The Small Dick Club: SPH-THEMED STORIES

*****

Part 2…

I awoke next to my beautiful Nubian goddess of a wife. I had definitely drawn the right cards in marrying Katrina. After having been fucked senseless the day before, and then given multiple body-wracking orgasms at the courtesy of my tongue at bedtime, she was sleeping the sleep of the dead. Perhaps that is why they call it la petite morte. She looked so peaceful, still with a very sated, pleasant expression on her face; I could not even think about waking her from her slumber.

I, on the other hand, had been awakened by my morning wood straining in vain against its brand-new prison. I had not gone to bed sated by release. I had managed to walk quietly into the bathroom, and I had managed to take my morning pee sitting down, and ever urinated with a turgid penis? With a turgid penis which is bent downwards by a steel cage? It was a new experience.

It had done nothing to alleviate my arousal. Now I lay back in bed next to her, my dick protesting its newfound condition, reflecting on the changes of the last 18 hours or so.

I had read and watched enough porn that I was familiar with what a chastity cage was, and I was aware of cuckolding. Most of the media I had seen portrayed the cuckold as a wimp, or a simp… a guy who could not please his woman, so a “real man” or a “bull” bedded his wife while he watched.

I had never fantasized about being cuckolded, or being denied my orgasms, or locked in a chastity device. I definitely was not a wimp; as far as I knew, I took good care of Katrina.

Yet, in the last few hours, I had willingly allowed myself to be tied up and forced to watch helplessly as my wife fucked a much, much more well-endowed man to multiple orgasms. “Domina Donna” had secured my dick in a cage after I had gotten so excited I nutted without being touched… a ruined orgasm. Then she forced me to lick my nut off of Katrina’s body while they all watched.

Donna had assured me that, yes, I absolutely had a below-average-sized penis. She had said my wife deserved much better.

Then, to top it all off, given the opportunity to have the cage removed, I had demurred. I had willingly agreed to be locked up for at least a month. And Donna had the key. I could not even wake Katrina and beg for release. Because she could not let me out, could not fuck me, if she wanted.

That was the only thing preventing me from begging now. Because, damn, I needed to cum.

Which was another concept Donna had introduced us to… the idea that I did not NEED to cum, I merely wanted to orgasm. She said men did not NEED to orgasm, that my spontaneous ruined orgasm was proof. Once I got aroused enough, I would leak enough pre-cum or just nut with no help, like pressure being bled off of a valve.

She had rendered Katrina guiltless in my frustrated plight. So when Kat awoke, she did not feel bad at all about kissing me, telling me she loved me, then pushing my head down between her thighs.

And damnit, as I lavished attention on her beautiful womanhood til she reached orgasm, my manhood bulging against its cage, I was loving every minute of it.

WTF?

Donna had said the night before, while all the new things were happening, that she had seen my willingness to be cuckolded, chastized… humiliated, in my character long before. She had said my arousal and agreement to all of it had proven her correct.

Was she correct? Did I really get off on all this? Would it spell the end of my marriage? Because a spineless, emasculated pin dick was certainly not who Katrina had signed up for.

And of course, there was the more basic question. If by some miracle my wife DID want this… did I? I had never judged guys who played these games, but had never even considered doing so myself. Yet, I was loving it. I had so much to process and to work through.

As all this went through my mind, I was still lavishing attention on my wife. I had taken her over the top, then gently nuzzled her womanhood, lightly kissing her labia until she began pushing against my face again… then I had focused on her clit and taken her to even higher crashing orgasms again.

I repeated the process several more times, still lost in thought, until she finally pushed me away, giggling, unable to take any more of my devotion. I thought my poor dick was going to burst through its cage. If Donna had put me in a plastic model rather than a high-end steel model, it may well have burst out.

As she lay there perspiring, trying to catch her breath, she rasped the words that had likely committed countless men to chastity in a female-led relationship.

“OMG, I could fucking get used to this…”

That is how our journey began—our first month of adaptation, re-learning our relationship, and discovering a new paradigm.

Very little of it went the way I would have expected it to go from the porn stories I had read.

The first surprise was right after that first morning. I had expected to be given orders and used as a servant. After all, she literally had me by the balls, right?

Instead, we showered together. She bathed me and seemed enthused as she made sure my little trooper was okay, manipulating his prison with curiosity.

By the time I finished dressing and made it to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast, I found that she had beaten me to it and was setting a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes at my place, along with my coffee.

As I sat, confused, she leaned down and gave me a big kiss, “Thank you, baby. You are the best husband any girl could ask for!”

“Um. You’re welcome?”

Surely she was just being nice. She probably felt bad for me because of my newly discovered inferiority. You must understand that Katrina is one of the kindest people I have ever met, which was one of the many things that attracted me to her. I could very easily see her pitying me after she had learned what a really good dick could be like. And that my dick certainly was not really good.

She sat opposite me, and we ate in silence. She seemed happy as could be.

After breakfast, we did our dishes together. Then she poured each of us a second cup of coffee. It was easy for her to make mine the way I like it. Hot and black. Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it a million times… just like my women.

Handing me my cup, she said pleasantly, “We need to talk.” She indicated we should move to the living room.

When we got there, she sat in my recliner and gestured with her hand for me to sit opposite her on the couch.

This was a subtle yet obvious assumption of power in our marriage. Taking my recliner, especially without asking, was like taking the captain’s chair and daring the captain to complain.

I did not complain. First, I wanted to see where this was going. Second, “we need to talk” was ominous, no matter how sweetly it was said. If I were about to be sitting on the curb with my belongings, who sat in my recliner was of little importance.

She crossed one leg over the other to get comfortable, then asked, “So, how are you doing with the chastity cage?”

I guessed that whatever our discussion was going to be about, she was getting some housekeeping out of the way first.

I shrugged, “I don’t know that it matters, since we don’t have a key.”

She gave me a sour look, “Of course it matters. I want… I need to know. Is it comfortable? Does it hurt? How are you tolerating not getting hard? Peeing okay? Do you hate it? Do you like it?”

It took me a moment to answer. It was apparent that my loving wife truly was interested and concerned. Which also meant she more than likely wanted to make things work, whatever that looked like. I was a little amazed by my response myself. I was animated as if sharing a tale of an exciting event from my day at work.

