Got What I Deserved



By @Ted_Subby on FetLife, e-mail address


Please check out all of my stories at



Synopsis:  I am blackmailed into slavery by my wife and next door neighbor.  Codes = F/m, torture, humiliation, reluctant.



Copyright © Ted Underfoot


This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to:

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171 Second Street, Suite 300

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Chapter 1: Deserve


We are told that in life we get what we deserve, we reap what we sow.  However, that is a lie and I am living proof.


I should start at the beginning.  Except I don’t want to write about my childhood.  I don’t particularly want to write at all but I am being forced to and it’s all being checked for the truth with a lie detector test and plenty of re-writes.  Fun fun fun.  Approved not to write about my childhood so at least that is good.  And approved not to embellish anything beyond how I feel.


So the beginning is when I was 18 and this great looking girl I had met in high school was 16.  Statutory rape because the fucking parents were over-protective of their precious little princess.  Not sure how I got off with only probation but of course I fucked that up too because I was too horny and couldn’t resist using a date rape drug on this other woman when we were both 26.


My time in prison was true hell.  I can’t even deal with the memories.  I count myself lucky that I was able to avoid being raped but for that protection I had to pay a high price.  Shit I still get flashbacks when I eat most any sort of fruit, especially a banana.  Okay I’ve been told to clear up what I’m talking about.  I had to suck a guy off every few days for protection from other prisoners.


So now I’m a repeat offender.  Maybe you have heard of the three strikes rule?  I have.  It’s practically all I think about.  If I am convicted of anything else I’m going to prison for a very long time.


Since I got out of prison 10 years ago after a 5-year sentence, all I have been trying to do is put food in my mouth and a roof over my head while staying the hell away from prison.  Internet porn was a big help with that as there is nothing illegal about watching videos.


Things went better than I expected and I even met a woman online.  I was scared to do anything wrong so I let her guide our relationship and for some reason she grew to love me and I love her.  She even has a good enough career for us to afford our own house.  Life was finally good again.


After 5 years of marriage we’ve had our ups and downs but it is a good marriage.  And no I am not being forced to say that, it is the truth.  Everything in this journal is the truth.  Sex with my wife is good between times when I would watch internet porn.


Next door a divorced woman and her college age daughter moved in.  That is when my trouble began.


The daughter sometimes wore a sweater with the local college name on it.  She was beautiful.  I’m being forced to elaborate on that even though I don’t want to.  I enjoyed watching the daughter’s long legs and small ass as well as the shape of her breasts, just perfect.  And her face was like an innocent angel with long straight auburn hair.  I was in love.  Not really but it felt like it.


I’m no dummy, though, and I know that a 41-year-old loser like me wouldn’t have any chance with a woman like that no matter what the situation was so I was fine with just looking from afar.


Unfortunately, I wasn’t content with afar.  Guys look at pretty women all of the time and there is no crime in that.  I found that there was an easy access window in the back of their house into the daughter’s bedroom and the curtains have enough of a gap to be able to see through somewhat.


What on earth could possess me to do that?  I was just looking.  I would never ever touch or even talk to her.  I didn’t have to go far onto their property and I made sure not to damage the grass or leave any real marks.  There would be no harm.


And it actually helped the sex life in our marriage.  I know that seems like sophistry but it is the truth.  I became hornier and my wife enjoyed the difference.  That helped alleviate the slight guilt I had in the back of my mind about watching the daughter every other evening.


I know it seems creepy and it probably was but I just enjoyed watching her in her room as she read, brushed her hair, or did anything else.  A couple of times I caught her undressing.


A few weeks later the mother invited my wife and me over for dinner on a Friday night as a hello.  When my wife was telling me about this I could see that it was important to her and something was urgent about it but I could not put my finger on it.


Dinner was good and I managed not to slobber despite the daughter sitting next to me.  I was a gentleman.  The daughter’s name is Sarah and the mother’s name is Sheila.  Oh and by the way my wife’s name is Betty and I am Bob.


After dinner we were invited to sit on the couch to watch a video and when Sarah lowered the lights and Sheila pressed play we watched a very dark scene from a security camera.  This was not the 5-star movie I was expecting and I couldn’t tell what was going on as it was dark but I figured out that the scene was a man staying still and looking very closely at a wall, with the camera up high and looking along the length of the wall so we could not see what was on the wall.  After a minute of no movement whatsoever the scene switched to the same view in the darkness of man walking right up to the same spot in the wall and then settling in to stare at the wall.


As I said before, I’m no dummy.  A man would not just walk up to a wall and stare so I figured out that the man was probably looking through a window in the wall.  The scene switched again to the same dark location and the man walking up to the wall again, it wasn’t a repeat because his gait was a bit different than the last time.


Then it hit me.  The man is me.  Oh fucking shit.


I knew at that moment that I was screwed.


All three of the ladies were looking at me and saw that I knew that they knew.  I was a peeping Tom.



Chapter 2: Tom


Sarah turned the lights back on while Sheila paused the video.  Sarah said good night to Betty and Sheila and then went back to her bedroom as I sat frozen in horror, dreading what the rest of my life could be like.  My jaw started hurting just from the memory of what I had to do in prison and I almost started crying.


Sheila made a visible effort to control herself and said to me “Have anything to say?”


I looked at Sheila with my most pained look and said “I am so sorry” and I just repeated that a few times, unable to think of what else to say.


Sheila said “Don’t worry.  We are going to give you a chance to make up for it.  Would you like that?”


I looked at my wife in horror because I feared it might be the last time I see her as my wife.  I focused back on Sheila’s words, though, and answered “Yes, Sheila, I would do anything.”


Sheila stepped away into another room for a moment and Betty told me “Sheila and I have come up with a solution” as Sheila returned.  Betty continued “I could see in your face that you realize the gravity of the situation.  You’ve fucked up your life again, haven’t you?”  I nodded and she continued “Sheila and I are going to save you.”


Save me?  I needed that very badly and I was shocked that anyone cared enough to save a horrible loser like me.  To my surprised look Sheila held up something in her hand as if that was some sort of answer.


I calmed down a moment to try to understand what she was showing me.  It looked like a clear plastic hollow curved penis.  What the fuck?!  Once I noticed the shape my face twisted in more surprise and Sheila laughed.  Betty didn’t laugh, though, and I didn’t think she would ever laugh again.


Sheila said “You have no idea what this is, right?”  I let my face show confusion and she continued “It’s a male chastity device.  Your dick locked inside and it prevents any arousal.”  She showed me the padlock and key.


Did she just say what I think she said?  Some woman I had never met is talking about my dick?  That’s surprising enough.  And wait, she wants some thing to get locked on my dick to prevent me from getting aroused?


Into my surprised silence Betty said “Bob, you are going to need to wear that.  Say something.”


I said “Betty, I don’t care what it is, I will wear it and anything you tell me to.  Please save me.”  I tried to echo her earlier words.  I couldn’t even think about the reality of my dick being locked into a plastic tube.


Betty shared with Sheila a look of agreement or satisfaction.  Sheila handed the male chastity device to Betty and then Sheila retrieved another device which looked like a belt with some thin cables attached and handed it all to Betty, saying “As we discussed.”


Betty led me out of the house.  I was terrified to say anything.


Back in our own house Betty and I sat on our couch and had a long talk.  She told me that when Sheila first showed her the video Betty was ready to just kick me out of the house but Sheila had other plans and they agreed on their approach which was the chastity and the other device.


I do not recall our exact conversation because I was in shock for most of the time.  I remember feeling horror at what I was being told but the horror was muted by the shock I was feeling at how ruined my life could be if I did not go along with the ladies’ plan.


Betty explained to me that at least for a while she did not want to have any intimate relations with me.  No sex.  I would be locked into the chastity device and would not have any release except when she decided.  She explained that I would even go to work with the device on 24/7 and she would help me find underwear and pants which would help conceal the device as much as possible.


I was in horror.  How on earth could I watch internet porn with that fucking thing on?  Did Betty expect me to just stop?  That’s just not realistic.  It’s cruel and unusual but that got me thinking about the alternative which was much worse and that calmed me down a bit.


Betty then said something which I will remember until the day I die.  She said “And that’s not the worst thing.”  The male chastity device was not the worst thing.  How can it not be the worst?  I can’t take much more but oh wait I have no choice because the alternative is a trillion times worse.  “And that’s not the worst thing” still echoes through my head from time to time.


Betty described the belt and the other device Sheila had given her.  It was a DreamLover 2000.  The worst possible device in the history of mankind.



Chapter 3: DreamLover 2000


DreamLover 2000.  It’s a real product, look it up here  I know that I looked it up that night over a dozen of times.  How on earth can they make this product and why on earth would any guy agree to have this inflicted on them unless they were blackmailed like I was?  The site even has articles for women who want to control and train their men, as if men are just on earth for the pleasure of women.


I guess I need to explain what it is.  The DreamLover 2000 is a device in which electrodes are placed on a guy’s dick and locked into a chastity device.  Really?  Yeah really.  Electrodes as in electric shock.  On a guy’s dick.  And guess who controls the remote control?  A woman, of course.  Men are just on earth for the pleasure of women.


Actually, I didn’t care one fuck about the philosophy.  I only cared about what effect the device would have on me.  Electrodes on my dick, oh fuck stop wallowing in the horror of it and move on.


I really don’t remember much about the next couple of days but it was not a fun weekend to say the least.  My wife helped me put the chastity device on.  It came with three sizes of rings and we used the middle size.


I’m being told that I need to be explicit here so here goes.  I need to pull one ball through the ring and sort of pull and shove the other ball through, then I need to shove my dick through so that the ring is around my entire package.  Getting my dick through is not easy especially considering that it has to be completely flaccid and that takes a bit of time after the handling of the balls.  The plastic sleeve or cage around my dick is much easier to get on and there were a few choices of spacers.  If I wasn’t feeling so victimized I might have been impressed by its design.  The pins holding the main ring to the cage had rough edges on the end so my wife sanded those down.


Once the device was on me, it seemed relatively comfortable.  It isn’t heavy and the design fits me well.  My wife then removed it completely and put it on me a few times to make sure that she can do it on her own.  At one point she said while putting it on carefully “We wouldn’t want you to be hurt by pinching or anything” and I could tell that it was an ironic statement.  I was afraid that she would just stab me in the groin but didn’t have much of a choice other than to take what was being done to me.


I was being emasculated.  Might as well remove my dick.  But I learned over time that this wasn’t true.  That’s getting ahead of myself, though.


