enjoy sucking cock."

"I...I didn't enjoy it," you sighed.

"Really?" she leaned back on her left arm, put the other on her nylon covered leg.

"I...I didn't," you said.

"If you didn't enjoy doing something so gay, why did that little thing swell so much?"

"It...it didn't," you lied.

"And if you didn't enjoy doing something so gay, why was that little think leaking so much."

"It...it wasn't leaking!"

"And if you didn't enjoy doing something so gay, why were you doing it so...eagerly?"

"I...I wasn't eager."

"And if you didn't enjoy doing something so gay, why did you swallow every drop of his cum?"


"Sweetie, just because you're married to a beautiful woman doesn't mean you can't be gay."

"But...but I'm not."

"So I should call him?"

"Call him?"

"Call him and tell him not to come over tonight? Tell him my pretty sissy is having second thoughts?"

"Sweetie, of course it's gay for you to give a man a blowjob, but the thing is you and I both want it so badly."

Monday, August 26, 2019

Just sayin...

Maybe she wouldn't think you were a sissy cuckold if you didn't get an erection every time she dressed you in lingerie and went on a date with a man.

Monday, August 12, 2019


I love sitting at Emily's feet in the evening, carefully painting her toenails, especially in the summer. She'll watch tv or read a book while I focus on her, the object of my entire attention.

It's such a good task for a sissy, cuckold, as it gives practice in the feminine arts, emphasizes service over self, and makes her look pretty when she's out and about.

P.S. Not Emily's actual feet, but certainly a good representation.


He thought it was nice his wife had met the slightly older couple that moved in across the hall. He spent too much time traveling for work, often leaving Sunday night, not coming home until Friday morning.

"Don't worry," the woman told him one afternoon, "we hate thinking she's home alone all week, we're happy to have her over any time."

"You're sure she's not imposing?" he asked, "I mean..."

"Imposing?" the woman interrupted, "not at all, not at all. If anything, it's the opposite, she's quite helpful and always pulls her own weight, if not more."

"You're sure?" he asked one more time.

Oh, she pulls her own weight, alright, she pulls and pulls and pulls.

Wasted Time

To think all that time they spent (totally unsuccessfully) trying to date girls when they're so much happier just being girls.


I always prefer answering questions in a post because not everyone goes back and reads comments after viewing a post.

Anonymous asks:

Looks like saragirl's thoughts are ramping up again. (smile) Will you be this nervous again the next time Emily finds a man?


Yes, yes my thoughts are ramping up again, in part because Emily's are as well. We're not there yet, but there is an unquestionable pull for both of us.

And will I be this nervous? Oh my god, yes. It's been awhile and I you have no idea how nervous I'll be when she tells me it's time.

Thursday, August 8, 2019


I walked into the bathroom just as my wife was attaching a stocking to her garter belt. "Jesus," I whispered, not meaning to say anything but unable to keep quite.

She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge my presence, just carefully, attached the garter tab to her stocking, slowly. Finally, she looked up, hand still on the garter.

"You're gawking, sweetie," she said, a mild scolding.

"I...I didn't mean to," I mumbled, mouth dry.

"Yet you are," she said. She sat back on the counter, moved her hands into her lap, subconsciously covering her legs which only showed off her breasts, shifting my eyes up.

"I...I didn't expect...I mean...you look so..." I swallowed again, felt my stomach tighten. "You look so pretty."

"I was going for sexy," she said, "but I'll take the compliment."

I finally lowered my eyes, conscious to avoid staring, shifted from foot to foot.

"What?" she asked, carefully watching me.

"I...I don't know," I said, "I just didn't...I mean...look at you...I don't...I don't know if this is a good idea."

Her face got serious and she watched me for a good minute. "Sweetie, he's on his way, I don't think it's fair to him for me to call him now and tell him it's off."

"I just...I don't know," I said, "we...we hardly know him."

"No, we know him well enough, that's not what this is about. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No...I mean...I don't know," I said.

She got serious, watched me. "Listen, this is something we both said we wanted, something we both talked about. If you're serious, if you don't want to do this, I'll call him, I will. He'll be mad, but he'll understand."

"You...you will? Call him?"

"Of course," she said, "we've talked about this. If this isn't what we both want, we're not doing it. But I don't think that's what this is, love, I think you're just nervous, that's all, and if that's what it is, nerves, I don't want to call him. You know what he said about that."

I looked down, thought about his ground rules. We could stop anything, anytime, but if we flaked out, he was gone, that while we were involved with him, he was in charge.

"So are you really having second thoughts," she asked, "or are you just nervous?"

"I...I'm nervous," I admitted, "I mean..."

"Your wife's body belongs to someone else now," she said in a low, seductive tone.

"Oh, god," I moaned.

"For the first time in our marriage, there's going to be a man in our lives."

"Hmmmmm," I said, almost drooling.

"A strong, dominant man...I know it's difficult, I get it, but it's what you want, isn't it? You're not really having second thoughts, are you?"

"I..." My mouth was so dry, I couldn't form words.

"So do you want me to call him or no?"

"N...no," I said, "no. No."

Monday, August 5, 2019


The anticipation of watching her wait for her lover excites you almost as much as the reality of watching him take her.

What is is? Seeing her ass in the air, face down, forbidden to look back, forbidden from raising her face from the bed. Knowing she won't know what's coming, won't know if he intends to spank her, fuck her, or just watch her quiver in anticipation.

What is it? Seeing her beautiful body on display, knowing it isn't for you but rather for him. Knowing the woman you love, the mother of your child, the woman who brings you so much joy, needs someone else, begs for someone else, submits to someone else.