“It is kinda weird, because it does not hurt, and it seems to be comfortable. Even when I’m trying to get hard, it feels like my dick is being held in a really tight grip. That is very disconcerting, though. I expected it when we were… uh, making love. But my morning wood woke me up because he couldn’t actually get hard. It’s only been a day, really… I shudder to think what a month will be like.”

She smiled softly, “That’s what Donna said. But keep me posted if it starts to hurt or something.”

She thought for a minute, “How, um, are you doing… how do you think you will do for a month with me cumming and you not cumming? Are you mad at me?”

I could not answer immediately; I needed to gather my thoughts. “It is driving me to distraction that I can’t get hard or get off, but not because you ARE. I get a strange satisfaction from getting you off. It… I think… It’s because I knew, deep down, I wasn’t really doing it for you all these years. For some reason, I feel like I owe you this… like I deserve to be punished.”

She wrinkled her nose, “Well, I do not feel let down by you. To me, we both just learned something neither of us knew… that size DOES matter. You have always taken really good care of me with your tongue. Donna says that is what this month is all about, for both of us to learn that we don’t really need your dick for me to be satisfied. And that your satisfaction can come from mine.”

She saw in my expression that her comment about my lack of size humiliated me. I knew that was not her intent, but she instinctively tested to see whether Donna had been right about my arousal by humiliation.

“What about the cuckold thing? Are you and Tiny Tommy going to be okay with me needing a man with a real dick occasionally?”

She tried to hide her smile when I blushed and had to shift my position because my dick was trying to grow in its cage.

I practically blurted out, “Are you going to leave me??”

She seemed taken aback. It was as if the idea I was worried about had never occurred to her. “No! Don’t EVER think that! I mean, I think I am going to want to experience that again… but I would never leave you over it. I love you, Tommy.”

I had to ask, “Are you going to fuck Sean soon? Will I be there?”

“I’m not having intercourse with ANYONE anytime soon. I cannot swear it will not be Sean, but we do not really know him other than him being Donna’s client. When and if it happens, it would need to be someone we both trust.”

I replied, “Why not anytime soon? Do you not want it?” Hope springs eternal, I suppose.

Katrina tried to balance kindness with tormenting me. “Of course, I want it… You saw how fantastic my orgasms were with a real dick. But it cannot be just anybody. Besides, Donna said this month is supposed to be about you and me. Since you cannot give me dick, that means no dick for awhile. Which means you better be on your game with that tongue.”

My first instinct was to reply, “What about me?” However, while I did not necessarily agree with it, I understood the concept for the month’s exercise was that I did not need any orgasms. So I simply nodded. I knew my buy-in wouldn’t be a problem. I might not yet be terribly excited about chastity, but I was learning it DID have the effects described in the stories I had read. Even as we talked, even as I was struggling with feelings of intense inadequacy and questioning myself about everything… I desperately wanted to drop to my knees before her and devour her. I craved the sound, taste, and sensations of HER orgasms.

Which was not to be, at least not right then. As amazing as the fuckfest of the previous night had been for her… the incredible new experience with a big dick which lasted as long as she needed; the eroticism of having her husband go down on her and getting nothing in return, her libido could only sustain so much. Her body could only take so much.

She wanted to go shopping. She wanted to go for a walk. She wanted to prep meals together for the next week. She had a couple of repairs for me to do around the house. And then she wanted to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. It was a very busy day, but it was only routine.

The only difference was that while she was not needy, she could not seem to keep her hands off of me. Grabbing my ass, tweaking my nipples, fondling my caged junk.

At first, I thought she was only trying to stroke my deflated ego. She had always raved about loving my butt; however, recent events even had me questioning that compliment. I started to tell her to stop, that she did not need to try to build me up. But eventually it became apparent to me that she really wanted to touch me; as she talked occasionally about our new paradigm, I came to understand that it was actually turning her on. Her newfound FLM position had her acting out.

The good thing was that it made me feel wanted and kept me aroused even though we were not having sex.

I guess by Sunday evening, she had recovered sufficiently to satisfy the need which had been teasing her all weekend. We were lying in bed, reading before going to sleep as was our habit.

Katrina paused after turning a page in her romance novel. “Honey? Would it bother you a great deal if I asked for a nighty-night orgasm? I always sleep so well after a good cum. I mean, since I can’t do the same for you?”

I stopped reading my detective novel for a moment. I was in a good mood, so that I may have been playfully flippant, “You’re confusing me… I thought you were in charge. You’re asking?”

She looked thoughtful, “Well, I am not exactly used to it yet, and I don’t want to be a demanding bitch about it… especially since you can’t… You know.”

I was blunt, “I appreciate that. But honestly, I love going down on you, and I love making you cum. I do not think I would ever be offended by being made to service you, my queen…”

She smiled. She loved it when I called her my queen or my princess. “Alrighty, then. New rule. I want an orgasm every night before going to sleep.”

With that, she knocked my book out of my hands and pushed on my head, guiding me downwards to her crotch under the covers.

As I crawled between her thighs, she added, without putting her book down, “And by the way, this will always be one-sided. Even after that cage comes off, you’re giving me a sleepy-time cum, which means I won’t be awake afterwards to reciprocate…”

She used a playful, singsong voice, but she was also entirely serious.

I was learning more and more about myself. I did not read into her comment a suggestion that I would NEVER be taken care of. Just that when I put her to sleep with an orgasm or two, that I could expect to go to sleep with a hard-on, my needs were ignored. For some reason, that turned me on incredibly. My dick was pressing hard against its prison at the idea of being used and denied. In my mind, I could hear her cumming loudly, then rolling over and going to sleep while I was left frustrated.

She could tell I was excited and very, very eager as I began sucking her labia into my mouth, tracing the outlines of her sex with my tongue. I had to force myself to take my time. When I finally got to her swollen bud, I began lashing it up, down, and back and forth. She dropped her book and clasped her fingers in my hair beneath the covers, holding my face tightly to her. As if that were necessary. Soon she was crying out my name, fucking my face, and shuddering through multiple orgasms.

When she peaked and had all she could take, she collapsed onto the bed, spent. She released me, and I crawled back up beside her, my poor tortured cock pulsing within its cage.

Dreamily, she spoke softly, “My god, so enthusiastic… thank you, baby. It is so damned nice knowing I don’t have to go clean up… I can just go to sleep…”

She grabbed my crotch and fondled it, inadvertently getting pre-cum all over her fingers. She put them up to her mouth and sucked my fluids from them, mimicking fellatio. Her intent to make me imagine her warm lips on my shaft certainly worked. My cock pulsed helplessly.