Once my wife felt comfortable that she could easily remove and install the device, she moved on to the DreamLover 2000.  My wife read the directions and without much trouble inserted the electrodes into the chastity device so that they were up against two points of my dick, the base and just under the tender part where the head joins the shaft.


I almost panicked.  How could any man take electric shock right there?  I figured that even a small jolt would elicit a full body scream of agony and anything more than that would seemingly just lead to insanity.  I pictured myself screaming uncontrollably in a strait jacket while bouncing off the walls of a white rubber room.  And I didn’t put it past my wife and that Sheila woman to do that to me.


I took solace in the fact that my wife had never lied to me.  There were many times in our marriage when she could have lied or even when she should have lied but she didn’t and even at this time of crisis I believed that she wouldn’t lie.  If she wanted to torture me, she would tell me.


So I said “Betty, will I be in constant agony with this device on me?”


I saw a few emotions go through her face.  She seemed to almost say “Yes and you deserve it, you bastard” but she actually said “No” and left it at that.  I could have used her sympathy now to let me know things would be okay but I didn’t deserve or get any more sympathy.


Betty installed and removed the chastity device and the DreamLover 2000 electrodes a few more times to make sure she was comfortable with the process and then put the chastity device without the electrodes on me one last time this weekend.  Then she locked the padlock so that I could not let myself loose from the cage.


As my wife walked away with the key to my manhood, I felt a great loss.  I no longer had control even over my own dick.  I felt that my life was screwed.


I am being forced to add this paragraph.  When I am sad, I watch internet porn and masturbate.  When I am happy, I masturbate.  When I am hungry but dinner isn’t ready, I masturbate.  The truth is that I only masturbate on average once a day (I had to modify this from once every other day because once a day on average is the truth) although it used to be two or three times.


Once my wife went off to do something she enjoys, I felt sad and wanted solace from internet porn.  Almost by reflex I went to my favorite web site but when I reached my hand down it met only the hard plastic cage.  Fuck.  Fuck!  I tried watching a video but it wasn’t even exciting to me because I was too distraught.  I’ve been distraught before and porn has helped me get through that but this time I was beyond that cure.


I was sad all weekend with no way to relieve myself.  I don’t even remember what I did to relieve the boredom except that I do remember showering with the device on and not having any problems.


I spent much of the weekend looking up male chastity and found that there are hundreds or even thousands of couples who practice this for a variety of different reasons.  I didn’t look much into detail about the motivations because I don’t give a fuck how others get their kicks.  I even found a comment that any guy who says they are in a device against their will is full of shit.  I wanted to write back that they are full of shit but I decided that I would rather not go public in any way with my humiliation and kept my fingers off the keyboard.


I learned that on a few occasions this particular hard plastic will split at the seams from time to time and that if someone truly wanted to escape they could break the cage so that made me feel okay, at least.  On the other hand, I can imagine the consequences if I did that as breaking the cage could probably not be made to seem like an accident, assuming it could be done in the first place.  No, I’m just screwed.


On Sunday night Betty told me that I would be going next door to Sheila’s house and when I asked alone she said yes.  Betty told me to hold still as she removed the chastity device and installed the electrodes inside, then she geared me up with the chastity device and the DreamLover 2000 belt and electrodes and sent me to go next door.


As she was installing the devices on me Betty told me that Sheila would be holding the remote and would keep me there until late tonight.  I asked what we would be doing and Betty told me that I would find out.  I asked what if I just can’t take it anymore and Betty said that I would have to take it until I returned late in the evening and if at any time I wanted out of this arrangement and go to prison instead to let her know.


This was no arrangement.  It was blackmail slavery pure and simple.  I guess prison would be better than the agony I was fearing and the white rubber insane asylum room but either way I was royally screwed.  Literally the only way out was for some level of mercy from Sheila.


I was encouraged when Betty told me that she has no interest in having access to the remote control.  I only hoped that my time with Sheila would not be too unbearable.


Just before Betty was done putting the devices on me it occurred to me that I wonder if Sheila would want me to do anything sexual to me and if Betty would be okay with that.  I knew that Betty and Sheila had discussed this entire situation but Betty had just met Sheila and who knew what Sheila wanted?  She was divorced, after all, and maybe hasn’t had a man in months or years.  Women get desperate sometimes and I am not bad looking at all, in decent shape and I have all of my hair which has no gray.


That thought gave me the courage to ask Betty “What if Sheila tells me to do something unacceptable, like something beyond our marital vows?”  My ulterior motive was to convince Betty to allow me some sort of veto power with Sheila but it was in vain as Betty replied “Then tell me about it when you get home.”


Off I went to Sheila’s house next door.  My stomach was filled with butterflies and I imagined that Sheila would either have an angry bitchy look on her face or she would just sit back and smile as she zapped the fucking hell out of my dick as I held my groin and screamed.  But I had read on the DreamLover Labs web site that the device only gives pulses and not continuous streams of agony.  The pulses could even be set to be very mild, just as reminders, though I doubted Sheila would use that setting.


Also, I was surprised to learn that the DreamLover 2000 was not really a torture device at all, but a training tool instead, a training tool with some very “fun” features, fun for the remote control’s owner.


I mentioned earlier that I did not care about the philosophy but I did try to find on their web site why a man would agree to be afflicted with the electrodes and I could not find anything I understood.  There were plenty of detailed articles about men accepting their role as inferiors to women and also plenty of indications that many men enjoy being submissive to women.  I guess that part is true, there are guys who cow-tow to women and maybe it’s related to why some guys like to pay a dominatrix to whip them.  Well, I don’t understand any of that so that wasn’t much help to me.


There wasn’t anything on the site designed to comfort the males who are in a device.  Safety advice and warnings as well as caution to go slowly with training are all well and good for the woman holding the remote but the site was clearly made for women and not for the comfort or enjoyment of men.  Ok, enough about the site.


Hopefully and presumably, Sheila had read the safety cautions on the site because the DreamLover 2000 does have a cost and she would probably not purchase it without reading up about it.  I wondered if she purchased it just for me.


No more time for thoughts.  I knocked on the front door and held my breath.  To my surprise the daughter Sarah answered.  My fear turned to guilt and I could not meet her eyes.  She was not angry, though, and she casually let me into the front room where Sheila said “Well well, look what we have here.”


Sarah left to go back to her room leaving me at Sheila’s mercy.



Chapter 4:  A Dream


I got on my knees.  I feel humiliated just typing that but I was afraid.  And I am weak.  Sheila quickly told me to get up.


She stood in front of me and looked into my eyes which were averted and then I felt a very light tap on my dick.  I almost didn’t feel it and at first didn’t quite realize what it was but seeing my slight reaction Sheila backed off and said “Good, it’s working” and I saw the remote control which was in her hand.  She pointed to a chair within the living room and said “Sit” as she took a few steps to sit in a different chair.  I sat down and she said “No, on the floor there” as she pointed to my feet.


I hesitated a moment.  Did she really tell me to sit on the floor?  This is going to be bad.


I sat on the floor.


She held up the remote control and said “My husband introduced me to this, the best invention in the world.  It worked great for a year before he passed away.”


Oh shit.  She killed him with electric shocks?  I considered getting up and running the hell out of the house but she said “He died when a drunk driver ran into him and a few others on the sidewalk.  He wasn’t even wearing the device, silly.  That was just 3 months ago.  God do I miss him.”


I waited for her to continue.  She said to herself “And now I reward you for your creepy peeping act by defiling my husband’s memory.  No, it’s not defiling.  It’s different.”


Her tone of voice changed as she smiled as she said “So how does it feel to be owned?  I’m sure you’re going to have a different view on it.”


I had almost rehearsed this.  I knew that I needed to use contrition as my main defense against horror.  I said “I am so sorry for what I did.  I swear to you that I will never do it again and will do whatever you want to make it up to you.”


To my surprise Sheila laughed briefly and said “Betty told me you’d say something like that.  You might try a few crocodile tears next time, they might be more convincing.”  She held up her hand to stop my protests and said “Don’t worry.  You don’t need to be sincerely sorry yet.  You will be.”


She looked at me and more seriously this time said “You will be.”  A chill ran up and down my spine and ended on the underside of the head of my dick.  I could picture the electrode there.


Sheila pressed a couple of buttons on the remote and I was zapped on the underside of the head of my dick.  Oh my fucking wow did that hurt.  It was just a brief zap but it was a foreign sensation in an area which should not be feeling anything but pleasure.  It felt like a very hard tap but also a burn, or maybe that was just my imagination.  In any case I gave a quick Oww and instinctively put my hands on my groin only to be greeted by the hard plastic covering.


The zap pulsed again, painfully.  My body jerked and I let out a loud yell while holding the plastic over my groin with both hands.  This was it.  I was going to be tortured into hell and I could not even get my hands into the plastic to remove the electrode.


I tried.  I couldn’t take any more so I tried to reach under the ring and into the cage but I couldn’t get my fingers in more than an inch or so and couldn’t do anything.  I didn’t fully have my wits about me or else I probably could have found a way but I was panicking.


After the second zap Sheila said “Reach out your hands” so I stopped trying to struggle with the chastity device and reached my hands out.  She continued “Don’t try to tamper with the device because if you are successful then there would be consequences you don’t want.”


Consequences I don’t want?  As if I want to be zapped painfully on my dick over and over?


She understood the look on my face and explained “I am not going to be constantly using this.  In fact, I expect to use this only from time to time.  But we’ll see how much it’s needed.”


Okay, I guess I can live with that.  She needs me to take her punishment and not try to tamper with the device.  If I don’t struggle or argue, the device will only be used from time to time.


Sheila continued “Tonight I am going to train you how to clean our bathrooms and vacuum our house.  Once we’re done I will have other chores for you.”  Shit, I guess there goes my Sunday night.  I hope she’s a good trainer because I have no experience doing any of that except a bit of vacuuming.


We stood up and she said “There is an interesting feature on this”, referring to the remote.  “When I press this button the device goes into canine mode which means that you need to get on your hands and knees within just a few seconds or else feel repeated pulses until you comply.  You will feel a very slight warning when the mode becomes active.  Ready?”


She pressed the button right away without giving me time to answer yes.  I felt a very light tap on my dick and immediately dropped to my hands and knees, fearing the painful zaps she threatened.  Sheila said “Sit up like a dog” so I did.  I felt like a dog, too.  Does she need to humiliate me with degrading commands?  I guess so.  I felt a quick zap tap on my dick and howled in pain, returning to my hands and knees.


