CHASTITY & FEMINIZATION PRODUCT TESTER free porn video

CHASTITY & FEMINIZATION PRODUCT TESTER

"But I'm only going to be out of work for two weeks during the
reorganization," I told my wife Annie. "And they're still paying me. So
I won't really be..."

"Dear," she cut me off. "I don't like the idea of you being idle.
Remember what happened when I was away at my sister's? For only two
days?"

"Honey, nothing happened. You know Tess next door is kind of... a
nympho. She thinks every guy wants to jump into bed with her. All I did
was talk to her, and it was a conversation that she started."

"While she was wearing one of her tiny bikinis. With those mammoth
hooters nearly uncovered. And you didn't stare? Not even a little bit?"

"Well, I mean... sort of."

"All right. So we have two problems. You're out of work and you like to
ogle busty bimbos."

"Except that... I mean it's only..."

"This discussion is over. I've already made the arrangements for a
fill-in job, and a representative of the company is coming over soon. In
fact, she should be here in about an hour. You go and take a shower and
put on some clean underwear."

"Why... why do I need to do that?"

"Darling, you never know when someone might get to see what you're
wearing under your slacks. Right?"

This was getting stranger and stranger, so I just agreed with her, not
wanting to get her angry. I didn't even know what kind of work I would
be doing. I sighed, a bit theatrically I suppose, and left the room.
Soon I had gotten my shower and, as instructed, put on fresh boxers. I
picked out nice slacks and a polo shirt, dark socks and my favorite
loafers.

Soon the doorbell rang. My wife had me answer it and I was confronted
with a very pretty young lady. She reminded me of Annie, with her trim
figure but somewhat large bust, her sweet face, and pixie haircut. I
hesitated, thrown off balance by how striking she was. My wife must have
gotten right behind me because I suddenly felt her hand on my shoulder.
She gently moved me aside.

"Sorry," Annie apologized. "But my husband is a bit of a womanizer. He
can't keep his eyes off you."

"I noticed. I'm Trish. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes. Thanks for coming so soon. This is the perfect solution for my
Richie."

I could only stand there and try to keep up. It was all moving too fast.

"The thing is," Annie went on, "you're my last hope. If he doesn't agree
to this..." She gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm going to have to cut
him off from all sex."

What? I was stunned. Trish held up two sample cases she was carrying
and said, "I'm sure the answers to all his problems are in here. Why
don't we get started?"

I was still taking in the idea of being cut off from sex with my
desirable wife. I'm the kind of guy who needs it several times a week.
If I don't get it, then it becomes all I can think about. Granted, once
I'm in bed I don't last too long. But then two days later, if not
sooner, I'm ready to go again.

The women sat on our couch in the living room with the cases between them
and Trish opened one up. I started toward a chair but my wife told me I
should stand in front of them. Feeling insecure, I did as she said.
Inside the case was a selection of short tubes, cages and other curious
devices. I didn't know what to make of them.

Trish looked up at me and said, "Let's get one of these on you." Her
hand drifted back and forth over them before she settled on one. It was
a plastic tube with one end closed by a convex section, with a small
opening in its tip. There was a second piece, a ring of some sort. I
could see that they would fit together but still didn't understand what
they were for. At the same time I was eyeing those, I couldn't help
staring at her cleavage, which was enticingly displayed by the low cut
top she wore. She gave me a sweet smile and said, "My, you really DO
like to gawk at the girls. Like the two girls in my bra." She turned to
my wife and said, "He is definitely a candidate for these products.
Having him test them, as a freelancer, will enable you to select the
perfect one for him."

Annie nodded and told her, "Frankly, it will be a relief for me to have
him using one of those." Then she looked up at me and said, "Drop your
pants, darling. And the shorts."

I went into mild shock. What was she saying? At the same time, however,
my fingers went to my belt and opened it. I unfastened the top of my
slacks and lowered the zipper. Her words about denying me sex kept
replaying in my mind. That would be unthinkable. I would have to
cooperate until this got sorted out, and then everything would be normal
again. I let my pants fall and looked back and forth from one of the
women to the other. They weren't upset. This was what they wanted.
Feeling disoriented, I began to lower my shorts. When they slid down to
my ankles to join the pants, both females smiled at me.