What is it? Watching her, minute after minute, waiting for him, wanting him, needing him. Seeing her shake when she hears his footsteps approaching. Hearing her breathing quickening as he enters the bedroom. Watching her quiver, anticipating his touch.

He looks over at you, smiles, pleased at your presentation of your wife, pleased at your offering.

He walks towards her, careful not to block your view, wanting you to see the comfortable ease he feels with her. Without a word, he slaps her ass. She jumps, but can't really move, his strong hand remains on her, grabbing her roughly by the pussy, not enough to hurt her, hard enough to claim her.

"How long?" he asks, looking at you.

"F...forty five minutes," you say, voice rough, not having spoken a word that entire time.

He moves his hand, you see it slip easily into her pussy; she moans softly. "She's soaked, have you touched her?" he asks, an accusation.

"N...no, Sir," you say, shocked, you'd never do such a thing, never.

"Crawl over here," he motions you with a finger, "pull her panties the rest of the way off."

"Y...yes, Sir," you say, crawling, feeling the soreness between your legs as you swell to the edge of the small, locked cage.

When she feels your trembling fingers touch her soft skin, she starts to put her legs together to help you, but slaps her with his free hand, while pushing his fingers deeper into her. "Keep you legs apart," he scolds her, "wider."

As you're struggling to pull her panties down, with a practiced one-handed motion, he undoes his belt and pants, pulling his hard cock free. When the panties are off her one leg, he steps between her legs, slaps her ass again, shaking his head in appreciation. "What a fucking ass she has," he says, looking at you.

"Y...yes, Sir," you mumble, eyes locked on his erection, amazed as always how thick and hard he gets.

"Spread her apart," he tells you. You do, the excitement almost too much to bear, you watch, face inches from her as he takes his cock in one hand, moves it up and down, wets the tip with her juices, pushes it against her outer lips, waits. And waits. And waits.

After thirty seconds, your wife's ass starts shaking involuntarily. After a minute, she's breathing heavy, trying to coax him in without moving, afraid if she does he'll stop.

"What's the matter?" he growls at her.

"You...you're teasing me," she blurts out.

"Sluts should be teased," he says, rubbing the head against her, still refusing to push it in.


"But nothing," he says slapping her again, "don't pretend to be the dutiful wife when we all know you're a cock hungry slut."

You see her shaking again, know how his words strike at her, clash with her carefully crafted image as a wife and mother. She prides herself on that, being a good wife, a good mother, keeping a good house, devoting herself to her family. And it's true, but for one thing, she lives that image, it's her. It's really her.

But that thing. That one thing. The good girl, the good wife, with an inner slut.

"Say it," he taunts her pushing forward ever so slightly, teasing her with what she wants.

"Please, Sir," she begs.

"Say it now, say it without me telling you again, say it or I walk out of this room."

You know he's serious, so does she. He's done it before, left, as training, training her to behave.

"I...I'm a slut," she says, voice but a whisper.

He slaps her ass again, the last warning.

"I'm a cock hungry slut," she says with more conviction. "Please, stop teasing me, please stop...."

Her word are cut off by a rough thrust of his hips, his cock pushing into her fast and hard, not gentle and easing as a husband would, but forceful, purposefully, pushing into her like he owns her.

You're eyes go wide, you've never been allowed this close before, and it's like he forgot you were there, forgot you were so close, watching.

He fucks her rough and hard, animalistic, sex, not love, fucking, not coupling, possessing her, taking her, fucking her until he shakes, shudders, grunts, faster, until he stays inside her and cums with a loud, masculine growl.

As suddenly as he entered her, he pulls out, slaps her again. "Stay there till I leave slut. He'll clean you when I'm gone."

A minute later, his footsteps still echoing, you lean forward, tongue out, ashamed of what happened, of what you're doing, but doing it just the same, eagerly, licking her, licking her clean.

Not true, Sir, as there is something I can do about it; I can lick every single crop of your cum out of her

Friday, August 2, 2019

Hashtag Games

#pussyfree #teampussyfree #lockedforlife #teaseanddenial #sissygasmonly #never #restorevirginity

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Simple Rules

It was a harsh but simple rule. She didn't order you to suck cock, she didn't tell you that you had to. Only that until you did, until you gave a man a glorious blowjob, until you swallowed every drop of a man's cum, she wasn't going to unlock the chastity cage.

You resisted for a month, then two, which she found amusing, as she knew eventually you'd give in. Resisting changed nothing, one day you'd suck cock for her. All resisting did was delay the inevitable.

Go on, tell me sweetie, tell me how much you want me to fuck another man.

Monday, July 15, 2019


He walked into the bedroom, saw what the dress his wife was wearing, stopped, looked stunned. "Jesus, Amy, you...you can't wear that," he said.

"Why not, Jim?" she asked, "I thought you liked this dress."

Jim looked at his wife, her long, hose covered legs, her breasts pushing out of the top of the dress. "I...I do," he said, "it's just...god, you're going out...people...someone we know might see you."

"And?" she asked innocently.

"They'll...they'll think...they'll think you're...on a date," Jim blurted out.

"But I am," she said.

"But...but you don't have to flaunt it," Jim swallowed.

"No, you're right," she said gently, "but we talked about this, I don't have to hide it, either. He's my boyfriend, Jim, he wants to show me off, what's so bad about that?"

"I...someone might...people will think..."

"Might think I'm a red blooded woman with needs? Honey, you didn't expect him to keep me hidden forever, did you? We talked about this, you always knew he was going to take me out."

"I just...I mean..."

"I know it isn't easy, but part of dating a man is, you know, going on dates with him. It isn't just about sex, there's romance, foreplay, teasing..."

Jim looked down as his wife described the things a couple did together, things a married woman should do with her husband, not someone else. "I just...I don't know," he said.