She whispered, “I love you, baby.” Soon she was snoozing contentedly. I got back into my book, hoping the distraction would eventually permit my attempt at tumescence to recede so I could join her.

This type of thing became the norm for us. Katrina was still her same sweet self, doing things for me, telling me she loved me, and touching me often.

The difference? She normally waited for me to initiate sexual activity. I never had the impression that she didn’t want it; I just thought she preferred for me to take charge. Now, she was very demanding… sweetly demanding. In addition to the expected bedtime cunnilingus, she would wake up and push me downwards. In the evenings at home, she would do the same while we sat watching a show on TV. One time, she pushed me down onto my back on the coffee table and straddled my head, continuing to watch her show as I serviced her.

Work was a new experience too. I was hypersensitive to cleavage and bare legs. A flip of hair, a flashed smile… my female co-workers had no idea they were helping to tease the hell out of me.

If it had been possible, I would have been turgid almost continuously. I was hyper sexualized.

You may think this sounds cruel of Katrina. I assure you, it was not.

I felt like I was chasing something that was just beyond my grasp, but seemed attainable. Like if I just made her cum one more time, if I ratcheted up the tension one more notch, I would cum despite the cage. So I was very eager to keep chasing it. She would ask me if I was okay, and the answer was always yes… the last thing I wanted was for her to stop using me. Besides, she didn’t have a key. What was she gonna do?

Would she have stopped had I asked her to? Kind of like getting to the center of that tootsie pop, we will never know.

Friday evening introduced a new kink in our kink. One that, with variations, became part of our routine.

I got home from work to find Keisha’s car in the driveway. That was not unusual. Katrina and her sister dropped in on each other all the time; they were close. My first inkling that this visit was different came when I walked in and found not only Keisha chatting with my wife but also Donna.

Domina Donna, who had started this all, was changing our lives on a whim.

They were into their second glass of wine, about ready for a third. I cringed in apprehension, but at the same time, my dick tried to grow as Donna chortled, “Oh boy, the party has arrived!”

They already had dinner ready, one of my favorite meals. Other than more drinking and whispering in each other’s ears conspiratorially, things were what passed for normal lately. They did seem to be in a bit of a hurry for me to finish my meal. They gave me a glass of my favorite beer.

Keisha explained that the story about her being out of town for a month had been a ruse, so I would not beg for the key. “But don’t worry… I did not bring the key with me tonight. It is safe.”

It was apparent they were up to something. I could only hope I would like it. Perhaps Donna had a key.

She did not. After dinner, they explained their plan for the evening.

We all sat in the living room, with Donna in my recliner, and the sisters sitting on either side of me on the couch.

Katrina kissed me, then began, “I felt like we owed the girls some thanks for awakening us to how things should be. And… well… I’M not going to lick their pussies. Besides, I want them to know how good you really are at it… that you DO take good care of me despite little Tommy…”

Could you clarify what Keisha did for us beyond inviting us to dinner the night this all started and asking us a favor? I thought better of it, not knowing whether that would piss them off and come back to bite me. Besides… it wasn’t like I had not imagined being between her thighs before.

I was wondering whether this would be one at a time in the bedroom, or with an audience, when Donna said placidly, “Strip.”

I hesitated, then looked to Katrina. My voice did not imply a complaint; it was just a question: “Are you sure about this?”

It was not reluctance at all. My heart was racing, and my cock was pulsing at the thought. My concern was whether Kat would be jealous later… especially when I enjoyed my work. I know… what’s good for the goose. But I did not want to be hearing about this in my old age.

Donna regarded me, feigning impatience at my impertinence. Kat smiled at me and placed a reassuring hand on my arm, “Yes, babe, I am sure. Don’t worry, YOU will never be fucking anyone else… like I will be. Anytime I pimp you out, you will be caged. They only get your talented tongue. I mean, why would they want your little dick anyway? I would not embarrass myself by asking anyone to give you a mercy fuck.”

Ouch. Was my normally sweetheart of a wife playing up the cruelty for her audience? Or for my newfound humiliation fetish? Or both? Or did she really feel that way? In any case, it had an effect. I was leaking pre-cum.

I stood and nervously undressed. When I was nude save for my cage, Keisha could not help but giggle at the sight, though she had seen it once before.

Donna tied a sleep mask over my head, rendering me blind. “On your knees, honey.”

Katrina spoke, “We are going out to the patio to enjoy the evening on the lounge chairs. Give us five minutes, then crawl out on your knees. Your first test is to figure out which of us you want to service first by crawling up to her.”

As I crawled onto the patio, feeling my way, I wondered how I was supposed to know who to please first. I knew where the chairs were. Rather than approach the closest one, I made my way to the furthest. I figured they probably expected me to take the easiest one first.

When I reached the foot of the chair, I placed a hand out and felt a naked leg. I could smell her… I knew it wasn’t Kat, but I had no idea which of our guests it was. Her aroma was intoxicating to me.

To my surprise, the sleep mask was snatched from my head. Katrina was looking down at me, smiling, “I should have known you would try to suck up to your domme first.”

Yep. I was looking at magnificent Donna’s naked body, her thighs open in invitation. Her demeanor may have been one of all business and disinterest, but her pubes said otherwise. They glistened with her arousal and were swollen in anticipation. She crooked a finger and beckoned me to her shaved womanhood. I was nervous. She said she was not a prostitute, and I believed her. But she was also obviously very experienced and self-confident. Could I measure up?

I resisted the temptation to go right for the gold. I was being graded, and I knew it, so I was intent upon doing my very best. I began by caressing and massaging her feet, eliciting a moan from her. I kissed them and began working my way up her legs, kissing, caressing, and massaging.

She seemed to enjoy my attentions. Yet, when I reached her midsection and began kissing upwards, planning to give attention to her entire body before her genitalia, she placed her hand on my head. She applied gentle pressure, making it obvious she only wanted the relief of my cunnilingus, and nothing more personal. I was her pussy slave, and nothing else.

As I began to service her, I got something else I was not accustomed to… guidance and direction. She used her hands to push me tenderly to her labia or her entrance. Softly, she spoke, “Lightly… now suck them into your mouth… drive your tongue into me like it was your little penis… better… now my clit, do you know where that is?”