Trish produced a tube of cream and a pair of rubber gloves from the case,
offering them to my bride and asking her, "Would you like to do the
honors?"

She grinned and said, "Richie would probably prefer that you do it, but I
don't want to get him overheated."

All at once she was donning the thin gloves, then applying a generous
amount of white cream over the fingers of one. She spread it on my
crotch, covering the pubic hair, and also used it on my scrotum and the
base of my penis. I was too nervous to get a complete erection, but did
become halfway hard. That was doubly embarrassing. It suggested that I
wasn't capable of a full response, but that I lacked self control. I
felt my cheeks getting hot. The women chatted about Trish's drive to our
home and if she had encountered any problems finding us. They acted as
if I wasn't present. After several minutes of them complimenting each
other's outfits and similar girl talk, our visitor glanced at her watch
and said it had almost been long enough. For what?

Annie's voice was firm when she told me to remove my shoes and get the
rest of the way out of my pants and shorts. Numbly, I obeyed. Then she
ordered me -- it wasn't a request -- to go to the kitchen and fetch a
freezer pack. Half naked, I was in no state to stand there and ask
questions, so I hurried out, aware that I was showing my bottom to them,
and returned with the icy cold plastic box. I had to stand where I had
been before while my wife used a handful of tissues to wipe away all that
cream. To my dismay I saw that my pubic hair came off too. She casually
tossed the evidence of my manhood into a trash can.

"Next," Trish told me, "you can press that freezer pack against your
disobedient dick."

I looked down at my half-stiff member and did what I had been told to.
At least I was getting to cover myself, however slightly. In seconds my
arousal had faded and my penis shrank to it's smallest possible
dimensions. That was when Trish brushed my hand aside, took the ring,
and snapped it around the base of my flaccid organ and my testicles. She
followed with the tube, which encased my shrunken manhood completely.
The two parts fit neatly together, as I had guessed. But what I hadn't
seen coming was that she took a padlock from the box and put its U
through aligned openings in the two parts of the device. She turned to
Annie and asked her if she would like to be the one to lock it. Before I
could react, my cheerful wife reached over and deftly clicked the lock
shut.

In a daze, I stood there, my maleness trapped in that too small tube.
Trish suggested to Annie that she test it. My wife told me to take two
steps back, which I did. She stood and pulled up the front of my shirt,
then put her hands on my nipples, which have always been very sensitive
to touch. I gasped as a current of sexual electricity ran through me,
straight to my genitals. But instead of being able to get large, my
penis strained futilely against the confines of that damned tube. My
balls drew up tight and I felt ready for release, but there was no way to
achieve that.

Annie took my face between her soft hands and kissed me tenderly. Her
fingertips toyed with my ears. She whispered sensually, "I'm SO glad you
agreed to this test, Richie. I'm sure the next few weeks are going to be
very educational for both of us." She kissed me again, shoving her
tongue into my mouth and using it to add to my stimulation. I was half
crazy from need, and it had only been a minute. I had to get out of that
thing. I needed to be in the bedroom, with my bride, right away.

My voice trembled as I said, "Please, Annie. You have to unlock me."

"I can't, baby boy."

"Wh... why?"

"Because Trish has the key."

Pleading with my eyes, I begged the other woman, "Please, give her the
key."

"Oh, I will. I'm going to mail it to her. After your trial period is
over."

A chill ran through me and I asked, in a small voice, "When will that
be?"

"Four weeks."

"But I'm starting my new job in two weeks. Can't I be unlocked then?"

"No," my wife interjected. "I agreed to a full month and I'm sure you
wouldn't want me to go back on my word. Plus, this way you don't have to
worry about me cutting you off from sex."
"While I'm like this," I pointed out, "I can't have sex."

"No, but I can. You can do -- other things -- for me. And that'll be
part of the test. Trish and her people want practical information about
how a husband reacts when he's locked, especially if his wife gives him
plenty of teasing. You know, like I was just doing for you."

"I... That'll have me climbing the walls."

"Don't worry. You'll be burning up that excess energy by pleasing me in
bed. I have so many fun ideas. You know how I was always asking you to
use your mouth on me? Between my legs? Because you finish too soon and
leave me unsatisfied? Well, this will give you a chance to learn how to
do that. And to learn other ways to show your new devotion to providing
me with pleasure. We'll both be able to give Trish's group the
testimonials they're seeking."