"He told us this was important to him, Jim, and we agreed. I thought...I thought this, you know, excited you."

Jim looked down, felt his face redden. "It...it does...it's just..."

"Humiliating?" she asked, knowing how excited he got at any discussion about it.

"Don't you like it, though? Sitting at home while I'm out with him?"

"Y...yes," he said, barely audible.

Monday, July 8, 2019


Your bride walked into the honeymoon suite where you and your new mother-in-law were waiting for her, took one look at you, turned to her mother, eyes flashing in anger. "Mother, what...what the hell is he wearing?" your wife demanded.

"Bridal lingerie," your mother-in-law said evenly, as if every groom spent his wedding night dressed like a blushing bride.

"I don't mean that, Mother," your bride glared at her mother, "I mean that." She was pointing to your crotch.

"Show her," your mother-in-law ordered you.

"Y...yes, Ma'am." Gloved hands trembling, you reached for the hem the bridal neglige, pulled it up over your stocking tops, up to your waist.

Your wife took one look at the plastic surrounding your limp penis, turned to her mother. "Mother, you didn't," your hissed.

"Did you honestly think I was sending you two off unprotected?"

"Where's the key," your wife asked.

"In the mail," her mother smiled, "I sent it to myself first class mail. Assuming the postal service doesn't lose it, I should have it when you get back."

"Mother, it's our honeymoon."

"So?" her mother asked. "Again, did you honestly think I was sending you off unprotected? It's called an inviolable rule because it's inviolable. Sissies do not have intercourse with women."


"I don't care if it's your honeymoon, Angela, it's a matter of setting expectations. And I do not expect that little thing to go inside regardless of the circumstances. God, I'm not saying you can't enjoy yourselves; you're welcome to use her mouth as much as you want. Hell, you're welcome to fuck her as much as you want...I packed several dildos...but she's not going inside you."

"I wouldn't have," your wife said defensively.

"I know. So it doesn't matter, does it?" she asked.

"I suppose not," your wife bit her lip. "It's just...my god, we're going to be gone for three weeks."

"A good starting interval," her mother smiled. "Perfect, really, a good work up to standard."

"S...standard?" you asked nervously.

"We'll see," she smiled. "We'll see."

Tuesday, July 2, 2019


You walk into the bedroom door, see your wife naked, her back to you. You stop, gasp, swallow, quickly turn, intending to walk away before she notices you.

"Sweetie, it's okay, you can come in," she says, her sweet voice irresistible.

"I...I didn't know you were changing," you mumble, eyes down.

"I'm your wife, sweetie," she said, "you can't avoid seeing me naked forever." It had been weeks since you'd seen her naked; you were avoiding it, something she clearly knew as well as you.

"I...I'm not avoiding it," you lied.

She frowned, shook her head. "Honey," she said.

You swallow again, look at her, quickly look away. "I just...I mean...it's been so long and..."

"You see me and can't help but fantasize about it, can you?"

"Of course not," you say, face red.

"Fantasize about sliding it inside me, remembering how warm and wet it is."

"R...Riley!" you exclaim, grimacing in pain as you feel the inevitable tightening between your legs.

"I'm sorry, I'm being mean, aren't I?"

"Yes," you agree, almost insolent to her.

"Watch your tone," she warns you.

"You're teasing me," you respond, still defensive.

"I'm a woman naked in her own bedroom, love; you're the one thinking about things you're not allowed to do," she said.

"Can't we...just...just this once," you asked, all but begging.

"Screw?" she asked.

"He...he doesn't have to know," you suggested.

"Really?" she asked, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"You're...you're my wife," you said, as if that still meant something.

"Yes," she agreed. "And he's my boyfriend and the man of this house; we agreed, honey, we both agreed what things are his and what things are yours."

"I just thought...I mean..."

"That he wasn't serious? That you were making a promise he wouldn't hold you to?"

You look at her naked body, her breasts, the tiny spot of hair between her legs, itself a reminder of him, kept trim at his insistence. "I thought it would be easier," you finally said.

"Easier?" she shakes her head. "He told us, the longer it is, the more difficult it will be; that's the point, isn't it?"

"Can we...I mean...will you..."

"Unlock you?" She shook her head. "Sweetie, we're going out tonight, you know he doesn't allow that either. Remember the last time? God, you were so disrespectful to him, I was afraid he was going to hit you. That rule is one we're never breaking."

"I...I know," you said, actually agreeing with that one.

"Listen, I don't have to get dressed for an hour or so, if you want, you can, you know," she said, quickly looked down between her legs, a guilty smile on her face.

It dawned on you walking in on her naked wasn't an accident; she'd planned it, she'd hoped it, to tease you, yes, but because she loved it, loved her husband worshipping her before her lover had his way with her.

You bit your lip, torn. There was no place that made you happier than on your knees with your face buried between her legs. But the cage made something so enjoyable so frustrating as well. You'd be sore for hours, sore the whole night, horny the whole night. Horny enough you'd repeat it when she got home, this time instead of preparing her, cleaning her.

And while preparing her was mildly humiliating, cleaning her was horrible. But you'd do it, if you licked her now, you knew you'd do it later, too.

"If you don't want to," she said when you hesitated.

"No...I...I do," you said.

"Then get undressed," she said, sitting on the bed but keeping her knees together.

"Do...do I...you know...do I have to..." You glanced at her dresser, at the top drawer.

"It's the 'Panty Rule'," she said, "not the 'Panty Suggestion'." Her face was red now, for as much as she hated to admit it, as strange as it was, her boyfriend's insistence you wear panties any time the two of you were intimate turned her on in ways she never would have imagined. It's like he was there with the two of you-her lover-like he was there, controlling the two of you even if not physically present. The panties were a reminder that her lover controlled every aspect of your sexual lives, present or not.