Of course I did. I sucked it into my mouth, then flattened my tongue and began bathing it. I was happy with the sigh I got in response. I pointed my tongue and began lashing up, down, back, and forth. “Oh, that is good, you little fucker… keep it UPPP…”

She grabbed my head firmly with both hands, holding me in place and fucking my face. She was not vocal, but she was obviously experiencing an intense orgasm, “Do not stop…” And she just kept cumming, using me to extend her pleasure.

When she came down from her high, I began to move down her thighs until she was ready again. I was not ready to be done, but I was not prepared for what was expected of me.

She lifted both legs to her chest, then pointed to her brown bud, which was now exposed. “Get in there…”

I had read about analingus before, but had never done it. I leaned close and began to lick her anus and her ass tentatively. She reached a hand between her things and clutched my hair, pulling me close, “Get in there, boy… fuck my ass with your tongue.”

I pointed my tongue and drove it into her, surprised how easy penetration was. She groaned happily, “That’s it… Good boy. You’re gonna do this til I cum…”

I did not know that was possible. I was wrong. When she mewled, and another orgasm overtook her, I heard Keisha say excitedly, “OMFG… I gotta make him do that!”

Katrina chimed in, amazed, “Me too… poor Tommy is gonna have to get used to that…”

When she was done, she lowered her legs and pulled me back into her womanhood. She still wanted more.

While I was devouring her again, two things happened. I suddenly heard the whoosh of a belt and felt its impact on my ass repeatedly. Keisha said, “This is for not picking me…”

My cock was so turgid inside the cage, it felt as if it would burst through the steel. Which, of course, it could not. I was squirming and moaning while trying to maintain focus on my task.

Donna asked what was wrong, and I told her.

She chuckled between sighs of pleasure, “Oh, that. I might have snuck a little blue pill into your dinner…”

WTF?! As if I needed that??

I continued my task, trying to distract myself from the sensations that I was about to cum when I could not. It took Donna longer to finish this time, having cum hard twice before already. Finally, she did so, clasping her thighs down onto my head as she twisted back and forth in her ecstasy.

She had no sooner released me than Keisha dragged me onto my back on another chaise lounge chair. She apparently needed no foreplay at all, either. I barely caught a glimpse of her full bush of pubic hair, glistening with her dampness, before it descended onto my face.

I was looking up at her flat tummy and the underside of her fully pendulous breasts, which were swaying from her movements. She tasted and smelled wonderful. I was very enthusiastic, and she was apparently on the verge of orgasm already. She began cumming almost immediately, clasping her fingers in my hair for support. I grasped her buttocks in my hands for the same reason.

Apparently, Katrina had told her how much I enjoyed this task. When she finished cumming, she did not get up. She just leaned back and let me kiss and caress her thighs and labia until she was ready again. I was also able to trace my fingertips across her lower back and sides, which was met with a series of contented sighs.

When Keisha WAS ready again, she leaned up again, easing my access to her folds and her swollen bud. As I began lovingly bathing her clit and she mewled in satisfaction, I learned that Donna had a diabolical plan.

Nothing arouses me more than a woman’s pleasure. I don’t know whether all men are like this, but I am. The sounds, the aromas, the motions, I suppose the pheromones from a woman’s passion and ecstasy drive me absolutely wild. Even without the little blue pill, I would have been hard as a rock and seeping pre-cum from Keisha’s reactions to my efforts.

With the pill, I was so hard within my prison that it hurt. My testicles were full and swollen. Even though I tried to focus solely upon the task at hand, my hips were twisting back and forth, and thrusting upwards, craving the contact needed for relief. I felt as if I was on the very verge of orgasm.

And then, while I was lashing Keisha’s clit and she was fucking my face, my other antagonists joined in the fun.

They began by both lightly tracing their long fingers across my flesh, from my chest to my toes. It felt like heaven. I moaned softly into Keisha’s sex, which served to arouse her more.

Then the ladies began to massage me. I felt one of the cups cupping my balls in one hand, while pushing a fingernail into the drain hole of my cage, teasing my urethra. Oh, fuck.

By now, I was bucking upwards subconsciously… I felt so close. How the fuck could this happen when my poor tortured cock could not be touched?

I was so close. Keisha began her orgasm. Apparently, that was a signal for the others. My wife took both of my nipples in her fingers and twisted… hard.

With obvious practiced know-how, Donna slid one well-lubricated finger into my ass and went straight for my prostate.

I screamed into the womanhood covering my face. I was cumming. I don’t know how, but I was cumming within my cage, ejecting semen in a slow release from my prison cell.

The vibrations, sounds, and eroticism of my screams served to magnify Keisha’s orgasms, and she grabbed my head, pressing it hard into her crotch. I screamed more and came more… an almost painful, ruined release.

I could hear the muffled laughs from Katrina and Donna even through the thighs locked onto my head.

It seemed like it should not have happened, but it did. It had felt as if BBs were being forced slowly through my folded-over penis. There was a copious amount of my discharge spreading across my abdomen because Donna had made sure the cage was pointed that way.

In my delirium, I vaguely comprehended Donna’s words. “See, I told you. It was a ruined orgasm, but it gave him some relief. Since it was not a real cum, he will be just as horny, just as eager to please. And, like I said, this way you can keep his little dick locked up as long as you want. Remember… they think they NEED to cum. But really, they just WANT to cum.”

Fuck me.

This was my life for the rest of that month, at least. During the week, it was the same fantastic erotic scene. I would make love to Katrina every day, at the very least putting her to bed with an orgasm, and often more.

Now that they had broken through that taboo wall, Keisha would stop by occasionally and demand my attention. It did not even matter to Katrina whether or not she was present, since I could not “fuck her sister” anyway.

Then on Friday or Saturday evening, they would all get together for my once-a-week release. Always a ruined orgasm in my cage, with whatever humiliating twist they could think of. Donna taught Katrina how to conduct a prostate milking that even robbed me of the ruined orgasm.

By the end of the month, I had grown accustomed to the concept and realized Donna was correct that my orgasms did not matter. I craved them… I dreamed of penetration and cumming inside my wife. But I realized that unless we were trying to have kids, unless Kat wanted me inside of her… it was ONLY a desire on my part. I may not like it, but I could do without it.

