Kolchak The Nylon Stalker Yule Tide Me Over A Stalking Stuffer
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We Need To Talk Chapter 5 free porn video
Chapter 5
Working at the restaurant became so much harder after that. Not only did
I KNOW my wife was out fucking men while I was here toiling away, she was
fucking the owner of this restaurant.
A week later Mr. Stanton came to the restaurant and gave a tour of the
kitchen to his dinner guest, my wife - escorted by Ms. Benoit. They
stopped for a long time near the dish washing station. I couldn't help
but to notice how powerful Mr. Stanton looked, how much control he had
over both of the beautiful women with him. Both my wife and Ms. Benoit
are incredibly beautiful, Ms. Benoit in her powerful businesses outfit
and my wife in her sexy yet elegant dress. Mr. Stanton would occasionally
display his claim over my wife by placing his large hand against the
small of her back.
I was very self conscious of my stained uniform, vinyl smock, and hair
net. I really needed them to leave. As always I was sweating profusely
from the heat and steam coming off the dishwasher while I picked through
the half eaten food on the dirty plates, removing the bones, napkins, and
silverware before scrapping the garbage into the disposal. I was being
overwhelmed with raging jealousy and abject humiliation. I could feel
myself shaking as the mix of emotions took over, my mind racing trying to
come to terms with what I was experiencing, what I should do, how to take
control of the situation, trying not to cry. It took everything I had to
pick through the garbage and stack the dishes in the tray while my wife
was watching me. It seemed like they were there for hours, but in reality
they were only there for about 3 to 5 minutes before my wife and her
boyfriend left to enjoy the rest of their Friday night.
Hector the busboy came over and started talking about the "boss's puta",
lewdly gyrating his hips describing how he'd ram his cock in her mouth
and bust that ass. I didn't say anything as rage mixed with humiliation,
some lowly fucking illegal immigrant is calling my wife a slut and
describing how he was going to fuck her a minute after I watched my boss
and my wife on a date.
Later that night my wife came home and just had to tell me how hot that
was, how seeing me suffering like that for her made her so wet she swore
she was dripping on the floor. She couldn't resist telling me how she
couldn't stop herself from clawing at Mr. Stanton on the way here. She
just had to tell me it made her so fucking hot she ripped his clothes off
as soon as the door closed and they fucked in the entry way.
My wife asked me about my side of the story. When I told her everything,
how humiliated I was, how jealous I was, how totally emasculated I felt,
she just smiled. When I told her about the vulgar remarks Hector made I
could tell my wife's interests were piqued. My wife asked me to gyrate
my hips like hector did while she laughed.
"Did you protect my honor there knight?" my wife asked.
"No ma'am. I was too humiliated."
"Well then, maybe someday Hector will get a chance to bust that ass if my
gallant knight isn't going to protect my honor," my wife said with a
twinkle in her eye and a wink.
A few weeks later was my birthday. I'm like a little kid during Christmas
whenever it gets close to my birthday, although unlike a kid on Christmas
I know exactly what I'm getting. After I get home from work and I've
changed, prepared our dinner, and cleaned up after dinner, I will be
allowed to worship my wife's shoes and feet. When she feels I have given
proper obeisance to her she leads me to my room and removes my dress. My
wife grabs the remote from my dresser and I watch her well manicured
fingers turn the dial from 4 to 8. A seductive kiss before the
deprivation hood is placed over my head and locked. A gentle push on my
head is all it takes for me to take my place in the center of my bed. I
am quickly secured to the eye-bolts attached to my bed. My bed may look a
dainty little girls princess bed, but it has a solid steel frame that's
designed to ensure there's no way I'm getting out of bondage until my
wife decides.
The Neosteel is removed from my waist and a warm soapy washrag is used to
remove a weeks worth of sweat and precum. A rubber glove strokes her
silly little dicklette, and the stubble is quickly shaved smooth. I can
feel cold electrodes against my tender balls as the collar is secured.
My breathing becomes labored when the hole over my mouth is covered by
her crotch, the tiny holes over my nostrils buried in her sexy ass. I
gasp for air as my tongue does what it is trained to do: work her pussy
into a slow and powerful orgasm.