You walked to the dresser, opened it, saw the lingerie neatly stacked. I reached for a pair of pink cotton panties, the plainest she had, the pair I usually wore. "No," she said when she saw what was in my hand, "not those."

"Why not?" I asked.

"They...they're so plain," she said.

"That...that's why I pick them," I said.

"I know, sweetie," she said, "and that's why we want you to wear something else."

"We?" That meant her, too. Not just him, but her...both of them.

She looked away, just briefly. "On...on the right," she said, "in the tissue paper."

You looked to the side, saw the paper carefully folded, a small sticker holding it closed. You took it out, hands shaking, opened it. "Riley," you said, voice shaking.

"Take them out," she said watching you.

There were two items in the paper, you picked up one then the other. The first were gorgeous French knickers in pink shiny satin with an elastic waist and trimmed in pleated, black lace. The panties were double-lined, so the inside was as smooth, shiny, and soft as the outside.

It was bad enough the panties were so feminine, but it was the second garment that made your heart sink. It was a matching satin v-shaped plunge bra that tied at the neck and center back in the same fabric and the same lace trim.

"R...Riley, this...this is a bra."

"Of course it's a bra," she said, "I think I know what a bra is."

"But...but bras are for women," you swallowed.

"Panties are for women, too," she said, "or sweet husbands who invite a real man into their marriage."

"You said we," you said, "like...like you..."

She looked down, obviously embarrassed. "Like I want you to wear them, too. I...I do, sweetie, I...I picked them out."


"Please...get...get changed and...and get me ready," she said. "I...I have an hour...that hour is yours if you'll be my pretty little sweetie."

Monday, June 24, 2019


He had the two of us over for dinner on a Saturday; it was the second meeting between the three of us-the first was coffee to get to know one another to see if there was chemistry between my wife and me and him. This one was supposed to be a relaxing, no pressure dinner, but he took charge from the moment the two of us arrived.

When he opened the door, he glanced at his watch, smiled, invited us in. "There's a bottle of wine in the kitchen," he told me, "could you please bring it and three glasses and join your wife and me in living room." He nodded to his side.

I was immediately nervous as I hadn't anticipated leaving them alone so quickly. But while his actual words were a request, the tone in his voice suggested a command. But when I came into the living room with the wine, I felt relieved to see them sitting on opposite couches just chatting.

"Thank you," he said with a disarming smile, "go ahead."

I poured three glasses of wine, handed one to my wife, one to him, then sat with the third next to my wife, putting my hand on her leg as if trying to claim her.

"Ashley, we need to discuss something before we discuss anything else," he said sipping his wine.

"W...what?" my wife asked.

"Respect," he said.

"R...respect?" I interrupted. He narrowed his eyes, obviously displeased I'd spoken. "S...sorry," I said to his nod.

"Respect," he repeated, looking back at Ashley. "I told you to be here seven."

"We...we were," Ashley said, glancing at me. We'd discussed that earlier, the importance of being on time.

"7:01," he said; I thought of him checking his watch. "I said seven. Not one after, not five minutes before. Respect is doing what I ask, no more, no less."

"It was...it was my fault," I said, defending my wife, though really it was hers, she'd stepped back into the house to get her phone.

"Fault isn't the issue, Paul," he said looking at me, "the issue is respect. I told Ashley to be here at seven, it doesn't matter why she wasn't, but she wasn't. We're going to establish this here, now, tonight."

"I...I'm sorry," Ashley said, looking down.

I glanced at her, saw her red face, knew it wasn't just shame, but excitement, too.

He nodded. "We agree, correct, as we discussed, the power dynamic in any relationship we have?"

"Y...yes," Ashley said softly, her face reddening more.


"Yes," I said.

"I apologize in advance, I'd hoped to wait a bit, but we may as well establish this now there are consequences for disrespect."

"You...you want us to leave?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach, feeling Ashley's leg shake.

"Leave? No, Paul, I most certainly do not want the two of you to leave," he said. "You two will fail from time to time, it's to be expected, but it's also a teaching moment. Actions have consequences."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Ashley, I want you over here," he said, motioning her with a finger, "lift your skirt up and lie across my lap."

I saw Ashley's eyes go wide, didn't understand at first. "W...why?" I asked.

"Because wives that are disrespectful get punished," he said.

"You...you're going to spank her?" I asked, jaw slack as I understood his intention, "I thought...I thought this was just dinner?"

"It's just dinner in that there was no expectation of sex tonight, Paul; I'm going to spank her now, not fuck her."


"Paul," Ashley said softly, "it...it's okay."

"But he...he's going to..."

She leaned over, whispered in my ear. "Isn't this everything we wanted?"

"Yea, but..."

"It's okay, Paul," she said, standing.

He was watching us, sipping his wine, a knowing grin on his face. Ashley stood, leaned down, kissed me softly on the lips, walked around the table towards him. She reached down, lifted her skirt, exposing her bare legs, her ass, all but bare because of the thong she was wearing.

"You're not wearing hose," he noted.


"Stocking, Ashley. The panties are cute, but I expect full, proper lingerie-that means a matching bra and panty set and a garter belt and stockings."

"I...I'm sorry," she said, looking at me.

"I assume you prefer her in lingerie as well?" he asked me.

"Of...of course."

"I assume you ask her to all the time?"

"Yes, but..." I stopped.

"But she doesn't, does she? She does only when she wants."

"Yes," I looked down, ashamed he seemed to know us so well.