There seemed to be a paradigm shift for me. Before, I had been conditioned to be self-serving. I loved her reactions, and I loved making her orgasm, but the goal was my own orgasm. I had never comprehended how much that was crippling our love life.

Now, her pleasure was my goal, my purpose. Of course, I wanted to cum… but it did not bother me if I did not do so… only that she did. It aroused me intensely when I made her lose all control.

I know it may be an odd comparison, but it’s like when you have a cookout, and you are grilling dinner. You are going to eat last, if at all, because you are busy taking care of everyone else. But you do not mind, because compliments on your cooking and the look of satisfaction on your guests’ faces are the goal. It’s not like you’ll starve.

I had worked all this out for myself by the end of the month. I had one day left before I was to be released from the cage when Katrina led me into the living room. She sat in my recliner and said hesitantly, “We need to talk.”

Uh-oh.

Had she found, after a month with our new situation, that she did in fact want a man with a “real” dick? Was she going to leave anyway after I had subjected myself to humiliation, denial, and subjugation?

Was she going to tell me that she decided Donna was right… that there really was no reason to end my chastity?

I know it is probably fucked up, but there seemed to be a part of me that would be okay with the latter. Just a part. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, I suppose. Having a chastity cage wrapped firmly around your manhood does make you feel trapped and helpless, at someone else’s mercy. However, it also feels like you are being held snugly and “securely.” I had been struggling the last few days with feelings that I was going to miss that feeling, like having to get out from beneath warm blankets in the morning to face the world. Perhaps my dick had been “institutionalized” like a prisoner who does not know how to function in the real world now. Good grief. A month ago, none of this would have seemed possible.

Katrina was wearing a well-worn long nightgown I had bought her. I could tell she was not wearing any undergarments. Her very pronounced nipples tented the fabric, and when she had walked, I could see her pubes in the light shining through the light fabric. I was straining against my cage.

She noticed and playfully rolled her eyes. Folding her legs under her on the recliner, she said, “Down, boy.”

I was a little surprised when she began the conversation by asking, “How was the last month for you?” How did I like it?

After the stories I read and given that Donna was her mentor, I expected her to make the final decision without considering my thoughts or needs. Kind of like, who cares what you want, pencil dick, take it or GTFO. But it was not like that at all.

I wondered what she wanted to hear. I finally decided I would only be guessing and decided just to be honest.

“Honestly, I am still trying to unpack how I feel. Part of me wants to go back to both of us thinking my dick is big enough, and making love the way we used to. I know that is impossible. But maybe that is okay, because another part of me is really enjoying all of this.”

I shared all the thoughts I had been having with her. The torment, the frustration, the Stockholm Syndrome, how much I loved taking care of her while ignoring my own needs, and more. She sat and listened, sometimes raising an eyebrow, sometimes giggling softly, and sometimes obviously intrigued.

Finally, I was done, “What about you? Do you still want to be married to me? Do you want to keep me locked up all the time?”

She was quiet for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. Finally, she spoke gently, “All of the above and more… I have been as conflicted as you. I’ll explain, but the important part is I absolutely love you more than ever and definitely want to keep you. The other big thing is that I am very thankful Donna did this to or for us.”

She explained how experiencing a man who filled her up, setting off every nerve ending within her while maximizing contact with her G-spot, had been life-altering. She explained excitedly how fulfilling it had been to be in complete control of our sex life, and to get all she wanted without having to worry about my needs at all.

I was steeling myself for her to tell me she wanted me locked up permanently and would only fuck “real men” like in the stories I had read. So I was truly surprised by what she DID say.

“I don’t want to do that all the time. It was great, but I think it would be exhausting and get old after a while. Besides… I want our normal relationship… including making love all the way, too.”

I sat for a moment, not sure what to say or think. I was at once thrilled and disappointed. “So no more cuckolding? Are you sure you’ll be okay with that, now that you know I can’t do it for you with my dick?”

She grinned sheepishly, “Oh, no, I am not giving up good dick, you’re right. But I don’t want that to be our norm.”

She beckoned me to leave the couch and kneel in front of the recliner. She took one of my hands in hers and grew serious. Or at least more serious, “I am going to explain something to you, and I want you to realize I am not just being kind, okay? I am being 100% honest with you.”

I nodded, “Okay… yes, ma’am.”

She continued, “I DO want your dick, honey. I want you in me, to be one with me.”

I know I looked puzzled, because I was confused.

Katrina took the opportunity to tweak my newly learned humiliation fetish while also pumping my ego. How is that for talent?

“Look, yes, Sean went places you can never go… deeper than little Tommy can reach, he filled me in a way you never will. He took me to orgasmic heights you could never, ever accomplish. But guess what? I do not love Sean, or anyone else, just because they have a big cock. I LOVE YOU.”

She let that sink in for a moment, then went on, “It may feel physically amazing with Sean… or someone else in the future. But while you cannot do what they do… they absolutely cannot do what you do, make me feel loved.”

“But you won’t even feel me, will you?”

Katrina rolled her eyes, then smiled kindly, “Listen, dumbass. If a woman’s body can come back from squeezing out a 5 to 10 pound baby, it will come back from a girthy penis. Of course, I will feel you.”

I grinned. That made me happy. “That’s great. But I am still confused. You want to be normal, but you want to cuckold me still. How does that work?”

She spoke a little giddily, “I gave that some thought. What if we chose one month out of the year for chastity and playtime, kinda like we just did? Then, other than occasionally play dates, we would be a standard monogamous couple for the rest of the year.”

I was going to have to contemplate that. I liked it, but would I miss the cage? I told her my thoughts, then asked, “Which month?”

She asked what I thought.

“Well, the holidays won’t do, too much family around. What about our anniversary month in February?”

She shook her head, “No, I want our anniversary to be about us. What if we did it in the summer? We could call it our Anti-versary month…”

My cock pulsed in my cage. “That’s perfect!”

She added, “And if I see that you are missing the cage, or you’re being bad, or just because, I reserve the right to lock you up for a few days at will. How is that?”

I grinned and nodded emphatically. I was enjoying her being in control.

Katrina opened her legs to me, “I’m glad that’s decided. It has made me very, very horny. You need to get to work, cucky.”

I happily began kissing my way up her thighs to the very moist womanhood I love so much.

Within a few moments, “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck yeah. How did you get so good at this, cucky? OMFG, I’m cumming already! I love that you can’t! Unnghhaaahhh!”