“You know what?  I like you down on all fours like that.  Let’s go to the bathrooms and I will show you what needs to be done.”  I started to get up, fearing what she was about to say and sure enough she said it, “Crawl.”  I crawled on my hands and knees behind her legs as she led me out of the living room, through a hallway past one door and into the first bathroom.  Fortunately, the house has plush carpeting where I was crawling but there was no protection from the humiliation of Sheila chuckling at me and patting my head once as I crawled.


I was allowed to stand to clean the bathroom and had to learn all sorts of details I never thought of before.  Why do home builders have to make things so complicated with fancy faucets and hard to reach areas behind the toilet?


Learning how to clean both bathrooms took 10 minutes and actually cleaning them took me hour and a half, including time for crawling into the den to interrupt Sheila as she read a book so that I may ask her for clarification on a cleaning issue.  A fucking hour and a half for two small bathrooms.


And they weren’t without zaps.  A couple of times my mind sort of drifted off during her instruction of what I needed to do and she zapped me bad the first time and gave me three zaps the second time.  Shit.  I guess she thinks I will be a better slave if she fucks me like that from time to time.  To be honest, I will because I can’t handle those zaps.


Oh and vacuuming was a whole lot of fun.  The entire fucking house and I had to use the various attachments to vacuum sofas and corners.  I noticed that Sarah evacuated her room and darted quickly past me when I had to go into her room.  I guess I can’t blame her for being freaked out by a creepy guy like me.  Two fucking hours for vacuuming with only one 5-minute break to crawl into the kitchen for a glass of cold water.  I was zapped a total of 5 times, once when I was making too much noise rolling over a seam in the carpet near where she was trying to read, once when I accidentally bumped a standing lamp though it didn’t tip over all the way, and three others when I made some other mistakes I don’t remember.  I was angry but I held it in and I don’t think Sheila noticed it, though I’m sure she knew I wasn’t happy.


On the other hand, Sheila did seem happy.  I was surprised at how important her attitude was for me because if she is happy then maybe she would give me a break or at least not kill me with all of this slavery.


After four hours of work I was told to go home.  Finally!  When I got home my wife said I stunk from sweat and she was right.  Betty removed the chastity device and DreamLover 2000 from me and I felt like the world had been lifted from my shoulders.  When she removed the electrodes and just locked me back into the chastity device, I felt much better.  I was still emotionally screwed and unable to even relieve my tension but at least I didn’t have the electric shock threat hanging over my head at the moment.


Betty led me into the bathroom and turned on the shower, saying “Get in.”  I waited to let the hot water kick in but she said “Now.”  I said “It’s too cold, let’s let it warm up” and she replied just a bit louder “Now.”


I stared dumbfounded at her.  Was she serious?  She didn’t yell at me, though, she got in a more relaxed stance and smiled as she said “The hot water won’t kick in because I’ve set it to the coldest temperature.  Now get in or else.”


I gulped and looked at her with pleading eyes but I saw no compassion in my wife.  I hesitantly walked into the shower and let the freezing cold water hit my legs.  It wasn’t too bad until my wife reached in and tilted the nozzle upwards so that the cold water hit my chest.  I yelled in pain and my first instinct was to jump backwards but that would have cracked my head open so I stayed and took the pain.  I was starting to get acclimated to the cold when Betty told me to turn around.


No.  I can’t take the ice water on my back.  She said with glee “Turn around bitch!  Turn around!”


Due to the pain and stress I started crying.  My wife hates me and wants to torture me.  My life is reduced to suffering and pain and there is nothing I can do about it.  Sobbing, I turned around and let the water hit my back.


I stopped crying.  I had a much stronger feeling take over.  Agony.  I screamed at the top of my lungs.


Fortunately, I was too shocked to move and risk hurting myself against the hard surfaces of the shower.  I kept screaming for what seemed like several minutes but I think it was only a half minute.  “Only” is not a good word here, a half minute of that was a very long time.


I guess my wife pulled me out of the shower, probably because of all of the noise.  The next thing I remember I was shaking from the cold and Betty would not give me a towel.  With a casual attitude as if my suffering was nothing she told me to adjust the shower’s temperature and get back in so in relief I turned the heat way up and once the water was warm I took a long hot shower.  I tried not to even think about how horrible my life was at this point and it felt good to just be able to enjoy a hot shower.


Afterwards I sat down in the room with my PC and after checking a few sports web sites I browsed to a porn site but the images were not interesting to me since I could not give myself any physical pleasure due to the chastity device.  I couldn’t even get erect.  After a few minutes I got up and was going to go to bed, despite it being very early compared to my usual bedtime, but I decided that I needed to say good night to my wife first because no matter what goes on I need to try to get back in her good graces, if that is possible.  I kissed Betty on the cheek and went to bed.



Chapter 5: A Nightmare


I slept like a log and did not dream that night but the next morning was a nightmare.  I didn’t want to write this next part but I am told that I need to.  I like to rub my morning wood most mornings and I was particularly horny when I woke up after sleeping so long.  I’m a man and it’s only natural.  My wife and I sleep in twin beds and she had already gotten out of bed.


I reached down and hit my hand on the hard plastic cage.  Still waking up, I did not comprehend fully so I tried to pry my hands under the ring or between the ring and the cage and became very frustrated.  I was fully awake by then and I admit I got angry.  More than angry, I was furious.  It wasn’t about the wood – correction, it wasn’t only about the wood – it was that I was being put through this by vindictive judgmental women.  How the fuck dare they?  Who do they think they are passing judgment on me?


I don’t get angry often.  I guess that is one of my few good traits, that and humility, and sarcasm.  Without much experience with rage I didn’t know what to do with my anger so I took it out on the bed and either my wife in another room didn’t hear my angry growls or else she didn’t care.  The most frustrating part of it all is that I knew deep down that I deserved it.  I was not only a jerk but a lawbreaker and to avoid being punished with prison time for breaking the law I would be in a different type of jail.


The temper tantrum release helped me remain calm later in the morning when my wife presented to me a list of chores for after dinner when I get home from work.  I remained calm as I was told that I not only needed to work a full day at a menial job I hate but I had to come home and actually wash dishes and do the laundry.  I was calm then but I’m not fucking calm now.


And I wasn’t calm at work that day, especially not with the fucking hard plastic cage on my dick.  I was sure my coworkers were looking at me “There goes Bob, he doesn’t have a dick anymore and he is a bitch to his wife AND to his neighbor hahahahahahaha!!!”  Plus I felt like someone would eventually notice that I had to use a stall to sit down every time I went to the bathroom.


That night I was exhausted but I could tell that Betty was glad to have me taking care of some of the chores.  I hated what she called loading the dishwasher because it wasn’t just stacking dishes, it was getting the muck off them first.  But laundry was easy once she showed me how to separate the white clothes and the dark clothes.  She made me take notes and I guess I am glad for that because the details went past me in a whirl.


I’m embarrassed to say that my wife told me that while she will be lenient with me on mistakes I might make with chores, at some point she will hold me accountable.  My face turned red when she showed me a hard wooden spoon and told me that she would spank my bare ass for mistakes.  To me that seems more like assault than a spanking but I was in no position to argue.  Fortunately, she has never used it on me.


Sitting down at my computer, exhausted, and at the tail end of a very tough day I wanted sexual release but just as last night, porn was not interesting to me at all since my dick was locked in a cage.  In retrospect I probably could have forced myself to cry but I was still holding onto some of my male ego and instead I browsed sports web sites and started reading a series of articles about athletes who help disadvantaged children.  I mention this because, well, you’ll see what I mean later.


As Betty and I went to bed she told me that tomorrow night Tuesday after dinner I would be going next door to be Sheila’s bitch again.  Betty even used the word bitch.  I felt like a bitch.  Not only because I was a bitch but because I had screwed up again big-time and deep down I realized that I deserved every bad treatment I got.


I whined “She can’t have more chores, I already finished doing everything I could” but Betty just shrugged.  Betty particularly liked this arrangement in which Sheila would be handling all of the hands-on conditioning with the DreamLover 2000.  That way Betty would not have to take the time and trouble and Sheila would have the fun she enjoys tormenting me.  It’s a win-win situation for them.  Oh joy.  My stomach churns just to think about it.


I was less bothered at work the next day by the slight bulge in my pants from the chastity device as I guess I was getting used to it.  I was more bothered by the erection I tried to have in the morning as I woke up, again and again.  On the second time I woke up I even tried rubbing myself there in different ways as if the cage enclosure was my dick but that was just frustrating as hell, mimicking the act without any pleasure associated with it.  The third and last time I was forced awake by a blocked erection I started begging.  I didn’t beg out loud because I didn’t want to wake and anger my wife in the next bed but internally I pictured myself on my knees with my hands clasped in front of Betty and a hang-dog look in my eyes.  It was not exactly my proudest moment.


As it turned out, work was the best part of my day.  And I hate working.  It’s funny, I am adding this sentence because when I presented this part for approval I was encouraged to go ahead and complain about how badly my life is screwed, normally people don’t want to hear me whine.


When I got home for work I was told to hold still while Betty removed the chastity device, installed the DreamLover 2000, and then re-installed the devices on me.  The brief freedom my dick had should have felt good but I was miserable.  Then I was not even allowed to eat dinner or a snack and told to go next door right away.


When I knocked on the front door Sheila laughed and let me in.  She told me that she loved my look of misery.  I was led into a side room of the house where Sheila closed the door and turned to face me.  I briefly considered what would happen if I lunged at her and beat her up to take away the DreamLover 2000 remote but this was ridiculous because I wasn’t physically forced into this situation and the idea of escape just made no sense.  I could just tell her that I do not agree to this arrangement and I would be free.  I think that made the situation all the more humiliating that salvation was in my hands but I could not take advantage of it.


Humiliation was the right thought for the situation.  Sheila told me to remove all of my clothing.  Actually, she said “Strip, bitch.”  In other circumstances if a somewhat attractive woman tells me to strip I would be happy to oblige but not in this case, yet I had to obey.  As I pulled down my underwear I felt a stirring in my groin but the cage prevented anything more than that.


Sheila then told me to get down on my hands and knees.  I expected this and complied.  Sheila walked a few steps to what looked like a very large table covered by a thick cloth and she pulled the cloth off to reveal … something.  I hate this.  I hate even describing this.  I think I’m getting okay at begging but it just isn’t paying off with results so I’ll have to continue describing this.  Sheila opened the door to the dog-size cage and told me to crawl in.  A fucking fucking cage.


