Lady Chastity's Lover

My wife Christa takes endless delight in controlling me, especially my sex life. Or rather, my lack of one. You see, she has put me into chastity, using a simple device that consists of a tube to cover my penis, with an attached ring that locks around the top of my scrotum. The pieces are made of steel and the padlock is very small but not cheap or likely to be opened without its key. Christy almost always wears the key, either on a slender gold chain around her neck or on an ankle bracelet. She loves to have it someplace where I can see it when I admire her slender, sexy body. And admire it I do. She makes sure of that as she struts around the house half dressed or lounges in the backyard in a teeny bikini or else topless. I complained about her outdoor exhibitionism when a hunky young stud moved in next door. I'm a few years older than my wife (okay, ten years) and this guy was more age appropriate for her.

She said, "What's the matter, Dicky? Are you afraid I'm attracted to him? And that he's going to put some moves on me?" That scared me but, at the same time, gave me a weird thrill. I tried to tell myself that it was just because it had been over a month since she had let me out of my little tube to gain release, but I knew that was only partly true. After she said it, Christa rolled over on her beach towel and told me to undo her top and rub lotion on her back. I shivered with excitement. She is so lovely and her skin is like satin. As I knelt and opened the plastic bottle, even before I touched her, my neglected dick tried to get hard in its confinement. My balls drew up tight and gave me a twinge of discomfort. Three years before, she had pointed out to me that I was being selfish in bed, finishing before she could orgasm. I told her I couldn?t help myself but she didn't accept that. Instead, she gave me the guilts and persuaded me to use my mouth to satisfy her. Once I started to do that, she let me have less and less sex, claiming that I did a better job of licking her when I was horny.

How did that lead to chastity? Well, she took me there in stages. The more she denied me intercourse, the hornier I got. And having to use my mouth on her became the center of my erotic life. I didn't want to do it but being in any sort of intimate contact with her was preferable to being cut off altogether. When she did allow me penetration, she always pointed out, using a concerned tone, that I finished too soon. I said that it was because she only let me cum rarely but she insisted that had nothing to do with it, and suggested that it was another manifestation of my selfishness. She would wash up after I finished and then make me go down on her. After a while she told me that getting clean down there broke her mood. Christa said that I could eat her pussy -- she started using more blunt language like that, which bothered me -- before I stuck my dick in her -- again, the unrefined choice of words -- but that if she got tired from the multiple orgasms my oral efforts gave her, we might have to postpone my fun. The other choice was for me to go down on her AFTER I finished, and without her getting washed up. That didn't appeal to me at all but still seemed like the safer choice. When I didn't get to finish, all I could think about was her body and being in bed with her. So I unhappily made the latter choice. She began to refer to me as her 'licky-licky boy' and her 'cleaner-upper'.

That went on for months until I became acclimated to it. The next step was to have me serve her outside of bed. She might be sitting on the couch or at the table in the kitchen nook. It was demeaning to have to kneel on the floor and put my head between her parted legs. Worse, that situation offered no chance for me to have regular sex. When I did get her back into bed she began to tease me, getting me so aroused that I could barely stand it. Usually that ended with me licking her to multiple orgasms and being left with blue balls. The alternative was for her to continue the foreplay, stroke my penis with her soft, talented hand, and keep it up until I spurted into her palm. She had a technique of changing her grip when I started to pant rapidly, so that she could cover the end of my organ and catch all the ejaculate. Then, pointing out that I had made a mess in her hand, she demanded that I lap it all up. I objected but she made the case that I was already used to eating my spunk out of her pussy. I relented and from then on almost all of my infrequent orgasms occurred that way. It was humiliating but, again, better than nothing.

