I Never Thought it Would End Like This

I'd married Samantha because she was the sweetest, most kind-hearted girl I'd ever known but as the years went by I surprised myself by finding that I increasingly wanted her to dominate me. I made a start by putting the house, my pension and the large amount my parents had left me all in her name and I closed my account so everything I got went straight into hers, telling her that it was for tax purposes. I did then add (as if it was a joke) that it would give her absolute power over me but of course she just smiled and took no advantage of it. So then I thought that perhaps I could persuade her to make me wear a chastity device Unfortunately there seem to be no way that could happen either but I did have plenty of time to be ready just in case so I went on a course of fabricating fibreglass.

The idea was to make a rigid tube with a smooth lining to fit over my penis. An essential part of the device was the lock and after much searching I found a tiny stainless steel one. This fitted inside the tube on the lower side and about a quarter of the way from the end. It was of very high quality and virtually unpickable although it was so inaccessible that picking it would be impossible anyway.

At last, the chance came when my wife had had to have a small operation that made intercourse inadvisable for quite a while. About two weeks after, I came to her with an admission.

"Darling, you know how we were discussing how we'd manage about sex while you're recuperating?"

"Yes honey. If we weren't having sex together you just accepted that you'd be doing without."

"Well honey, I'm ashamed to admit that I've relieved myself that way already - twice!"

"Oh Peter, how could you? Gee that's dreadful!"

"It sure is so while you were waiting for the operation I made something to stop me. Can I show you?"

"I think you'd better."

I brought out a rigid suitably bent plastic tube full of small holes for ventilation and cleaning and with a smallish opening at the outer end. "That fits over me and stops any touching."

"You could cut right through that and take it off." I knew she would say that so I brought out a saw and a demonstration length of the same tubing.

"Just try sawing it somewhere as if you are trying to cut it in two. But keep your fingers well out." My wife began and just as she got through there was a faint 'twang' and two vicious little semi-circles of thin metal curved into the tube just where my penis would be.

"Oh!"

"I found a watch repairer and begged some old watch-springs. I cut the best one to lengths of about an inch, stretched them out under tension inside the tube and fixed the ends very firmly. I've done this in far too many places in the tube for me to risk even trying to cut anywhere. You saw what happened."

What I didn't say at the time (in case it alarmed her) was that actually most of the springs were anchored to the tube at one end only and the other end was tucked under the next spring. These springs zigzagged all round the tube finishing up back with the first so that cutting one would release all the rest with the result that one cut would result in over twenty deep horrible gashes in every part of my penis. Without the key I wouldn't even think of trying to get out of that tube.

"Hm. Very clever honey. And how do you reckon keeping it on?"

"You know that hole in my foreskin? That's the perfect place for the lock to go through. The lock's quite inaccessible - look, underneath you can see a slight bulge where it fits inside.

"So you've found a use for that hole at last, honey. How lucky!"

To explain, I have been circumcised and there is a curious hole in the underside of my foreskin that looks almost like a small buttonhole. I'd first noticed it as a small boy and thought everyone had one but when I asked my folks about it they went tight-lipped. Had it always been there and somehow been exposed by the operation? Had the surgeon made a mistake and put it right with a few quick stitches? I never found out. Well mine was natural and the only way someone could make one would be to take some foreskin between thumb and finger and make a circle of stitches to stabilise the next stage, which would be to make a 1/4 inch long slit about the same distance in and then make it into a sort of buttonhole carefully butting up the skin from each side. It would heal in a couple of weeks and be very strong whereas a frenum piercing would take months to heal and could easily pull out. Anyhow, there it was, just what was wanted to ensure that the tube would stay firmly on.

Also inside the tube was a place where some sharp internal spikes were normally shielded from a limp penis by a 1/2 inch wide internal plastic ring divided at the top. But if the penis were to swell the ring would be pushed aside thus widening the gap and exposing the penis to the spikes.

Amongst the many holes in the tube were two opposite to each other and exactly in line with the lock. The idea was to work a rod through these holes and through the one in my foreskin to make it easy to line them all up. Two other holes gave access for the key and another for a little rod to push the lock closed. So now I had a chastity device that could never be taken off without the key and which would never permit masturbation. Perfect for a submissive and though with some doubts my wife fitted it on me and at my suggestion, hid the key.

