A good marriage always involves compromise. Couples who don’t understand this are usually headed for divorce or at least a lot of arguments. Compromise is the reason I’m standing in my garage, in the dark, naked, sporting a huge erection, with my hands cuffed behind my back with thick leather cuffs, and chained to the bumper of my Jeep.
Get your attention? Then sit back and let me tell you my story.
Because two people fall in love, genuine deep love, does not mean they are completely compatible. Both are still individuals. Both have their own personalities, likes, dislikes and yes, sexuality. Make no mistake, I love my wife, adore her in fact, couldn’t live without her. I’m positive the feeling is mutual. In many ways we are compatible, we both like to travel for example. In some ways we are not, she really isn’t a fan of meat and I like nothing better than a good steak. It’s easy to compromise on food, we go to a steak restaurant, and she gets the tofu salad.
Sex is a bit more complicated. Part of the problem is the guilt and shame we are frequently raised with makes it hard to have an honest discussion about anything sexual, even with the partner you’re sleeping with. The other is that sex is very personal. But perhaps the biggest factor is that men are from Mars and women are from Venus; we just can’t deeply understand each other’s sexual drives and needs.
I love bondage. I have since puberty. My idea of a perfect evening is to tie my wife to the bed, spread-eagle, tease and torment her for an hour or two then push her through four to six shattering orgasms until she falls asleep, exhausted.
My wife doesn’t ‘get it’.
“Why can’t you just do the orgasms part without the tying up part?” she asks.
“What about that turns you on?”
“If you love me, why do you want to hurt me with clothes pins and stuff?”
“I can’t play with you if I’m tied up, don’t you want me to play with you?”
“This just isn’t sexy.” And many more questions that show her brain just isn’t wired to enjoy bondage.
I can just hear some of you readers now: “Be a man, drag her to the bedroom and take control! All women want it, she just doesn’t know it yet!” Yea . . . . No. Remember, I love my wife and our marriage is a partnership.
So, we compromise. She lets me tie her to the bed occasionally, using some soft leather cuffs I bought on the internet. Then I give her a long slow foot rub (both feet) to relax her and put her in the mood. Then I can make love to her but only two orgasms unless she agrees to more because they can get painful after two sometimes. Then I untie her ankles so she can pull her knees up while I fuck her until I cum.
Compromise. It’s better than no bondage so I’ll take what I can get.
Fast forward a few years and I discover I’m becoming a “switch.” I guess my brain decided if I can’t dominate my wife, then perhaps I’ll get the same thrill from being dominated. I’m watching more and more femdom, chastity, tease and denial and FLR porn. After a while it’s about all the porn I’m watching.
I get the wife to watch a few carefully selected videos with me to show her a range of ideas. Yea, she’s OK watching porn with me, hell she reads several romance novels a week. Have you ever read one of those things? She’s read several passages to me when she finds a section that especially turns her on. Hell, those things are just porn in words for women.
I pick some videos with couples in loving relationships but where the female is definitely in control. I avoid the leather and boots wearing professional dominatrix in favor of women in street clothes with grins on their faces that clearly show they are enjoying what they are doing to their men.
She doesn’t get it.
“Why would you NOT want to be able to cum?” She asks.
“How can he get turned on if he’s in pain like that?”
“What does she get out of this?” And more questions.
I try to explain, “For me, it’s all about control. It’s sexy to completely surrender control to someone. It expresses complete love and trust. One of my persistent fantasies is to be locked in a cell or cage, naked, COMPLETELY under your control, even my sexual response under your control!”
She still doesn’t get it.
“But I don’t want to live like that, I want our marriage to continue to be a partnership?” she said sadly.
“What you’re talking about is that’s called 24/7 or full time, I don’t want that either. What I’m talking about is fantasy, its sexual role play for a period of time. People into BDSM even call it “playing.” Some people dress up like schoolgirls and fuck on a desk, or dress as nurses and do a naughty medical exam. That’s role play.” I tried to explain.
“So, what do you want me to dress up as?” she asked.
“What you wear is not the point of my fetish, If you’re in control you’ll wear what you want to wear. But you need to take total control, be firm, be in charge!” I tried to explain.
“I still don’t get why that’s a turn-on.” And it was obvious the conversation was over.
Oh well, strike two I thought. I’ll just have to be happy with porn.
Damn, the cement floor in this garage is cold, the cold is starting to soak through my bare feet and up my legs. I guess I could go to my knees but kneeling on hard concrete isn’t appealing. There isn’t enough ledge on the back of the jeep to sit. And this damn chain is too short to move anywhere else in the garage. Plus, since she turned the lights off when she left, and it’s already dark outside, it’s too dark to see where I’m going in here even if I could move.
The cold floor is starting to kill my hard-on, which is actually a good thing. Why is losing a perfectly good erection a good thing, keep reading my friend.
A few weeks after I showed her the femdom porn and tried to explain my interest to her she surprised me. We had just finished some very hot, but completely vanilla sex. We were laying in bed catching our breath when she started a little pillow talk.
“So hun,“ she began, “I’ve been thinking about the porn you showed me a couple of weeks ago and about what you said. I realize this is really important to you. I still don’t understand why, but I’m much more willing to experiment with doing stuff to you than you doing stuff to me.”
“Uh, OK,“ I couldn’t think of anything else profound to say. Frankly I was stunned she hadn’t put the whole thing out of her mind.
“OK?” she laughed. “I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic.”