Christa often went around the house in scanty outfits that drove me to distraction. She was very casual about stepping out into the back yard dressed that way. By then our new neighbor has moved in and, inevitably, there came the day when she was outside at the same time he was in his yard. My wife had on only a belly shirt with no bra under it, and micro-mini shorts without panties. She smiled at the studly guy, who had on jeans and no shirt, and who obviously worked out. I mentally compared his firm physique to my out of shape body and felt ashamed. They began to chat and, when I tried to get into the conversation, Christa snapped at me to do the weeding alongside our house. The guy must have been emboldened by her obvious control over me, and he invited her over for a glass of lemonade. I glanced back over my shoulder as I worriedly tugged up weeds. She stood very close to him and asked innocently, "Is it hard?" He grinned and said, "Is WHAT hard, cutie?" She said, "The lemonade, silly." They both laughed. He told her, "It's just plain old lemonade, but we can go inside and add a little something to... make it hard. The lemonade, I mean." She giggled at that and they vanished into his house. I remembered her taunting words from before, about him possibly making advances toward her. It appeared that my great fear was being realized. And she was certainly encouraging him. Even so, after several years of her progressively regulating my sex life, I felt beaten down and even afraid that I would lose what few bedroom rights I still held onto.

They reappeared a half hour later with tall glasses in their hands and sat at a round table with an attached umbrella. The two of them enjoyed an hour of talking and gazing into each other's eyes while I continued my sweaty labor. Finally they got up and, to my horror, she gave him a lingering hug. Then she breezed by me and went into the house, leaving me to spend another hour finishing my job. At last I went in and found her on the couch, watching TV, naked. Christa spread her legs lewdly and said, sounding a little buzzed from whatever had been added to her drink, "I'm feeling randy for some reason. I can't imagine why that could be. But I know that I need your mouth on my pussy -- right now." So used to doing as I was told by then, I immediately got onto my knees and pressed my lips to her moist labia. As I flicked her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, she began to rhapsodize about our neighbor, whose name was Mark. She said that, besides being tall and handsome, he was clever and smart. That went on while I dutifully drove her toward a climax, which was vocal and loud. The windows were all opened and I wondered if Mark might hear her. My stomach turned over at the thought. Even so, I somehow felt closer than ever to my wife, just not in the role of traditional husband but more as another name she had taken to calling me, her 'pussy slave'.

The flirtation between Christa and Mark continued. She had him over for a light dinner one evening and they excluded me from their conversation. Christa had me serving their food and clearing the table afterwards. Once he left she was in immediate need for me to get naked and provide oral gratification in bed and, at the moment of climax, she called out Mark's name. When she was done she told me to assume the missionary position. I was thrilled, hopeful that she was feeling generous and wanted to grant me release. Instead, she only permitted me to put the tip of my yearning penis against the opening of her vagina. It was maddeningly stimulating. Then Christa put her nimble fingers on my nipples and began to tease me that way. I was huffing and puffing as she brought me to the brink over and over. When I was totally distracted and desperate, she made an announcement she had been planning all along. Christa told me in a sultry voice, "Dicky, I've decided to do something to help you with your selfish attitude about sex and those premature ejaculations you can't control when I wank you. There's a handy little device I ordered on-line and it arrived yesterday. Reach over to the bedside table and get me that little box." Still in the throes of ecstasy, I did as told. She opened the box and gave me my first look at my chastity tube. I didn't even know what it was, so she described how it worked.

"B... but..." I stammered. "I mean, you c... can't expect me to..." When speech failed me she finished my sentence, "... can't expect you to wear it? Oh, but I do. And you will. Full time. I will hold the key and decide when -- and if -- you will get any time out of your new cock lock-up." She tittered. "Now get back down there and put me over the top again, while I think dirty thoughts about Mark." In a daze, I automatically got busy and gave her the pleasure she felt was her due. I knew that Christa would not allow me relief in return. She didn't feel she owed it to me. And with all that she had said about my supposed selfishness in bed, as well as my cum-too-soon problem, she almost had me convinced that I didn't deserve any satisfaction and owed her endless compensation. My wife enjoyed another climax as she gripped my ears and ground my face against her wet crotch. The scent of her womanhood filled my head. Afterwards she told me not to wash my lips or rinse my mouth. "I want you to taste me while I put your dick cage on you. Think about how much fun I'm going to have keeping you locked inside it, and how utterly frustrated you're going to feel not being able to even get hard for a long, long time." She chuckled impishly. "Maybe all the time."