Then I made the conditions stricter for myself. "But I'm very easily tempted honey so please don't let me out."

"Well you can't get out without the key."

"Or let me pester you for it."

"I don't know what I could do about that."

"Promise to punish me somehow."

"Oh, no! You want me to cane you or something? No way honey."

"No but you could extent the time I'm locked up by a week or so."

"Well, I could sure promise you that. But what about my fun then?"

"I could tickle you instead. You'd like that."

Samantha had told me that she and her sister Jean used to play a game of tying each other up to be tickled and seeing who could last the longest without begging for mercy. The loser did the washing up for a week but I guess that the most important thing was the tying up and tickling.

"Actually honey I could probably find all sort of ways of hinting that I wanted to be let out so perhaps it would be more sensible for you to keep me locked up if I complained about anything or didn't do whatever you wanted."

"Well, I don't know about that. I'll have to see."

But she made little attempt to get me do any jobs round the house so I supposed she'd forgotten about it all.

Being chaste was harder to bear than I'd thought though and about two weeks before the three months was up I went to Samantha. Unfortunately I'd chosen a time of the month when even she could get quite irritable.

"Samantha honey please take this dreadful thing off me - I really can't bear it, please, please, please!"

"I thought you said you didn't want to be let out until it was time."

"Oh, I'd forgotten that. But please let me out, having to wait really is impossible."

"What for? So you can play with yourself again? That thing is supposed to stop all that and so it should. And what about me? I have wait so you can as well. Well Peter that's twice in one minute you've asked to be let out and I did promise to keep you locked up for a week each time so that's two weeks extra after I'm ready. I'm sorry honey but you did insist and a promise is a promise." So that was that and it was only a day or so later when she came back from the doctors and announced that she'd been told that she could resume normal relations any time she wanted.

"So tonight you can start giving me some of those nice tickles you promised me."

That night we went to bed early and when I got in from the bathroom she was already lying in bed covered by only a sheet.

"When Jean tickled me she tied me out onto the bed like this," and she stretched her arms and legs out to the head and foot of the bed frame. "Look there are some old stockings to stretch me out with."

I tied her out but she said. "No, tighter, it made it too difficult if the person wriggled too much."

I suppose it was just luck that she'd chosen that particular bed. The head and foot were of metal and had a multitude of bars and knobs - just right for fastening things to. I tightened the stockings up a bit.

"All right, honey?"

"Yes, if you think so. And Jean's given me a massager. It's there on your side table." I picked it up. It looked like a child's model rocket ship about ten inches long and about an inch or so diameter. I pressed a switch and it vibrated vigorously. I'd no experience of such things but it was obvious what it was for.

"Oh, it's a v - " I thought better of it - "a very useful thing."

"You must make the tickling last at least half an hour Peter honey or you'll have to do it again tomorrow."

So I started, slowly and carefully like normal foreplay and at first without the vibrator and all the time she writhed and squirmed as far as possible in view of being stretched out tight. Then as soon as I felt she was ready for it I switched the vibrator on. Starting with her arms and legs, I gradually worked in towards her body and her vagina, finally pushing it very gently in when I thought she was ready. There was no need for lubrication it was so wet. At last she gave a moan, shuddered and climaxed.

After a few moments she opened her eyes. "I suppose now you've had your fun Peter you're going to leave me like this all night?"

"Er - well, n-"

"- Of course you will, I know I've no choice in the matter. Well I can see you want to leave me stretched out and helpless so if it eases your conscience I may as well order you to."

"Er yes honey."

Of course I'd no intention of leaving her like that so the moment she'd fallen into a deep and obviously blissful sleep I slackened the ties as much as possible. I wasn't so blissful. I was horribly frustrated and cried myself to sleep and when after a fitful night I woke up early I carefully tightened her bonds again and went down to fix us both a coffee.

Samantha had had her fun about twice a week for all those two weeks and at the end I was expecting every day to be let out. But no key! And of course I couldn't say anything. But then she explained.

