And there it is: the most dreadful ultimatum of all. I hang my head in humbly dismayed acceptance – though not quickly enough to hide the spark of excitement that leaps up with the realization that at least maybe our waiting-to-see-if-she’s-conceived intermission has finished. If my spouse still wants kids, we’ll need to make love again…
Goddess Gretchen isn’t tricked. Sneering at the eagerness with which I move to finish stripping she rips open the box of tampons.
“Don’t get too excited sissy.
“I don’t care how f*****g disgusting you are. Nothing’s touching me down there except these for the next five days. That means I’ll have to get my satisfaction the new-fangled way: through tons of teasing and torturing. But not until I deliver the worst beating ever in payback for your latest unforgivable failure as a male. I want that new paddle and my belt both placed on the bed. And I want you lying butt-up next to them, naked, ready and waiting to be restrained by the time I’m finished in here. Now move your soon-to-be bruised-blue ass!”
***
Things are different this time – maybe dangerously so.
When Gretchen emerges she isn’t nude too but wearing a short, incredibly sexy black robe. While thin and clingy this still completely conceals her breasts, crotch and bottom. And although there’s nothing odd about seeing her carrying Mr. Proper, in my state of heightened observation I notice that hideously realistic phallus is glistening, as if fresh from her p***y – or maybe carrying a coating of some other lubricant. This seems confirmed by the careful way she sets it aside before tying me out all spread-legged as usual atop a pair of plump pillows, though without any underwear plugging up my face for once. Nevertheless I do my best to avoid the implications – until my deity makes this moot of course.
“I told you we need to make this latest emasculation the worst ever for you by far. Unfortunately I’ve already been beating you as long and hard as I can. And though I’m already quickly building up my strength and stamina, that’s not much good to us right now. So we’re going to use Mr. Proper here to make things a little more thrilling for you.
“Besides, judging from what I’ve just seen, you’ve really been enjoying exploring your feminine side, haven’t you sissy? Wearing those panties excites you so much you can’t keep your filthy fingers out of them. And since this sanction is for your latest, worst failure of masculinity yet, it seems more than appropriate that we push things further in that direction.”
Push things further! In that direction!
The instant I feel that slick but still way-too-giant d**k being shoved up my butt I panic and clench right up. Knowing better than to try begging, I still blurt out a pointless protest.
“Are…aren’t you worried about germs anymore? You still haven’t kissed me since I…”
“You will put this p***s through the dishwasher and thus sterilize it for me first thing in the morning, b***h. Now loosen up and accept the entry of your wonderfully dominant goddess’ c**k. Otherwise I’ll wipe it dry, cram it in as brutally as I can and leave it there for the next twenty-four hours or more.”
Somehow I force my body into compliance. My mind is another matter. It still shrieks and gibbers juvenile epithets at me as Goddess Gretchen thrusts her big, hard, yet blessedly slippery dildo in deep. Every inch, oh every inch hurts so much worse! Somehow worst of all though is the way my own b***r throbs even harder.
The further in I’m violated, the more powerful the corresponding response! Hating myself utterly for this ungovernable reflex, I fist my fingers and toes and groan more eloquently than I wish to permit. Still the first sob doesn’t escape me until it’s all the way in, my Goddess lets go of it – and another bodily reflex promptly pops it right back out. Damn it all!
I’m not the only one cursing.
“Oh no you f*****g cunt! Take that, you unmanly young slut!”
She rams it back in again, brutally enough to make me yelp – and for my own tiny erection to paradoxically, idiotically twitch harder. Then Gretchen uses a few strips of medical tape to seal that eight-by-one inches tightly in, splitting my stuffed cheeks even wider in the process.
“There you go, ass-b***h. Squeeze on that while I beat your slutty butt. According to my online correspondents, it should enhance the sensations admirably – among other benefits.”
Her correspondents weren’t kidding.
Each blow across my backside has always caused my crotch to clutch at the pillow under me even as I bury my b***r deep. Now that clutching squeezes Goddess’ c**k indeed, emphasizing the hugeness of its intrusion right at each most affecting detonation of sensation.
I still have no idea why that makes my own teensy weenie strain so insanely, but there’s no denying reality. And when particularly well-aimed smacks of that strap hit the dildo dead-on, nudging it up inside me… Well it’s still nothing like when she switches to the paddle. Aim isn’t an issue then. Each resounding crack across my ass seems to pound that c**k-spike in ever deeper. Finally the way I’m writhing and gasping and lifting in the most eager invitation ever betrays my unmistakable appreciation. Gretchen snarls as she swings that two-handed, cut-down-and-perforated canoe paddle even harder yet.
“This is supposed to be punishment, slut! But all right. Let’s just see how perverted you really are. My online friends have been suggesting things I honestly find impossible to believe. But you’ve surprised me before, haven’t you, secret sissy Harry?”
“Yes I have, my most blessed beloved.”
“All right then. Let’s interrupt the beating for a bit. It’s time to test just how feminine my clandestinely sinning sissy is getting.”
The paddle clatters down. The mattress shifts with Gretchen’s movement. Then she rips that strip of tape off, flaying a layer of skin from my crack and balls in the process. And though the butt of Goddess’ c**k protrudes out some from its paddled-in maximum, there’s no automatic ejection this time. Though my whipped and beaten buttocks burn well in from the hugely bruised surface, way deep inside I’ve grown not only accepting but shamelessly possessive. When my wife gives her thickly-embedded prick a gentle wriggle I can’t even pretend to dissemble.