"That's the difference between us in a nutshell, Paul. She does what she wants with you, she'll do what I want with me. Are we clear on that, Ashley? Any questions?"

"No...no Sir," she said in a whisper.

"We're not clear?"

"No, I mean...we're clear," she corrected. "I don't have any questions..."

"What?" he asked.

"I don't have...I mean..."

"The two of you can go shopping," he said, "make a date night out of it."

That was something he talked about at our first meeting-if we got involved with him, the importance of the two of us having time together to do things as a couple. "I...I think that would be nice," she said looking at me for approval.

"I...I'd like that," I said, not sure how the words came from my mouth.

"It's fairly easy, Paul," he said, "we seem to have similar tastes in pretty women. Just pick out things you'd like to see her in, things you fantasized about her wearing but that she'd never agree to. Here's your chance."

"Across my lap, Ashley," he said to her, eyes locked on me, silently showing me who, from the beginning, controlled things.

Ashley did as he instructed and he didn't hesitate, he held her with one arm, and spanked her bare ass, five slow, methodical smacks on one cheek, five on the other, then repeating for twenty spanks. She squirmed with each blow, gasping, even moaning, rubbing herself onto him.

When he finished, he left his hand on her left cheek, his fingers resting casually on the fabric of her thong. She was still squirming, slowly, almost inside herself, oblivious to both of us. He looked at me, a grin on his face, and I realized with her squirming, his fingers had worked themselves between her ass cheeks and between her legs and must be pressed against her pussy.

"Soaked," he mouthed to me, "fucking soaked."

"You're not getting fucked tonight, Ashley, I don't care how hot you get or how much you beg; I promised him."

I wanted to say something, was shocked I wanted beg. I watched her lift her ass up, towards him, moan slightly as she forced his hand to rub against her. "Jesus, she's incorrigible," he said watching me.

I stared. Sex between us was nothing like this; in reality, it was mostly me getting her drunk or begging and her relenting. Yet here she was, the second time we'd seen this man, on his lap, rubbing against him like a dog in heat. "Sorry, I'm sure you're not used to this," he said, reading my mind. "It's just one of those things, how women respond to men. I mean, real men."

"I...I know," I said looking down.

"Not tonight, Ashley," he said, pulling his hand up and gently pushing her off his lap onto the floor.

I saw the hunger in her eyes, the desire, the need. The spanking had an effect on him as well as her and it was obvious he had an erection. Ashley was staring at it, watching it like it was the only thing in the world.

"Assume you don't get that response, either," he said to me.

"N...no," I said, if anything, it was the opposite as she rarely if ever did that to me.

"It's how a woman responds to a firm man," he said to me, looked down at her. "Go ahead."

She didn't look back at me for permission, she didn't act like she even remembered I was there. Instead, acting like she was starved, she quickly undid his pants, took out his large, thick, erect cock, and started giving him a blowjob that would make a porn star proud.

"An A for effort," he said leaning back, "but you need some practice. Which you'll get."

I just sat there, an erection in my own pants, and watched my wife give another man the most erotic blowjob I'd ever seen. Suddenly he tensed, grabbed her head, fucked her mouth. He exploded and she tried to take him, tried to swallow all of it, but couldn't there was just too much.

She tried, though, even made up for it, continuing to suck and lick him until she cleaned up and swallowed all his cum. He watched me while she did it, watched my reaction to seeing my wife give him a blowjob, my reaction to seeing her now only swallow his cum, but seemingly enjoying it, needing it, loving it.

We ate dinner, one very satisfied man and one very sexually frustrated, but throughly submissive couple.

Friday, June 21, 2019

The Perils of Technology

Your wife told you she was going out with friends, but seeing how she was dressed, you wondered if she was being truthful. So you used the "find my phone" app, found out where she was, followed her.

Turns out she wasn't lying, she was out with friends. Male friends.

Seeing her, half naked, a cock in each hand, you quietly left the club, stomach in knots.

When she got home, you feigned sleep, felt her climb into bed next to you, but an arm over your body, move her mouth to your ear.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked softly.

You turned over, eyes wide. "M...Monica..."

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked again.

"I...you said...you...you were going out with friends."

"I did...I never said girlfriends. You left before the best part."

"The...the best part?"

"When they took turns with me, sweetie. I was on the couch on my hands and knees, one in my mouth, one in my pussy."

"M...Monica," you moaned.

"It's okay, there's an encore," she promised.

"An...an encore?"

"Yea, the part of the show where the wife goes home to her devoted husband and confesses what a naughty girl she's been and he does the only thing a sweet, devoted husband can do."

"W...what's that?" I asked.

"He licks her clean," she said, moving on top of me, sliding her pussy over my mouth, eagerly feeding me everything inside her.

Thursday, June 20, 2019


At first, it was a request, a subtle ask - she wanted you to suck her lover's cock.

But when he found out about it, when she confessed to her lover her desire, it switched from her request to his demand.

To him, it wasn't so much that he was into men-he wasn't-but your hesitation.

If you wanted to do it, if you wanted to suck his cock, he'd have ignored it.

But your hesitation.

Making you do it established who was the man in your three way relationship.

Who was the dominant.

Who was the alpha.

And not just between the two of you, but in her eyes, too.

It became a ritual, you would fluff him, suck him until he was hard, getting him ready to fuck her.

The husband who was supposed to protect his wife's chastity was doing the opposite, not only sitting by, watching as a man fucked her, but actively helping in the process.

And she, every time, watched in awe as her husband was emasculated by her lover, watched in awe, her excitement building until her husband helped slide her lover's cock into her wet pussy.

For a sissy, an orgasm only confuses things


When you're married to a sissy, it's kind of hard to resist taking advantage of the fact that you have a cock hungry slut living in your house, one who, while ashamed to admit it, will eagerly suck your bull's cock whenever he demands.

