Monday, November 16, 2015

It's True

As Irene shows us, the longer a sissy is locked up, the smaller her clit gets. I used to wear a CB-6000 regular as the S size did not quite fit. But after time, we were able to switch to the CB-6000S. And then I didn't even fill that anymore (we currently use the smallest Holy Trainer).

Source |

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Release...kind of

We were sitting in bed, reading, when she set her book on her chest, looked over at me. "I looked at your blog yesterday," she said, "I didn't realize it had been so long."

I swallowed, felt my stomach tighten, knew she knew I was making a statement in a very passive aggressive way. "I...I didn't realize either...not right away."

"You said you wouldn't change anything, but that's not true, is it?"

"What...what do you mean?"

"This...all of this," she said, "our life...him...would you change anything?"

I thought for a minute, maybe too long. "No, I...I guess not."

"You know I would," she said. "I'd miss him, but I'd change if it wasn't right for us."

"It's not that that, Emily," I said, "I...I suppose I do miss it some."

"I wondered how long you'd go."

"You wondered?"

"Well of course," she said, "I assumed you'd ask, eventually. You could have...instead of blogging about it."

She knew me so well, she always has. "I...I guess I was afraid."

"Afraid I'd be mad? Sweetie, you're always allowed to communicate your feelings, you know that."

"I...I's not that, I...I was afraid you'd say no," I said.

She thought for a moment. "I might have...but that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me your feelings, Sara. I guess we kind of fell into this, didn't we, a month becomes two, three...six."


"I showed him."

I furrowed my brow. "Showed him?"

"I showed him what you posted."


"Not your whole blog," she shook her head, "I know you don't want him to see that, just the post."

"Em," I bit my lip, "that's...I mean..."

"Your thing, I know...that's why I just showed him the one thing."

I pondered for a moment, finally spoke. "What...what did he say?"

"He doesn't know you the way I do, Sara."

"What did he say, Emily?"

"He asked me what you were looking for? Just to be unlocked or more."


"I told him more," she said, not letting me finish.

"What...what did he say," I asked so softly I barely spoke. Her face was impassive; I couldn't read it. "Em, what did he say?"

"He was surprised we went this long without asking and was beginning to wonder if we were never going to ask because we were doing it without asking."

"No," I said.

"Well of course no, silly," she laughed. "I think he was relieved. Almost like we passed a test."

"Did...did you ask him?" I asked, worried she didn't, that I'd have to ask myself.

She nodded. "Yea," she said. "But I wasn't sure that's what you really wanted."

"I...I don't know," I said.

"That's what I told him," she nodded, "I mean, that's what I assumed."

"I...I might."

"I know...I think he knows too...the intimacy thing we often talk about...he said we can, by the way."

"What?" I asked, almost not sure I heard her right.

"He said we can...if it's important to us...he understands...he said his views have never changed, it should just be rare."

"It's rare alright," I said.

"And that makes him happy," she said. "Just like it makes me happy...and you happy."



The room was lit with candles, we'd both showered, both dressed in lingerie. She wore a black lace and mesh push-up babydoll, matching thong panties, and black lace top thigh high stockings. I wore a white sheer pocket bra with breast forms, panties, a light blue satin slip with with lace trim, and stockings identical to hers but in white.

We kissed for several minutes, giggled, touched before she got the key. "I wonder if it still works," she said.

"The key?"

"No, silly, your penis. It's been locked up for so long, after all."


"I wonder if you want it to still work."

"Emily," I protested in a teasing voice.

And she teased right back. "Don't worry about it, sweetie, I'm sure it does...I'd hate to give you a mental block."

Yea, right. Because that's exactly what happened. As soon as the cage came off, I started thinking about whether it would grow, how quickly, how long, how hard, how fast. At first it didn't matter, for as we resumed our foreplay, it did start to swell. Started, anyway. Because I started to think about whether she'd feel it, whether she'd like it, what would happen if it didn't swell, what would he say.

And as I went down on her, she took it in her hand, played with it, teased it, and the more I worried about it not growing, the worse it was. It didn't grow, if anything it shrunk. It actually shrunk.

Emily reached down with her other hand, stroked my hair. "I told you," she said pushing my face into her, "you don't want it to work, do you?"