I didn’t move and took a moment to consider my options.  Sheila sensed my defiance and to my surprise she smiled in contentment.  She waited a moment to give me a chance to comply and then she zapped my dick with her remote control.  It was a medium strength shock and accelerated my thought process.  I had no options and I knew it.  But I still didn’t move.


Sheila said “Good, I like a man who has some backbone.  I am inputting a mode I customized in which you will feel repeated shocks until I stop them.  You can feel free to crawl around the house in the meantime but if you break anything believe me you’ll be sorry.  Once you are in the cage just bark loud like a dog and I will come in and shut off the shocks.”  She started to walk away and I panicked a bit.  I can’t take repeated shocks.  And the second shock a couple of seconds after she was done was at maximum strength.


Owwww!!  I groaned loud and she turned around to laugh at me before she walked out into the other room.  Once I recovered from the pain, which actually wasn’t truly severe but it was in the most sensitive spot just under the head of my dick, I quickly crawled into the cage and barked loudly over and over.  I had to curl up my body just to fit all of the way in the cage.


Sheila quickly returned and shut off the shocks before a third one hit.  She smiled and said “My my, puppy is very enthusiastic!  I didn’t even say you had to bark more than once.  I think puppy likes his cage!”  I glowered at her but didn’t say a word as she closed the cage door and locked it shut with a padlock, putting the key in her pocket.  My obvious anger seemed to make her even happier as she crouched down to look at me through the cage and said “Listen carefully, the only sound a puppy makes is a bark, is that clear?”


With the fear of more DreamLover 2000 shocks, I didn’t dare disobey her wishes so I nodded my head and barked once.  I can’t believe that I am typing about this.  “I nodded my head and barked once.”  That’s just sick.  I’m sick.


Sheila then said “Good.  Betty sent you over without any dinner, right?”  I nodded my head but that wasn’t good enough for Sheila who repeated a bit louder “Right?”  I barked once.  She reached her hand through the top of the cage and patted my head, saying “Good boy!”


I think this is where my anger faded.  I became sad instead.  I felt like a sorry excuse for a human being and my gaze tended to lower for the rest of the night.  Sheila continued, either oblivious to my pain of humiliation or, more likely, enjoying it.  She said “I have a special treat for you” and left the room.


This was my first taste of being locked in a cramped cage alone.  About 30 seconds after she left the room I felt an emotion I could not identify.  It was fear and sadness definitely but also victimization.  This was beyond punishment for my crime.  It was pure and simple humiliation for her enjoyment.  I was under the control of a sadist.


Little did I know how laughable it was to think of that word sadist just from being in a cage.  I would learn more about sadism over the next few days.


She returned and I did not even look up.  I was feeling sad and I guess resigned to whatever was going to happen.  I watched the floor of the cage as she set a dog dish down and told me the mush inside was my dinner.  My feeling of being victimized intensified and I felt that I had no choice but to do what Sheila wanted so I leaned down to eat from the dog dish.


The food was okay, ground up hamburger with some sort of mix of corn and mashed potatoes, and I was hungry.  As I ate and dripped food on the floor of the cage Sheila said “No argument or anything, you are a very good boy!”  She placed a small dish of water next to the food dish and I lapped up water in between licks of food.  As I ate dinner I noticed that Sheila had remained in the room, sitting in a nearby chair and looking at her smartphone.  Before I was done she left and told me to feel free to bark if I need anything.


I couldn’t think of anything I would need other than my freedom.


I didn’t finish all of the food or water she gave me.  Once I was done I looked around through the bars of the cage and began to realize that I was going to be in the cage for possibly a long time tonight.  Would I be made to spend all night in the cage?  I sighed and tried to get comfortable.


I was really feeling sorry for myself at this point.  I started to think about calling this off and just accepting my fate as a 3-strike-your-out inmate but then I realized that being uncomfortable in this small cage was much better than being fucked in the ass by a bunch of others in prison.  That thought quickly sobered me up.


I had to keep moving around every several minutes to avoid stiffness but after maybe a half hour it was just too uncomfortable and I decided to bark a couple of times.  I waited and after a minute or so Sheila walked into the room and asked me what I wanted.  I just caught myself before I said “I am uncomfortable and my body hurts.”  I tried to bark in a way to convey pain as I moved my body around a bit to illustrate.  She got the message and said “Poor puppy is all cramped and uncomfortable,” so I barked once more and nodded my head.


Sheila reached in the cage and scratched behind my ear, saying “It’s okay puppy, you’ll get used to it.  It’s not so bad.”  She stood up and walked out of the room.  Definitely a sadist and I knew then that begging wouldn’t get me anywhere with her.


Have you ever sat and done literally nothing for hours?  I guess in a doctor’s waiting room for an hour but there are magazines to read and sometimes people (women) to watch.  But hours?  How about stuffed into a cramped cell with metal bars against your body?  How about barely able to move other than to shift around a bit?  No?  Try it sometime.  But that doesn’t even get to the heart of the problem.  I was forced or coerced into this.  I was a prisoner.  This was much worse than when I was in prison, although not having to suck a guy’s cock makes up for the cramped and boring situation.  And this was only for hours, not years.


My emotions were numb by the time about 3 hours later I was released, allowed to put on my clothes, and sent home.  I think Sheila tried to taunt me verbally but I just don’t remember and probably barely heard her.  I remember being thankful that I hadn’t needed to use the bathroom while I was in the cage so I guess I handled the emotional pain okay.


The next day I was not okay as I felt withdrawn and down.  Betty told me that I would be able to relax tonight but I didn’t think to ask her about release from my chastity device.  I figured it would be futile anyway and that night I learned that I was correct.  I asked Betty how much am I expected to take and she responded that in life that people reap what they sow.  She had me there.


My level of remorse at what I had done increased.  A woman such as Sarah has every right to show what she wants to show but she also has a right not to show anything and to deny her that right by trespassing on someone else’s property is stealing something precious.  I committed grand theft.  Over and over.  And I hurt someone who didn’t at all deserve to be hurt.  For the first time in the past few days I felt worse about what I had done than about my own sorry situation.  I didn’t even feel negative effects of the chastity device that night.


The next night was truly hell.  Sarah let me in the door and was still in the area of the front room when Sheila told me to strip.  I was self-conscious about being naked near Sarah, especially considering how I had violated her privacy, and when she entered the room to pick up a magazine she had left in the front room she turned towards me.  Seeing the DreamLover 2000 attachment, she said “So that is what it looks like” and laughed a bit, or maybe she was laughing at the plastic chastity device, or maybe at me in general.  She seemed to pause as if mulling over whether or not to yell at me but she turned and went into her room to let Sheila handle my debasement.


I struggle to put into words what happened that night.  I remember all of it vividly but it is difficult to put into words.  Part of me wonders how I could have allowed it to go on.


I had done some checking online in the past couple of days, wondering what on earth would make Sheila want to humiliate me to put me in a puppy cage, and found that there are many people who enjoy being human puppies.  I also found a link to an S&M site in which puppy play could be viewed as a sort of S&M activity and that of course led me to depictions of whips and chains.  I didn’t think I would find anything that extreme tonight with Sheila but I was worried for the worst.


And when Sheila told me to put my hands into mitts which don’t have fingers and the mitts lock with a padlock, I knew what to expect from that and I resisted.  Given a choice between electric shocks and a whip lashing against my bare skin, I guess I chose the shocks because I flatly said no.


Sheila smiled, clearly relishing the challenge of torturing me into submission.  It wasn’t much of a challenge, though.  She set the DreamLover 2000 to maximum shock me every few seconds and after each shock right under the sensitive head of my dick I was groaning or even yelling in pain and writhing on the ground where I already was to begin with.  Why does the fucking thing have to be attached right on that sensitive spot?!  I knew the answer.


I was begging for mercy after the fourth shock, literally groveling on the floor and promising anything.  Sheila stopped the shocks and I lay still as she locked the mitts onto my hands.  Then a dog mask with eye and mouth holes was put on my face and a collar was placed around my neck.  Sheila attached a leash to my collar and led me around the house on my hands and knees, including a stroll through the kitchen which has a hard tile floor.


As I tried to avoid hurting my knees on this humiliating trek I realized that there was one more standard piece of the outfit which I did not have on.  It was strange, I actually felt some pleasure at being spared this last piece and my mood was okay when we ended the journey in Sheila’s bedroom.  Thankfully, I did not have to wear a butt plug tail.


My mood changed after Sheila removed my dog mask and told me to get on the bed face down, when she told me to stretch out my arms to be tied down.  I turned over onto my back and said no.


Sheila smiled again.  She is an okay looking lady but when she gets that particularly sadistic smile she is terrifying to look at, especially when holding the DreamLover 2000 remote control in her hand as she was at this moment.


Before she completed setting the next shock pattern, I asked Sheila to hear me out.  I said that I can’t let myself get tied down because I couldn’t protect myself if she was to do something worse than anything I would experience in prison.  I told her my view that the whole point of blackmail is to allow the victim to choose the lesser of two evils but there isn’t much worse than being tied down and having unpleasant things done.


My argument was pretty lame, though, and Sheila quickly dispelled it.  She assured me that I could just call this off at any time and she would be glad to stop and call the police.  Sheila told me that the choice is completely up to me.


Sheila was mocking me.  “It’s up to you”, yeah right.  So I am the one choosing to be shocked to hell on my dick.  I am the one choosing to crawl, roll over, play dead, beg, and bark like a dog as I’ve done on our little stroll through the house.  I am the one choosing to scream in agony from being whipped into a bloody mess.  My imagination went pretty far on this last one but I knew she was right, she would stop if I told her that I preferred prison because if she didn’t then she would be the one breaking the law.


I reached out my hands and she used Velcro straps to restrain my hands and ankles so that I was face down spread eagled on the bed.  When the last strap was connected I thought I felt tingles throughout my body, knowing that I was completely at her mercy.  I felt empty, as though my strength and resistance was taken from me.  It was the same feeling of resignation I felt when I was locked in the cage a couple of nights earlier.


Then she showed me a hard wooden paddle.  It wasn’t very big but it looked like it could take care of business and I was scared.  Sheila was trying to tell me something but I wasn’t paying attention as my eyes were scope-locked on the paddle in her hand.  Fortunately, she could tell that I was not listening so she said again that she would not stop if I said stop but if I simply couldn’t take it any more I could say yellow to slow down or red to stop.  She assured me that saying either of these safe words would not prompt her to call the police but if I consistently couldn’t take what she was dishing out, then I’d be spending most of the rest of my life in jail being fucked in my ass.