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Pretty Little Liar

It was a lie, a white lie, a small one of almost no consequence, a lie she told you the first time you were intimate. "I don't like doing that," she said when you tried to get her to go down on you, "and even if I did it, I'd never want to swallow."

You told her it was okay, that day, you were just so stunned to have such a beautiful woman naked in your bed, you'd have agreed to anything, even though you didn't think you were agreeing to never putting your penis in her mouth, ever.

But she did. And reminded you over the next few years of dating and marriage. Oral sex was a one-way street, something you did to her but something she never reciprocated.

Oh, if she was drinking and you managed to get into a sixty-nine, she'd maybe blow on it softly, but she never took it in her mouth. "I don't like that," she tell you.

But it was a lie. It was always a lie.

It wasn't taking a man in her mouth that she didn't like, quite the opposite, she loved sucking cock, loved kneeling before a man, taking him between her lips, sucking him, making him cum, swallowing him.

That was the little white lie part. She loved sucking a man's cock. But not her beta, not her soft, non-assertive boyfriend then husband.

You learned this on your second wedding anniversary, the day she went on her date with her first lover, the day you were first cuckolded. You learned this when sitting quietly in the hotel room corner, you watched her kiss her way around his legs, watched her take his hard cock in her mouth, and suck it like his cock was the most important thing in the world.

It was a small lie, a white lie, one you never forgot but easily forgave.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019


"H...honey, he said...he said they were non-negotiable," she told her husband, afraid how he'd react, afraid he'd change his mind.

"But...can't you...can't you just ask him...I mean...he...he wants..."

"Does he strike you as the type that negotiates non-negotiable things?" she asked.

"No, but..."

"Isn't he the type that means what he says...the first time..."

"Yea, but," her husband tried to say, "it's just...he's so..."

"Dominant?" she suggested shyly.

"We...we haven't even agreed to anything," he pouted.

"I think that's the point," she said.

"But...but six months???"

He had three rules, he'd told the two of you, four non-negotiable rules. First, if you invited him into your marriage, for the first six months her body belonged exclusively to him. Second, for those six months, you were not permitted to orgasm unless he gave permission. Third, to enforce the first two rules, you were to wear a chastity cage to which he held the key. Fourth, and finally, while he was involved in your lives, he was the man in the relationship, the alpha, the dominant.

"I...I'm sure it will go by quickly," she said, already fantasizing about him.

"Six months in that will not go quickly," he said, eyeing the pink cage sitting on the nightstand.

"You want to tell him no?" she asked in a tone he knew so well.

"No, but...I just...I don't want to have to ask him to, you know, cum...that...that's embarrassing."

"So don't ask," he heard a deep voice behind him.

He spun around, saw him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "I...I didn't hear you come in," her husband mumbled, eyes downcast.

"Evidently not," her potential lover said eyes boring into her husband. "It's simple, really, if it's so embarrassing, don't ask. That saves me telling you no, anyway. So, what's your decision?"

He glanced at the young woman, knew her decision, looked back at the husband, waiting for his.

"I...we...I mean...I suppose we'll try it," he said, weak in this decision as he was weak in everything.

"Go put it on then," the man ordered, nodding to the bathroom.

He picked up the cage, hands shaking, felt his wife slide up next to him. "There...there's a pair of my panties on the counter," she whispered in his ear, "he...he said you have to wear them when you're wearing that."

Her husband's eyes went wide, looked at the man who was smiling, obviously aware of the words his wife just spoke; the man nodded, ever so slightly, confirmed his wife's words.

An hour later, they were in the bedroom; husband in a chair, naked save for nylon panties and the cage; wife on the bed, in slutty lingerie, blindfolded, bound, collared; and her lover, behind her, fucking her, furiously, as she screamed in orgasm after orgasm.

Monday, June 10, 2019

Golf Trip

"Hope you're having fun with the guys on your golf trip," your wife's text said, "I'm hoping for a hole in one tonight, too."

Tuesday, June 4, 2019


"What...what's all that?" her husband asked her, stunned when he got home, saw his wife.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said slowly unbuttoning the romper she was wearing. "Looks like pantyhose...and the prettiest lingerie I've ever seen."


"Funny, I found them in a suitcase in the basement."

"I...I wonder if...if the people before us left it," he stammered.

"They didn't strike me as the type."

"What...what type?" he asked.

"I found all these magazines, too in a box behind it. Forced Womanhood and," she giggled, "Enslaved Sissies and Maids."


"You wouldn't believe some of the articles. Husbands dressed up in pretty lingerie, dominated by the women in their lives...sometimes even men."

"You...you're kidding," he swallowed.

"There were ads in the magazines for something called a chastity cage, which it looks like is used to lock up a boy's little parts. Funny, in the suitcase was this box for a pink one that looked just like the one worn by some of the sissies in the magazine."

"My god," he said, "I should...I should get rid of this stuff..."

"Really?" she asked.

"Well we can't very well call the old owners, can we?"

"Darling, no, of course not." He took a step towards the lingerie strewn all over the room. "Are you really going to go through with this charade?"

"What...what charade?"

"Pretending these things aren't yours?"

"I don't..."

"There was one article that someone seemed to read more than the others, what was it. Oh, yea, something like, Wife Turns Hubby Sissy Maid. My goodness, that was a naughty one-the wife feminized her husband, put him in a chastity cage, and even dated men while her sissy husband waited on them."


"Are there only two keys?"


"For the cage," she said.

"The...the cage?" he stammered.

"Yes, are these the only two keys for the cage?" she asked again, opening her palm, showing him two brass keys.