The thing is I did, I really did. But she was in my head, him too, and it wouldn't work, the more I thought about it, the more I tried to will myself to have an erection, the smaller and smaller it got. Smaller than it was in the cage, smaller than usual.

I think she sensed my conflicted feelings, my anguish, my sense that maybe this actually wasn't what I wanted. "You can if you want to, Sara, I mean it, you can...but you don't have to. And you don't have to want to."

"I...I don't know," I said.

"Let me help," she said in a soft, gently, loving voice. "Let me help." She pushed me onto my back, kissed her way down my stomach, licked my flaccid penis with her warm, wet mouth and tongue.

"Oh, god," I moaned, but still didn't grow. I couldn't think back to the last time she'd given me a blow job, couldn't begin to guess how long that had been. But as good as if felt, I still didn't grow. I liked, it, I loved it, but I still didn't grow.

"Emily," I cautioned her.

"Shhhh," she said, licking, sucking my soft flesh.

"Please, I..."

"Shhhh," she said again, "this is what you really wanted, to be soft...always soft."

The cum dribbled out, like when I'm milked, not like a normal orgasm. There was no eruption, no great explosion of tension. Just a soft release, tender, mild.

She kissed me, shared it with me, told me it was okay, that I didn't have to be inside her if I didn't want to.

"But I thought I did," I said.

"We can try again another time," she promised.

"I...I can't wait that long," I said, thinking six months out, spring.

"You don't, not to do that," she said.


"He's okay with that, love, it's just the other thing...his thing..."

"What...what do you want, Emily?"

"Everything just the way it is," she said. "Just the way it is."

I looked over at the cage, sitting on her nightstand, next to a candle. She followed my eyes, saw what I was looking at. "You know it's important, don't you?"

"Yes," I swallowed.

"We don't have to go that long, but we can't go without it, can we?"

"I...I suppose not," I said.

"Seriously, if you don't feel that way, you need to say something. I think it's important, but if you don't..."

"No...I...I're right," I said, "I just...I don't know...sometimes I'm jealous."

"Of him?"

"Yea...but any guy, I guess."

"Well of course," she said, "but that's not what you want, is it?"

"No," I admitted. "No."

She reached over, picked up the cage, looked at it. "On or off?"

"You ask that like I have a choice."

"You do, you know it," she frowned. "You always have a choice."

I sighed. "On," I said. "Just...six months is too long...I mean..." I blushed, we'd talked about this before. Over and over. A sissy doesn't dictate something like that, I didn't dictate something like that.

"I know what you mean...and no promises...if you know what I mean."

"Yes," I swallowed.

After I was caged...and locked...we kissed for awhile, no tension, no pressure, just us.

And so now it's been longer than six months since I've been inside her.

And it's going to be longer. And longer.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Pledge Week

"You're sure all the other pledges have to do this," he nervously asked the upperclassmen of the fraternity he was rushing.

"Yea, all of them," the one with the camera said.

"Well, at least the pretty ones, anyway," said another.

The freshman felt his penis stir, was afraid, ashamed. He'd never done anything like this before. "What...what are you doing," he asked when a third upperclassman started to get undressed.

"We told you, we need realism," the one with the camera said. "Think Penthouse, not Playboy."

"But..." His words died when he saw the erection the naked senior had. "He...he's hard!"

"Of course he's hard," the cameraman said, "a pretty girl wants an erect cock in her hands, doesn't she?"

" want me to touch it with my hands," the shy boy squeaked.

"To start," the naked guy said. "You can start with your hands, but that's not where you'll finish."

"But...but I...I like girls," the boy said, feeling his own penis stir.

"I like girls, too," the naked guy said. "We all do. Especially pretty girls like you."

Your wife will wear sexy lingerie to bed because she knows you like it, but only over pantyhose, as a reminder, that her pussy is saved for her lover.

Teasing Games

It's a game he plays with your wife, placing just the tip, just the head of his cock in her pussy, stopping, waiting. He knows she wants is, wants him to push it into her, to fill her. He knows she's conflicted, sometimes ashamed how badly she wants cock, how much she needs it.

He knows she tells herself that when he pushes into her she's not really cheating. Not really doing anything wrong. After all, he's the one fucking her, not the other way around.