After my wife becomes wet she moves herself down to my waist and mounts
me. Oh my fucking God the feeling is intense as she slowly lowers herself
down on me. The feeling of her hot, soft, weft vagina wrapped around her
little dicklette drives me to insanity. Her hips push down for a couple
seconds and I try desperately to push further into her. Oh my god I never
want this to end!
I desperately want this feeling to last for hours and to end by me
exploding deep inside the woman I so desperately love. Distant memories
emerge of my body racked with convulsions as I deposit my seed deep
inside my beautiful wife. Please please please let this last for ever!
Her hips gyrate slightly and I try desperately not to cum. She slowly
pulls herself up to begin her first thrust and I scream out "PLEASE!" She
quickly dismounts me laughing hysterically as she watches her little
dicklette twitching futilely in the air, making sure none of my cum
escapes her little dicklette.
I struggle desperately against the wave of pleasure building deep within
me. I fight against millions of years of evolution to relax my body.
"Please no no no no no," escapes from my lips as I beg my body to stop
from doing what it was designed to do, to stop it's most primal desire.
My body feels like a massive spring wound right to the edge, the sight
deprivation amplifying the physical sensations. My only defense is to
relax so the spring doesn't pop. If a gnat landed on my chest right now I
would fucking explode.
A different kind of relief than what my body so desperately craves washes
over me, the relief that my tender balls aren't being fried.
"Damn stud, you lasted 10 whole seconds this year," my wife says
mockingly.
Something frozen is thrown on her little dicklette and my wife resumes
her position on my face so I can sexually satisfy her; there's no way my
wife is going to be left sexually frustrated.
After she's satisfied and her little dicklette is safely locked away my
wife frees me from the bed and removes my hood. She lays down next to me
in my tiny bed and places her naked thigh over my waist and chastity
belt. The feeling of her silky thighs on my exposed skin is heaven; I
really wish I could feel her warm silky thighs on her little dicklette,
but I feel nothing. She rubs my hairless chest as we drift into pillow
talk.
"I love the life you've given me Richie. I'm the luckiest woman in the
world. I've got a loving husband who will do everything and anything I
tell him to, and macho studs to satisfy me sexually."
The conversation drifts as pillow talk normally does. Loving and
intimate, it's one of the rare times I'm allowed to touch and kiss her.
Although I'm still incredibly aroused I'm also strangely satisfied. Waves
of desire occasionally flood my being as I struggle to keep myself calm
so this doesn't end abruptly.
"I think you deserve some sexy new lingerie, what do you think dear?"
"May I please stop wearing women's clothes? I feel ridiculous wearing
this stuff."
"You should, you look ridiculous; that's why you'll continue dressing
like a little sissy - so you'll look and feel ridiculous. And anyways,
you're the one who begged and pleaded to dress like a little sissy when
you're home" she says, twisting my nipple.
She whispers in my ear, "It keeps you in your place," reaching deep in my
soul and twisting my submissive knob.
"Last Friday night I was dancing with a hot young soccer player from
Brazil when I thought of you toiling away washing dishes, pretty girly
things under your uniform. Oh my god did I fucking cream my panties. I
just had buy Sergio a drink with your hard earned money after that. Does
that turn you on?" she asks rubbing the plate of my chastity belt.
"I'm always turned on Ma'am," I replied truthfully, making her laugh.
"Please ma'am, I'm not asking for a cummie, but can I ask how come I get
so few cummies now? I mean, I've been doing everything I can to try and
please you Ma'am."
"Well I guess I can tell you, there's not much you can do about it
anyways. A long time ago I realized you're much more compliant when
you're horny. At first I tried to set a schedule but I thought I was too
soft, so now I leave your fate to the role of the dice. The rules all
very complicated dear, you don't need to worry your pretty little head
over them, just know it should average out to 15 tease sessions and one
cummies every two months if you're a very good little girl. Remember, the
dice gives sparingly...but the Mistress taketh away for the smallest
discretion."
"But Ma'am, with all due respect, I haven't had a cummies in over 4
months and I've been very good a good little girl." I said pleading, the
last part of the sentence twisting my submissive consciousness.
"Well that's when I rolled the dice 7 days a week silly girl," she says,
softly toying with my nipple.
I could feel myself sinking again.