"You probably want me to let you out sometime don't you Peter?"

"If that's what you want honey." I didn't know how to put it without being locked up for another week.

"It's all right. I'm asking the questions so you can give me an honest answer."

"Yes Samantha I'd love it. Please let me out, please!"

"Well I can't. I'd thought we might be burgled or I might mislay the key somehow and as Jean's got a wall safe I gave it to her for security. But she's suddenly gone off with the girls for a month and forgotten to leave it with me. Sorry, honey. But I don't mind if you give me more tickles."

Jean! I was never quite sure whether she liked me or not but in any case she was very mischievous. And she had twin fifteen year old daughters, Mary and Madelaine, not hers but the divorcee's she'd married but they all got on really well. Samantha often left me at home when she went off with the three of them for the day - she could certainly be quite confident that I couldn't get up to anything while she was out.

So that was another month of frustration. One day, Samantha found me sobbing so much that I hadn't heard her come in.

"What is it honey? Come on I'll let you tell me."

"It's awful! I can't tell you how utterly helpless I feel. I can't even touch myself and it isn't fair. I've gone without sexual relief for over four months while you can have it any night you like."

"Oh Peter what a ridiculous thing to say! It's nothing like the sex we had between us, it's just tickling like Jean and I did as little girls. In fact you've given me quite a problem because you said I wasn't to let you out until we did have sex together and I've got to tell you that I don't really want to now - ever! It's messy and I have to have a pill and it's not nearly as nice."

I was so horrified at this that it must have shown. "Oh I'm sorry honey but I'm sure we can find a way you can have some fun. Jean'll be back soon and she's always got lots of good ideas."

A few days later Samantha said we were to walk to Jean's, a couple of streets away.

"Jean says she's had a really good idea that will completely solve our problem." Our problem? Samantha didn't have one and looking back, it seemed to me that she must have been longing for her new way of getting sexual satisfaction all her married life.

"Well," said Jean briskly, "Samantha's told me about your problem and I've think I've found a way. I hope Samantha agrees with me." No mention about me agreeing with it.

"Well, this is it - Samantha is quite determined to enjoy her er tickling and not to have intercourse any more. That means no release for Peter for that purpose but I do think she's a bit too restrictive in not letting him have sexual relief. Men do need it sometimes you know Sis."

"I don't!"

"Perhaps not but isn't Peter getting real upset?"

"Well yes I guess he is."

"So I suggest that he is let out to relieve himself from time to time but only when he's earned it by doing some of the housework. What do you think?"

Samantha thought carefully. I knew that I wouldn't mind doing a bit of housework now and then.

"I really don't know Jean. It doesn't seem very much of a sacrifice for him and I do so disapprove of anything like that."

"Well make him work really hard for it. You could even send him here to work sometimes. But that would be your decision. He'd be completely under your control and he'd have to do whatever you said."

I think this must have touched some hidden feelings in Samantha and a half smile spread across her face.

"OK I'll give it a try. But how often? What happens when he is let out and how do I get him back into it again?"

"About every two weeks but only if he deserves it. And each time, chain him somewhere by the neck or ankle. You give him half an hour to relieve himself and clean himself up and then either you or he puts the device back on again. You make quite sure you're satisfied it's properly in place and bring me back the key and don't unchain him till then. All right?"

"Gee thanks Jean. I guess it is some kind of sacrifice for him and any moment he's got spare I'll send him across to work for you or your daughters. Peter! I'll stay here and talk with Sis a while but you can go back home and do the kitchen chores."

I trudged across in a state of shock but did as she said. Later, Samantha examined my work and I'd never heard her so cross. It was another bad time of the month for her though.

"You expect me to approve of that sloppy work? Look at all that dust you've missed! Well you can do it again tomorrow, properly this time and I'm putting another week on to you being locked up."

Although it did take a month I did earn my release at last and Jean was there to help Samantha to chain me up and see that the tube was back on. This went on for four months and in all that time I out was out of the tube only five times and I could see from Samantha's face that she didn't like the idea of even that.