“Oh, I am, I’m just surprised. So, here’s a thought, in my fantasy I turn that big closet in the basement into a sort of cell and . . . “
She cut me off, “NO! We’re not modifying our house to fulfill your fantasy. Besides, I have my own idea. I heard you clearly when you said this was about my being in control. The cell is your idea, if I’m in control we’re doing this my way mister!” she said with a smile on her face.
“I need you to order a sturdy set of locking leather wrist cuffs, since I have no idea where you get those. The ones you bought for me probably aren’t large enough and I want something MUCH more secure than those Velcro straps. I’ll get everything else I need at the building supply store.
“And hun,” she said with a very serious expression, “I want you to hear ME when I say that I’m not really into this femdom stuff, but if you agree to my idea, I’m going to do it 100%. We’re going to do my idea, my whole idea, my way. And if part way through you decide it isn’t as much fun as you thought, or you don’t like what I’m doing, or you want to quit . . . Tough shit. But you must assure me that this won’t damage our marriage or your love for me. You say you want to be locked up for days, but my greatest fear is that after a few hours you’ll decide it isn’t as much fun as you thought, and you’ll want to quit. Know this, no matter how much you beg, plead, swear, or cuss I will not let you out. You must promise me that you won’t let it damage our marriage when I stick to the plan.”
“Holy shit,” I thought, “She’s thought this through and she’s really serious.
“I promise!” was all I needed to say.
“So, when do I get to hear this idea of yours?” I asked.
“I was thinking about doing this Thanksgiving week. We both get three days off and with the weekend that makes five days off work. And you know our daughter and her husband are going to his parents house this year, so we’ll be alone. So, I’ll explain it to you on Thanksgiving Day. We’ll have a big meal, then I’ll explain it and if you agree, we’ll start. I don’t want you second guessing the idea between now and Thanksgiving.” She explained.
Thanksgiving was three weeks away. Damn, that was going to be a long three weeks!
After a few minutes of silence laying side by side she reached over and grabbed my erection. Yes, even though we’d just made love minutes ago I was hard again. “Well,” she said, “let’s not waste this!”
I ordered the cuffs from a reputable sex supply, and they came in three days later. I noticed the box disappeared shortly after it arrived. And then I waited.
Thanksgiving day I helped cook a small Thanksgiving dinner with all the key ingredients, although some of them, like the dressing, came frozen and simply warmed in the oven. I watched a few football games and we both enjoyed the day. That night I had trouble sleeping as I was anxious and nervous all at the same time, I had no idea exactly what she had planned.
We both woke early Friday and shared coffee in our bathrobes. I was dying to ask “so when do we start?” but I kept my cool. After we’d finished and rinsed out the cups she went to a closet and brought out the box the cuffs had shipped in, dumped the contents on the breakfast counter and laid it out. There were the wrist cuffs I had ordered, there was also what looked like eight feet of ¾ inch chain and two padlocks, still in the package and keyed alike.
“So, here’s my plan,“ she began, “you can either take it or leave it, but you can’t negotiate, you can’t add or delete. You either say yes, and we begin, or you say no and I put this stuff away and we have a nice relaxing weekend. You’re going to strip naked and put the cuffs on. I’m going to wrap one end of this chain around your waist and slip the padlock through the chain and the d-rings on the cuffs so that your hands are locked and held in the small of your back by the waist chain. There will be about five feet of chain left which will form a chain ‘tail’. This second padlock is for the end of that, if I need it. I will only unlock your hands on Sunday night at midnight, three days from now, OR when you have produced ten erections. And the one you are currently sporting does not count.”
I started to ask… but she cut me off: “I’m not finished.”
“Each erection must be full and throbbing. When you’re standing up, they must stand out and up above horizontal. I know your penis when it’s full and it points up almost 10 degrees above horizontal. I and I alone will be the sole judge if each erection is good enough.
But here’s the hard part, no pun intended. Between each erection you must get completely flaccid. And remember, I also know what you look like when you are flaccid, your penis practically disappears! No half limp dick need apply. And here again, I will be the sole judge.
SO, you must get flaccid to start, then get erect, flaccid, erect, flaccid, ten cycles.
Oh and you may NOT have an orgasm. If you cum, the count goes to zero and we start over. And I WILL know. Your spunk has a very strong and distinctive smell and with your hands locked behind you, there will be no way to clean up. So, I guess I should also have a rule that you can’t get in the shower without my supervision.”
“There are a few other rules and the penalties for breaking them.
One, you may not use the furniture, at all. You can stand, you can kneel, you can lay on the floor, but you MAY NOT get on the bed, couch, or any of our chairs. Although we have a bidet attachment to our toilet, if you must take a dump before you complete this challenge, I don’t want you leaving skid marks on our furniture. I also don’t want you humping the furniture, walls, or floor. I don’t need your precum smeared all over stuff! I’m SO serious about these rules that if I catch you breaking them, I’ll add another erection to your challenge, extend the maximum time beyond Sunday night and call you in sick Monday!”
“Two, you may not complain, tell me you’re in pain, ask or beg to be released, etc. You want this, then I’m going to give it to you, and I expect you to take it like a man. You assured me that if I’m in control, firm and even mean, that it won’t affect our marriage and I’m taking you at your word. I’m also serious about this rule. Same penalty, one extra erection for each time you even HINT at wanting out. I don’t even want to hear comments like ‘gosh I didn’t realize how much my shoulders would hurt.’ Even that will get you a penalty erection.”
“Three, you may not pester me to check your penis. I have a lot of work around the house that I want to get done this weekend. I can’t stop every two minutes to check to see if you’re limp yet. I’ll try to check you often and regularly, but I will decide when to do that. Pestering would obviously include asking me to check you but I don’t even want to hear you MENTION your penis or use the words penis, dick, shaft or any other nicknames. Pestering will also include standing in the door to my office bouncing your penis, coughing or intentionally walking back and forth where I’m working. The penalty for pestering me is different and that’s what the chain tail is for. If you irritate me or interrupt my work I’ll take you somewhere away from me and lock the end of that chain to something.”