My eyes blinked involuntarily. I was on the verge of weeping. My wife
hugged me, her bust pressing against my bare chest, and said consolingly,
"This could be the best thing that's ever happened to us. I'm sure
you'll get into the rhythm of it. In fact, I'm betting that this will
make a new man of you."

I didn't like the sound of that but what could I do? The key was
somewhere else and we were dependent on Trish to send it to us.

The company representative leaned forward to open the second case. She
explained, "My people also want to see how well our chastity products
combine with other items we offer to keep a man... focused."

Inside the case were items of lingerie, a wig, cosmetics, and a pair of
sexy shoes. All I could think of was that these were for my wife to use,
to make her teasing of me even more effective. But then Trish handed me
a pair of panties and said I should put them on. Huh? On... myself? I
looked to my bride for help but she was just smirking at me. When I
didn't do anything, Annie looked cross and told me firmly to do what I
had been instructed to. Well, standing there half undressed, having
already been exposed, my pubic hair gone, and my manhood put out of
commission, I felt weak and vulnerable. So I stepped into one leg of the
filmy garment, which was pink and had a tiny bow on the front, neatly
centered, and then got my other foot in. As I pulled them slowly up my
legs the satiny material stroked my skin. Even that was turning me on.
Like I mentioned, I'm almost always turned on... and need release.

I stood there in the panties and my wife told me, rather imperiously I
thought, to get out of my shirt. I pulled it over my hear and dropped it
on the floor. She scowled at me, made me pick it up, and had me set it
neatly on the arm of the couch. Then I had to put myself in front of the
women again. It was Annie who reached into the case now, lifting out a
silky top, something a girl might wear in the bedroom, with spaghetti
straps. It was peach colored and had a scoop neckline. Trish pointed
out that, after that cream had been used on the rest of my body, I would
look even better in these items. Annie crossed her arms under her full
bust and looked impatient. I understood what she wanted and unhappily
put the top over my head and let it slide down my chest. Again, the
touch of feminine finery stimulated me, especially as it moved over my
receptive nipples. Unluckily for me, the top was very short and ended
just above my navel, so those embarrassing panties were still fully on
display.

Annie decided that she wanted me denuded of hair right then, so she
handed me the tube and made me cover my thighs, underarms and lower arms
with it, along with anywhere else she saw hair. Then she had me pull up
the nightie and hold it with my teeth, so I could cream my chest. She
insisted that I get plenty of the depilatory on my nipples, even though
there was no hair there, because she was amused to see how uncomfortable
I was to have my sexual responses triggered. I moaned and involuntarily
twitched my hips. The women both chuckled at my inability to control
myself. Trish said something about how extreme my reactions would be
after a few more days... or weeks.

They had me kneel and turn up my face, then stay like that while they
looked over the selection of make-up. Then they went to work on my
features, plucking my eyebrows to thin them, putting blush on my cheeks,
taking lots of time with my eyes, and finishing by outlining my lips,
covering them with bright magenta lipstick, and adding a coat of clear
gloss. The crowning touch was that wig I had spotted, which was blond
like my own hair, but a more golden shade. It fell to my shoulders, the
ends curling under. Above my eyes it was cut in perfectly straight
bangs. I stood at their command and the shoes were set before me. I
stepped gingerly into them, carefully balancing myself on the
unaccustomed heels. They were only two inches high but as I took my
first faltering steps, they might as well have been twice that.

Annie and Trish made me saunter around while they giggled and instructed
me to swing my hips, take small steps, and hold my arms out slightly to
the sides, with my hands hanging down. It was excruciatingly shameful
but I had no alternative. The possibility of having my penis remain
locked was unthinkable. I stuck poses that they suggested, puckered my
lips, and even toyed with my nipples through the sexy material of the
nightie. Then they had me squat down in a duck-walk posture, with my
hands behind my neck, and told me to stay like that. The two of them
began to chat about the plans for me and what the company wanted stressed
with their 'chastity product tester'. There was an emphasis on keeping
me sexually frustrated, always having me at least partly feminized, and
seeing how far I would go to prevent my time in that device from being
extended.