With her words and tone of voice, she had an amazing ability to make me feel like a superhero and humiliate me at the same time. I am one very lucky submissive, denied cuckold.

The next day, the end of the month, fell on a Wednesday. All I could think about at work that day was being uncaged that evening and hopefully having intercourse with Katrina. But even if she just let me masturbate to a glorious, full-blown orgasm which I could extend with full contact, I would be thrilled.

By the time I got home, the thought of something other than a restricted, ruined orgasm had me nearly frantic.

Katrina had beaten me home and already had dinner ready. She was wearing a comfy set of pajamas. Not sexy, but they still accentuated her full breasts and her round ass. Little Tommy filled his cage throughout our meal. It took a lot of restraint for me to remain calm and eat slowly.

After dinner, Kat sat in the living room and turned on the TV, as if it were any normal evening. She finally noticed that I was pensive and asked if I was okay.

“I, uh… It’s the end of the month?”

She seemed puzzled, “Okay?”

I was about to come out of my skin. I forced myself to be calm, “Isn’t this my release day, ma’am?”

I knew she was pretending to be surprised, “OMG, that’s right! I had completely forgotten! I’m sorry, baby… but Keisha still has the key, and she cannot come over til Saturday. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few more days…”

I was shaking with frustration. It had been one thing to confront my needs when I knew it could not happen. To believe relief was imminent and be denied made me damn near apoplectic. I knew, or at least suspected, that she had not really forgotten, but was fucking with my head. I knew now she would not be fucking me.

She put on a show of being surprised, “Oh, poor baby… you’re about to lose your mind, aren’t you??”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She pulled her pajama bottoms off. “I can’t do anything to make you cum til Saturday… but here, you can let off some steam by making ME cum. You said you love experiencing orgasms vicariously through mine, right?”

I would normally take my time and love on her for quite some time before my main meal. Not that night. Her soaked nether lips made it apparent she HAD been messing with me, and was very aroused herself. I was trembling all over as I dove right in and began lashing her swollen bud.

She was quite correct. Her scent, her taste and texture, her cries of ecstasy as she tore at my flesh with her fingernails and trembled with me while orgasms coursed through her body… helped. I could not help thrusting my hips uselessly as she came.

It was not the glory I had wanted… but it was glorious nonetheless.

Time seemed to stand still until Saturday. Every chance I got, I was devouring my wife, desperately trying to find some relief.

This was heightened even further a couple of days before my “big day,” when I was banished from our bedroom. There was also an hour period when I was restricted to the guest room while something was being done in the house.

Saturday afternoon, Donna and Keisha came over in the afternoon, carrying some gift bags. We had dinner, during which Donna teased about having gifts for both of us. She also hinted that she had found a new, well-hung friend for Katrina, who would be over later.

That little tidbit had me on edge. If I were being cuckolded again tonight, did that mean the goal posts had once again been moved?

Partway through dinner, Keisha toyed with a necklace she wore. It hung down between her cleavage. She pulled at it, and the keys to my cage, which had been hanging hidden between her breasts, were dropped outside her peasant blouse. She giggled with joy at the sight of me staring, transfixed, at them glistening in the light.

After dinner, Katrina ordered, “Okay, sweetheart, strip.”

By this point, I was accustomed to being naked and embarrassed in front of my sister-in-law and “Domina Donna.” I removed my clothing and folded it, wondering what new humiliation they had in store for me.

I was soon to find out.

Donna took charge. She swatted me on the butt, “Get your cute ass to the bedroom, cucky.”

The three followed as I walked nervously to the bedroom. They were carrying the gift bags.

When we entered the room, I was told to direct my attention to a corner on one side of the door. It was where we’d had a table and chair, where I normally sat to read and relax. The small table was still there, but the chair had been replaced with a new one.

Keisha spoke, obviously very proud of herself, “This is your first gift, cucky-in-law. I hope you like it, I had it made special with help from Donna…”

I suppose it was still a reading chair, but it was apparently much more than that. It was made of very heavy, solid wood. The seat was wooden but had been carved with imprints for the buttocks to make it more comfortable. I was puzzled by an insert in the middle of it… It looked like a threaded metal item set flush with the surface.

The back was also solid wood, but with an accommodating curvature. The arms were also very solid, though they had leather cushions on the upper surface.

There appeared to be a drawer built in below the seat, with a lock in the center.

Most telling was the top of the backrest. Someone had done a professional job of burning with scroll-like writing the words “Tommy’s Chair.”

It would seem innocent enough to a casual, innocent visitor. But none of us were casual or innocent, and we all understood my gift was my own special cuckold chair. There was a wall-mounted lamp behind it. I realized I could either be sitting there with the light on, reading my latest book, or with the light off, leaving me forgotten in the dark while I watched my wife with her latest lover.

Katrina watched with mischief and wonder as this all affected me.

Keisha approached me and dropped slowly to her knees before me. She knew what she was doing. She looked up into my eyes seductively, the way we men like women to do when they are preparing to fellate us. Then, without looking at what she was doing, she removed the key from the necklace around her throat. She used it to unlock my chastity device for the first time in over a month, then wriggled the device free.

My member immediately became erect, as it had been trying to do for weeks.

Ignoring my desperate member, she stood and went into the master bath. I heard the water running as she cleaned and dried my portable prison. Then she returned.

I knew something was about to shock me, as Katrina and Donna were watching for my reaction rather than watching Keisha.

Keisha knelt in front of the chair and used my chastity key to unlock the drawer beneath the seat. Then she slid the drawer open, and my eyes went wide.

The drawer had a tray covered in velveteen fabric, with customized cutouts, sort of like a silverware tray but for sex toys. She placed my chastity device into a space obviously designed specifically for it.

The remaining spaces contained dildos of varying sizes. There was one oblong space… the largest, which was empty.

She withdrew the smallest dildo and showed it to her audience. It had a threaded metal post at the bottom.

Confirming my suspicions, she gave me a lascivious look and then screwed the phallus into the recessed cylindrical fitting in the center of the chair. Now it jutted up obscenely right where I would have to sit.

Fuck.

She grabbed a bottle of lube from nearby and squirted it onto the phallus, coating it judiciously.