So, by now, you’ve probably figured out why I’m standing in my garage, naked, with my hands cuffed behind my back and locked to the bumper of our jeep. When she asked if I understood the challenge she had explained, obviously and enthusiastically I had said “yes!”
I was actually very surprised and turned on. I’m not sure what I expected her to come up with, but this was beyond my wildest fantasy. I really wasn’t surprised by how much thought she had put into the rules, she was, after all, a former accountant, and a serious type A personality. But this whole idea was creative, involved bondage, control, tease and denial, and so much more. It was also something I had never ever fantasized about and the fact that it was totally her idea made it very hot!
“Well, let’s get started,” She said, “get naked.”
I took my robe off and hung it across the back of a kitchen chair. She just glared at it “Is that where that belongs?” she asked.
I quickly grabbed it up and almost ran to the bedroom to hang the robe on a hook. My already solid penis flopping from side to side as I hurried. When I came back she was holding the chain in her hands.
“Get the cuffs on!” she said as she started wrapping the chain around my waist. Just her body that close to me and her hands wrapping around my waist made my erection almost painful.
Once I had the cuffs on, I put my hands behind my back, she pulled them up into the small of the back, pulled the chain very tight around my waist and hooked the padlock through connecting everything together.
“Still want to do this? Last chance?” She asked.
“Yes,“ CLICK.
That sound, I didn’t think my penis could get any harder but it did.
“Go behave yourself.” She smirked as she moved around the kitchen and started to load the dishwasher.
I tested my bonds for a bit. The cuffs were tight but not binding, I wasn’t going to slip out of them. The waist chain made sure I wasn’t going to slip them over my butt, not that I’m flexible enough to do that anyway. Ok, now what do I do? I stared out the window at our bird feeders and, although I had only been chained a few minutes, envied the birds their freedom.
I was wondering just how long I would have to watch the birdfeeders to kill my erection when I looked back at my wife. She was bending over, loading the dishwasher, wearing just her bathrobe and the front had fallen open ‘accidentally’ letting her breasts swing free over the dishes. I could see the outline of her very shapely ass in the thin fabric of her robe. I looked down and my penis was throbbing. Oh, this might be much harder than I expected – pun intended.
I had to remove myself from the vicinity of that incredible body. I wandered into the den and started looking for the TV remote. That’s when I noticed that she had put the TV remote on the very top shelf of the entertainment center where there was no chance I could reach it. Damn she had thought this through. I wandered into my office and pulled a technical book off the shelf with my mouth, dropping it on the floor. I had been making all kinds of excuses to NOT read this book for weeks, but I really did need to advance my technical knowledge. Perhaps this was just what I needed to kill an erection. I managed to back up to the book, open it with my hands, then lay on the floor and turn the pages with my nose. But after just a few pages I realized that laying on my stomach holding my head up without my hands and arms to help just wasn’t going to work for very long. I finally managed to get the book onto my chair (did that break the no furniture rule?) and sit cross legged on the floor reading.
After a couple of hours of reading and several chapters I realized that my shoulders and arms were really starting to ache. I was completely limp, that was good, but now what? I thought about how completely helpless I was with such simple bondage. My wife didn’t need an elaborate cage or cell, with a simple chain and cuffs she had completely controlled me. And now I had to sit here and just wait until she noticed I was limp.
Except I wasn’t anymore, just thinking about the pain and the helplessness and the control and I was already growing half an erection. DAMN – this wasn’t going to work unless I focused. Of course, it was just at that minute, that she chose to come in to check on me.
She had finally gone and changed from her bathrobe to blue jeans and a simple tank top with spaghetti straps. One of my favorite outfits, damn her!
“Oh good, you’re finally getting that technical reading done.” Looking at my penis she added, “I didn’t know software documentation turned you on that much!” and she walked away.
I wanted to scream! I wanted to yell, “I was flaccid, I swear!” This was so unfair, if she had come in just a minute before! I went back to reading and a few minutes later I heard her say “If you’re thirsty I put some water out for you.” I was a bit thirsty, and I also needed to get off the floor and stretch so I wandered into the kitchen. There, right where we always kept it before our dog Sam died, was Sam’s water bowl. Seriously? How was I supposed to drink out of that? Oh, right. And I started getting hard again.
Laying on the floor on my stomach, I realized that the tile was cold. Perhaps pressing my dick against the cold tile would do the trick! I slurped some water into my mouth just as my wife walked by “good doggie!” she laughed as she walked by. Getting up from the floor was downright painful without the use of my arms and with the now extreme pain in my shoulders. Damn, I was quickly beginning to realize that in my lustful excitement for my wife’s plan I had seriously underestimated how hard this would be.
After another period of reading, the wife walks through the den, looks at me and says, “Well finally, now we can begin.” I looked down and I was completely flaccid and I hadn’t even noticed. “I’m going to fix lunch!” she said as she walked off.
I finished the page I was reading and moved to the kitchen. So, now I could begin on the first of 10 erections. This shouldn’t be too hard, just think about all those things that got you hard for the last three hours – her dominance, your helplessness, the dog bowl. But after over three hours of my penis ranging from semi-erect to raging hard, it was just refusing to cooperate. I had thought I would have another raging erection by the time I got to the kitchen . . . nope.
