We Need To Talk free porn video

Desperate longing, desperate sexual desire course through my veins, consume me. A montage of images and scenes flood my mind, uncontrolled. Strong hands push me over a table. I'm helpless to stop my violation. Memories so fresh I can almost feel the penetration, my face pressed against the cold hard table, helpless to stop it, helpless to make it last longer. Soft tender lips passionately, lovingly, desperately kissing...a shoe. The contrast of a gold key against black nylon turns me into a wanton slut, please...Please...PLEASE! I stop cutting the vegetables and drop the knife on the cutting board. My hand reaches for "her little dicklet" in a futile attempt to remove the cause of the pain, a cold steel plate protects my wife's property from unauthorized hands. After the electricity stops surging through her little dicklet I quickly wipe my hands and scurry to the living room where my wife is sitting still dressed in her office clothes. I can't help but notice her well tanned cleavage perfectly framed by her white blouse as I walk towards her. I lower my eyes, past incredible thighs encased in black nylons, to her sculptured calves - her muscles highlighted by the nylons. I stand at attention resting my gaze on her pumps as required. After a very long pause my wife states, "We need to talk." My wife...my beautiful wife. She's more than any man could wish for and more than any man could handle. She's both beautiful and incredibly smart. She was a cheerleader and valedictorian in high school. She majored in businesses and minored in psychology at college. She is the epitome of every thing I've ever wanted, everything I've ever desired. I quickly mince to the hall closet and retrieve my 'conversation chair' - a very small pink stool that I sit on when we 'talk'. I place the stool inches from her crossed legs and kneel facing her with the stool between us, and wait with my eyes on the dildo. "Proceed." I lower my face to the stool and proceed to deep-throat the large dildo mounted on the stool. I have as much time as she allows to get as much of my spit on the dildo as possible before I take my seat. "Have a seat," she says way too soon. As I pull my mouth off of the dildo I'm forced to to acknowledge how ridicules I look, as I notice my lipstick marks at the base her cock (I have a standing order to call all the dildos she's bought to violate me "her cock", the one between my legs I must call "her little dicklet"). I think about what my lips must look like as I pull down my panties and let them rest at my ankles. I struggle as I try to balance myself on my stilettos. My eyes meekly meet hers as instructed while I lower myself onto her cock. I grunt and groan as the hard rubber violates me. My wife looks down at me dispassionately as I struggle to sit; my thighs and calf's burn as they try to support my weight. It doesn't take nearly as long as it used to for my stretched ass to accept this violation, however this period of looking into her eyes has not lost a single ounce of humiliation. She takes a sip of white wine and asks me softly, "How long has it been since you've last had a cummie?" "Seventy three days ma'am." It's so hard to stare up into her eyes as I struggle with my humiliation. "How many cummies have you had this year?" she asks softly. "Two ma'am." It's 5 fucking months into the year and I've only had two cummies! She likes to drive home the reality of my deprivation at key points in our relationship. She knows my mind will remember those rare events and I'll be reminded they weren't even real orgasms, but perfectly ruined orgasms. She has, with my help, perfected the ruined orgasm. She knows the exact time to remove her hand or foot to cause me to squirt with the least amount of satisfaction... "We're going to play a little game," my wife says playfully as she dangles a strange looking strap before my face. My arms and legs are locked securely to the bed and I'm in no position to say we're not playing. As she begins wrapping the device around my scrotum she begins to describe the game in a very upbeat and playful way, "I'm going to tease my little dicklet, and you get to enjoy it. If you feel like you're going to make a cummies then you just say please." She's talking like a high school girl, so sweet and perky. "If I let go and you don't make a cummies then your little balls don't get zapped," she says with a giggle. She shows me the dial on her remote control and I see it's set to 3. "If I let go and you make a cummies then I press this little button while you make your cummies," she says, still talking like a little girl. "HOLY FUCK!!!!" "FUCK!!!....STOP!!!!! AAAAHHH!!!" Fuck that hurt!! I'll never let that fucking happen ever again! I'll say please way before I ever feel like cumming! I feel the sweat begin to pour out of me from stark raging fear. She moves her free hand to my cock and begins to gently stroke it. I feel the overwhelming sensations begin to well between my legs as my body instinctively drives itself to satisfaction. Oh my god that feels so fucking good! "But if I stroke you one more time and you don't make a cummies I'll press the button even longer," as I see her beautiful thumb push ever so gently on the button. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!! AAAAHHH!!!! NO NO NO!!! STOP!!!!" I scream and writhe desperately trying to free myself from my bonds . It's only when she finally releases the button that I stop my violent seizure and begin to breathe again. My whole being is filled with nothing but fear after the pain I just felt in my most delicate region. God!!! I will do whatever I can to never...ever...feel anything like that again! When I'm finally able to open my eyes I see my wife's beautiful smiling face directly above mine. She brings the remote into view, and, with her beautiful thumb, slowly and effortlessly moves the dial to 6. "Shall we begin?" she says smiling as she starts slowly stroking my cock... her well manicured finger of her free hand on the button.... She raises her crossed leg placing the sole of her shoe in front of my lips. I gently and lovingly kiss the part of her she has graciously offered me: the filthy sole of her shoe. I try not to imagine the places she's been or the things she may have stepped in with these shoes. My hand instinctively rises to cradle her heel while my mind flashes images of her walking filthy streets, going to the bathroom at work. The feel of her stockinged ankle against my hand triggers a new flood sexual desperation. I try to control my passion as my lips press against the dirty sole of her shoe but I quickly become engulfed in my emotions, my tongue instinctively pressing against her filthy sole just as it pushed past her succulent lips so long ago. She takes a sip of wine as she watches me make love to her shoe, debase myself, lose control. "Remove my shoe," she says softly. I struggle to breath as my free hand takes a hold of her shoe. I gently pull the pump off, after I do she flexes her strong legs pressing the sole of her sweaty foot tightly against my mouth and nose. The pungent mix of her foot, her perfume, mixed with the musky smell of shoe leather is overwhelming; intoxicating. Although it's a standing order that I kiss whatever she places before my lips, I would be unwilling to stop myself if I had to. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I begin kissing her foot with loving reverence. I am completely lost in a heavy mixture of sexuality, pain, pungent aromas, love, lust, and humiliation. When she sees that I am totally lost in the moment she points her finger to the floor signifying I'm no longer allowed to look her in the eyes. I direct my gaze to the foot that's on the floor, my eyes fixated on the small key hanging from a delicate gold anklet while my lips continue continue making love to her toes with soft passionate kisses. The studs mounted on the stool begin to take a toll on my tender ass while her cock violates and penetrates it. "Richie, I love what we have together. When you first brought up female domination I'll have to admit I thought it was pretty silly. But something happened when I put you in a pair of panties for the first time that I can't explain, it was a mix of disgust for you and a huge power rush for me. I find it amusing that the thing that you like the least, the thing that humiliates you the most, is what triggered my ability to live, and finally come to love this lifestyle. When you're dressed like this I really don't see you as my husband, I definitely don't see you as a woman either, you're more like an it, a thing. I felt guilty about spanking my husband, about making my husband do all the chores, I didn't at all like humiliating my husband, but you desperately needed me to do those things to you. But when you became this thing I could fulfill your deepest darkest fantasies, and it turns out, use your kinky fetishes to control you." "I will never leave you Richie. Our relationship is very different, but it's ours. I feed off your pain and humiliation and you get off on it. I live like a queen with you at my beck and call, never having lift my finger to do a single chore. There is no way I could ever go back to a vanilla relationship, one where we're equal. One where I cook and clean while you mow the lawn. No, I like it when I enjoy myself or relax while you mow the lawn, AND you cook and clean. But..." My lips continue to reverently worship her foot. I want desperately to look her in the eyes but instead I obediently look down at her foot. "But Richie, I need to get fucked...hard. I need to get fucked by - big - strapping - men. I need a big strong - man - to toss me around like a rag doll and fuck my lights out...whenever he wants...and however he wants. I desperately need a real man, with a big - thick - cock to pound me, to make me fucking scream for mercy, and for my pleas to be ignored while he pounds me without mercy!" I could see she was becoming sexually excited. "You can't give that to me Richie, and even if you could I wouldn't want it from you. I love you Richie, but look at you, you're no longer a man and haven't been in my eyes since I put you in your first pair of panties - that's the day you became my bitch, and that's what you will always be to me...my bitch" emphasizing the word bitch. "I've been unfaithful to you pretty much as soon as I put you in your first pair of panties, but up til now I've kept it a secret from you. Now it's time to bring it out in the open, another tool in my toolbox to humiliate and control you with. I know you need that dear, you need to be humiliated don't you?" All I can do is to shake my head yes, acknowledging everything she said so far as the truth. "Good, the first thing you'll