Now my wife and my domme took me by both arms and guided me to the chair. I thought about resisting, but instinctively knew resistance would lead to even more denial. I let them guide me as they positioned me over the fake cock and gently pushed me down upon it.

They took it slow, having mercy upon me. But within a few moments, I was fully impaled. It was just long enough and shaped just right to be contacting my prostate.

I gasped quietly, and my own dick jumped.

Keisha chortled, “He likes it! Tommy likes being fucked… this is gonna be fun!”

That was not an accurate characterization of what I was feeling, and I blushed furiously.

They next used leather cuffs to secure my ankles to the front legs and my wrists to the armrests. Then I learned of another feature. They loosened a fastener and moved the armrests to the sides until my arms were spread wide.

I could not get up. Thanks to the phallus I was impaled upon, I could not even move side to side or forward. My manhood jutted obscenely upwards from my crotch. There was no way I could touch it or even move it to gain relief.

They all stood regarding me as if I were an exhibit, discussing my predicament and the chair’s features.

Keisha handed Katrina a gift box. She unwrapped it, displaying a beautiful gold necklace. Keisha helped her string it through my chastity key, then fastened it around her throat. My chastity key was now where it belonged… hanging between my wife’s beautiful breasts. A changing of the guard had taken place.

Donna smiled at me. “We are going back to the living room for a drink. In a little bit, your wife will come back and make love to the man she has chosen for the night, cucky.”

I was so flabbergasted that I could not speak to complain about once again having the prize pulled away from me at the last minute. I watched three magnificent female backsides disappear out the door.

Now alone, I observed the remainder of the room and its changes while I contemplated my fate.

The most obvious was that there was a new bed, also. It sat higher than our old bed. It had a headboard and footboard that matched my chair… the same solid, sturdy wood and finish.

I was amazed, horrified, and aroused as the changes sank in. The footboard had three holes, all covered with the same leather as my chair’s armrests. They were the size and position to make their purpose apparent… the footboard doubled as “stocks” to secure me on my knees at the end of the bed if they desired. I would be helpless and get an up-close view of activities on the bed.

The headboard had the same burned script, except it read “Katrina’s Bed.”

My dick throbbed, and my heart raced. It was getting more and more difficult for any visitors NOT to understand that the bed belonged to my wife… and whoever she invited into it. And that my chair was a cuck chair.

I was surprised when Katrina walked back into HER bedroom alone. And naked. And walking like a cat on the hunt for its prey.

I thought I might not just from the sight of her. She is so fucking perfect. That magnificent, toothy, lascivious smile, her exotic coffee-tinted flesh, her perfectly shaped breasts topped with erect nipples. Her flat tummy and her bodacious hips and ass. Her strong thighs and legs… and of course her moist, puffy, bare, shaved womanhood. I was a very lucky man, even if I would only ever get to go down on her again.

I stammered, “Wha-where is your lover, ma’am?”

Without speaking, she approached me… stalking me… and stood straddling me. Then she lowered herself until her nether lips rested on the tip of my shaft. She finally spoke, her voice sultry, “He’s right here… I love you, baby…”

Then she slid down my shaft slowly… it did not take that long… until I was fully engulfed within her.

“Oh gawwwwd…”

I had not felt her for so long that I almost felt like a virgin, experiencing the wonder of a woman for the very first time.

“OMG, you feel so good…”

She smiled, “So do you, believe it or not…”

She remained still while we talked. We both knew, despite the ruined orgasms, that after so much extended tease and denial, it would not take long at all for me to lose it. I was struggling as it was.

“So do you have another lover tonight?”

She thought for a moment, “He’s downstairs… I wanted to make love to you first…”

So I was being cuckolded tonight.

We whispered sweet nothings to each other. She told me how much she loved me, and I her.

She began twerking herself upon me, and before long, I was groaning loudly, cumming hard within her. She kept squeezing and gyrating, milking me for all I was worth. I was shaking and thrusting upwards as much as I could… which was not much. The phallus I was impaled upon was fucking my ass and my prostate while she fucked my cock. The sensations were overwhelming, and I am sure the ladies in the living room and perhaps the neighbors heard my cries.

When I finished, she remained where she was, gyrating gently to bring me back to tumescence while she kissed me.

She played with my nipples and sucked hickies onto my shoulders. Much more quickly than I expected, I was ready again. This time, she began sliding up and down my shaft, not giving any thought to extending my stamina. Before long, I was cumming again. With the eroticism of the moment, I think she may have had a small orgasm, too.

When I recovered, she still sat there, enveloping my manhood. My breathing ragged, I had to ask, “Did… did you cum?”

She shrugged noncommittally. She was not going to say. She continued loving on me until I was ready again. She took her time… alternating between gyrating on me and sliding ever so slowly up and down my shaft.

She giggled as I nutted again. When I was done, she got up and lay on the bed. “Girls, he’s ready!”

I was, of course, apprehensive about what this meant as the other two women entered the room. I had half expected another man, but not them.

They worked together to unfasten my restraints, then held my arms to help support me as I stood. I slowly disengaged myself from the phallus I was impaled upon, standing on shaky legs.

Wordlessly, they guided me to the foot of the bed and gestured for me to kneel. They each stood at opposite sides of the footboard and lifted the upper half of the “stocks.” Donna simply pointed to indicate I should place myself in them.

I did as I was told, scared but also intrigued. They reinstalled the stock and used fasteners at each end, so I could not move the upper half. My head was in the center of the mattress, my wrists and hands secured on either side. I was quite helpless, unable to defend myself, on my knees, my ass exposed. What were they going to do to me?

Katrina scooted over in front of me, laying her legs over the top of the footboard. She pressed her womanhood to my face. It was apparent I was supposed to service her, cleaning the fluids I had recently deposited there.

As I began, she sighed happily, “You will do this every time you get to cum, baby. Do a good job…”

I half expected to be fucked from behind. Instead, I felt what I assumed was my chastity device being fastened onto my waist. I soon realized it was different because my penis was not being bent double. I always get aroused while going down on Katrina… okay, any woman. Soon, I could tell my cock was fully turgid if squeezed tightly inside a chastity tube, which allowed it.

I felt a belt being fastened between my legs and around my waist, then heard a “snick” as a padlock was closed and locked.

I kept licking and suckling Kat’s wonderful sex until she was clean, and she had moaned through a couple of orgasms. I did not have to wonder whether or not I satisfied her with my mouth and tongue. It is a double-edged sword of knowledge… happy that I can make her cum that way, sad that I cannot do so with my dick.