She was fixing a huge salad with a stack of precooked grilled chicken on top, a usual lunch for her. I didn’t see anything for me. I just sort of stood there wondering if I should say something. She sat down and started eating. After a few minutes she took a piece of chicken from the top of the salad and threw it across the kitchen. It slid up against the baseboard.
“I figured since you were drinking like a dog, we should play fetch with your lunch.”
I looked at her. I looked at the chicken on the floor. I looked at her.
“If you’re not hungry that’s OK, but I’m planning to have the same thing for dinner.” She stated flatly.
Where the hell did this dominant woman come from, and what had she done with my reluctant wife?
I walked over to the chicken and immediately realized it was going to be a challenge. I had to lay on the floor again, roll up against the baseboard and lick up the chicken strip. Getting up was just as hard as getting up from the water bowl. As I rolled over on my shoulder I grunted.
“Damn, this really hurts my shoulders.” I blurted out.
“11,” she said calmly.
“What?” I asked, not sure what she had said.
As I walked back towards the table she simply said “11” again.
I instantly knew. I had just broken the ‘no complaining’ rule. I was up to 11 erections. Damn!
But I was also getting erect again.
And another piece of chicken went flying, almost sliding under the refrigerator this time.
I got smart this time and dragged it into the middle of the floor with my foot before kneeling, bending at the waist and grabbing it with my mouth.
“Good Boy!” she said as if talking to old Sam. “Now come stand here beside me, it looks like you’re getting erect.
She was right, I was pretty stiff, but as I stood there, I realized I wasn’t above horizontal yet.
“Let’s do a test.” She said as she put a piece of chicken on top my penis and watched it slide off and fall to the floor.
“Nope, not yet.” She said and pointed to the chicken.
I kneeled down and ate it.
She played that game several more times, each time feigning disappointment when the chicken would not stay on my penis.
Finally, she took pity on me.
“You have chicken fat and Italian dressing all over your penis.” She exclaimed and then she bent at the waist and, with one swift motion, took the entire penis in her mouth, sucked hard and withdrew.
And it sprang out of her mouth at full attention.
Without saying a word, she picked up her plate, put it into the sink, took a marker and put a single hash mark on the refrigerator white board, and walked into the den.
When I arrived, she was watching HDTV. I almost plopped down in my usual lounge chair but caught myself at the last minute and sat cross legged on the floor. We watched some couple try to pick between three beach houses an agent was showing them. You’d think that would be a total buzz killer but, as with the morning, my erection was being stubborn. Oh, I wasn’t ‘hard’ but after an hour of mindless TV I was just getting really limp.
That’s when she made some comment about it “being hot in here,” stood up and sensually peeled her tank top off and threw it at me. “Put that away for me would you.”
Damn, she wasn’t playing fair!
I picked her top up with my teeth and took it in the bedroom. I thought about just staying in there, hiding from the stimulation but ultimately decided more technical reading was what I needed. It worked and I shrank to nothing without even noticing. Bless her heart, she did notice. After about an hour, she came walking by where I was reading. Thankfully she looked down and simply said “limp” before walking off towards our bedroom. Good thing she said it before I looked up because that tight ass in those blue jeans and no top started another erection almost immediately.
So, time to stop reading and focus on getting hard again – but how? That’s when she came back with a sweatshirt on (damn) and announced she was going out for her afternoon walk. She regularly took a walk mid-afternoon, and I occasionally went with her, but obviously I wasn’t going this time. I almost blurted out “that’s not fair” at the thought of her being gone for a couple of hours while I sat at home, naked, cuffed with no chance of her noticing erection number two. But I caught myself just in time. She would surely interpret such a comment as a complaint. So, I sat on the floor and stewed . . . for two hours.
When she came back, I had fallen asleep on the floor, which surprised both of us. She took pity on me I guess because she stood right over me.
“It wasn’t cold enough outside for this sweatshirt, good walk but I should have worn something lighter, I worked up a sweat.”
And with that she peeled off her sweatshirt and blue jeans.
“See,” she pointed, “I have sweat dripping off my nipples! Why don’t you get up here and lick them off for me.”
“Umm, Yes please!” I replied as I scrambled to my knees and took first the left and then the right between my lips and sucked on them. After cleaning each of them off I looked up and her eyes were closed – so I kept going.
“You have permission to tell me, this one time, when you think you are hard enough so I can inspect. But hurry up because I need to go take a shower.”
I kept sucking for several minutes but I was afraid I wouldn’t get but one chance at an ‘inspection’ and quick glances down told me I wasn’t above horizontal quite yet. Then I started thinking about dropping down and sucking on her clit and that did it.
“I’m hard,” I said simply.
“I believe you are,” she replied and walked over to the refrigerator and put a second hash mark on the white board.
Damn, at this rate I wasn’t going to get near 10 before bedtime. I had to pick up my game if I didn’t want to spend all night cuffed.
“Want to come watch me shower?” she asked.
“umm, don’t think that would be helpful at this stage,” I said and she just laughed.
It was the next round, erection #3 that I got in trouble.
I was finding it easier and easier to go limp as the day went on and my penis began to wear out. In fact, I was beginning to realize that, as the game went on, it was going to get harder and harder to, um, get hard.
She came out of the shower and started preparing dinner, in the nude, with her wet hair wrapped in a towel.
I started picturing bending her over the kitchen counter and taking her from behind.
I got hard.
She wasn’t noticing.
I stayed hard.
She wasn’t noticing, she just kept chopping peppers and onions for the spaghetti she was making. I should have realized it was a setup, but I was getting desperate. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I literally swung my erect penis up on the kitchen island as I said, “Can I help with dinner.”