"You're wearing it, I presume," she said, "some little fantasy of yours."

"What? N...no..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I...I just thought...well no matter, you're right, we should be rid of this stuff. It's garbage day, anyway, ten minutes it can all be in a truck."

"No," he shouted, looking at her hand.

"Then these are the only two keys, I presume?"

"Y...yes," he said.

"You're wearing it now?"

"Please, honey..."

"You're wearing it now?" she repeated.

He swallowed, nodded.

"The box said it's a small, it can't grow, can it?"

"N...no," he said.

"So I shouldn't finish taking this off, then," she asked with a shy smile.

He looked at her romper, the hose she wore, felt it grow, quickly felt it find the limits of the cage. "P...please don't," he begged.

"There was a maid's uniform in another suitcase, other things too. I want you showered and dressed in an hour."

"But honey..."

"Showered and dressed in an hour," she repeated, "that isn't a request, this isn't a discussion."

"What...what are you doing with those?" he looked at her hand.

"These are going somewhere safe, dear; according to some of the articles, we won't be needing them for quite some time."

"But without those I can't..."

"Fuck me? Oh, honey, those days are over, trust me."

"But please, I..."

"One hour. Showered and dressed in an hours. Unless you want to find yourself over my lap."

Monday, June 3, 2019

In another life, I feel this feeling every minute of every day.

Ending the "Girls Night Out" Charade

"Where...were are you all going to dinner?" he asked his wife, looking at her, quickly looking away. "That...that Italian place?"

"Paul," she said softly, "you...you don't have to any more."

"Have...have to what?"

"Keep pretending. My god, you don't really think I'm going to dinner with my girlfriends dressed like this, do you?"

"I...I mean...I don't know..."

"Really? You don't know? You think a wife goes out to dinner with her girlfriends dressed like a stripper?"

"You...you don't look like..."

"A whore then? That's more accurate isn't it? Not a stripper for him, but a whore for him."


"You've known for a month, Paul, I saw you looking at my phone...I saw you looking at my text messages in that app."

"I didn't...I didn't mean to," he said softly.

"No, I suppose you didn't. But you did. You looked but said nothing, not for weeks. Instead you waited up, waited for me to come home."

"Just...just to make sure you got home okay."

"And the sex, Paul? The sex when I got home? I've never seen you so eager...I don't have to, you said when I tried to make love to you, just let me worry about you, you told me kissing me everywhere. Everywhere."


"We're going to a club, Paul, my date and me. He likes showing me off, it gets him off, showing his friends this hot, white, suburban mother that belongs to him. This prim and proper woman he uses and sends home to her poor husband."

"He...he's black?"

"BBC," she said.

"B...B...C...?" he stammered.

"Big. Black. Cock."

He thought of the last month, her coming home every Saturday night, hovering over him as he licked her, sucked her.


"Will you be waiting tonight, Paul? Will you wait for me? In bed, pretending to sleep, waiting for me to 'wake you up' by sitting on your face so you can lick me clean?"

"I...I..." He felt his own erection, saw the tent in his pants.

"No," she said.


"No," she said again, "I told you, I belong to him now."

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

The Clean Up Song

Clean up, clean up.
Cuck hubby, let's clean up.
Clean up, clean up.
Suck his cum away.

Clean up, clean up.
Safe in chastity, let's clean up.
Clean up, clean up.
Eat a creampie each day.

Clean up, clean up.
Such a good boy, let's clean up.
Clean up, clean up.
She promises you it's not gay.

Monday, May 20, 2019


"Well," Sean's wife asks him, coming into the bedroom wearing a new bra and panty set he'd never seen before.

"W...well, what?" he ask, feeling his penis swell the limited space it can in the chastity cage.

"He's going to be here in a few minutes, have you made up your mind?"

"Monica, please."

"Don't Monica me, Sean, it's a simple choice. Locked in the basement for the night or stay up here and do what I asked."

He stares at her body, her long, muscular legs; her flat stomach; her firm breasts. He tries to remember what it was like, being inside her, that feeling he longs for every time he's intimate with her. Her lover will let him be intimate with her so long as he's securely caged. If anything, he encourages it, encourages her to wear pretty lingerie around her husband, encourages her to take his head between her hands, guide his mouth all over her body. It's like he knows, like he understands the closer he lets him to her, the more he wants her and the more he wants her, the more he'll do, the more he'll agree to.

"But...but Monica..."

"It isn't like I'm asking you to do something abnormal, Sean. I get it isn't normal for you, it isn't what you want to do, but that's the point, the more you tell me you don't want to, the more I want you to. I get so wet just thinking about it."

"But...but I'm not...I mean...I'm not...gay," he finally got the word out.

"Of course you're not, Sean, that's the whole point, that's why it makes me so wet. You don't want to do it, so doing it shows me you're acknowledging him as the man in our relationship, the leader. Dogs roll over and expose their necks, cuckolds fluff their wife's bull."

"What...what if he...you know..."

"Cums? Ha! He won't, but so what if he does?" she shakes her head. "It isn't like you haven't tasted that before."

"From...from you," Sean protested.

"Yes or no, Sean? Up here or the basement?"

He thought for a minute, another. She said nothing; let him think, work it out. "Up...up here," he finally said.

"That's a good boy," she smiled. "Get undressed and go wait in the corner, love, you'll know when it's time."

Friday, May 17, 2019

Night out with the girls?

Yea, sure it is. She's totally just having a quiet dinner with her girlfriends. Your wife's totally not going to a bar to flirt with men. She's totally not going to end up in dark, secluded booth, a man's cock pressed against that hot ass.

Thursday, May 16, 2019


Sure, your wife's bull has his hand on the back of your head 'forcing' your head down on his cock.