Then she sat up and put her feet on the floor. I was erect from all my contact with her, so she ordered me to go to the fridge and grab an ice pack from the freezer. When I returned she made me hold it against my penis until I was completely flaccid. Christa commented that, because I have so little pubic hair, she was going to let me keep it for the time being, but that I might have to shave my pubes bare if she changed her mind. Then she slipped the tube over my limp member, closed the ring around my upper scrotum, inserted the small padlock and clicked it shut. I shuddered at the feeling of helplessness it gave me. I also enjoyed an odd sensation of pleasure that I didn't fully understand. She smiled up at me and said, "You'll just have to get used to this, Dicky. We can still have lots of fun in bed but it's going to all be you giving and me getting. I haven't stopped loving you but, well, a lot has changed these past months and a lot more is going to be different in the future. My advice to you is to not fight it. The sooner you accept your new status, the better for us all. You. Me. And Mark." She snickered at my shocked expression. I tried to protest but her fingertips found my nipples and she soon had me shivering with delight. My penis tried to get hard inside its confinement but was absolutely stymied. My balls drew up tight. My back arched and I let my head tilt back. It felt incredibly exciting but equally frustrating. She licked my belly and said, "You're going to be feeling this way all the time, loverboy. All the time."

My wife didn't fail to make that prediction come true. She flaunted her body mercilessly, dressing in lingerie and flashy heels around the house. Without warning she would blow in my ears, massage my testicles, and even pretend to perform fellatio on my trapped organ. On her knees she would look up at me and say, "I would love to suck you off, darling, if you weren't in that small, tight, solid prick-prison. Poor baby. I would use my mouth in ways you couldn't believe. I want to do it soooo much. Where can I find a cock to swallow? I wonder." At the same time, she continued to spend time with Mark. He would look at me and smirk at my inability to stand up to my wife. She scolded me in front of him. One time when she had invited him over, she made me wear a pair of her short-shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt she had purchased for me. Both items were bright yellow. She even got me matching flip-flops. I felt like a fool and it wasn't a big stretch to see the color as denoting my cowardice. Christa had me running and fetching snacks and drinks for them while they watched reality TV. She cuddled against him and, before the end of the evening, she had her small hand laid casually on his muscular thigh. I had a bad feeling about where this would lead. The day after that she made me shave below the belt.

About a week after that I saw them kiss for the first time, right in our backyard. She ran her hands up and down his broad back and he responded by cupping her shapely bottom cheeks. A surge of emotion ran through me, accompanied by a rush of sexual energy that was thwarted by my chastity. What was happening to my libido? The more my wife teased and denied me, hinted that she would go further with Mark, and taunted me about being her celibate husband, the deeper into my new mindset I sank. She was reprogramming me to, if not want what she was doing, certainly to accept and crave it. I felt like an addict who only wants to quit but at the same time desires more and more of what he's hooked on. When we were alone she would play games, like having me dress her, give my opinion on what she was wearing, and then undress her. That got me endlessly excited and made me constantly aware of my chaste state. Christa had me get into the shower with her and wash her all over, soaping up my hands and running them over her modest but flawless curves. She rubbed her soaped breasts against my narrow chest, turned away from me and wiggled her slippery bottom against my disabled dick. She would eat popsicles and pretend to be fellating a stiff penis. Sometimes she wore a filmy nightie at breakfast or a see-through top during lunch, more than once compelling me to kneel, unasked, alongside her and submissively wait, hoping she would tell me to do something, anything, that involved her seductive body.