I thought it was funny, as if my erect penis could help chop vegetables. I guess she didn’t get the joke.
She quietly put down the knife, grabbed my chain ‘tail’ and started pulling me towards the garage.
Without saying a word, she pulled me over to the back of the Jeep. There was already a lock in the safety chain loop beside the hitch receiver, which is how I later realized the ignoring me in the kitchen was a setup or a test. She simply locked the end of my chain to the hitch, said “bad boy” and walked away.
And that’s how I came to be standing in my garage, naked, my hands cuffed behind my back, chained to the hitch of my Jeep. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here but I bet she’s finished dinner. I can tell that the sun has gone completely down because there is no light leaking in around the garage doors.
I’m shivering slightly, and I still have an erection. And she still hasn’t noticed.
When the garage door opened, I was never so glad to see my wife. She turned on the light and I realized she had put on her pajamas. She immediately said “That’s three. Looks like you enjoy it out here, perhaps you should stay here for a bit longer?”
I didn’t dare ‘complain’ but my face must have fallen.
She laughed, “Have you learned not to put that disgusting thing on my kitchen counter?”
“Yes dear,” I answered quickly, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”
“You try something so brazen again to get my attention and you’ll spend the rest of the ‘game’ out here, do you understand?”
“Yes dear.” And my dick was now downright throbbing.
She unlocked the lock and as we walked back into the kitchen, I noticed that she had already put a third hash mark on the white board.
I also noticed that she had put away dinner and washed the dishes. She offered me nothing. My stomach growled.
The game seemed to change slightly after that. She no longer simply waited for me to get hard, she actively teased me. We sat, her on the couch and me on the floor, and watched some crime procedural, I wasn’t paying that much attention. After an episode of the show she announced that I was limp enough and suggested I stand next to her facing away from the TV. She reached out and idly started playing with my penis. As it started getting hard, she continued to play, but just with one finger. Actually, with just one fingernail. She would lightly run her fingernail from the scrotum all the way up the underside of the penis, just once, then rest her hand in her lap for a minute. Then she would playfully scratch the head with just one fingernail, then rest her hand for a minute. But she did all this without ever taking her eyes off the TV. She never looked over at my penis, which, after several rounds of this treatment, was standing up just fine!
After about a dozen times of the fingernail treatment, I moaned when she ran all four of her nails around just behind the head.
“That moan wouldn’t be a complaint, would it?”
“No dear, it feels wonderful!” I replied quickly.
“Good, because I could stop if you want. Of course, I’d also have to add another penalty erection for complaining.”
“No dear, no complaint!”
As she went on, she was taking longer and longer between ‘scratches.’ It seemed like she was trying to see just how little she could do and still keep me erect. And it was driving me insane. I really wanted to CUM! Finally, at the end of the hour-long show, she looked over and said “That’s 4.”
Only 4 and it was 8pm.
This went on for two more hours. She waited through another entire tv show before acknowledging that I was flaccid. Then she teased me for another hour. This time, for erection #5 she had me get a pair of her panties out of the dirty clothes hamper, wrapped them around my penis and slowly, very slowly, stroked the silk fabric up and down the shaft. She was using almost no pressure and would stop stroking after just two or three full strokes. She was again trying to determine the minimum stimulation that would keep me hard. And again, she never looked at my penis until her show was over.
“That’s five. Almost halfway through. Time for bed!”
During the times when she was playing with me, I barely noticed the pain in my shoulders, wrists, hell, my whole arms. But during those flaccid times, they ached like hell. How was I ever going to sleep with these cuffs on.
We went into the bedroom, and she took a heavy comforter and made a pallet on the floor at the end of our bed. Thankfully she threw my pillow down there too. She suggested I take a leak and when I got back, she had two Tylenol and two Melatonin to help me sleep, bless her heart.
“I’m not being kind to you, I don’t want you keeping me up all night.” She said as she slowly stripped off her pajamas then pointed to the pallet and turned off the light.
That was a long night. Even with the painkillers and sleep aids I don’t think I actually slept more than an hour or two in short stretches. I’d try laying on my stomach but that pulled on my shoulders. I tried laying on my sides but that hurt. I tried laying on my back on my hands and arms but that hurt. Finally, by squirming around, I got my pillow under my head and lower back and caught a little sleep. But my brain kept deciding I should turn over in my sleep and I would wake up.
The next thing I knew she was kicking me gently.
“Wake up sleepy head, looks like you have morning wood. Hop up and let’s see if it qualifies.”
As my brain began to make sense of what she was saying I tried to stand up and intense pain shot through my shoulders and arms. I crumpled for a minute but finally stood.
My beloved had a concerned look on her face but stayed in character.
“Hmmm, well, it’s stiff enough but I’m not sure it should count as you didn’t exactly earn it.”
I thought quickly, “ahh but dear, I was no doubt dreaming about you!”
She laughed and suggested I go empty my bladder, but later I noticed that she had put a seventh hash mark on the refrigerator.
When I came back she told me to lay down, face down on my pallet at the foot of the bed. Our bed has a wood foot and headboard with square iron vertical bars. I admit I talked her into it because I saw all the possibilities of the bars.
“Games aside, I’m getting worried about your arms. Behave or we’ll NEVER do anything like this again, understand?”
“Yes.” I replied, wondering what she was up to.
She put her feet on either side of my body and then sat on my ass. She had the keys in her hands and unlocked the cuffs from my waist chain. Slowly and carefully, she pulled one, then the other wrist up to the footboard and locked them to an iron bar using the padlock.
Moving my arms was the worst pain I’ve felt in years! I almost screamed but kept it together because I didn’t want to scare her.