But that wasn't the worst of it. I am a teacher - English mostly, and I learned with a shock that in the new school year I was going to be the form teacher for Jean's two girls. They and the rest of the form had long had a well-deserved reputation for misbehaviour. All the other teachers dreaded having them and one had had a nervous breakdown. Then Samantha told me that I would soon be going to Jean's to do the cleaning on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and although Jean would be out as usual the girls would be in charge. How was I going to cope with that? Once those girls knew that I was going to be a sort of slave they and their class would make my life hell. I went across to Jean in desperation but she just smiled.

"Don't worry Peter. Just prepare a good lesson." And that's all she would say.

I didn't sleep that Sunday night and went into school on Monday in a state of utter panic and with the condolences of the rest of the staff. But it was heaven! The twins and the rest of the class were attentive and well behaved and at the end seemed really appreciative and said so. And it wasn't just that day - this continued for all that week, and the rest of the staff and the Head congratulated me warmly - some of their good behaviour seemed to have rubbed on other subjects. I couldn't see Jean till the Friday and I asked her how she'd done it.

"I've told the girls something of your situation and the deal was this - you do as they tell you at home and in return they've promised to behave in class and seeing as they're the ringleaders the rest of the class will behave as well. But tomorrow it's your turn. I'll be out but Samantha says one word from them about you being slow or unwilling and it's the usual punishment. Whatever they ask mind - anything!

I turned up on Saturday hoping for the best. After all they'd been swell all week so why not now? But they were waiting for me.

"Here he is, here's our little Peterkin. Ma says you have to do as we say so you can wash up the breakfast things little man." They were tall girls and being rather short myself it was maybe appropriate. "Here's your apron, now put it on like a good little man," and they produced a long, shiny green plastic one and tied it round the back with a tight and complicated knot so that I'd have to beg them to remove it.

They kept me at the chores all morning while they looked on with big grins of satisfaction and in between times I had to bring them any snacks or drinks they wanted. At mid-day, I went home to fix lunch for Samantha and me. This went on for a couple of Saturdays but at the end of one Madelaine asked the question which I had been dreading.

"Peterkin, Ma's told us that if you annoy us in any way we only have to say so and Aunt Sam'll punish you. So how?" I hesitated even though this was the last day after a month of chastity. "Come on! I'll overlook it this time but if we have to ask you twenty times, that's twenty punishments. So what are they? Does she cane you?"

Slowly and with a face as red as Madelaine's PVC trousers I told them everything. How they laughed.

"You mean you can't even jerk off until Aunt Sam's let's you out? Do you mind?" asked Mary. I almost wept.

"Of course I do! Oh it's torture, girls. I thought it would be fun but I wish now I'd never even started. Please help me." There was no use pretending and I had no dignity left.

"So where's the key?"

"Your Ma's got it hidden somewhere."

"I know, it'll be in the wall safe! It's got an electronic combination lock. We'll keep trying the number till we find it!"

My hopes rose. Those girls might get me out of this fix yet! They got up and moved a picture to one side. There was the safe but the buttons were stuck over by a piece of stiff white card with Jean's distinctive signature in several places. It was obvious - to try the buttons you'd have to tear the card off and Jean would know. The girls took one look at the dismay on my face and Madelaine laughed.

"So now we know what happens if we complain to Aunt Sam. Enough complaints from us could mean another six months of chastity! Well that's the fun you wanted and we might even try it but those punishments are rather irrelevant now aren't they? Aunt Samantha could let you out and forget the whole business, but if you don't do exactly as we tell you we'll make your life in school utter hell whatever anyone else says. All right little Peterkin? Oh what fun Mary! I've thought of something already," and she whispered something to her sister that made them both laugh. "Next week little Peterkin can look forward to wearing something nice we're going to find him."

By the next Saturday morning I'd forgotten what they'd said but they showed me into a bedroom, told me to take all my clothes off and put on what had been laid out for me. That was a shock - it was a black dress, with all the underclothes and an apron! I knew there was no choice but to comply and went back in to them, horribly embarrassed and red-faced but then they made me sit down to have make-up and a maids cap put on before showing me to a mirror. They'd made me look entirely female!

"And now you're our maid you can curtsy when we speak to you and call us 'Miss Mary' and 'Miss Madelaine' said Mary."