I had mixed emotions about this.  I could say yellow or red anytime?  That made me feel good.  I had some power here other than choosing to be fucked in the ass for most of the rest of my life.  Bigger than the emotion of feeling some power, though, I felt fear.  She is going to hurt me so much that I am going to submit and beg for mercy.  I felt that Sheila intended to break whatever spirit I had left.


Her initial swats on my ass were very light and I almost didn’t feel them.  She quickly ramped up the velocity but it was still not even close to causing pain, even though I could feel how stiff the paddle was.  While she was swatting my ass Sheila told me her life story.


It wasn’t really her life story at all but it seemed like it at the time.  She said “By now you’ve probably figured out that I’m into BDSM, or S&M as you probably heard it referred to.”  Her tone was conversational without the sadistic bitch attitude I had been experiencing up until now.  “My husband wasn’t that much into pain so I took it easy on him, he was more into being controlled than pain.  I spent 8 years of my life tempering my sadistic urges.”


As Sheila was talking she was giving me a light swat every few seconds.  I wasn’t in any pain but she had ramped up the strength of the blows a bit and I was legitimately afraid.  I felt tingly again, at her mercy.  I tried to pull against the restraints but there was little give.


When Sheila said “sadistic urges” the strength in her arm increased and the next couple of blows stung my ass.  I took a deep breath trying to steal myself against the pain which I knew would come next.  She continued “And now you are my knight in shining armor, coming to my rescue.  I could swat you all I want, can’t I?”


At this point the last four swats were somewhat intense and I didn’t know how much more I could take.  She said “Answer me!” and punctuated it with a hard swat.  I yelled in pain and felt that my world was crashing down.  I couldn’t stand it and knew that I would soon break.


I tried to focus on her command and I said “Yes, anything!”  That stopped the swats and I felt tremendous relief.  I started breathing again as she rubbed my ass to help relieve the pain.  Sheila said “Then you’re in luck because I want to stop spanking you.”


Sheila climbed onto the bed next to me and said softly in my ear “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”  I didn’t know how to respond but she said “Oh come on, it’s just a bit of fun.  It wasn’t so bad, was it?”


Her question was sincere and I answered honestly “No, it was okay.”  Sheila released the Velcro restraints and told me to get down on the floor and be a puppy again.  Thankful that I was spared any real amount of pain, I complied and crawled on the floor led by a leash into the spare room which had the dog cage.  Sheila didn’t have to tell me what to do as she opened the cage door.  I crawled in and curled up to fit inside as she locked the cage door shut.  My hands were still locked into the fingerless mitts so I used those as pillows for my head.


After Sheila walked into another room leaving me alone in the cage, I thought about my situation.  This time it wasn’t woe is me, it was that this woman is playing sexual games with me and my wife is either okay with it or she doesn’t know.  I figured that Sheila was probably using a vibrator or something in the next room (I am told that it turns out that my guess was exactly right).  Betty would never be okay with some woman having her way with me.


Or maybe I angered Betty so much that she doesn’t care anymore.  Have I lost my wife?


Now I did feel woe is me.  I was miserable.  I just stayed curled up in my cage and barely moved in the hour or so I was locked inside.  I kept thinking about how I can’t lose my wife, I love Betty and I can’t live without her.  My remorse level at what I had done increased even further.  If Betty leaves me maybe I would be fine with going to jail for the rest of my life.


Sheila wasn’t content this night to just let me lie in a cage.  When she opened the door my reaction was just to slink out and let my body straighten from its confinement.  She led me by the leash into a nearby bathroom where I was allowed to lap water from a bowl and then I was restrained spread-eagled again on her bed, this time face up.


As she was fastening the Velcro straps Sheila laughed and said “I just love your hang-dog look.  You look so miserable!  And you don’t even know what’s in store for you.”  That got my attention and fear re-entered my mind, breaking me somewhat out of my depression.  She ran an extra restraint between my big and second toe on each foot and tied my big toes together and ran the strap around my ankles so that my feet were pulled back somewhat and I was unable to wiggle my toes.  She was right that I didn’t know what was in store for me.


Sheila reached into a drawer and brought out a wooden ruler.  It looked somewhat flimsy but when she sat at the foot of the bed and looked to be lining up a blow to my feet the ruler suddenly didn’t seem so harmless.  Before I had a chance to ask what she was going to do with the ruler she started whacking the soles of my feet with it.


The impact on my feet did not hurt, though, as the blows were only a little stronger than taps.  Instinctively I tried to move my feet away from the blows but I could not move my feet even a fraction of an inch.  Sheila settled herself on the bed as if she was going to be there a while and she kept quickly whacking the same spots on the arches of my feet over and over.  After a few dozen strikes of the ruler the blows became uncomfortable and every now and then there was a bit of pain.  After another few dozen strikes the discomfort started to turn to pain, not severe but relentless.


I started to get very afraid.  If she kept this up and increased the strength of the blows this could really hurt like hell.  I didn’t know at the time that the name for this torture is bastinado but I did not need to look it up on the internet to realize that it could become extremely painful.  I mentally prepared myself to use the safe word yellow or red.


The pain was increasing and I started to groan and squirm my torso a bit.  I wasn’t really close to using the safe word at this point.  As a side note, even though Sheila had told me that I could safe word anytime I wanted and she would not call the police due to it, I knew that she would only put up with a certain amount of that and at some point would threaten to call the police.  My guess was that I had three free safe words and then I would probably be warned that the next one would be my doom.  This is why I was hesitant to safe word unless I really needed.


I did not need it.  Sheila stopped whacking my soles at this point.  Then she really scared me.  She went into a drawer and brought out a big tickling feather.


I panicked and blurted out “No, no!  Yellow!  Yellow!”  I hate having my feet tickled.  Maybe a few seconds is okay but after that it becomes painful as I can’t stop myself from laughing.  In retrospect I should have waited to safe word but I panicked.


Sheila looked at me in surprise and then started laughing.  She said “What a wimp!  You act like I brought out a staple gun or a branding iron.”  Her tone changed to sinister as she said “Would you rather I get a branding iron and sizzle it here against your skin?”  I was terrified.  I hated being threatened and under her control.  I wanted to be anywhere but tied up spread eagled here, anywhere but jail, I guess.


Sheila seemed to sense my horror and had some compassion in her body language as she moved to sit on the bed near my head.  She started brushing my hair with her hand and said “Bob, I am not going to brand you or use a staple gun on you.  I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it but you’re safe from that.”  I quietly replied “Thank you” even though it now seems strange to thank someone for not committing acts of heinous torture.  But having my hair brushed and feeling her compassion did calm me down.


Sheila said “I am going to tickle you, though.  You can safe word yellow from time to time but I’m not going to accept red, is that clear?”  I was still calming down and wanted to accept her compassion so I said “Yes, thank you” and she replied “Ok good.”


She stood up off the bed and approached my bare feet like they were tasty morsels for her enjoyment.  She brandished the feather near my feet to watch my fearful reaction and then she lightly brushed the feather on my right sole.  The brush was light and normally I would have been able to handle it but the beating of my feet made my soles sensitive and I laughed and jumped, or tried to jump but was stopped completely by the restraints.  I took a deep breath because I knew this would be hell.


Sheila brushed the feather against my feet several more times, with several seconds between each stroke.  My feet were overly sensitive and I laughed and jerked my body as much as I could but it was bearable due to the time between strokes.  I wasn’t laughing so continuously that it was particularly painful but that made me focus on the truly horrible aspect of this and that was the spread eagled bondage and tying of my toes.


I felt very exposed and vulnerable not being able to move away from whatever Sheila wanted to do to me.  Even though it was tickling and not direct pain, I felt completely at her mercy.  I felt violated and owned.


Sheila stopped the brief tickling session and sat on the bed again.  She asked “What happens when you pay the price for your misdeeds?”  I didn’t know what sort of answer she was looking for but it was a rhetorical question.  She continued “You move on!  Don’t wallow in guilt.  Move on and make sure that you never let it happen again.  You feel bad for the horrible mistakes you made, right?”  I knew the answer to that one so I replied “Yes.”  She continued “Then move on.  Cheer up and give yourself a break.  You are going to pay for your crime so get over yourself.  Got it?”


I don’t think I got it because I didn’t feel in any position to cheer up at all but I didn’t get much of a chance to think about it as she started tickling my feet again with the feather.  This time she was merciless and didn’t stop as she brushed my soles up and down with the feather.


I laughed and thrashed against the wrist restraints uncontrollably.  My feet were even more sensitive than normal and I couldn’t even begin to catch my breath as my laughing was non-stop.  My sides had begun to hurt and I was screaming in the pain of laughter as she stopped working on my soles and started tickling the pads of my toes with her feather.


I tried to say no no no but it just came out as laughing.  Even if I had been able to conceive of using the safe word I could not have uttered it due to my laughing.  Tears began running down my face and I felt like I was going to die from lack of oxygen when she finally stopped tickling me.


I was exhausted and panting to try to catch my breath.  My sides hurt like they had been punched by a boxer and my feet were still tingling.  In truth, the tickling probably only lasted a minute or so but it was the longest minute of my life.


Sheila released me from all of the restraints but I was not able to pull my arms together until she took one of my wrists in her hand and moved it onto my chest.  At that point I turned on my side and curled up into a ball to figuratively wall myself into a protective shell.  I was ready to just sleep or faint.  She took one of my hands and extended one of my thumbs into my mouth against no resistance from me.  I sucked my thumb like a baby and Sheila punctuated my humiliation by tweaking my cheek and saying “You’re so cute!”


I removed my thumb from my mouth and she abruptly said “Get up” in a commanding tone.  I instantly put my thumb back in my mouth.


I am going to try to explain here that I was not myself after all of the torment I had been through.  This woman had control over me because of something I haven’t mentioned lately and that is the DreamLover 2000.  The thing is like a bomb pressed up against my dick and with the remote control in her hand I might as well be a puppet with strings.  There is fear associated with this, a whole lot of fear.  And after all of the torment my fear level was at its highest and I just stuck my thumb in my mouth.


What made this very brief incident even more memorable and humiliating is that Sheila hadn’t even been reacting to my removing my thumb from my mouth.  So I was afraid and reacted like an obedient slave when I didn’t even need to.  And of course she laughed at me putting my thumb in my mouth.  She always laughs at me.