Ex... tended? No, no, no. How could I stand even more days, maybe added
weeks, unable to gain relief? I wanted to object, to tell them how
unfair it would be to prolong my time, but by then I was too overcome to
speak up for myself. Instead I just stayed there, my knees beginning to
hurt, my lower back starting to protest, while they gabbed about what a
good start they had made and how much fun it would be to push me to ever
greater limits. Fun? Not for me. About a half hour later, when I was
getting really sore all over, leg muscles burning, Annie snapped her
fingers and gestured for me to rise. I straightened with difficulty,
making an effort not to groan.

They got up too and my wife wiggled her finger at me, signaling that I
should follow them. I did, teetering on the heels, as they led me to the
bedroom. Annie opened the closet door, on the inside of which was a
full-length mirror. I gasped. Standing in front of me was a not
unattractive female, with slightly exotic make-up and shimmering hair.
In her panties, instead of my manly bulge, was the slight bump of the
chastity tube, which was pointed straight down. I bit my lower lip and
tasted cosmetics. I sniffled and shook my head. That couldn't be me...
but it was.

My bride snapped, "Hey, no sulking. I didn't work so hard to make you
pretty, just to have you spoil it by being moody." She went to the
dresser and picked up her wooden hairbrush, telling me, "Put your hands
on the back of my vanity chair, Missy, and bend forward. Stick out that
cute panty-wearing butt."

Too scared to disobey, I did it, feeling even more foolish than before.
She hefted the brush, took a few practice swings through the air, and
aimed it at my bottom. I saw it all in the mirror. She appeared
serious, though one corner of her mouth was slightly turned up in
amusement. Trish just grinned. Annie swung hard and the flat of the
brush cracked against my barely covered, unprotected rump cheek. I
yelped loudly but didn't let go of the chair. Without being told, I knew
that would cost me more punishment. More blows fell as she told me that
this was what happened to 'a bad girl' when she 'puts on a frown' and
'needs an attitude adjustment'.

Annie wanted to know, "Are you going to be cheerier?" SMACK! "Will we
see lots of smiles?" SMACK! "Is my Richie going to be a happy little
lady?" SMACK!

Of course, I couldn't answer, not with the brush doing its work so
effectively. I kept trying to catch my breath and, at last, when she
stopped, with my backside on fire, I nodded and said, my voice strained
and high, "Yes, dear. I'll be all those things. I won't... pout... or
anything like that."

"That's better, Richie," she said with smug satisfaction.

"You know," Trish offered, "it sounds ridiculous for you to call this
pretty piece of fluff by that boy name. How about..." She paused
thoughtfully. "... Rachael? Renee?"

"Or Rosy. Yeah, I like Rosy." She looked at me pointedly and said, "And
you like it too. Don't you... Rosy?"

I bobbed my head up and down and whispered, not daring to use my male
voice or anything close to it, "Yes, dearest. I like that name very
much. Thank you." I even managed an uncertain smile.

Trish said, "Fast learner. And you, Annie, are a natural with that
hairbrush. I'll bet it got you wet, smacking her fanny like that and
seeing it get so red."

"You know," my wife took a steadying breath, "it certainly did. I think
it's time for my Rosy to get her first lesson in how to please a woman."
She looked at me greedily.

Trish said, "Well than, I'd better get going. I'm sure you two have lots
of games to play."

Annie saw her to the door and then we were alone, me in that oh-so-girly
state, with my penis disabled and balls beginning to throb with
discomfort. She returned and embraced me. I couldn't keep myself from
whimpering. It had already been more than 36 hours since we had sex. I
was nearly at my limit. How was I supposed to last for another month?
Or more? Especially if she kept arousing me? And did she really expect
me to use my mouth on her? That way? And what other plans did she have?
Annie took me by the hand and led me toward our bed. I went meekly,
navigating the short distance with tiny steps, automatically wagging my
behind.