All that morning I was at their beck and call but another blow came when it was time to go back. They told me to go back as I was and to tell Samantha that it was my choice to be dressed like that and that I wanted to go back next Saturday ready dressed the same way.

"You'll pass perfectly well in the street," said Madelaine, "and no one will see you going in or coming out if you use the side gate. And be sure to tell Aunt Sam you want to wear that dress. We'll check and ask her if you have."

Our house bordered onto an old lane which was now used as a footpath from one part of the estate to another. Our side gate onto this was totally hidden by bends in the lane and by trees and shrubs so it was easy for me to use it to go to or from the main roadway as if I was someone who'd passed through from the rest of the estate. I slunk home carrying my own clothes in bag, terrified but without problems. Of course I didn't dare say that it was the girls who had made me do it so I was afraid of what Samantha would say and in fact she seemed annoyed, mostly because I was due to be let out and she never liked the idea of that.

"You really want to Peter? Well OK if you're all that keen you can."

The next Saturday morning I had it on ready and Samantha told me to watch carefully how the make-up was done because I'd soon have to do it for myself

This went on at Jean's for a few weeks, and the girls invited Samantha round a couple of Sunday afternoons so that I could serve an afternoon tea to all four them. Of course I had to open the door to Samantha, call her 'Mrs Jones' and curtsy to her as to all the rest of them. But a week or two later those girls had prepared another punishment for me.

I had arrived at eight as usual - they wanted to get the most out of me - but then they told me to go into the spare room and take off all my clothes and then put on what was there and then wait for them. There in the room I saw a rough woollen shirt. I've never liked wearing wool but I had to do it and pulled it on. My cry of distress brought them both in. Immediately Mary reached behind me to zip up the back and Madelaine grinned and held out a lock to show me and then clicked it shut at the back of my neck. Then I had to put the underwear and dress back on. It had been bad enough keeping still, but the slightest movement resulted in an irritating scratchiness. It started when I had to straighten my arms to put the vest and slip on but the worst came with the dress and I can't tell you how unpleasant it was reaching up to let it slip down over my straightened arms and my body. At first I didn't dare put the apron on but they insisted. More torture.

"Come along Peterkin," said Mary "it's time for work. We haven't had breakfast yet so you can start with that."

I tried to brave it out but after a few minutes of reaching up for pans and twisting round to serve I gave in.

"Oh please girls please let me out. It's torture! How long do I have to wear this dreadful thing?" The girls pretended to be shocked.

"Oh how ungrateful," said Mary, "Sis and I have spent ages working on that and we've made it specially for you. Well we're sorry if it's a bit tough but that's what you'll be wearing here from now on. Unless you want a dreadful time in school of course. Besides, you gave us the idea in that lesson about metaphors."

I guess in a way I had. In class I'd explained how hard it was to express even common ideas without them - no one ever really 'tightened their belt' but they sometimes said that if they were being economical. I asked the class to find other examples and one lad was puzzled over someone writing 'why should we all wear hair shirts just because a few people couldn't behave' and I explained what it meant. I'd noticed Mary grin and prod Madelaine in the ribs but thought nothing of it at the time.

And now they had utterly defeated me and although I nearly broke down in tears with the awful discomfort, the girls didn't relent and in fact just looked on until I'd finished before telling me to get on with my work or would I prefer a hard time in class next week? I got on with the work. Naturally I was hoping that they'd let me out before I went home but to my horror they just gave me a letter with a spare key for Samantha and sent me off.

At least the torture would soon be over I thought but no sooner had I got in than Samantha hurriedly pocketed the letter (with the key) and announced that she was going straight out.

"I'm going out to see an old school friend and I'll be back tonight. Get yourself some lunch and in the afternoon you can clear out the little box-room. Cover your dress with something - I've no time to let you out - and paint the ceiling. I've been waiting long enough for you to get the job finished so see you do it properly or you'll have a few weeks extra to wait!" And off she went.

I sat down in dismay, but I knew there was no getting out of the job. The torment of reaching up to paint was almost unbearable but I had to try and by the time she got back I'd just about managed it. Then I explained and begged her to let me out. But all she did was to let me take my dress and underclothes off and made me move about and tell her what irritated the most. At last she released me.