need to remember sweetie is that these men are not be your equals, therefor I think it fitting that my bitch call every man that fucks me by their sir name from this day forward. Every time you say mister you'll remember that the man you're talking to did something you're not allowed to - fuck your wife. If they ask you a question you'll answer either yes sir or no sir." Each sentence felt like I was being beaten by a baseball bat. I was now hyper aware of the stupid maid's outfit I was wearing, beyond my wife's sexy nylon clad foot I could see my own nylon clad feet tucked into a pair of pumps held together by my red satin panties. Fuck I don't want to wear this shit! I want to dress like a man! I started crying as I buried my face in her foot. "There there dear. Don't worry, this will only go on for a few more years...until I hit menopause, then it will be just you and me again, in our special relationship." She softly petted the top of my head, no differently than if she softly petted her dog. "I will be going out tonight. Where and how for long is not for you to know. I will tell you however that I will be out having a damn good time, while you on the other hand will be toiling away at your chores. You may make yourself some white rice and steam the vegetables you've cut up before you continue on with your chores. But first, go up stairs and fetch my sexy new peep-toe booties." "Now little one, do you have any questions?" "The red ones or the black ones ma'am?" She stares down at me while I begin the humiliating task of pulling myself off my little stool. I gasp and groan uncontrollably as I struggle to pull myself off the tiny bench, a horrible noise comes out of my ass as I separate myself from her cock. She giggles as she goes off to get ready, while I mince up the stairs and retrieve the requested shoes out of her spacious walk in closet. The full length mirror forces me to see how ridiculous I look, mascara streaking down my face, lipstick smeared, not a man, not a woman. When I return I push my stool to the side and kneel in wait holding her new shoes. I look to the side of me and take a long look at what used to be my man chair, remembering the last time I sat in the chair... "Oh, there's my little tart," my wife says jokingly when she walked in the room and saw me relaxing in my chair during one of our fantasy weekends. In a mixture of sensuality and playfulness she struts over to me and says, "Look at you in your sexy little skirt and heels sitting in the man chair. I bought that chair for the man of the house, not the tart of the house." as she seductively strokes my lips with her finger. She stops stroking my lips and holds her finger in front of my eyes. I stare at the hot-pink lipstick on her fingertip. She gently pulls on my leash until I'm out of the chair and pulls the leash down roughly, putting me to my knees. She places the heel of her boot over the leash and pulls until my face and her boot meet on the floor. She pulls hard on the leash, pulling my face tightly into her boot. "I don't ever want to see you in that man chair again, is that understood?" her tone quickly changing to serious. "Yes ma'am." "Good, now kiss my boot bitch.".... My wife struts back into the room and sits before me on her couch. I can see she's touched up her makeup and replaced her work skirt with a sexy red skirt. Without a word I quickly get to work replacing her work pumps with a pair of red hot open toed boots, gently kissing each shoe as it is replaced. Oh god she looks so fucking hot! "Now run along and put my shoes away, and fetch my skirt from the bathroom floor. Make sure you get all your chores done while I'm out having fun. Don't wait up for me" she says as her boot quickly departs from my loving kisses, leaving me feeling abandoned. The first order of business is to clean up my stool and put it away. She bought me the stool shortly after she revoked my rights to the man chair, and it has slowly evolved over a year to the monster it is today. She said we need to talk one day and stopped me before I sat on the couch, "Your new conversation chair is in the closet. Go fetch it." I was strangely turned on when I opened the closet and saw the old hardwood child's stool. My wife really understood the submissive psych and could play it like a finally tuned violin. She understood all of the subtle nuances that kept me in my place and kept me turned on, how to slowly add things to the relationship to keep it exciting, and how use my fetishes and desires to slowly turn me from a willing submissive into her willing slave... A few days later my wife beckoned me to the living room right as I got home from work. She pointed to the floor before her where I quickly took my place with my head bowed. She lifted my chin with her finger until our eyes met and sat back against the back of the couch crossing her legs. "You know when you're home alone toiling away at your menial chores I'm out trying to pick up guys, right cuckie?" "Yes ma'am." "Well cuck, I notice I get a lot of stares. I can't help but notice all the men staring at my legs, my breasts, and when I'm walking I know if I turn around he'll be staring at my ass. The problem is, not many guys are approaching me. I think some of the men are just way too intimidated by a hot sexy woman. But I also think a lot of guys see my wedding ring and think I'm a committed