When she grabbed my ankles and helped me roll over, I could see real worry in her face.
“I’ll be fine.” I promised, “just give me a few minutes to stretch my muscles. Honest!”
For a minute I was sure she was going to stop our weekend game. But finally, she stood up and walked off without saying anything.
But in just a second she came back into the bedroom, pointed at my penis and said “You’re flaccid.” And walked out again.
Masochists talk about ‘good pain’ and ‘bad pain.’ I guess moving my arms for the first time in many hours was bad pain, because it certainly did kill my morning wood in a hurry. But at least I was ready to start number 7. Only five more to go!
For a while I just laid there on the floor, my wrist cuffs locked to the footboard, stretching my shoulders, arching my back and just generally enjoying movement. She comes back into the bedroom carrying a roll of string and my award.
They give an annual ‘Employee of the Year’ award at my company. It’s kind of a big thing. We have thousands of employees and a few years ago it was awarded to ME. It’s a large, engraved, cut glass vase with gold edges. I guess it was expensive but it’s what it represents that makes it valuable to me. It normally stays on a shelf in our living room.
She puts the base on the dresser. Then she ties the roll of string to my left toe. She indicates that I should slide away from the footboard until my arms and legs are straight then pulls the string to the top of the dresser and cuts it. I can’t see what she does next because her cute ass is blocking my view but when she turns around, she announces: “Your left toe is now tied to that precious, stupid award, I wouldn’t bend your knee or pull your foot or you’ll pull it onto the floor.
What? She wouldn’t! Shit.
I was starting to get a little aroused watching her naked ass and wondering what in the world she was up to with the string – but her announcement killed that immediately.
“So, what erection is this we’re working on?” She asks as she proceeds to sit with her cunt right over my penis and start grinding her ass.
Oh shit!
After a good night’s sleep, my dick is much more responsive and is hard in seconds. And then she reaches down and guides it in. And her vagina is warm and tight and OH it feels so good after all that teasing yesterday.
“I know you don’t want to come baby, you don’t want to have to start the count all over again, and you don’t want to risk losing control and jerking that string! But this feels SO good I don’t want to stop. Beg me to stop baby, beg me!”
Oh God!
And she just keeps grinding.
“Beg me to stop baby, tell me you’ll eat my pussy till I’m satisfied, beg me to let you eat me!”
I’m seconds away. I’m probably oozing precum into her. Oh God!
“Please stop, please let me eat you. Please! Please Stop!”
And I heard a wet plop as my penis slid out and soon my entire face was between her thighs, and I attempted to release all of my pent up sexual energy through my tongue and lips.
I had no sense of time, but I know it didn’t take anywhere near as long as it usually did before I felt her shudder and she pressed her full weight down on my mouth.
I couldn’t breathe and I really wanted to try and buck her off . . . but the string!
“I’m going to have to tease you more often, that was an inspired tongue lashing!
She curled up between my legs with her head resting on my thigh and took the head of my shaft in her mouth. And she took a nap. Or at least she rested. Because any time my penis started to shrink, she would suck on the head a few times like a baby sucking a pacifier. Perhaps she was asleep and the sucking, like that of a baby, was just a comfort reaction. Whatever she was doing it was keeping me mostly hard. But in spite of her sucking, I had slept so little over the night that I think I also dozed off and on.
When she finally roused, she carefully rolled me over and sat firmly on my ass.
“Now remember the string ‘Penis of the Year’ and behave!”
She unlocked my wrists and, not so gently this time, pulled them back into the small of my back and locked them to the waist chain. Then she announced: “I need a shower, care to join me?”
I rolled back over and watched her tight ass sashay off to our bathroom, never once looking back at my still erect penis. Well hell yes I wanted to join her. I almost hopped up but then I remembered the string and froze! I inched down towards the dresser until I had enough slack in the string to stand up safely. That’s when I noticed that it wasn’t tied to my glass award at all, it was just draped over the back of the dresser.
She already had the water warm as I used my shoulder to push open the door to our nice sized walk-in shower and walked in trailing the string still tied to my big toe. She wet and soaped my hair then rinsed it. She soaped up my washcloth and slowly started washing my body from top to bottom, doing the best she could to get under my arms and under the chain. Finally, she started washing my penis and balls.
“Well, I guess I have to give you erection #7.” She said as she stroked the soapy washcloth back and forth over my penis while holding and squeezing my balls. Before slowly washing herself, she bent down and untied the now wet string trailing from my big toe.
“Guess you figured out this was a bluff huh.” She laughed.
While washing and conditioning her hair, washing her body, and then shaving her legs, she would occasionally reach out a soapy hand and slowly stroke my penis. She did that every few minutes for the half an hour she took to slowly finish her shower. It wasn’t enough to get me off but it sure was keeping me hard. I was in heaven, but towards the end I was also starting to get raw. Lengthy exposure of sensitive tissue to soap starts to wear on the skin after a while. I was just about to say something or pull away or turn around when she stopped, rinsed it off and turned off the water.
She dried off and put on her robe. Then she left. Leaving me standing in the bathroom drip drying. At least the chill was dampening my erection. After a few minutes I smelled coffee and eggs. Besides, perhaps I could stand in front of our eastern facing picture window and warm up in the rising sun.
When I got to the kitchen she took one look at the water I was still dripping, mostly off my hair, and said “Oh hell no! Open your mouth.”
And she stuffed the kitchen towel she was holding part way into my mouth.
“If you expect any of this coffee you go mop that up, all the way back to the bedroom carpet. You’re not ruining these hardwood floors.”
I didn’t point out that if she had dried me off, it wouldn’t have been a problem.