"I can't very well roll the dice on the days you're working at the
restaurant, you wouldn't have enough time to finish your chores..." her
finger rolling my nipple.
"Or when I have a date," pinching my nipple as a wicked grin washes over
her.
"Oooh, Think about that for a second cuck," she says seductively as she
continues her assault on my nipple, "When you're out slaving away making
money for my dates you lose your chance for cummies."
Her hand slowly makes it's way to her little dicklette. The feeling of
her fingers brushing against my skin drives me insane with desire, until
the feeling suddenly disappears when her fingers reach the cruel steel
plate imprisoning her little dicklette, what was so long ago my manhood.
Occasionally her fingers will brush against my inner thigh sending
shivers through my entire being.
"When you're home all alone toiling away on your chores while some guy is
getting his rocks off fucking your wife, you pay for that with your
chance for a cummies. Let that ferment in your submissive pshych: when I
come home and have you finish me off with your tongue because some
selfish macho stud busted a nut and left me wanting, he also used up your
chance for a ruined orgasm."
Her mouth moves next to my ear, her warm breath sending shivers
throughout my body as she whispers "When some hot stud has his dick
buried deep in my hot wet pussy, or my hot wet mouth, for as long as he
wants, and as often as he wants, you pay for that by giving up your
chance for a ruined cummie."
Waves of emotion wash over me: anger, humiliation, jealousy, submission,
and arousal. She allows my emotions to ferment. I'm only allowed to feel
the incredible sensation of my wife's pussy for a few seconds every year
while strange men get to fuck her for as long as they want...and whenever
they do I lose my chance for a ruined hand job that I so desperately
need. Anger builds to rage as I wonder how I let this happen, abject
humiliation quickly replaces the rage as I glance at my feet and see the
pink toenail polish and the sexy stiletto sandals their strapped into.
She allows me to let everything sink in for a minute, and for me to sink
another notch, before twisting my nipple stating "I think it's time for
the second half of your birthday party, what do you think birthday
bitch?"
"Yes Ma'am," I grudgingly reply.
"Well then, run down to the basement and prepare yourself," she says
waving me away.
"Oh, and pour me a glass of Chardonnay and set it on the table in the
basement; it is a day of celebration isn't it?"
Women, have you ever wondered what to get your man for his birthday?
Do you hate spending hundreds of dollars on a gift he probably won't even
appreciate?
My wife doesn't have that problem. Every year she gives me what I desire
more than anything in the world. I look forward to it all year, and
remember the last gift fondly for the rest of the year. The best parts
for her, it doesn't cost a penny and it only takes her about 10 seconds.
Ask him what was written on the birthday card 2 days after his birthday
and he won't remember. Instead of a card, she gives me a birthday
spanking I'm sure to remember for the rest of the week.
In reality I know it's not really a gift, it's instead a way to never let
me forget what I can't have.
The evening text messages got ever so much crueler. All of the variations
of "I won't be home tonight." not only fills me with overwhelming
dejection at the realization that my wife, who I love and cherish with
all my heart, is out with another man, but now she's added new dimensions
to the hate and jealousy. Now not only am I extremely jealous that my
wife is out with another man, and I'm left toiling on chores after a long
day at work, while she's out enjoying the company of another man; I'm now
mad at another man because his evening with my wife was paid for with not
only my hard work washing dishes, but also with my chance for a
desperately needed ruined hand job.
While my wife is enjoying drinks at a bar with her date, I'm going
through my daily ritual of replacing my wedding ring with hers. While my
sexy beautiful wife is out with some macho stud, I'm home changing into a
ridiculous maids outfit. While my sexy beautiful wife is getting fucked
by some macho stud I'm hanging up the sexy clothes she decided not to
wear and tossed on the floor, cleaning the mess she's made in her
bathroom primping herself for her night with him, or changing the sheets
from the mess they made before I got home.
...
I think back to last week when I was told to kiss her shoes after dinner.
I became so incredibly excited as the Pavlovian responses kicked in.
Shortly after she has me sit on my bed and pulls the soft leather sight
deprivation hood on and locks it, eliminating any chance of seeing what
used to be my manhood. I'm pushed back and securely locked to my steel
bed frame. The sound of the lock springing open, cool air on her exposed
little dicklette, warm soapy water, the shock collar strapped to her
balls - fuck I can't take it!