wife just out for free drinks. There's not much I can do about the guys too intimidated to talk to me, I don't really want another sub anyways, but I do think it's time I stop giving the false impression that I'm a devoted wife, so the real men who aren't intimidated by a hot sexy woman will have no reason not hit on me. Don't you agree my devoted husband?" I can't help but to look at her left hand resting on her thigh, the large diamond glimmering in the light. "Yes ma'am," I reply meekly as fear began to take over my body. "I want you to take your off your ring and hold it in your right hand." I had no idea what was going on. A sense of panic flooded my soul as I was lead down a path only she knew the destination of. My wife removed the symbols of her faithfulness from her finger, grabbed my left hand and placed her engagement ring and wedding ring on my ring finger like I did to her so many years ago. "Do you promise to be faithful, to love and to cherish, to honor and obey me from this day forward?" my wife asks holding her rings on my finger, staring down into my eyes; into my soul. "I do," I said meekly, looking up into her gorgeous eyes, more of my manhood being taken from me. "I now pronounce you my faithful obedient cuckold," she says with an incredibly wicked grin. "You will wear your man ring when you're outside the house, and you will wear my feminine ring when you are in the house. I had the ring re-sized just a little so it would fit you. The ring you're not wearing will be placed lovingly on our wedding mantle. The first thing you will do when you enter the house from now on is to exchange rings. The last thing you will do before you leave the house is to exchange your rings. Now go ahead cuck, go put your ring on the mantle." I turned around and looked to the mantle that's displayed prominently in the living room and almost broke into tears when I saw a small statue where our wedding mantle sat for years, that feeling in the pit of my stomach growing as fear and dread flooded my soul. "I didn't want the men I brought home to feel uncomfortable so I put the mantle in your room along with all the pictures of us in marital bliss, I hope you don't mind. Now come on, we'll perform your first ring exchange together." She grabbed my left hand and led me to my room. After she placed me before the picture I went to place my ring on the wedding mantle when she grabbed my hand. "You will kiss our wedding picture before you place the ring." She grabbed a tube of lipstick off my dresser, grabbed my cheeks with her other hand so my lips were pushed out and began transforming my lips. She looked so sexy as she puckered up to mock me. She pressed her lips together like she was smoothing her lipstick, I followed her lead...smoothing my lipstick. "I want you kiss a different part of the picture every time you place your ring on the mantle. Start in the upper left corner and work your way across and then down...just like a calendar." I went to reach for the picture. "No dear. On your knees." I dropped to my knees. I reached up and gently, lovingly pressed my soft lips to the hard glass. The sound of a gentle kiss. The picture is of our first kiss as husband and wife. My strong hands gently holding my wife's slender waist. Her delicate arms draped across my strong shoulders. Our lips together in tender embrace. I will never forget how she looked up to me before she kissed me, there is absolutely nothing like a woman's eyes as she stares at the man she loves. I see how beautiful she looked back then, I remember how much I loved her back then. I can't believe how much more beautiful she is today, and how much more I lover her. "I love you," I say. "I know," she says. I turn my head to look up to her, to look into her eyes. "No Diane. I truly, deeply, love you with all of my heart. I was so in love with you the day we got married. I love you so much more today." My wife looks down at me, compassion showing through her normally indifferent eyes. She softly places her hand against my cheek. "I know you do Richie," starring down at me for an eternity. "You may hold me if you wish." I quickly turn to face her and wrap my arms around her slender waist, pressing my face tightly against her stomach. It's difficult to hold her tightly with my arms raised like they are. I feel like a little boy in this position. The feeling of her hand rubbing my hair fills me with comfort. I realize the feeling of her diamond digging into my right arm and move my arms, I don't want to be reminded of my new reality. I ignore the fact that my wife didn't reciprocate my affirmation of my love for her and embrace the tenderness and warmth of the moment. "This is what you wanted, what you needed. You would have been so unhappy living the typical mundane life. The reason you love me so much is because I give you everything you need, fulfill all your desires, and take you beyond your wildest fantasies. I complete you." After I have settled down she pulls me to my feet. She places her hands on my waist, forcing my hands to rest upon her shoulders. The look in her eyes so different today, a predator looking at her prey. Her lips gently touch mine as she gives me a rare kiss. I quickly become breathless as she stares into my eyes, her head slowly approaching mine for another kiss. Her lips gently touch mine, pain slowly welling within as her teeth clamp