Once we got there she told me to primp up my hair and then undress her.
I fussed with the wig, which had gotten slightly mussed during my
spanking. Then I faced my wife. My fingers trembled as I got her out of
her top and then the bra. Her shapely breasts sprang free and my heart
jumped. I have always been intoxicated by her bust. She had me touch
them, play with her nipples, and then suck them. That was something I
had always enjoyed, but now it just added to my flustered state. My
balls continued to hurt. My sitter still burned. She laughed at me and
made me kneel to remove her skirt. I got rid of that, folding it neatly
and setting it on the vanity chair, and her panties followed. Annie made
me take another long look at myself in the mirror. At the sight of my
pink hairless skin, seductive face, heels and panties, I quivered with
mortification and hugged myself. That last action made me look even more
helplessly feminine. Then I had to face her again. She was so
impossibly sexy, standing there with her hands on her shapely hips, a
smug expression on her pretty face.

My wife turned away from me and angled herself forward slightly,
thrusting back her wide hips, telling me, "Kiss my ass, Rosy. To show me
how dedicated you're going to be to my needs."

I did it and she liked it so much that she had me pressing my lips
against both her smooth cheeks for the next several minutes. At last she
allowed me to stop, but it was only so she could lie on her back on the
bed and spread her legs invitingly. Except that she wasn't inviting me
to get into the missionary position and penetrate her. Not with that
chastity tube snugly encasing my unlucky penis. Annie pointed toward the
juncture of her thighs. She was letting me know it was time for my first
lesson in... pussy eating. I got on the bed on my knees, the panties
hugging my sore buttocks, and kissed my way up her thighs, trying to
delay the inevitable. I wanted to make a plea for clemency but could
think of no argument that she couldn't easily squelch. So I began to
press my prettied-up lips to her lightly furred mound and then proceeded
to the main act.

She was thrilled and noisily demonstrated just how much she was enjoying
herself. Annie called me Rosy as she gave a few instructions, but mostly
just cautioned me to slow down, warning that if I rushed her there would
be dire consequences. The heat in my backside spoke more eloquently than
her words. I kept my licking unhurried. Hating every second of it, I
nevertheless kept it up until she had a quaking orgasm. I thought it was
over but, after half a minute, she demanded that I start again, telling
me to be very gentle. I gave her a second climax and then a third,
before she relented and, thoroughly satisfied, permitted me to stop.

To my surprise, she said I should get into position for regular sex. It
turned out that she simply wanted a session of playing with my very
receptive nipples through the top, while she told me how much fun it was
going to be for her to keep me on this program, looking so sweet, always
hungry for sex that I couldn't have, and not knowing if she would make me
stay locked even longer. After I had been wildly overstimulated she
ceased, but by then I could think of nothing but the release I had been
denied. My bride pointed out that I had been selfish in neglecting her
orgasms, and now the tables were turned. I had to admit that she was
right. With my endless appetite for intercourse I had thought almost
exclusively about myself. She told me to behave and be her cooperative
bed slave, if I didn't want my situation to get worse. Much worse.

******

I got through those four weeks but by the end I was half out of my mind.
Annie kept me dressed in erotic female outfits, my skin hairless, pink,
and velvety smooth. My wife bought me two more wigs. One was very long
and black, parted in the middle. The other was shoulder length, with
springy red curls that bounced when I walked. By trading the hairpieces
around and altering my make-up, she could give me a new identity every
time. It was confusing and, worse, made me feel like I was losing touch
with my male self. Annie kept me powdered and perfumed. She restricted
how much I could say (not much) and what I could say (approving of
whatever she made me do or did to me). My wife insisted on having my
mouth on her pussy about every other night. Ironically, it was my former
schedule of wanting sex. There was also more of me kissing her bottom,
but it soon went beyond just targeting her buttocks. She called it 'ass
worship' and it became her favorite form of foreplay.

I started back to work as Rikki, a somewhat effeminate male. I had to
tell the bosses I was experimenting with my 'deeper feelings' about
myself. I was in a state of constant humiliation as everyone assumed
that I had become a flouncing sissy. Seeing all the female workers
around me was sheer torment. I was impossibly horny. A tight skirt or
high hemline made me have to catch my breath. Because the females
thought I wasn't interested in them any longer, they were casual around
me, not bothering to be excessively modest. They would bend over to get
something or lean forward over my desk, always managing to show off their
bodies. They started to see me as a sort of equal and began to touch me
lightly on the shoulders, hold onto my arms, and even trust me enough to
discuss their love-lives. All of that, needless to say, added to my
bottled up desire.