Once she was finished laughing Sheila told me to take my thumb out of my mouth and lie back down face up.  Even though I was out of the restraints for only a minute or two she put me back into the spread eagled restraint and I was physically helpless again.  This time it didn’t seem as bad as the previous times because by now I was getting used to it.


I worried that she had thought up some torture because her manner made it seem like she had come up with something evil but the treatment I received was different from that.  There was no more pain that evening.


Sheila decided to caress me with her fingers.  She started on my chest and with such a contrast between the pain and humiliation earlier, her gentle touch felt wonderful.  She played with my chest tenderly with her fingers and then moved down to my stomach, testing to see if I was ticklish there and finding the answer to be a clear no.  I don’t know why my feet are ticklish but the only other spot which tickles is under my arms and only mildly.  I felt like I had a shield on to protect me from tickling as this sadistic woman was going to try to attack me some more but she did not attack.


Sheila moved her right hand to start caressing and tickling my thigh while her left hand stayed on my stomach.  Not getting a ticklish reaction I wasn’t sure why she was continuing until her hands started slowly caressing closer to each other.  It became clear that they were inching closer to my crotch.


I was locked in a chastity device, though.  What’s the point of this?  I quickly decided that I didn’t care and just let myself go to the sensation of being touched.  It felt good.  No, it felt amazing.


I don’t remember getting caressed tenderly on my lower stomach or on my inner upper thigh before.  Whenever I’ve had sex it’s always been focused on the final goal.  I never really bothered with much of anything other than the final goal before unless the woman I was with needed extra touching to get ready for me to enter her.  I guess I never knew what I was missing.


But this was going too far.  I was getting excited and this was not my wife.


Fortunately, and I never thought this would be a positive, the chastity device was preventing all but the initial stirrings of my dick which pushed hard against the plastic cage, causing some discomfort.  Knowing that I was safe there, I relaxed and enjoyed the gentle attention.


Sheila said “How do you think Betty would feel if I told her that you were getting an erection with another woman?”  My eyes opened wide in fear but Sheila quickly said “Don’t worry, I would never do anything to hurt Betty.  That woman is a saint and you are damn lucky to have her.  She and I talk about everything I plan on doing.”


That set my mind at ease a bit, though I did not know whether or not to trust what she was saying.  Regardless, I had no choice anyway being all restrained to the bed and everything.  And feeling so so good.


After around five more minutes of touching in different places around my groin I began to become very uncomfortable.  My dick was constantly pressing against the hard plastic cage so I was already uncomfortable there but at about this time I began to feel lust for Sheila.  She clearly has the power to make me feel like a man again and if she removed the chastity device and touched my dick I would probably explode in seconds.


Maybe Sheila isn’t great looking but she’s not half bad.  I snuck a look at the gap between her breasts above the blouse she was wearing and I let my eyes wander to her where her nipples pressed against the fabric.  I wanted her badly.  In truth, I wanted any woman badly at this point.


This began my descent into sexual frustration and desperation due to chastity.  Sheila eventually stopped teasing me in that way and sent me home.  When Betty removed the device in order to uninstall the DreamLover 2000 electrodes, with the device off my dick grew to full length and I had to concentrate on not letting my hands down to touch myself until Betty put the chastity device back on me, after the application of ice.  My yearning almost physically hurt and I almost bucked my hips reflexively to try to press against my wife’s hands.


To help get my mind off my dick so it could fit into its cage, I told Betty that Sheila had been touching me in the groin area.  Betty told me that she knew Sheila would be doing this.  Betty also told me that she is good with literally whatever Sheila did, as long as it didn’t physical maim me.  That didn’t seem very comforting as there can be a lot of pain even without maiming.  Betty concluded by saying “I don’t know what we would do without her to let you serve your punishment” which implied to me that Betty might not have helped me avoid prison if it weren’t for Sheila implementing my punishment.



Chapter 6: Yearning


The next night after I washed dishes from dinner I told Betty that I needed sexual release.  It is difficult to describe the sensation I felt except to use the word yearning.  I couldn’t stop thinking of my wife’s boobs.


I don’t know maybe it’s me but I think most guys enjoy sex with their wives but don’t really think of them as sexy.  I always loved Betty but the words wife and sexy just don’t seem to go together.  It’s not that she is bad looking or anything like that.  It’s just that when you see someone daily there isn’t any realistic way that the sexy factor can be there.


The sexy factor was there that night, especially with her boobs.


Betty replied to my expression of need by sort of laughing it off.  She didn’t laugh to humiliate me, it was just to sort of saying that she didn’t think it was important.  But I wanted her badly.  I asked her if I could at least massage her breasts but she said no and she would need some time before she wanted to become intimate with me again after the crime I had committed.


I made the mistake of asking for release from the cage for a few minutes in front of my PC as a compromise but Betty responded with some exasperation “That’s the problem, Bob, you always think about yourself.  One of these days you are going to stop thinking of yourself all of the time.”  She wasn’t angry but I could tell that her attitude towards me was somewhat fragile considering what happened in the past couple of weeks.  So I let it go.


In my mind, though, I could not let go of my need for release.  I wanted it badly.  I felt hungry, as if my lower stomach had an emptiness which needed to be filled.  It was ironic since just below that spot I had a fullness which needed to be emptied.  I sat on the couch next to my PC and spent time thinking about my options.  But there were no options other than to beg my wife and I did not want to do that because it would only make her angry at me.


This was the strangest form of suffering I have ever experienced.  I can understand pain and humiliation and I can understand the disappointment and frustration of not getting what you want in life but this was something different.  It felt primal, as though I was not getting something I needed to live.  It was similar to hunger except that strong enough hunger causes physical pain and fatigue whereas this yearning for sexual release just made me feel on edge.  I felt like an animal needing sex.


It wasn’t just any sex I wanted, though, I wanted what I was already familiar with.  I did not think of Sheila or even Sheila’s beautiful daughter Sarah and I wasn’t interested in porn.  I thought of Betty and secondarily I thought of my hands.  My hands felt magnetically drawn towards my crotch and it took an effort of will not to embarrass myself by reaching down to the hard plastic chastity device.  Several times that night I also had to talk myself out of begging Betty for release although one time I was unsuccessful and tried to act casual in asking when I might get release to be met with an uncaring non-answer.


Did I mention that alcohol had been removed from the house altogether and I was told not to pick up any or stop at a bar?  That happened a few days earlier and Betty’s attitude was that beer is bad for me and that was that.  I had argued but what point is it for me to write about that?


At this point I wanted a beer to at least settle my nerves but it wasn’t to be and I went to bed on edge and thirsty despite drinking as much water as I could.


The next day was Saturday and after I had my usual small breakfast the DreamLover 2000 was installed in my chastity device and I was told to go to Sheila’s house next door.  I always dread going next door but I had no choice.


This visit was all about obedience training and the DreamLover 2000.  Sheila spent almost three hours giving me orders I had to follow or else feel the zap of the DreamLover 2000 on my dick over and over until I got the order right.  I learned how Sheila wanted practically every piece of furniture dusted and how to wash the interior of the windows in the house.


Many of the commands were not about chores or helping with anything, they were just to rub in my face that I am her slave.  I learned how to play 52-pick-up several times as Sheila scattered playing cards on the floor and I had to pick them up one at a time.  I held a penny against the wall with my nose.  I had to balance on one foot and she even had me holding painful yoga positions.  I was zapped a few dozen times in the three hours because no-one is perfect and even though I begged not to suffer any more zaps because I was trying as hard as I could to obey, Sheila was having too much fun with the DreamLover 2000 to put it down.  She even giggled most of the times she zapped me.


I was exhausted after about an hour and a half and to my surprise and relief, Sheila relented once I had begged enough and she gave me a 10 minute rest.  Then it was back to the coal mine.  Not to make light of the plight of true slaves who do not have any ability to choose a different path, but this to me felt like hard labor and I thought that if I had to obey this sadistic woman every day then I would prefer jail.  Then I thought further and realized that the forcing into my behind while in prison would probably be even worse than this, giving new meaning to the term “hard labor.”


There was no need to remind me that I was royally screwed.


Before I was allowed to go home for lunch, Sheila told me that I would be required to return at 3:00pm for more activities and she showed me the type of fun we would be having together.


Sheila showed me a 5.5” long black dildo which she said would go inside my ass.  The dildo had all sorts of strange inset ridges along the shaft.  I was stunned to stay the least.  This was what I was trying to get out of by avoiding jail in the first place and yet here it was waiting for me after lunch.  After suffering three hours of humiliation and physical discomfort not to mention the pain of a few dozen zaps on the most sensitive area on my body, now I had to cope with this.  I left Sheila’s house and walked home in a daze.  Sheila laughed in my face at my shocked reaction.


Lunch didn’t exactly taste good as I thought about where it would end up and what would be going there first.  Betty actually showed a bit of concern and asked me how it was going.  I tried to avoid the discussion but Betty already knew about the dildo and approved of its use on me, or in me.


How could that possibly fit in me without tearing me to shreds?  I didn’t even want to think about it but I couldn’t help myself so after lunch I did some internet research.  To my shock I found web sites which detailed how pleasurable it can be for a man to be fucked in the ass by a woman.  What the hell?!  It didn’t make any sense to me but there were plenty of web sites and several of them made a point to try to calm down people like me who were first-timers.


I didn’t want to be a first-timer or an any-timer.  If I need to be fucked then so be it but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be made to enjoy it.  This attitude of not wanting to enjoy something may seem strange but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy being fucked and I felt it would make me less of a man.  Actually, I didn’t feel like much of a man as it was, with my dick under lock and key and being victimized.


At 3:00pm I screwed up my courage and went to take my medicine, after taking a couple of aspirin since there was no beer available.  Or hard alcohol.


Sheila was practically dancing around me in happiness as she led me into her bedroom.  She had me take off all of my clothes and sit on a towel on the edge of the bed as she put a blindfold over my eyes.  I did not protest to the blindfold and actually welcomed it as it might help me cope with the horror.  With my butt against the bed and the dildo nowhere in sight I didn’t see the point of sitting on the edge of the bed until Sheila told me to lie on my back and hold my legs in the air.  This made my butt hang off the edge and put me in a prime position.


I felt Sheila’s hand caressing my butt and getting close to my asshole.  Then I heard her apply some lube to her hands and start rubbing it into the sides of my hole.  She then inserted a finger into my ass and I gasped.


During my entire ordeal so far I have felt that I have not only been losing my manhood but losing my humanity overall.  When her finger entered into a place where no-one had ever gone before, I felt another push along the downward spiral.