down on my lower lip and she pulls away, her hands manhandling my ass. She knows without a doubt the affect this is having on me. She quickly and effortlessly transforms my pain and doubt to overwhelming desire, culminating with her hot wet tongue invading my ear. "At least one of us will honor our vows of obedience and faithfulness," my wife whispers in my ear, her hot breath sending shivers through my body. "Hurry up and get changed. You need to help me get ready to go out," she states as she walks out of the room. A couple weeks later I got home from work and before I could begin my ritual my wife beckoned me to the living room. She pointed to the floor; I quickly kneeled and took my place before her, my eyes fixated on the key dangling from her anklet. "Do you think it's fair for that guy's always to pay every time we go on a date?" "No ma'am." "Good then, you'll to get a part time job then. You'll work Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday. Every dollar you make will go to pay for my dates with other men." She bends forward and pulls my chin up and stares into my eyes and whispers lustfully, "It makes me so fucking hot to know you'll be toiling at some shitty job to pay for my dates. Thinking of you sweating and suffering for me will make me scream out in an uncontrolled orgasm as some guy fucks me after I've bought him dinner and drinks with your money. And what really makes it hot is I won't let you fuck me, you can't fuck anyone else, fuck...you can't even play with my silly little dicklet. Poor little boy - humiliated, suffering, and horny. God this is so fucking hot! Is my little dicklet trying to get hard?" "Yes ma'am it is." She reached down and slowly pulled her first and middle fingers between her legs while letting out a gasp, then she seductively wiped her wet dripping fingers under my nose and on my lips the same way, leaving behind a thick trail of her juices. She snaps her finger and points to her crotch. I immediately bury my face into her dripping wet cunt. She grabs my hair and grinds my mouth and nose deep within her, and quickly pulls my hair back I'm forced to look up to her. "I've already set up an interview for you at the The Sanctuary on 4th and Market. The manager is expecting you in 15 minutes, and you better get this job. Don't you dare wash your face. Now run along while I take care of this itch." I can feel droplets of her juices on my nose and chin. I rush down to The Sanctuary and ask the cute young Maitre D' for an application. There's no escape from the musty smell. "Are you Richie?" the young woman asks. "Yes, but please call me Rick." "Sure," she says smiling. "Come with me." She escorts me to a small table in the kitchen. "The manager will interview you when she's ready." What the fuck! I have head hunters calling me! I interview companies! They don't interview me! I filled out the application and I waited. I waited, and waited. My wife doesn't allow me pocket change, so I couldn't even ask for something to drink. About am hour later an incredibly beautiful woman walked toward me and reached out her hand. "Hi Richie, I'm Ms. Benoit." I stood up and shook her hand. She escorted me back to her office. After we sat back down she asks me if I was there for the dishwasher job. The whole conversation was very humiliating. I wondered if she could smell my wife's pussy juice. I could barely look her in the eyes as she told me what my duties would be, how hard I was expected to work, what I was expected to wear, that I would make minimum wage, and that I should never be seen in the restaurant area by the customers, and that I needed to work on my personal hygiene. I began to sweat, my face felt like it was on fire as I nodded in agreement. After I told her I would take the job she simply stated, "You'll start tomorrow at five." Fuck, I wasn't ready for any of this. I needed time to comprehend what was going on. I would have to rush from my job to get here. While everyone else would be looking forward to relaxing and having fun after a long week of work, I would be dreading a long weekend toiling as a lowly dishwasher. "Yes ma'am," I replied. Fuck, what the hell was that? I never called anyone but my wife ma'am! But the way she was talking to me...at me really, just put me in my place. A week after I started my job I received my first check. When I came home my wife called me into the dining room before I had a chance to start my ritual. I was exhausted and I just really wanted to shower and go to bed. When I turned the corner and saw my wife I froze. She was dressed in one of her many dominatrix outfits. My eyes lowered to the tips of her calf length, open toe boots. I was speechless as I slowly looked up her from leather boots to her well toned nylon clad thighs, one of which was concealed by her knee length leather skirt, the other side fully exposed by the slit in her skirt. I felt myself grow ever weaker as I took in her sexy black leather jacket which was offset by her white blouse. Leather gloves holding a riding crop. I just stood there like an idiot, unable to move or say anything. She walked the rest of the way across the room and grabbed me by my cheek like a teacher would grab a little boy, "Strip down to your girly things and present me your check bitch," she ordered, waking me out of my trance. After my clothes were removed and neatly folded in the