But is he really? Forcing you? Or is it more like guiding you, directing you, teaching you how to please a man.

While you were reluctant, it wasn't like you said no. It wasn't like you your foot down when your wife told you what he wanted you to do.

No, you did as you were told, you got on your knees before him, took him between your lips, into your mouth.

He Knows

"Are you waiting for someone?" she heard a voice ask.

She turned, looked at the tall, muscular man standing in front of her in the hotel bar. "A tall, well dressed, man," she answered.

"Husband?" he asked, taking a slight step backwards.

"He's back home," she answered, saw him glance at her hand. "I don't wear my wedding rings when I'm alone, they send the wrong message."

"What message is that?" he laughed.

"That I'm taken."

"But you are," he said, intrigued by her.

"Yet here I am, in a hotel bar, waiting for a tall, well dressed man."

He laughed again, took a step towards her, pulled the chair out, sat. "Well I'm a tall, well dressed man," he said.

"Handsome and confident, too. I'm Samantha," she said.

"Ryan," he nodded. "You're really married?"

"Yes," she said, "does that bother you?"

"I sat, didn't I?"

"Some men won't, hence the rings at home."

"What if sees them? You're husband?"

"I should hope he would, I left them on his nightstand."

"You're serious? He's going to think you're cheating."

"It's not cheating if he knows about it," she smiled softly.

"Wait," he asked, leaning forward, "he knows about it?"

She nodded. "Of course," she said.

"He knows you're..."

"At the hotel bar looking for a tall, well dressed man to spend the night with," she said taking a sip of her drink.

"How...I mean..." Ryan stammered for the first and only time that night.

"My husband, Ryan," she leaned forward, touched his arm, "is the sweetest man in the world. He's got a good job, is a good provider, is a good friend, and in the bedroom, is thoughtful, tender, considerate, and selfless."

"Perfect, then," Ryan chuckled.

"You've been with many women, Ryan? I assume, given your confidence."

"My share," he said with a nod.

"You find most women want a thoughtful, tender, considerate man in the bedroom?"

"They say they want that," he said.

"They're lying," she said.

"I know."

"I'm sure you do. Women want a powerful, strong, confident man in the bedroom. They don't want a man who asks them 'was it good for you?' they want a man who will take them, ravage them, leave them speechless and weak kneed."

"He know?"

"He know, Ryan. Don't worry, a man like you wouldn't understand, but not only is he okay with it, he encourages it."

"Why are we still down here?" he looked at her hard.

"Because you haven't paid for our drinks and taken me to your room," she answered.

Ryan looked around, chuckled. "You better not be fucking with me, Samantha," he warned her.

"Not till we get upstairs," she promised.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019


It's a big step, a couple submitting to a man. The collars and leashes are symbolic more than practical, a reminder of what was given and what was taken.

Thursday, April 18, 2019


"Honey, what? He's going to be here in like five minutes, can't this wait?" she asked with a sigh.

"It...it's about that," I stammered, face red.

"About what?" she asked, face softening slightly.

"The...the thing...you know...that...that you want me to do."

She sighed. "This isn't the time for this discussion, the time for this discussion was weeks ago. Besides, you agreed."

"I...I just...it's so..."

"We talked about this, sweetie, I told you, sucking a man's cock doesn't make you gay, you need to stop thinking like that."

"How can I?" I pouted. "What's more g...gay than sucking cock?"

"Well, dating a man, getting into a relationship with a man, getting fucked by a man...hell a thousand things."

"But this...this is pretty close," I insisted.

"This isn't about making you gay, you know that. This is about all of us understanding our places, this is about showing him you understand and accept your role."

"He made that clear, didn't he?" I asked.

"As did you, dear," her face hardened. "Your role isn't pleasing me in the bedroom, you know that, that's his job now. I thought you wanted that, I thought it took a burden off you."

"I...I do...I mean..."

"Sex is his thing, sweetie, emotions are yours. Fluffing him is about expressing that acceptance to him. It's not about your sexuality, it's about our acceptance of him as the dominant man in our lives."

"What if he...you know...if he..."

"Cums," she laughed. "God, it isn't like you haven't had that before."

I blushed, thinking of all the times I licked her after he was done. "That's different," I said.

"I know, I get that. Listen, the best advice I can give you is to just swallow as much as you can."

"Morgan!" I yelped.

"What? Don't make a big deal of it, the last thing a man wants is a scene. I don't think he will, but if he does, just roll with it."


"Honey, I want you to do this, I do. I told you, nothing you could do would turn me on as much as this, really."


Tuesday, April 9, 2019


It's a ritual now, your wife wearing her wedding night lingerie the first time she's with a new lover. It's symbolic of her giving herself to a new man for the first time.

You've seen her in this white, innocent lingerie five times now. The first, of course, was on your wedding night, the next three the first time she slept with each of the three men she's cuckolded you with.

And now tonight, as she gets dressed for dinner with a client.

"You...you're wearing that to dinner?" you ask her, surprised, this wasn't planned or expected.

"I am," she says looking shyly at you.

"But...I thought...he's...I mean..."

"I'll be home late," she says, "I won't spend the night, but it might be late."

"I...I'll wait," you say nervously.

"You're such a good husband," she says, adjusting her stocking, "the best really."

"Do you need anything?" you ask, "can I...can I pack anything?"

"No," she said softly, knowing what you were asking.

"You're sure?" you asked, voice shaking.

"You promise you'll wait up?"

"I...I can...I mean...when you get home?"

"Yes, love, yes you can."

Saturday, April 6, 2019


It's simple, dear. Either make that thing shrink on its own or I'll do it for you. The choice is yours.