Annie made a point to visit the office. Everyone knew she was my wife
and they were curious about the changes in me. She thanked my bosses for
understanding my transition from Richie to Rikki. Then she chatted with
some of my female co-workers, telling them that I was reconsidering my
sexual personality. The girls sympathized. She made sure the men
overheard, and they all looked avidly at her, with the idea that she was
no longer attached to me in a sexual way. Before she left, she made sure
to say hello to all of them, being borderline flirtatious and saying that
maybe she's see them another time.

At last the month was up and the key came in the mail. Instead of using
it, however, Annie put it on a thin gold chain around her neck, where I
could see it every time I looked at her tempting cleavage. She insisted
that she had to wait until Trish stopped to see us, which wouldn't be for
another week. I started to plead my case but realized, even as I began
to speak in my wispy Rosy voice, that I could only make my situation
worse. So I swallowed what was left of my pride and agreed to cooperate.
She rewarded me with extra teasing that evening, which left me with
terribly sore balls. Noting my discomfort, she had me put on a thong
that pulled my testicles up tightly against my body. Then she had me don
a red and black corset, which she laced up as tightly as she could.
Maybe, she suggested, my aching balls were due to a circulation issue.
Perhaps these tight garments would help. It was a foolish argument and I
realized that she was making it just to see if I would say anything. I
remained mute. Even thanked her for her concern. She gave me a
contented smile that told me she was aware of her latest victory. I had
to stay in those restrictive items that evening as I worshiped her body,
back and front, for an extended time. It was not comfortable.

Finally Trish arrived, Friday night after dinner. I was wearing a
fishnet body stocking that highlighted my hairless, pink figure. My feet
were in three-inch, slutty heels, and I had on yet another new wig, this
one side-parted and falling over my shoulders in cascading platinum
waves.

She told me with a smile, "That's a good look for you, Rosy."

I blushed. All over.

The two of them sat and chatted as if nothing odd was going on. As the
chastity and feminization company's representative, Trish wanted to
inspect me. As shameful as that was, I readily accepted it, eager to
gain my freedom. I put myself in front of her unprotestingly. They
discussed my condition and Trish listened with interest. From time to
time she handled my chastity, ran her fingertips over areas where I had
formerly possessed body hair, and lightly stroked my incredibly sensitive
nipples. She said she was extremely glad Annie had volunteered me. I
spoke up, though my voice was choked. Hadn't this been to earn us some
money? They both giggled and pointed out that my wife had mainly wanted
to keep me busy... and out of 'girl trouble'. They agreed that there was
no longer any chance of me ogling or flirting with other women.

"Though," Trish pointed out, "some of them might want to steal Rosy from
you and make her their own sex slave."

Trish went on to say that, as well as I had responded, she would love to
keep me on the program indefinitely. I nearly fainted as my wife quickly
agreed. When I squeaked a protest, unable to access my old male voice,
and demanded the key Trish had sent, Annie said it wouldn't help, as it
was just a dummy, not the one that would fit my lock. They didn't want
me trying to free myself. I was crushed. Trish suggested that I at
least get some relief, since my next period of lock-up needed to be six
weeks, and I would be in an even less comfortable device. She produced
the real key and, my spirit broken, I stood there while she released me.
Then she said that, to maintain the proper continuity in my program, I
couldn't be pleasured by my wife. I would have to satisfy myself. I
started to tell her that I would do it in the bathroom but she rejected
that idea.

If I wanted to ejaculate -- and I was beyond desperate to accomplish that
-- I had to masturbate in front of them, into the palm of my hand. Trish
acted very serious when she said she needed to observe all the details,
like how long it took me and how much I produced. Feeling absolutely
disgraced, I still couldn't say no. Then she made me toy with my nipples
and use some sweetly scented lotion she had brought to lubricate my erect
member. So I stood there, my dick sticking out through the wide mesh of
the body stocking, and began to manipulate my slippery self. As the
lotion warmed up its aroma grew stronger. With both of them watching me,
however, I couldn't get completely into the mood. It was so frustrating.
My humiliation grew as I had to reach up and finger my nipples again
through the open spaces in the fishnet. That pushed me toward the edge.
While they watched eagerly I was able to shoot, launching hot cum into my
other hand, the one with no lotion on it. As soon as my need had been
met, to the background of the females chuckling, I was seized by fresh
shame and even guilt. They handed me tissues and I cleaned up as best as
I could.