So he teases her. He waits. And waits. And waits.

Eventually, she can't take it anymore and starts moving backwards, slowly impaling herself on his thick cock.

He waits because he knows when she does it, she's admitting it, that married or not, deep down inside she's a slut. Deep down inside, no matter how much she loves her beta husband, she craves cock. No matter how prim and proper, no matter how vanilla her sex life at home, what she wants, what she needs is cock.

Always cock.

Access Denied

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Reality Check

Just because your wife hasn't done this to you doesn't mean she's never done it. And loved it.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015


"Who...who the hell are you?" I asked, stunned to see someone inside my house when I got home from work. "How the hell did you get in here?" In fact, I was so stunned, it barely registered that the woman standing in front of me was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.

"Metropolitan police," she said, "and with a warrant for your arrest."

I looked at her, the uniform, the sexy uniform. "A...arrest? For...for what? Wait a minute, you're not really a cop...who put you up to this? Jason?"

"Oh, we're cops," a voice behind me said. I turned, saw a second beautiful woman behind me holding a night stick and a badge. A real badge.

"Now put your hands behind your back, faggot," the first one said.

For a moment I thought she said 'maggot' but realized she'd said 'faggot' instead. " can't talk to me like that, I...I have rights," I said, dumbfounded.

"We'll talk to you however we want, faggot," the second said tapping her hand with the night stick. "Little faggots like you don't have rights."

"What...what the hell kind of cop are you? I...I didn't do anything."

"Really, faggot," the first said? "So you deny that on September 29, 2015 you sent a text message to an Jennifer Twain asking her out on a date?"

"Jennifer...what? No, what the hell does that have to do anything?"

"You don't deny it? You sent the text?"

"No...I mean, no I don't deny it, yes I sent the text, so what?"

The woman behind me moved quickly for a woman in heels, had my hands behind my back and cuffed before I realized what she was doing. "Hey, you can't do that," I yelped, "I...I didn't do anything."

"Really...Annabelle," the first officer said.

The blood in my veins suddenly went cold. "What...what did you call me?"

"Annabelle...that's your online name, isn't it? Your girl name?"

"I...what? No," I lied unconvincingly.

"You know sissies are prohibited from dating, faggot," the officer behind me said.

"And you know sissies are prohibited from ever putting their little penis inside a woman," the officer in front said, grabbing my crotch.

"I...I didn't...I wasn't going to...I...I just wanted to have a drink with her."

"I'm going to read you your lack of rights, statement, faggot. You don't have the right to remain silent, sissy. Everything will be used against you in a court of law. You don't have the right to an attorney present during any questioning or inspection."

"What...where are you taking me," I asked as they pushed me towards the door, "what are you doing?"

"You know the punishment, sissy, a first time offense is a mandatory six months in chastity."

"But...but I never...I never touched her."

"Faggot, that's a mandatory year. Unless you tried to put that little thing inside her, that's permanent chastity."

"Really," the other woman said, "when will you little sissy faggots ever learn, women want men, not sissies. Ever."


Looking at a calendar, it dawned on me Emily and I are coming up on a six month anniversary.

It's been six months since I've been inside her.

It's been six months since she's touched my penis.

It's been six months since I've been permitted to squirt while she's touching me.

Six months.

The longest we've ever gone.

Do I miss it? Yes, of course. But I'd change nothing. Nothing.

I know I haven't update the personal in some time (I get into that rut when I'm working on a story, that's where I channel everything).

All goes well (needless to say, it hasn't been six months since Emily's had something...someone...inside her...that's counted in days...not weeks, not months, but days).

So I have to finish my story so I can devote a little more to posting about Emily and I. I know.

Friday, October 2, 2015


"Let's be honest," my wife said, "at some point you realized 'girls night out' didn't mean I was just going to dinner with some of my girlfriends, right?"

"I...I never thought about it," I stammered, face red.

"I mean, the sexy clothes...the late nights...the funny taste when I got home and pulled your face between my legs...what did you think?"

"I...I don't know," I lied.

"You knew," she said, "you've known for months...since that night last October when I wore stockings."

"I...I thought..."