When she was sated, she got up. All three of them looked at what had been done to my waist.

Katrina exclaimed, “OMG, I love it! Thank you so much, girls, it is the best gift I’ve ever gotten!”

Keisha commented, “Maybe you’ll let me try it out sometime, considering…”

“Absolutely… but tonight it’s mine!” They all laughed.

Donna and Keisha released me and helped me stand up. I finally saw what they had done.

Jutting out from my midsection, enveloping my now helplessly hidden penis, was a large, very realistic phallus. It had a large, flared head and thick veins along its shaft. It was fastened securely around my waist. For all intents and purposes, it replaced my penis, which was minuscule in comparison.

Donna commanded, “Touch it… jack yourself off…”

I hesitantly did as I was told. It was very well made… it FELT real. I was told to get into it… to get myself off.

I soon realized its purpose, “I… I can’t feel anything… I can’t cum…”

Donna smiled mischievously, “That’s right. And you won’t until your wifey decides to let you. In the meantime, she can cuckold you with Thomas… he is her new lover.”

I was surprised when Donna kissed me deeply, followed by Keisha. I blushed and pulsed within my new prison. Apparently, they had Kat’s permission in advance for this intimacy.

Katrina gave me a side hug, “Tell the girls thank you for your gifts, honey.”

Looking at my chair, then the footboard, I stammered a thank you.

Donna replied, “You’re welcome, Tommy. You’ve really been a good sport with all this and shown real growth. You should be proud of yourself.”

Keisha felt she should say something, “I am proud of you… You’re a good brother-in-law.”

Katrina hefted the weighty phallus I now carried, “I especially want to thank ya’ll for MY gift… I cannot wait to try it on for size…”

Keisha giggled, “Speaking of that… we’ll let ourselves out so you two love birds can play.”

A moment later, they were gone, and Katrina put her arms around my neck, kissing me as her new friend bumped against her abdomen.

“Are you okay with this?”

I laughed softly, “I’ll let you know after we see what I can do with it…”

I guided her to the bed, then, lifting her in my arms, lay her with her head on the pillow. I kissed and caressed her magnificent body for a few moments. I was soaking her in, as I always did when given the opportunity. Finally, I climbed onto the bed after her and assumed the missionary position.

I kissed her deeply, then kissed her neck, shoulders, and breasts. Her breathing had changed, indicating to me she was ready… perhaps more than ready.

I leaned up and positioned my new dick at her entrance. I paused to take in the view for a moment. Her womanhood was slick and sodden with her arousal. The broad head of “my” cock rested so that it slightly spread her puffy lips.

I considered how to proceed. My new member looked about the size I remembered Sean’s to be. Perhaps the head was more flared, maybe the veins more pronounced. I pressed forward slightly, forcing her nether lips apart more.

Katrina’s body tightened up, and she gasped.

Oh, what went through my mind. Never before had I needed to be careful. I would just plunge into her, hoping to hear a sigh of pleasure. While I knew she could take this length and girth… I had watched her do so enthusiastically… I had to be more cautious.

The irony occurred to me; I was looking at “my” cockhead spreading her body open… but my real penis was still several inches away from her and encased in a sheath which prevented me from feeling the ecstasy of her womanhood.

I tried to mimic what I had seen Sean do… slowly pressing in an inch, gyrate my hips… pull out. In another inch… repeat.

Katrina was quivering… she grasped my arms and dug in… her breathing was ragged…

“Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head back and forth them managed to say, “Don’t stop… please don’t stop…”

I was used to leaning back and pressing upward as much as I could so that my penis might make contact with her G-spot, which always increased the sensitivity for me and risked premature ejaculation. It was almost otherworldly to get this reaction by simply impaling her.

She was still shaking when I eventually became fully engaged with her. The designers of my device seemed to have thought of everything. I felt my balls contact her flesh… I could feel that anyway.

I leaned down and kissed her. She met my kiss passionately, her lip crushing against mine, her tongue dancing with mine.

Something surprising happened… she came. Her body trembled, she dug her nails into my back, and kissed me even harder as she pressed herself against my phallus desperately. It was a very powerful orgasm.

Even dense me could tell… it was not only the large cock inside of her. It was emotion… our connection, the fact I sacrificed my pleasure for hers. I know, I know, they did not give me a choice. But of course I had a choice. Had I pitched a fit, the game would have been over, and we would have gone back to our previous lives. I did not want that any more than Kat did.

When her orgasm began to fade, before she could recover, I began to piston in and out of her body. I did not need to make an effort to manipulate her G-spot. “My girthy member with its flared bulbous head tweaked her G-spot and every other nerve ending with every thrust. His clit got pulled in and out with each plunge.

I cannot express how good it felt that it was ME causing her to scream and writhe and orgasm over and over uncontrollably, even if I did require help.

Her cries, her physical reactions, all affected me. I was so hard inside the sleeve it almost hurt. I felt as if I might cum myself, even with no friction on my tightly restricted phallus. I found myself praying I would not. Not for the usual reason of not ending her pleasure… the way the sleeve was fitted on me, it would not matter… she might not even realize I had nutted. It was because I wanted to continue to experience this sexual high with her. If I got released, I would lose the edge, and I would really have to focus on my “technique” to keep driving her over the top.

Fortunately, I did not get any relief. The intensity just kept building and building, driving me to fuck her with more abandon, which she seemed to appreciate a great deal. I had never seen her cum so much and so violently, not even with Sean.

I was driven to near insanity with need, but I was in heaven, too.

Finally, she collapsed, spent. Covered in perspiration, I had to force myself to stop ravaging her. I slowly, carefully withdrew and lay beside her, my still ready pseudo-cock still standing ready.

That was an amazing night. She drifted off to sleep, while it took little Tommy awhile. But she was insatiable, waking me up twice in the night for more rounds. I was only too happy to be used… chasing that orgasm I could not have. I awoke in the morning, lying on my back as she rode me to another series of orgasms. Apparently, she and “Thomas” only needed me to lie there and be still.

After breakfast, she removed my device and gave me the most amazing blowjob I have ever had. She was too sore for more intercourse that day, but she went down on me several times, and I on her.

It was awhile before Thomas joined us in bed again. But he did, as did Keisha.

But that is a different story.

The End.

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