Chastity And Feminization Product Tester free porn video

CHASTITY & FEMINIZATION PRODUCT TESTER by Throne "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? ******