Sheila carefully lubed my hole and I groaned with each movement of her hand.  It wasn’t really painful but it was uncomfortable and I felt violated, fucked.  But I knew that it was only a mild beginning so I saved my focus for when the dildo would be ripping me apart.


Once Sheila was done with her finger, I heard the door to the bedroom move and wondered if she went to wash her hands but just a few seconds later I felt hands on my legs so I wasn’t sure what happened there.


The moment of truth was here and I felt the dildo against my ass.  I braced myself for a strong quick thrust and gritted my teeth against the agony which would likely result but that did not occur.  Instead, the dildo was very slowly pushed inside me and had lube of its own.  I adjusted my body a bit so the aim would not be off.  The process was so slow that there was no pain at first and one time when I felt a somewhat sharp pain beginning and groaned, the dildo paused its entry until the pain quickly went away.  Really, Sheila was being merciful with this process.


At one point the dildo seemed to pop beyond the edge of my hole and was truly inside me.  My cherry was popped.  I gasped and groaned but the pain was only momentary and the primary feeling was one of being stuffed.  I felt incredibly violated and my descent below humanity went one notch forward.


Still, Sheila was as tender as she could be with how slowly I was being fucked.  The dildo seemed to be pushing slowly even further inside of me and then I felt her body pressed up against my ass and was relieved that the penetration would go no further.  Sheila had not shown me a harness but feeling her body against me I figured that she must have quickly stepped into a harness which held the strap-on dildo, because that was her body and not her hand pressed against my ass.


With the dildo fully inside me it began to pull very slowly out but did not escape and then was pushed very slowly in.  Of course there had to be piston action (sarcasm) but I guess I should be thankful that there wasn’t pain, just a whole lot of discomfort as the huge thing filled me up and rubbed its ridges all inside of me.


The discomfort was enough for me to continue groaning throughout the entire process, especially once my cherry was popped, but I was not out of control and felt that I would survive.  The fucking continued for another couple of minutes and then I felt the bed move a bit and Sheila spoke right into my ear “Love it, bitch.  You’re just a slut who loves to be fucked.”


That can’t be.  I mean I’m not a slut but what can’t be is that it was Sheila sitting on the bed and leaning down into my ear.  If Sheila was next to my ear then who was fucking me?


I tensed up and Sheila laughed a bit at my added discomfort.  She said “You didn’t think I would be the one to fuck you, did I?”  Sheila lifted the blindfold off me.


There was Sheila’s college-age daughter Sarah, standing over me and fucking me.


Sarah and I made eye contact and I saw hatred and aggression in her eyes.  It looked as though she wanted to ram the dildo hard into my ass but was holding back.  She was beautiful and that momentarily took my mind off the horror of being fucked.  After a few seconds I also saw pleasure in her expression and it became clear to me that she was enjoying fucking me and seeing my complete humiliation.


I don’t think you can call it sadism getting enjoyment at another person’s torment when it is retribution or justice.  Whatever it was, it matched the look I have seen many times in her mother.  That look scared me from her mother but in the eyes of this beautiful young woman, I admit that it was not as un-enjoyable.  I leaned back my head and relaxed my body, while continuing to groan every now and then from the uncomfortable experience.  I also became uncomfortable in my groin as my dick somewhat pushed against the hard plastic cage.


After several minutes of slow thrusting outward and in, I let my body relax and I submitted to being fucked.  Physically that reduced the discomfort but emotionally I was drained and felt the pain of humiliation, especially with Sheila saying occasional words in my ear to taunt me.  Sheila put one of her hands on my neck as if to choke me but I knew she wouldn’t choke me, although I became worried when she put her hand over my mouth while pinching my nose.  She deprived me of breath for around a dozen seconds but I did not panic as I was still trying to cope with having a big black dildo up my ass.


I tilted my head up slightly and saw Sarah still slowly fucking me and that relaxed me again.  She’s just so beautiful.  I had an errant desire to see her naked again but quickly fought that off.


After maybe 10 minutes of very slow fucking, the lube on the dildo must have been wearing off somewhat as the in and out movement started to become a bit painful.  I groaned louder than I had been for the first few minutes of this and Sheila said “Okay, that’s enough for now.  Yank it out!”  I tensed up expecting a sudden pull to rip my insides but Sarah pulled out very slowly and I could feel every small movement on my rim until with a pop the dildo was out and I groaned loud in pain.


My entire body slumped and I let my feet fall down to the ground over the side of the bed.  I was exhausted, physically and emotionally.  I felt as though I had gone through a meat grinder.


Sarah left the room and I did not see her again that afternoon.  Sheila helped me to stand and in a way I felt like the dildo was still inside me because my behind felt strange.  I was not in pain but I had to hobble as I went into the bathroom where Sheila gave me privacy to clean myself up, although I could not clean the humiliation off.


When I was done in the bathroom Sheila had me stay and sit down on the edge of the bathtub and then we went back into the bedroom.  Fuck but I guess I’m not going to be able to skip writing about this part as you know who is making me continue.  When I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub Sheila put makeup all over my face.  Makeup.  Eye liner, eye shadow, blush, mascara, fucking red lipstick.  I shouldn’t be so mad about this because just about everything else done to me was worse but for some reason this sticks in my craw.  I know it pushed me even deeper away from my humanity.  Not that women who wear makeup aren’t human, it’s just that humans have an inalienable right to liberty or something like that, but I don’t.


Anyway, enough of that.  With makeup on me Sheila took photos of my face and told me that she would make me her bitch.  I had to bite my tongue from saying “Yeah been there, done that, got the T-shirt.”


I was allowed to put my clothes back on and sent home.  Luckily, no-one was on the street to see my made up face as I walked home next door.


When Betty saw the makeup on my face, for the first time in the past couple of weeks she laughed hard.  My initial reaction was humiliation but that quickly turned into gladness that my wife was actually having enjoyment from me.  I laughed along with her.  But I had to keep the makeup on through dinner.  That night I was allowed free time and without any makeup.  It was a wonderful break from all of the torment.  Being in the chastity device and without the ability to masturbate, though, I didn’t want a break, I wanted my wife.



Chapter 7: Release Release


The next morning Betty made me breakfast and served it to me in bed.  I kid you not.  I was so surprised that I didn’t believe her at first and figured that the tray of food had poison in it or that she was playing a practical joke on me and would pull the tray away just as I was going to take a bite.  As I started eating the waffles with strawberries, scrambled eggs just the way I like them a bit runny, bacon, and sausage (not the cheap kind, either) I couldn’t stop staring at her in gratitude.  What did I do to deserve this?


Betty told me that I had been a very good boy.  That made me feel all warm in my heart, even warmer than the waffle syrup she had warmed up for me in the microwave.  I think the fact that I was in chastity for the past 8 days affected me because I felt love for Betty like I never have before.  I’m going to have to correct that, I have felt that much love for her before but I hadn’t felt lust for her as strong as this before.  While eating breakfast as Betty was in the other room, my hard plastic chastity cage was full.


I was proud of myself for not even taking about my need for release.


Later in the morning, after I had washed the dishes from breakfast, without any direction I cleaned my wife’s bathroom which took me an hour due to my inexperience, although it helped that Sheila had shown me how to do this.  Betty was outside working in the garden at the time and when she was done and started her shower running to get the water warm, she came into my computer room and gave me a big hug and thank you.  Gosh it was good to have Betty back.


I was going to just skip this part and mention the final result but that wouldn’t be fair to what I felt this morning.  Betty removed my chastity device and playfully pulled me by my dick through the house into her shower.  I flinched a bit at the memory of the cold shower I had been forced to endure a week ago but it was nice and warm.  Without going into too much detail, Betty had me kneel in the shower and give her oral sex.  With the amount of lust for Betty I had, I did not think twice even though I had never done this before.  It was much easier than I thought it would be and Betty loved it so I loved it.


We rinsed off and then dried off together after the shower.  I was hard the entire shower and of course Betty noticed it and touched me there a few times but nothing intense.  As we dried off I was concerned that I would be going back into the chastity device unfulfilled but Betty had me lie down in bed and she retrieved her smart phone.


On her phone she played a song which I had a difficult time recognizing.  It was fast-paced and loud but the chorus was clear and repetitive:  Release.  I saw the look on her face and I understood.  I blurted out loud “Yes!!”


The sex we had was amazing.  The combination of 8 days with no release which was by 5 days the longest I have ever gone since I was 13 years old, breakfast in bed, the general love I felt, and the joy at giving my wife sexual pleasure in the shower led to an overflow of lust.  I managed to hold back just long enough for her to experience one more orgasm as I had my body-shaking release.


I have never written anything like this before other than maybe an e-mail to a friend “I banged her” or something like that.  This was different, though, and words don’t really do it justice.  And for the first time in my life I felt that afterglow which I’ve read about.  I always considered sex to be over once I spurted and felt that the afterglow stuff was for women and weak emotional guys but I felt it this morning and it was great.


The afterglow ended with a crash when Betty put on me the chastity device with the DreamLover 2000 installed and told me that I would be going back to Sheila’s this afternoon.


I said “Betty why?  I thought I was a good boy?”  She replied “Bob, I don’t think you are going to understand this but I get pleasure at hearing from Sheila about your time with her, and considering your crime she has every right.  She is going to be playing with you for weeks or maybe months and you really don’t have a leg to stand on considering the alternative.”


I said “Play?  Betty, it may be play to her but to me it is torture.  She tortures me!”


Betty replied “Yes, I know.  But I hope you realize that she is holding back and she can do much worse to you if she wanted to.”


I was dumbfounded that my wife would tell me to my face that she received pleasure at me being tortured.  Betty told me to walk with her into her computer room where she showed me all sorts of S&M torture web sites.  It was surreal to see pictures of men in horrible bondage devices being tortured with all sorts of instruments as if in a horror movie.  I’m no prude and I’ve heard of S&M before so I knew that some crazy guys like to be whipped and spanked but the stuff Betty showed me was unreal.  Victims’ bodies were getting marked with bruises and welts and things were done to guys’ groins which made me look away.


There was no way that anyone but a pure sicko could enjoy being tortured like that but Betty went on to show me a few videos of seemingly normal guys who talked with interviewers about how much they enjoyed the horrible tortures they just went through.  I couldn’t stand to watch all of it but I saw plenty.


I told Betty that if she thought I would ever enjoy this stuff she was out of her mind but she told me that the point was that Sheila could do any or all of these things to me and I should be thankful that what Sheila did to me was mild.