Soft leather glove wrapped around her little dicklette, slowly, gently,
stroking. Fuck I desperately need to cum. Please.
God I don't know if she's going to let me cummies or if she's done with
me.
A short pause and a soft leather glove slowly, gently, strokes. Please I
beg. Fingers quickly let go.
Fingers slowly caress, slowly stroke. After a short time I feel myself
beginning to cum. Please I cry. When her hand wasn't stroking her little
dicklette they were caressing my inner thigh, twisting my nipples,
turning my whole body into one giant fucking erogenous zone.
Fuck I couldn't take anymore. Please stop! Please Don't Stop! Desperate
fucking desire was overwhelming. Her soft delicate fingers returned to
her little dicklette, softly stroking. Fuck I couldn't take anymore
teasing! PLEASE I cried.
The torment went on for almost an hour and ended with me screaming
PLEASE!
I waited again for the torment resume. I was sure I couldn't take it
anymore. I desperately needed her to resume...to finish me off. What I
wanted, what I so desperately needed was of no concern; I was left
crying, twisting in my bonds as my body desperately tried fucking the air
for relief. My body was out of control with overwhelming desperation, but
the thick leather and cold hard steel held firm. Eventually my body grew
tired and I was just left a sobbing mess.
After her little dicklette was safely locked away and I was released I
was allowed to serve as my wife's foot rest. She knows after an extended
teasing session I'm pretty much worthless for the rest of the night.
Sometimes she'll just have me work off my desires doing some mindless
tedious chore like cleaning the grout in the kitchen.
Now of course with the combination of intense teasing and denial, edging,
and general constant state of arousal blue-balls is just one more thing
that I must suffer with, another part of who I am. Quite often though it
becomes debilitating where I'm bent over in pain and unable to perform my
duties. When that happens my wife gives me a pill and sends me to bed
early. When I wake up the next morning I'm a bit groggy and I'm
immediately aware of my tender ass. I no longer have the debilitating
pain in my balls, but it feels like I've been gang raped and whipped; my
ass is sore both inside and out. A thick goo oozes out of my ass all day,
it's so bad I have to wear a maxi-pad. I feel dirty and violated for
days. The first time I asked my wife what happened, she told me "...not
to worry your pretty little head over it dear."
The pain and overwhelming sense of violation is an effective deterrent to
me faking the pain to get relief, in fact I do my best to try and hide
the pain for as long as I can.
...
I think to myself I should man-up, go change into a pair of jeans and a
t-shirt and take control of my marriage. Every time I think those
thoughts I quickly realize I don't own any jeans or t-shirts. I also
remember what my wife made perfectly clear; we will never go back to a
vanilla marriage, I will never be the man of the house. I hang up another
skirt when I hear a car in the driveway.
I quickly mince down to the door to greet her, desperately praying that
she walks in alone. I kneel staring at the floor for an eternity while my
mind takes me for a ride thinking of the endless possibilities for my
near future. I panic as I hear the engine shut off.
After an eternity the door opens and she walks in alone. I'm so relieved
I almost start crying as I begin to prostrate myself before her, but she
grabs my collar and pulls me up before I'm able to kiss her shoes. She
places her hands around my waist. I follow her lead and I place mine
around the back of her neck. I'm quickly overwhelmed with love, lust, and
desire as she stares into my eyes. I can smell him. Her head slowly moves
towards mine. I close my eyes as her sexy lips softly touch mine. Soft
gentle seductive kisses make me desperate for more. Her silky tongue
makes its way past my red lips and the taste of cum begins to fill my
mouth. After her tongue has invaded my mouth I'm left with nothing but a
mouth load of cum, filling my soul with a mix of emotion, jealousy,
humiliation, and desperate desire. She slowly and seductively pulls away
and stares into my soul for what seems an eternity, the wicked smile of a
Cheshire cat. I think back to the time she told me she would never give
me a blow-job. I'm left with the reality that my wife just gave a blow
job to some guy in our fucking driveway.
I am breathless as I stare back at the most beautiful woman I've ever
seen. I think back to when she told me I was not a man, I was not a
woman, but a thing as I look at my lipstick stain on her lips.