My wife’s continuing dominant behavior continued to surprise me!
I had been starting to go limp, but the idea of being forced to mop the floor, with a towel in my mouth, on my hands and knees, yea, that wasn’t helping get rid of old #7.
As I tried to get all the water up (it was hard because more was still dripping off all the time) she was putting scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl and pouring hot coffee over them, making a sort of coffee egg drop soup. After I made one pass across the floor, she seemed satisfied and announced:
“Come eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” And proceeded to put the bowl on the floor next to the refrigerator. I dropped the towel next to the bowl and bent down to eat but she quickly said, “Is that where dirty towels go?” So, looking curiously at the bowl of coffee soup, I picked the towel back up in my mouth and deposited it in the laundry room.
Eating HOT coffee with scrambled eggs from a bowl while lying on the floor turned out to be quite a challenge. I noticed the wife, sitting at the breakfast table eating her eggs with a fork and drinking her coffee from a cup and watching me struggle and roll around on the floor. She had a huge grin on her face. Was I turning my wife into a sadist? What had I done, I wondered with a smile!
Focusing on breakfast and laying on the cold floor had almost gotten rid of my erection but not quite. The wife started doing the dishes and straightening up the kitchen, so I decided some more technical reading was needed. It worked and after about half an hour I was pretty much inverted. Of course, it took another half an hour for her to notice! But when she did notice, she was standing over me with her robe open.
“I’m wet!” she declared. “Come eat me out!”
Now, we had done oral quite frequently, but it was usually my idea and my wife rarely came just from my oral ministrations. She laid back on the couch and I walked across the den on my knees to get between her thighs. I started by slowly licking her labia, outer and inner, alternating sides, keeping it light. She was right about one thing, she was wet, white cream drooling out of her vagina in a slow but steady stream. I licked it up as well.
After several minutes she pretended to snore. OK, step it up. I started at the bottom of her labia and pulled my tongue across the opening and very lightly across the full length of her clit. She shuddered slightly, that was a good sign, so I kept it up. About once every 15 seconds I’d slowly lick from her perineum to her clit, slow and light. She started pushing into my tongue, so I picked up the pressure and pace, stopping every so often to suck one of her inner lips or push my tongue into her vagina. After what I guessed was about 10 minutes, I switched to concentrating on just her clit. I circled it, stroked the sides of it, and eventually started sucking it.
The sucking was working. Her breathing quickened, I could feel her vaginal walls tighten under my chin and she was moaning steadily now. I bore down, sucking her clit hard into my mouth and flicking it, inside my mouth with my tongue while keeping it under vacuum.
“Oh GOD yea, just suck it and hold still.” She ordered as she came hard and creamed all over my chin.
After she came down a bit, she un-clamped her thighs from around my head, announced, “That’s 8,” then got up and walked off.
I looked down and, sure enough, I hadn’t even realized how turned on I had become while going down on her. It took me a while to catch my breath and calm down, then I went back to my technical reading. But I didn’t get to read long before she came back with the padlock from the garage in her hand.
“No, you haven’t been pestering me, but I’m going to go take a shower and I don’t want you to get into trouble while I do, plus, you need some sunlight. NO. No complaining, I’m in charge. Just be a good husband and follow me.”
So, I got up and followed her – onto the back deck.
Our back deck is off the kitchen. It’s enclosed on two sides by the kitchen and the bedroom wall. It’s open on two sides, the back towards some dense woods and the other side faces our neighbors house and their back deck. It just so happens that our neighbors were on vacation for several weeks. Unless the exterminator or lawn crew were due our back deck should be private. Should be…
“Back against the railing.” And she proceeded to wrap my chain tail, with no slack at all, to the top rail and lock it.
I had not gone completely flaccid in the short time I had been reading. Being locked outdoors, naked, by my lovely wife, who by the way was still wearing her robe which she had not bothered to close, didn’t help. She looked down. “Aww, see, he likes it outdoors! Enjoy.”
And she walked off, I presume to take her shower.
It was a nice day, and luckily, I had a pretty good tan so I didn’t have to worry about sunburn, well, except for where my bathing suit normally covered.
Now what can I do to kill an erection? I can’t read technical documentation. Think about baseball standings? Remember the time I broke my arm and how much that hurt? I was just VERY conscious of being naked and couldn’t stop thinking about my situation. The fact that the breeze would blow every so often, or a bird would land on the deck bird feeder, or I’d hear a noise in the woods (most likely a squirrel) all conspired to make me extremely aware of what my wife had done to me. I had become almost used to the constant and dull ache in my shoulders, that pain was being no help at all.
When she came back out to the deck about 30 minutes later, she had a towel wrapped around her head and was wearing her smallest string bikini. She bought that bikini when we went to Antigua a few years ago. She wore it on the beach a few times there but declared that she would never wear it anywhere our friends or family might see her. It was pretty daring, and I had been very proud and turned on when she dared wear it on the islands. But honestly, I didn’t even think she still had it. Oh, she still had it! And it still fitted!
I wasn’t about to complain verbally, I didn’t want another erection added to my sentence, but I’m sure my face showed how unfair I thought her outfit was. Oh, it would have been fine if I had become flaccid before she came out but now all I could do was stare at her cleavage, which the string top did a magnificent job of accentuating.
“Can you believe what I found in the bottom of my dresser? I was going to come get some sun naked, but I thought I would cover up a little, you know, to help you calm down. Oh dear, it doesn’t seem to be working.”
And as we both looked down, I was almost at full erection.
“Well, I’m just going to stretch out in the lounger and get some sun.” She said as she pulled one of our aluminum deck chair/loungers over right in front of me and almost poured her body into it.