Then, while I was still limp, Trish gave me a bottle of liquid and a soft
cloth to complete removing the lotion and spunk from my crotch and hands.
After that was done she produced my new chastity device. This one had an
extreme downward curve in it that would make attempted erections even
more uncomfortable. I sniffled as I put it on myself and my bride locked
it. Then they had me model it for them while they barely suppressed the
urge to laugh.

In the weeks that followed, my wife made sure I understood how precarious
my situation was. It was her decision how long this would go on. Annie
made both my wardrobe and look even more outrageous. Sometimes I was
dressed as a maid, hooker, or even put into a kitten costume, complete
with ears and a tail. She amused herself by speculating out loud what
six months or a year of chastity and feminization would do to me. I was
already feeling different, so those possibilities were genuinely
frightening. My entire sex life revolved around devoting myself to my
wife's body and her orgasms. I had become obsessed with my oral duties,
hating them but looking forward to them. Being teased became less of a
torment and more of a reward. And I always anticipated the next of my
jerk-off sessions, as she required me to call them. The second of those
she ruined by stopping me just as I began to ejaculate, so that I had a
spoiled orgasm, dribbling cum into my waiting hand.

The chastity device after that session was even worse than the bent tube.
It was lined with short sharp points that hurt me every time I got
excited. Annie never tired of flaunting her body and touching me,
whispering lewd suggestions, and doing anything else that would cause me
to try to erect and thus cause myself pain. At the same time she
developed a fondness for putting me into bondage gear. Imagine yourself
fully feminized, in that torturous chastity tube, additionally with your
arms behind you encased in a leather sleeve, or with a posture collar
forcing you to hold your head high, or maybe a corset lined with ridges
that dig into your flesh, especially when you move. Or maybe all three
of those forms of bondage at the same time, which I experienced. That
period of chastity was for ten weeks.

The chastity device after that featured a wide mesh that, while it still
contained my penis, allowed for it to press out between the strips, so
that she could touch it and let me half feel what I couldn't have all the
way. Ten long, senses-straining weeks. And she even managed to find new
and more demeaning costumes for me to wear. Annie developed a fondness
for dressing me as a ditzy, gum chewing girl, in tiny shorts and cropped
tops, with a penchant for undersized, heart-shaped shoulder purses and
pigtails (my own hair had gotten long enough) tied with long strands of
yarn in many bright colors. In that persona I was always being faulted
for having a bad attitude -- the attitude that she insisted I display
when thus dressed -- and being spanked because of it. My wife took to
calling me 'Rosy with the rosy rump'.

It has been nine months now. I was denied the most recent of my jerk-off
sessions over some unfair pretext. I'm utterly under her control, with
no way to change that. Disempowered. While I'm serving her in bed she
talks about making my chastity permanent, keeping me celibate and well-
teased endlessly, just because it's so gratifying for her. And
entertaining. That, of course, forces me to be even more dedicated to
her, in the increasingly slim hope that I can prevent that terrible
future. Imagine being kept in chastity by your sexy wife, having to be a
bedroom slave to her, and being teased constantly because it amuses her
and makes you still more anxious to honor and obey. And having to look
and act like a sissy at work, while becoming an unwilling drag diva at
home. Plus, she reminds you that your ordeal is supplying plenty of
useful information for the chastity and feminization company. Which is
why they continue to give her free samples of all their fun products,
including the expanding bondage fashion line. So Trish can stop by and
take lots of photos of you wearing hobble skirts, arm binders, collars
and hoods, pictures that will go on the company's web site to be viewed
by their many customers, as well as curious browsers.

And all the time you have trouble keeping track of which inventive female
role your bride has cast you in for that evening. Are you the oversexed
nympho who is expected to lick her own fingers and then rub them over her
stiff nipples? Or was that yesterday? Maybe now you're the submissive
lesbian who has to suggest nasty indignities and mistreatments that she
should be subjected to. If you think up something wicked, your wife
makes you undergo it. If you don't, she punishes you for not being a
cooperative little slut. You don't even get any reprieve at your job,
where you are, even more than before, snickered at by the men and treated
as one of the girls (if a somewhat slow-witted one) by the women.
Picture yourself living my life. How would YOU feel about it?