"Greet me properly."
She doesn't let go of my waist so I'm forced to pull away from her. I
drop to my knees and passionately but gently and respectively place my
lips on the leather of her sexy boots and continue the passionate kiss
she started. After a couple of seconds she walks away leaving me feeling
abandoned. After I hang up her jacket she grabs my leash and leads me to
my room closing the door - putting me away. I am limited to two choices
when she puts me in my room before bedtime: I can stand at attention in
the center of the pink tiles, or I can sit at attention on a tall wooden
stool placed over the center of the pink tiles. So I stand at attention
in the center of these fucking pink tiles until I get tired, then I sit
on my stool until it gets uncomfortable, then I stand until that gets
uncomfortable. It can become quite exhausting if I'm put away for an
extended period of time. I'm not allowed to move except to move my stool
back and forth. I stare at my bed thinking to myself I should just go lay
down on it, or better yet leave my room...I'm a man!
I look at pink and white princess blanket and think again about what I
am. I can't help but to look at the door; there's no fucking door knob!
I look at the camera watching me, it never blinks, never looks away.
So much control with so little effort. I feel the all to familiar twinges
of sexual arousal emanating from my groin and wonder why I'm cursed with
with these needs and desires. Why can't I be a normal man, with normal
desires?
A normal guy just wants to watch football and fuck, I want to be
humiliated and worship my wife.
I have nothing to do but think, my mind drifting uncontrollably. I think
about how I can feel my testosterone leave my body as I slide my satin
panties on, how effeminate I feel as the g-string slide between my crack.
I can almost feel the estrogen flood my body as I slide the silk
stockings up my shaved legs. I'm a man!
Emasculated, I buckle the thin ankle straps of my stiletto pumps around
my nylon encased ankle. I don't feel at all like a man as I raise my arms
to allow the satin baby doll to slide down my shaved chest. My god, at
what point did wearing woman's clothes turn me on?
The taste of cum fills my mouth. What does a blow job feel like?
I think of all the dildos I've sucked. Fear overcomes me as I wonder if
my wife will make me suck a real cock. Oh my god she wouldn't. I hope.
I can't help but feel submissive when I'm dressed like this. I can't help
but to want to be violated when I'm dressed like this, my wife all to
willing to fulfill my desire. I feel so hot and sexy when my wife bends
me over whatever piece of furniture is near. The short dress or skirt
provides no protection from her hands, or her cock. It's easy for my wife
to either slide my panties to the side or forcefully pull them down. I
think how embarrassed I feel moaning uncontrollably like a little girl as
she penetrates me, violates me. I think about how completely emasculated
I feel as she roughly slams her cock into my ass; her hands pulling my
hips into her, driving her cock deeper into my tender ass. I feel
helpless as she reaches up and grabs a fist full of hair and pulls and
twists my head. My moans timed to the sound of her pelvis slapping my
ass. My legs shake as I try to maintain some sort of balance on my
precarious heels.
Fuck I hate standing here, imprisoned by nothing but a set of pink tiles.
A sudden emptiness and a very hard slap on my ass signifies she's done
with me. I want nothing more then to rest for a moment. A strong hand
pulls me back by my hair and I have no choice but to follow my hair. I'm
guided to my knees, her hard rubber cock inches before me. I see and
smell the disgusting mixture of lube and my anal goo for a second before
she grabs both sides of my head and pulls me toward her. I open my mouth
and accept her filthy cock. Disgust mixes with humiliation as the foul
taste fills my mouth.
I can't believe how desperate I am to have her take me now, to slam me
over this dresser and violate me. God I want to be with her so fucking
bad!
Instead I've been put away, alone with my thoughts. I wonder what she's
doing. I don't hear anything and it's driving me crazy. She get's to do
whatever the hell she wants and all I can do is fucking stand here!
After what feels like an eternity the door opens and she walks away. I
have no idea why she felt the need to put me away, and I will never know.
Just like any other object she owns she puts me away when at her whim,
she retrieves me when she wants; she doesn't tell her shoes why they're
going in the closet. Objectification, another tool in her toolbox,
another tool that is both humiliating and arousing; so easy do to for
her, so very effective at putting me in my place.
Alessandra
- 31.07.2022
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