It took almost an hour, but finally the combination of aches and pains conspired to rid me of my erection. I closed my eyes and tried thinking of work, programming, anything. Standing in one place, barefoot on hard wood was making my feet and legs ache. My shoulders, now that I wasn’t moving around, were starting to scream at me again. I ‘felt’ that my erection was gone but I didn’t want to look – I might see her. So, I simply waited.
The next thing I felt was her hand cradling my balls.
“Well, you finally got rid of number 8. I guess we should start on #9 or you’re going to be out here till dinner.”
Now I could open my eyes and feast on the delicious bikini clad body in front of me, which, to my delight, was shining from a thin coat of sweat from the sun that had now risen from behind the trees. As she slowly massaged my testicles, occasionally raking her nails across my scrotum, I could feel my dick rising. After a while she simply wrapped her hand around it and held it.
I looked down and she was just lying there, her eyes closed, her arm propped up on the lounger and holding my penis. Her breasts were almost falling out of that bikini top which just barely covered her nipples. Every so often she would stroke my dick vigorously, then stop. She did this for what seemed like a long time, and it was driving me crazy. She never took her hand away to see how erect my penis was, she just kept stroking it three or four times every few minutes. After being up and down for hours and hours now, my penis was absolutely throbbing; it ached from the inside out. And the fact that her breasts jiggled when she stroked was definitely making it worse.
“I’m hungry and you probably need some water.” She said as she abruptly let go of my penis and stood up. She was almost inside the kitchen when she stopped, looked back across her shoulder, and said “Hmmm, I guess that’s 9.” When she got into the kitchen, I could see her write another hash mark on the white board.
She came back out a few minutes later with two bottles of water and a plate full of crackers, cheese, and sliced meats. She held a bottle of water to my lips, and I chugged almost all of it. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was. Then she started hand feeding both of us from the plate. Every once in a while, she would drape a piece of sliced deli meat across my erect penis, leave it there for a few minutes, then slowly take it off with her teeth. My dick started throbbing again and every time she would lean over to eat off it, it would twitch and jump, causing her to laugh.
It was when she held a second bottle of water to my lips that I realized I was going to have to pee soon. Should I mention that? Probably not, she might call it complaining. I’d just suffer in silence. Plus, peeing with a hardon was next to impossible anyway.
After cleaning up lunch, my wife laid back down on the patio furniture, in her ‘barely there’ bikini, and proceeded to take a nap. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, standing there in the sun, with nothing to do, being careful to keep my eyes closed so as not to start thinking about the gorgeous body lying in front of me, my erection did start to recede. And along with it, my full bladder, aching legs, and shoulders started to reassert themselves.
At some point she opened her eyes and looked at my now flaccid penis. But instead of acknowledging that it was flaccid, she said, “Oh dear, you’re starting to get a bit pink.” Going inside, she came back in just minutes with a tube of suntan oil, slathered it all over her hands, sat on the side of the lounger, reached around my hips and started rubbing it into my ass. Was she really NOT going to acknowledge that I was Flaccid? That #9 was done? Because feeling her hot breath on my stomach, feeling her arms around my waist and having her rub oil all over my ass was definitely having an effect on me.
She put more oil on her hands and started around my hips, finally massaging oil into my scrotum, and then started covering my, almost erect penis. Unlike her previous ministrations, this time she was being downright brutal. She was pulling the foreskin back and aggressively rubbing and massaging suntan oil into the skin of the penis. I hadn’t realized how much the two days of attention had sensitized that skin. It felt . . . well . . . painfully good?
Just when I didn’t think I could stand it anymore she stopped, stood up and started for the kitchen.
“Well, that’s 10. Shame you had to misbehave yesterday, or you would be done now.”
And she disappeared into the house.
I looked down. Yep, that was a 10. And I really had to pee.
When she came back she was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. She was also carrying the key! But which key? She came over and unlocked me from the railing but didn’t unlock the cuffs – damn!
“I’m going to take my afternoon walk,” she announced, “but I need you to think about something while I’m gone. Something other than how to get rid of that erection. The next time you get flaccid I’m going to make it easy for you to get your 11th and final hard on. I’m going to help you. I’ll give you a choice. I’ll either jerk you off with my hand and then unlock your wrists and our game is over. OR I’ll bend over and let you fuck me doggy style. You can have either my cunt or my ass or both; you just can’t go from ass to vagina cause I’m not getting an infection for you!”
But then she added, “But here’s what you need to think about. If you fuck me, your wrists say locked till tomorrow morning and you sleep on the floor again. You think about that and decide just how much of a masochist you really are. Because this is probably the ONLY time in my life that I will offer you my ass.” And with that, she walked back through the kitchen, closing the door to the deck as she went.
I was stunned. Early in our marriage I had tried to talk to her about anal. She wouldn’t even discuss it. In fact, it was the ONLY thing in our marriage and sex life that she stonewalled me on. And now she was offering it?
I went to the kitchen door to head to the bathroom – I really needed to pee. I turned my back to the door so I could grab the handle with my hands . . . . and it was locked. That bitch. I could risk trying the other doors, but they were all at the front of the house and I, of course, was still naked. Plus, I was quite sure that they would all be locked. That bitch LOL.
I had a lot to think about dear reader. My shoulders ached, my penis ached, my wrists were getting raw, I hadn’t slept hardly at all on the floor last night, could I stand another night?
But the chance to fuck my wife in her ass?
What would you do?
I know what I did – I stuck my shrinking penis between the railing and peed off the deck.
At least I could relieve that discomfort.