I picked up a different point altogether.  I figured that Sheila wanted to inflict these horribly extreme tortures on me and she was just starting with the mild stuff.  Betty understood my concern and told me to go back to my computer room while she talks with Sheila on the phone after closing the door behind me.


A couple of hours later, after lunch, Betty and I went next door to Sheila’s together.  Sheila invited us to sit down, all normal as if I wasn’t a slave.  I looked around for Sarah but she wasn’t around.


Betty said “Sheila, Bob is concerned that you are going to start doing some extreme things to him” and Sheila replied “Like what?”  Betty looked at me for a response so I said “Like whipping until bleeding or stuff done to a guy’s groin.”


Sheila had a video ready and I became afraid since the last time she showed us a video didn’t exactly turn out so great for me.  This time it was a video showing Sheila in a black dominatrix outfit in scenes of torture of poor helpless suffering men.  Except that the guys were enjoying this because they had paid for it, as Sheila explained.  These videos were made over a half dozen years ago and Sheila has since then left the dominatrix business but she still enjoyed torturing guys and now does it on her terms.


The scenes were difficult for me to watch because the torture looked so painful.  In many cases the guy would remain mostly stoic as his flesh was changing colors from repeated strokes of the whip and that seemed almost impossible to me.  These were not Hollywood movies and the cracks and whacks against the skin were clearly real and had a lot of force.


The fifth scene showed a guy’s groin with a bunch of clothespins attached to his scrotum and another attached to the tip of his dick.  How could this guy take it let alone enjoy it and even pay for it?  At least this guy was groaning in pain.  I had to squint so that I wouldn’t watch all of it.  But in the video from years ago Sheila wasn’t satisfied just with the clothespins.  She used a handheld stick to zap the hell out of the poor guy’s dick.  I saw sparks fly and heard the unmistakable sound of static electricity, plus the guy’s body jerked in pain and he screamed.  She didn’t zap him once or twice, it was at least a dozen times and the guy’s screaming was piercing my soul.


I wailed “Stop please!  I can’t take this anymore!”  Sheila paused the video and I continued more calmly “Please, Sheila, what do you want from me?  I’ll already do anything you want.”


Sheila said “No, I don’t think you will.”  I gulped and kept quiet, with visions of purple bruises and large ugly welts all over my body, not to mention my dick being roasted with electricity.  I looked to Sheila to continue but it was Betty who said “Bob, we want you to be our slave.”


They were acting as if this was something I would rebel against but I pointed out “Betty, I am your slave already, and yours too Sheila.  I mean, look at me” and I pointed to the DreamLover 2000.


Betty said “We want you to sign a contract which would make you our slave for the next 15 years.”  Sheila added “A slavery contract is not legal, of course, but this wouldn’t be a slavery contract.  The contract would state that Betty may divorce you at any time and take 100% of the assets in your marriage, leaving you with nothing, and that you acknowledge being a peeping Tom and would accept the full consequences of your crime if Betty chooses to exercise that clause.  We would have the contract notarized.”


I looked to Betty for some sort of answer to what this is all about.  She said “You’re going to need to sign it” and Sheila continued the sentence “or else I’m going to start torturing you for real, unless you would rather go to jail.”  Betty concluded “Think about it and take your time.”


I was too shell-shocked to have a rational discussion such as what my 15 years of slavery would be like and how it would be any better than this so I told them that I would need time and Sheila was happy about that because it meant a session of what she considered real torture.  Betty went home and left me in Sheila’s capable hands.


I felt betrayed.  How could Betty allow this to happen?  I had to set that question aside and deal with the fact that I would be suffering real torture.  I could barely handle all of the torture I had suffered already.


I don’t have a clear memory of that afternoon with Sheila.  I do remember a brief session of real bastinado, not the light tapping on my soles which Sheila had done to me days ago.  I also remember feeling different impact implements on my ass and my nipples feeling pain I never would have thought possible.  And I vividly remember the moment when the clothespin bit into the tip of my dick.  And a lot of screaming.  I screamed so loud and long that my voice was hoarse and I was exhausted by the time the afternoon was done.  And I remember Sheila laughing almost constantly throughout.


I retained enough awareness to safe word yellow probably a dozen times but after a break the sadistic fiend Sheila would resume the horrifying agony.  Several times I almost put a stop to it saying that I would rather go to jail but each time I stopped myself as I remembered that there was another option for me to consider once I could gather my wits about me at a later time.


I made it through the torture.  Sheila had enough and I was told to go home.  I was in so much pain seemingly all over my body that when I got home I jumped into Betty’s arms and just cried in her arms for at least 10 minutes.


While I was still crying Betty gently pushed me back to face me and said “Bob, that is the last time you are going to go through such awful torture.  When you sign the contract Sheila won’t be able to cause you such extreme pain.”


In retrospect I believe that Betty wanted me to trust her without asking about the details but I still didn’t have my wits together and needed some time.  Betty removed the chastity device for a few moments so that she can uninstall the DreamLover 2000 and after I showered and we ate dinner, I was ready to talk.  I asked “How could you let Sheila do that to me?”


Betty replied “I would not have let her do that had you signed the contract but I figured that you would need some convincing.  Also, and I don’t expect you to understand this, Sheila has had a very tough time since her husband died.”


I commented “And I pay for that with suffering” which brought a response from Betty “Do you think you don’t deserve it?”


And there she had me again.  Game, set, match.  She wasn’t rubbing my nose in it, she was just right on the mark.  Sheila had tried to tell me to move on and not wallow in self-hatred but here was my own wife giving me the opposite message.  Betty was right and I didn’t have to answer her question.


I asked “I don’t remember exactly what you and Sheila said earlier, does the contract state that I am Sheila’s slave or yours?”  Betty replied “It doesn’t mention slavery at all, it just gives me the power to take everything in a divorce and probably put you in jail.  So technically that would make you my slave.  And that would mean that I would be loaning you out to my friend Sheila from time to time.”


I tried to remain calm as I asked “How often would that be?” and Betty replied “Probably a few times a week.  Plus of course you would do whatever chores I want you to do and go with me shopping whenever I wanted you to.”  I responded “I see” and inside I felt another descent into the depths below humanity as my liberty was being stripped away.


None of the information she had told me tonight so far was unexpected but the gap in logic of why I should not sign the contract finally hit me.  I knew that there was something nagging at the back of my mind.  At least I retained some semblance of humanity and dignity.


I asked “Why would I believe that Sheila wouldn’t put me through extreme tortures for 15 years?” and as soon as I said it I realized that Betty had already told me.  She repeated “Because I would not let her and she has already agreed not to.  Sheila is just going to have some ongoing fun with you a few nights a week.”


I am glad that I asked because it led me to ask “And I am just supposed to trust that you will not let Sheila destroy me?”


I expected Betty to feel anger or hurt at my statement but strangely she smiled and said simply “Yes.”


This moment was a turning point in my life and I knew it.  I was staring at two abysses and had to choose between them:  the known horror of prison for probably the rest of my life or 15 years of hopefully light torment.  My head was almost spinning and Betty offered “You don’t have to decide tonight, Tuesday night is your next session with Sheila” but I was ready to decide.  There were actually three possibilities for my two choices:  prison, 15 years of light torment, or 15 years of heavy torture if Betty went against her word and allowed severe torture.  I could only live with one of those, no matter the risk.  So I exercised the last major decision I would have in my life for a very long time.


I told Betty “I will sign the contract.”


Betty asked me to stand up and then we hugged.  She held me to her shoulder and as I cried again she told me that it was going to be okay.



Chapter 8: Fifteen Years


Over the next few days something happened which I did not factor into my decision.  Betty not only seemed to forgive me but we became closer and our marriage improved.  It was like a fantasy but we spent much more time together and enjoyed each other’s company much more than ever before.  It seems trite but I was glad to do most of the chores around the house and saw it as fair since her career is more intensive and higher paying than mine.  And I went shopping with her willingly so that we could spend more time together.


Betty and I have done a lot of research on S&M and decided that while Betty was thankfully not interested in torturing me at all, we did agree on a Female Led Relationship in which whatever Betty said was the law of the house.  I am glad to obey because I know that it makes her happy and I know that she looks out for my best interests as well.  She tells me what to do and I do it.  It is so obviously good for me that I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier and Betty likes it because she gets what she wants the way she wants it.


Betty still likes to keep me in the chastity device and to my surprise I am glad to wear it for her as it keeps me attentive to her needs.  On the rare times when I displease her – usually when I fail to ask her for clarification on a task because I worry about asking her too many questions (I am still trying to better myself about that!) – I feel terrible and she has to calm me down.  Without any more masturbation and only having an orgasm on average once a week, that leaves me more attentive and my mistakes occur much less often.


I do not feel emasculated as I thought I would.  Instead I feel invigorated and with a purpose.  I am told that I need to add this next sentence even though it seems inappropriately boastful.  I have even started gathering information about disadvantaged children so that Betty and I can make targeted contributions and this was my own idea, not Betty’s.


In reading back the last 4 paragraphs I know it seems unbelievable and I can hardly believe it myself.  I can’t explain the light bulb which went on inside of me.  Maybe it was the overwhelming pressure of my terrible existence which broke me and molded me into an owned man but whatever it is, I like it.  A lot.


For all of this happiness there is a price which is 15 years of slavery to Sheila.  Betty and I scoured the internet for information about S&M and found a world of experiences people write about.  Sheila could choose from a huge variety of things to do to me or have me do, from the mild to the extreme.  And over the years variety was Sheila’s calling card as, with the limitations imposed by Betty not to get extreme, Sheila focused on humiliation and light pain.  It was fascinating how creative and playful Sheila was while victimizing me.  After every session Tuesday and Thursday evening and Sunday afternoon Betty and I would talk about it and often look it up on the internet to understand more about it.  The sessions were never horrifying but they were also never pleasant or enjoyable in any way.


Except one way.  Sheila included Sarah in many of the scenes.  Apparently Sarah was quite the budding dominant in her own right and Sheila was showing her the ropes, literally.  Sarah would practice her stroke of the whip, swing of the paddle, application of electricity, and verbal humiliation on me.  Coming from the woman I directly wronged with my unauthorized viewing, it seemed more fitting to suffer at her hands.  Also, I admit that her visual appeal made the sessions more bearable.


We are told that in life we get what we deserve.  However, that is a lie.  I deserved years in jail or years of other horrible punishment.  Instead, I have a life of bliss with my wife and suffer only moderately.  My life is never dull and I am glad that I did not get what I deserved.






Word Count = 21,000


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