"Gee thanks honey!" And while she examined the hair shirt she let me go for a glorious hot shower. For the next few days Samantha let me out f the dress and hair shirt but obviously she was thinking over things. Then one morning she told me what she'd decided.

"Well Peter, you begged and pleaded for me to promise to keep you in chastity for as long as we weren't having sex together. But we aren't and never will be again and a promise is a promise so I really ought never to let you out again. And although Jean says it will be tough for you to do without sexual relief I can't help thinking that it is morally wrong and a shameful weakness. On the other hand I've read that in the past very religious people wore hair shirts as a penance for things like that so I suppose that if you did indulge in your immoral act but had a penance afterwards that might put matters partly right.

So I've had an idea. You know I've never liked you relieving yourself - abusing yourself in my opinion - so I've decided that from now on if you want relief I'll give to you. You can start tonight and then have thirty hours of penance under my direction and remember that any time I'm not satisfied with your work I'll add an hour or two on and Jean and the girls will have the right to do the same. After that you can ask for sexual relief any time you like but there will always be the penance to follow and that will include wearing the maid's uniform with it whenever you're indoors. But it'll be your choice. OK?"

"Sure honey." What else could I say?

After the months of denial or unsatisfactory release I was ready for anything. First she stretched me out on the bed in the same way as I had to do to her and it worked out as part of a flexible system which turned out suitable for both of us. Then she put a condom on me. I soon found that Samantha knew how to draw it out and tantalise me and she gave me an hour of pure heaven. Next day though was pure hell and I was in that hair shirt till bedtime. She's followed the same system ever since except that she's made my sexual relief last even longer and even more ecstatic but is absolutely merciless in making sure that she extracts the last drop of torture out of the penance and will add an hour or two if I make even the least awkward movement on account of the acute discomfort I'm in. Only she says that she is being kind to me because I'm being discouraged from immorality and she's the one really paying penance because she daren't take her eyes off me in case I somehow avoid the full punishment.

This has been going on now for the past twelve years. Samantha soon replaced the original hair shirt with something even more uncomfortable, with legs to half way down my thigh. The legs, arms and high collar now all end in a scratchy elasticated band and there is a band of the same material at my elbows and armpits. I soon found that the effect of these was to give an unyielding area so that any movement in one part drags the shirt along the rest of the limb with horrible discomfort. Samantha had also knitted this new one out of an even more scratchy mixture of coarse wool and hair than the last so that my penance would be more effective. She often made me wear high-necked pullovers to hide the shirt so that I can go out in public with her and I even went to parties dressed in it. In summer it's always too hot so Samantha relentes a little but then I went without sex altogether. All this time of course she was enjoying her 'tickling' sometimes as much as three and four times a week.

Mary and Madelaine are more or less through with their medical studies and whenever they come home Samantha and Jean arrange tea parties and get-togethers for them all where I serve as their maid and wearing the shirt. I'm so good at hiding it now that the girls didn't realize at first but now they know that I'm nearly always in it (Samantha thought I might be getting used to it so the penance went up to forty hours) they laugh and tease me and give me a kind hug and a kiss. They are sure attractive but Samantha doesn't mind. She knows I am totally helpless and daren't even think about sex in case I have a painful erection. She also thinks it's a good thing that I'm being so frustrated when we go to parties because it's an additional form of penance and for the same reason she sometimes puts on the sort of sexy films that she knows I like. Recently though she's seemed less happy with the arrangement and says that I ought to be grateful for her attempts to cure me of immorality and that after the forty hours are up I must 'volunteer' to wear the hair shirt and to delay my reward for few days more.

You might wonder why I don't just stop this horrible endless torture by doing without the sexual pleasure and the fact is that during the penance and under Samantha's merciless dominance that's just how I felt. The problem is that cruel chastity tube which frustrates and distresses me so much that once the penance is over I forget all about the torment to follow and immediately start to think again about relief. But all that is irrelevant now.

The other week, Samantha and Jean had gone out leaving me alone with Mary and Madelaine.

"Come and sit down here between us, Uncle Peter," said Mary, "we've something to tell you." This sounded ominous and it was.