"You thought I fucked a guy," she said looking me right in the eye. "That's why you were so aggressive that night, that's why you spent hours licking me."

"M...Monica," I whispered.

"Do you want me to stay home tonight? Is that what you want?"

"Monica," I repeated.

"Or do you want me to go out and do what I do? Do you want me to go out and come home, late? Do you want to pretend you're asleep so I have to 'wake you up' and tell you to lick me?"

"Monica, please," I begged.

"I'm not lying anymore," she said. "If I go out, when I get home, I'm going to demand you lick me...and lick the mess he left for you. So...stay or go?"

I swallowed, caught, cornered. "What...what time will you be home?" I asked softly, weakly.

"Late," she smiled, "very late. Put I promise, no matter how late, I'll wake like I always do."

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Wedding Ring

"'re not wearing your wedding rings," her husband said in his soft voice.

"Honey, I know you know what 'girls night out' really means, do we really have to go through the charade?"

"I...don't know what you mean," he said blushing.

"Well if you don't know what I mean, sweetie, I guess when I get home I'll be really quite when I get home so you don't have to wake up and beg me to lick my pussy."

"No," he protested much too vehemently.

"So you want me to wake you up when I get home?"

"Yes, please," he said.

"And you want to lick my pussy?"

He nodded, blushed. "Yes."

"So you know, then, 'girls night out' really means 'hot date with my boyfriend' right?"

"Yes," he said in barely a whisper.

Friday, September 4, 2015

"I know the longer you wear the cage the worse you want it off, but the ironic thing is, the longer you wear it, the less I want to unlock you."


Emily told me once that there's the moment, when he's on top of her, she can feel his weight, his breath, she can feel his thrusting change, become more urgent, that she forgets everything. Work. Friends. Family. Even me.

For that moment, there's nothing in the world, nothing, but his cock thrusting in and out of her, filling her, possessing her.

The moment lasts, sometimes for several minutes, and when it starts, she surrenders, she's his, and she wants it to go on forever.

She said the moment's most powerful at the last second, the last thrust before he explodes, when he pushes in deeper than he has the entire time, holds it there, and his cum fills her.

For in that moment, there's only him.

For in that moment, she's his.

For in that moment, as his cum fills her, as his cock pulsates inside her, her bliss is total.

Cuckolding works best when a woman's lover and husband both know and accept their proper place in her life.

Her lover's place:

Her husband's place:

Friday, August 28, 2015

Blow Jobs

Typical, beta husband:

"Please, honey, you haven't done that in like a year," he begs his wife, his voice shaking.

"You know I don't like to give blow jobs," she says, "they're demeaning."

"But...but I like it."

"Listen, I'm kind of tired, maybe next weekend we can drink some wine and maybe fool around a little...but not that."

Typical, alpha man:

Says nothing, watches her walk into the room, wearing just a garter belt, stockings, and heels, spreads his legs, points to the ground. "Kneel and crawl," he says.

She feels a tingling between her legs, a sensation she never felt with her husband. "But..." she starts to say.

"Now beg," he orders her.

"Beg?" she asks shocked.

"Beg," he repeats.

She kneels, for a split second thinks of her husband, thinks of him begging her to do this, realizes the difference between her husband and her lover, what makes a man, a real man. "Please, Sir, may I suck your cock."

Pretty Little Lies

"We're just friends"

How many wimpy guys hear that from their wives or girlfriends when they ask about some guy at work she's spending so much time with?

"He's harmless, he flirts with everyone."

Of course he does, because he wants to sleep with every pretty girl, including your wife.

"It's just a work thing, you'd be like a third wheel."

Yea, because all women go to dinner with cute co-workers.

"It was just a kiss, it didn't mean anything."

No, it meant everything because it's the start to everything.

The Cuddlezone

"I'm sorry," she giggled, "I...I don't mean to laugh, it's's so small."

"I just showered," he protested, "there...there's shrinkage." She giggled again. "What?" he demanded.

"Sorry," she apologized again, "I just...I've been with a bunch of guys and none of them ever had that problem before. Listen, I'm getting tired, maybe we could just, you know, cuddle."

Friday, August 21, 2015

Date Night Means:

No bra

No wedding ring

No condom

No husband

No worries