“So, my sissy slutty hubby, not so terrible being penetrated as you feared is it? What’s that? You want me to take this out now?”
Another titillating wiggle-giggle dredges up another too-honest groan. I turn my burning cheek to the weeping-damp mattress and shake my head in the negative. “How about now?” Wretched Gretchen suddenly switches the vibrator on!
“Nooooooooooooo!”
My drawn out moan is so hopeless! Whatever my wife is planning for me, however ineradicably it further damns me as a man, this initiation is impossible to withstand. That gross stuffing-buzzing must have some direct internal neural connection to my erection, for the response this time is obscenely intense. I mewl and writhe, lift and spread, squirming worse than any other time I’ve been bound to this bed. Laughing nastily, Gretchen goes from wiggling to gouging, interspersed with quick rhythmic plunging in-and-out.
Of course I haven’t climaxed in so long, and I was just stopped short an hour or so ago. That’s got to be why my sickly skyrocketing submissive exhilaration triggers such a wracking ejaculation after less than a minute of this insidiously invasive stimulation. Then again I’ve never even come close to coming with only a pair of feather pillows to grind Mr. Tiny against either.
Goddess Gretchen is as omniscient as ever.
“I can’t believe it! You just spewed your useless semen! Here I thought they must be joking about the best way to repay your many manly failures.
“I thought, damn, that’s so twisted they don’t even have a Biblical proscription against it. Maybe these libertines were right though, and about everything else as well. As long as I’m menstruating away your failure, I’ll have to do even more research into these ‘wife-led relationships’. Not to mention order a few more specialty items online.
“That doesn’t abrogate your punishment today however! Spewing into the pillow only compounds your crimes. Let’s pick up where we left off then, shall we?”
This time Goddess truly does beat me worse than ever. Then she rolls me over, wipes my sticky issue across my face and tortures my just-so-wondrously-emptied balls until I fear they may forfeit their future function altogether. Deliberately skipping the teasing part, she finally ties me up for the rest of the evening and nighttime (without any dinner I might add) in the cold and lonely tub again. Except this time vengeful Gretchen skips the blindfold. Instead she leaves the bright overhead fluorescent lights on. She also adjusts the showerhead so that no matter how I shift about it always just lightly drip-drip-drips big cold drops of water randomly onto my upturned, bound-so-securely-in-place face from at least nine tantalizing feet high above me. And of course just to make sure I remember today’s lesson, this time she tapes her big realistic p***s jammed all the way back up inside my swollen ass, the vibrator again thrumming away on high.
Oh what a terribly trying twenty-four hours (and worse) I’ve earned!
***
So how does one describe the ensuing week? Days spent appeasing my moody, snappy wife are nothing new to me. Trying to decipher her darkly teasing warning hints about what to expect when we finally have s*x again is another matter. Putting them out of my mind isn’t easy generally, much less while being strapped across the ass or massaging my deity’s feet.
As these are the only kinds of physical interaction we share, I can’t help cherishing them more than ever. Still combined with her sly innuendos I find myself almost constantly writhing. Severe as the temptation to try m**********g becomes though, Gretchen’s threats are not to be defied. Besides, I absolutely must satisfy her this time!
Meanwhile deliveries keep arriving, most of which are kept hidden from me. The two exceptions certainly spur my excitement further however.
First Goddess has me remove the headboard from our bed so I can install a huge new mirror on the wall behind it, reflecting everything that happens there. Then come the handcuffs – real ones, shiny chromed steel with about eight inches of chain linking the manacles.
My key-keeping wife orders me to drive an industrial-size staple through the central link in that chain and deep into the middle of the bed-frame, right where she customarily ties off my hands. Thus when not in use these shackles will dangle unseen behind the mattress, while nevertheless always remaining available for me whenever I’m ordered onto the bed, atop my pillows and into my rightful restraints.
By the time day five arrives I’m beside myself. Gretchen seems to be regaining her playfulness as well. After I finish providing her with my usual impeccably professional pedicure by painting her dainty toenails crimson for her, she orders me to polish and color my own!
Decorating the ends of my ugly male toes a bright shocking pink does little for their attractiveness. It does have me squirming in my panties again though, almost as much as being ordered to clean and polish all of our implements of discipline: belt, paddle, hand whip, even her brand new riding crop. How I pray as I obsessively rub moisturizer into the leather! Oh my most fabulous Goddess, I can’t possibly wait for this! We’re actually going to have s****l intercourse again! And as my last two orgasms were the best ever by far, I can scarcely dare imagine how earthshaking this occasion might become.
Gretchen still hasn’t revealed her exact plans. But something tells me that when she hate-rides me this time, I’ll have Mr. Proper stuffed up inside – no doubt even more vastly enhancing our s*x than it did that discipline session. And thank you forever Goddess Gretchen, for it seems I might be right. When her period is finally declared over and I’m ordered to pile up the pillows, lie down nude atop them and cuff myself up, the first thing she does is spread my legs out wide (without even tying them!) and shove that greased vibe right back up all the way inside.
Aksara