"A few days ago you told Auntie that you were concerned about the little blades inside your chastity tube. How old is it?"

"Well, I made it over twelve years ago and I thought I ought to have the chance to check it over."

"Well I guess you can't," said Madelaine, "Aunt Sam threw the keys away after the last time she gave you relief."

"But why?"

"She'd been feeling more and more mad about you still having it. You'd made her promise faithfully not to let you have it until you were having normal sexual relations, and you weren't. So she wanted to make sure you could never have sex ever again. But now she's thought - suppose you were out somewhere and one of those blades did slip out? What would happen to your penis then?"

"Gee! They'd all slip. I'd be lacerated and bleed to death. And I guess it could happen any time."

Madelaine put her arm round me. "Exactly. So the only option will be to remove the tube as soon as possible. Of course your penis will have to be cut as well but it'll be no use to you anyway now so there'd be no real harm done."

She reached inside her jacket. "Actually here's the consent form. Just sign there." I hesitated.

"But I couldn't face that!"

"Sorry Uncle, but you'll have to agree anyhow. Aunt Sam knows you can't refuse the operation or anything else she wants you to do because she has enough photos of you dressed as a maid to ruin your reputation at school and everywhere. You'd never get that headship. And if that didn't persuade you, the house, your money and your pension fund are all in her name so you'd be out on the street and lose all that."

So I signed.

"But what's going to happen? They'll leave all they can, won't they?" Madelaine didn't answer that.

"The operation will have to be soon and the school holidays are in a week." I was silent with shock for a moment.

"But who will do it and where?"

"I will. I'm nearly qualified and can work under supervision although actually the consultant surgeon at the local hospital will be learning from me. I've done several already." Her eyes shone with eagerness at the thought. Then she dropped her bombshell. "On the form you've just signed you've asked for total removal of the penis. That's what Aunt Sam's ordered, and it's no use me refusing because she'd get somebody else."

"But there's got to be something left!"

"No, I'm really neat. Above the scrotum will be quite flat and it'll look as if there was nothing ever there."

"But how will I - ?"

"Urinate? I'll keep just the urethra, take it down under the skin and bring it out somewhere under the scrotum with a tiny little end so you won't dribble." She saw my face. "Oh, I'm sorry Uncle - I get carried away. But it's very simple - just a local anaesthetic."

Mary looked concerned. "Aren't you going to remove the testicles as well, Sis?"

"No. Aunt Sam wants me to leave those." I felt a sudden surge of relief at that.

"But having no penis, girls. It'll be on my mind every second of the day." Madelaine smiled sadly.

"Actually it won't Uncle. Aunt Sam's going to make you carry on with the hair underwear for the rest of your life, so that'll take your mind off it."

"Oh please, no!"

"Are you wearing some now?" asked Mary.

"Yes! And it's just as unbearable now as when she first made me put it on."

"Well she's making some new ones for you and basically you'll wear them for about fifteen hours a week."

That seemed like an improvement and I cheered up.

Samantha has let me off distractions until the operation in few days time but now I have time to think and I'm sick with dread. Yesterday the girls took me to one side and told me that she'd been feeling stricken with guilt at having broken her promise to keep me chaste all those years and the only way thinks she can relieve it now is by making sure that my penance is as harsh and strict as possible. That's the reason she wants my testicles left on. At first it sounded like a kindness but it's part of the penance because I'll have all the frustration of suffering intense sexual feelings but with nothing I can do to relieve them.

Then Madelaine told me that the fifteen hours wearing will be a minimum and because of punishments to keep me on my toes I'll be almost certain to be wearing them for forty or more. I was pleased at first to learn that one of the new hair undergarments has a lower collar but Mary said it was so that it can be worn under any clothing and I'll have to wear it under a suit and teach in it. Samantha's finished them and the girls say they're even more scratchy and restrictive than before. What I've been suffering up till now will seem like nothing.

Madelaine hugged me. "Oh, poor Uncle Peter", she said, "what with everything else, we're real sorry now that we ever started you off with that hair shirt."

And I'd thought that being dominated by Samantha was all going to be such fun!

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