corner I kneeled before her, head bowed and both arms raised with the check resting on my hand. I stared at the key dangling on her anklet. I stared at her sexy toes poking out of her wicked boots. My arms were struggling as they held out my paltry offering." "How do you like your new job boy?" "I hate it ma'am. It's very hard and demeaning." "Good." A page of her magazine is turned. She placed a foot against my side, resting her leg against her ottoman. You smell like garbage," she stated. I can hear her sipping her drink and flipping pages of a magazine. "You better do whatever it takes to keep this job. If you ever lose it I'll make your life a living hell," She says sternly, digging her heel into my side for emphasis. "Do you wonder what I'm doing while you're toiling away? God, it must really suck working your ass off while your imagination runs wild...wondering where I'm at, wondering what I'm doing, wondering who I'm with....wondering....who....is....fucking....your.....wife" she says very sensually, sexually. Her voice soft and husky. My arms begin to shake as they struggle to stay up. I can smell the musky scent of her excitement. "God, I can't believe how fucking hot this is. I feel like I'm going to have an orgasm without even touching myself!" She finally grabs the check from my hand and I finally lower my aching arms. "Kiss my boot bitch, and don't you dare kiss my naked toes," she states. I prostrate myself before her and lovingly kiss her boots. The pressure immediately begins to build as her dick tries to swell in the unrelenting steel tube. I hear the envelope being ripped open and the check being removed. "Wow, this is pathetic. This wont even cover dinner and drinks. Put your hands up." She places the check and my pen in my hands. "Sign it cuck. Sign over all your hard earned money so I can take some stud out on a date. After you sign it kiss the key to your orgasms and then present your check. This is going to be our new weekly ritual." My life is made up of hundreds of these little rituals. Rituals which reinforces my status, rituals made to get me turned on, rituals made to emasculate me, rituals made to relive my humiliation over and over again. One of the rituals we used to have is that every time I worshiped her shoes I would have an orgasm. So not only was she allowing me to engage in one of my fetishes, but using it to condition me to equate kissing her shoes with getting to fuck her. I have long ago stopped getting laid after every time I kiss her shoes, but her little dicklet will only get touched after kissing her shoes. After she removes the check from my hand she grabs a fistful of hair and puts my face between her legs. I can't believe how hot and wet she is already. The mixture of her juices and the smell of leather heighten my already overloaded desire. Times like this are the only times I'm allowed to touch her and I can't help but to reach up and stroke her well toned thighs. All my desires, all my passion, all of who I am emanates from my groin and comes out my tongue. I can no longer breath as her strong legs tighten around my head like a vice. It takes everything I have to keep pleasuring her as she screams while waves of pleasure wrack her body. My hair feels like it's being ripped out by the roots as she pulls my face deeper into her. After she has calmed down I gently clean her with my tongue. "You're dismissed," she says as she pushes my head away from her. I carry my uniform and shoes to my bedroom and fall on my tiny bed. I'm exhausted, devastated, and incredibly aroused. I reach down between my legs and rub my hands against the infernal steel plate; my heart drops into my stomach as I hear the garage door opening and my wife's BMW starting up. I can't fucking believe she's going out dressed like she is...every fucking guy in the city will be lining up for a chance to talk to her, and a chance to fuck her. I however, will not be one of those guys. A year before my wife decided to completely disassociate me for her little dicklet it became my little clity. The only way I could get sexual relief was to beg and plead for my wife to "let me rub my little clity," After a few days of begging my wife would unlock my belt and have me lay down on the floor in front of her. I would then have to masturbate using only my first and middle finger. My legs would be spread with my feet pulled toward me, making me hyper aware of my heels. With my free hand I would have to grab at my "breasts" and squeeze my nipples, stroke and grab my inner thigh. My lips had to stay open, although I could bite my lower lip. I had to moan like a woman. If I didn't put on a good enough show, a realistic show, she would lock me back up without relief. In no time I'd be writhing on the floor before her. Sometimes she'd watch, telling me what to do, sometimes she'd humiliate me, other times she would be totally oblivious to me as she read a book or watched TV, talked on the phone or ate her dinner. Without warning she would simply say "Cum whore" and I would rub the tender spot of my little clity as fast as I could in tiny little circles. The resulting orgasm was only slightly more satisfying than a ruined orgasm. So now when I think back to when I could masturbate I never think of myself masturbating like a man, but rather of me rubbing my little clity. My wife was able to even take that away from me.