One night she had me give her legs a massage, which led to me placing tender kisses on her pubic mound. She told me to keep doing that but not go any further. It unsettled me to think that she might deny me even oral contact with her precious womanhood. "I've made a decision," she announced, toying with the key to my chastity, which was currently on a belly button ring she had recently gotten. "I've decided to go to bed with Mark. There are two men in my life. One to serve as my bed slave, and one who can screw me like there's no tomorrow. At least I assume he can. When we make out I rub my thigh against his crotch and I've even accidently-on-purpose run my hand over it. He's primed and ready for action, unlike you. You're just primed. Or over-primed." She laughed at her joke. I moaned with need. She patted the top of my head. "So he and I are going out for a drink on Friday night. Date night. I feel like a teenage girl dating the quarterback of my school's championship football team. In fact, that's what he was in high school. Before he started his own business. A very successful business." She tugged my hair. "You can stop now. Get up here with your chastity aimed at my pussy, in position for sex. We'll play pretend."

I did as she said and Christa fiddled with my nipples. She made me hump my hips as if I was screwing her. My wife purred and writhed beneath me, licked her lips, and fluttered her eyelids. Then she faked an orgasm, digging her fingernails into my upper arms as she peaked. After that she relaxed, opened her eyes, and chuckled at what she had just put me through. "Wasn't that fun?" "Yes," I said, frazzled by not being in control, by being perpetually excited and then disappointed. She said, "Just think, come Friday night I'll be doing that for real. Come Friday, I'll be cumming, and not from you lapping my puss-puss." She gave my nipples another session of overstimulation, sighed, and told me to get off her. Christa flashed me a tender look and said, "Don't worry, sweets. I'll keep you in chastity until you learn to love it. I don't care how long that takes. After all, I'll be getting my buzzer buzzed by Mark." Christa gave me an air kiss, the only kind I received by then, and told me to behave. Then she grabbed my chastity and said, "Oh, I forgot, you can't MISbehave." I nodded and told her, "Yes, dear."

Now it's been six weeks since Christa first got into bed with Mark. She was right about him being well hung and able to perform like a stallion. My chances of ever escaping chastity went from slim to none. They started at his house and left a window open so I could sit in the back yard (with a sippy cup of warm milk) and listen. The third time they did it they came to our place. I had to get them glasses of wine. They acted like I was hired help, an invisible presence, there only to respond to their whims. Mark made me kneel in the hall with the bedroom door open just a crack, so I could hear but not see their lovemaking. It was loud and long. Then my wife called me into the room. She was snuggled up against him with a fulfilled expression on her face. The sheet was thrown aside. His large hand rested over her breast. She summoned me with a flick of her finger and told me it was time to be her pussy slave. I could see that she was overflowing with Mark's thick cream. When I hesitated she reminded me, "Hey, you've eaten plenty of your own goo, out of my pussy and from my hand. Now that you're out of the goo-making business, I'm going to let you enjoy Mark's. Yummy." Then she added, "You need to thank him for that, and for making me so happy with his super cock. His not-under-lock-and-key cock." I swallowed what was left of my pride and thanked him for both those things. Then, while they watched with amusement, I had to put myself between her shapely legs and perform until she was quite clean. Christa even had an extra orgasm from all my tongue work, while Mark was passionately kissing her.

She raves every day about his sexual prowess. I don't know if my dick will ever see the outside of its chastity. Christa loves teasing me more than ever. She likes to call Mark and talk dirty with him while I go down on her. Even so, I know that she still loves me. It's just, as before, that I'm no longer in the husband role in the bedroom. And one other thing. She said she would keep working on me until I came to love my new role. Even though I didn't want it to happen, that's what has been occurring. When she wears something sexy and strikes a provocative pose, instead of thinking of us having intercourse, I picture myself eating her pussy -- yes, she has me thinking in those terms now -- after Mark has demonstrated his sexual prowess yet again. I focus on her pleasure. For myself, being teased and left unfulfilled is what passes for consummation of our marriage. She has jokingly started to refer to herself as Lady Chastity and Mark as Lady Chastity's Lover. She says they're working on an appropriate name for me. I wonder what it will be.

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Page last updated 2012-Oct-20 by: Altairboy@aol.com