Friday, September 22, 2017

Feeling



That feeling watching her kneel before her bull, watching him take control, watching her submit, knowing your wife's heart belongs to you but her body belongs to him.

Alone Time

"I know you like to watch, sweetie," she said looking over at her husband, "but I want you to go to the guest room tonight, Sam and I want some alone time tonight."

An eternal reminder that a husband need never penetrate his wife to be intimate with her.


Monday, September 18, 2017

Whoa, I scored a 22


Questions

"Have you started on hormones yet?" - Jayme

No. We want a baby and if (and that's still a big if) I ever started hormones, it wouldn't be before that.


Tuesday, September 12, 2017

First Time

She said the first time Matthew was inside her she was like, 'holy shit, I forgot how great this feels."


Bad Girl


Sometimes, mostly directed at me, Emily can be bratty and mouthy and even cold, because she knows I'm safe, that when she has a bad day, she can "let her hair down" around me.

Sometimes, mostly around Matthew, Emily can be bratty and mouthy and even cold because she knows Matthew won't tolerate it and will bend her over, his lap, a couch, a chair. She's like this around him those times she needs a man to take charge, a man to lead, a man she can follow and submit to.

The spanking will be firm, but fair; painful, but just; punishment, but erotic. A reminder that bad girls can walk all over their sissy husbands, but that such behavior will not be tolerated by a real man.

Signs


Every cuckold needs to understand that this doesn't make him gay, that sucking his wife's bull's cock is a sign of submission, of acceptance, and of acknowledging the true man in the relationship.

Monday, September 11, 2017

There's no reason whatsoever you shouldn't have trained yourself to cum like a girl...I know I have and can and do!


Yes, Daddy!


Degradedsissy:
I think we can lock this away for good now, princess.
It’s your stockings, high heels, girlie clothes and overal effeminacy that define you.
Not this sad little relic.
You’re not a boy.
You’re my bitch, baby, and the only climaxes you need to experience are those I have inside you.

Sissy's daily protein supplement


Saturday, September 9, 2017

When I was a kid, I fantasized about a woman riding me like this. As an adult, I now know this is never going to happen to a sissy like me.


Thursday, September 7, 2017

Threesomes

Most men, fantasizing about a threesome with their wives, think about something like this:


Cuckolds, though, know the reality of a threesome with their wives will be something much different:


Totally agree!!!



My Life of Shames:
No woman would ever wear panties like this.
They are so extremely prissy and effeminate that only an emasculated male - a limp-wristed sissy - that has totally given up any idea of being an man, and has immersed itself into an abyss of extreme effeminacy, where it lives its life as a humiliated laughingstock, in stockings, high heels, and the most ridiculously pansyish pink outfits of excessive frills and lace.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Feminized and in Chastity


Just the way every sissy should be. Every minute of every day.

Question Time

Reader John says, "I really appreciate that you take the time to answer your readers' questions. I've got one follow-up question. Quite a while ago you wrote that Matthew stipulated that intercourse between Emily and yourself was not forbidden but should be rare. It seemed to me that you were happy with that arrangement.

Now I understand that intercourse is fully a thing of the past.

What has changed?

Wow, that's a question!


So, from Matthew's perspective, he didn't, especially at first, want to forbid regular intercourse between Emily and me, he just wanted to make sure it was rare. That is, intercourse was his thing with Emily, not mine. He's still fine if we have intercourse to this day, he just never wanted me having regular sex like that. Other sex? Yes. Intimacy? Yes. Just not intercourse. But I think he understood Emily and I might want that now and then, perhaps need it. So he allowed it.

So Matthew has not changed, Emily and I have.

Chastity became a center point of our intimate life; after all, when your partner is in chastity, and when your lover doesn't want you having regular intercourse, other things become more important. And we focused on those things. Heck, even my own orgasm has become less important.

Part of it is our common understanding of what happens when I orgasm. And by orgasm, I mean a full, male orgasm. When I cum like a male, my hormone levels change (there's science about this) and suddenly everything I love most of the time (submission, feminization, serving her, being a cuckold) sucks. Not enough for me to want to change my life, but a male orgasm does strange things to a sissy's mind. Things a milking does not do, things a ruined orgasm does not do.

So, I guess what changed is that I'm happier when I don't fuck Emily. Not that I still don't want to (or part of me), it's just that I really don't like what happens to me when I do. Not to mention, the whole thing that Emily doesn't really enjoy it like she does with Matthew.

We've even talked about how to get pregnant (we want a baby). Do we try the "traditional" method, or do we explore intrauterine insemination (that's a big step).



Different Types

There are two types of males in this world:

Dominant, masculine, alpha men who lead, take what they want, fuck who they want, married or not (like Matthew):


Sissy, beta bois who serve and follow, who are feminized, who are safely locked in chastity, and who know deep down, they will never be let inside a woman, whether they are married to her or not (like me):


To a sissy locked in chastity, a woman's nylon covered foot has more erotic appeal than any man can imagine.


Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Poker Night


"J...Jessica, what...what are you doing?" I asked my wife when I walked into the bedroom and saw how she was dressed.

"Just trying to look pretty, sweetie," she smiled.

"We...we don't have time for that, Jessica," I stammered, "those...those guys we met at the pool are coming over to play poker tonight...in ten minutes," I said looking at my watch. "Christ,."


"I know that, silly, you put it on my calendar," she smiled.

"Then what the heck are you doing?" I asked, confused.


"I...I don't know, just trying to look nice for our guests, I suppose."

"N...nice?" I said, mouth dry, "you...you don't look nice, you look..."

"Sexy?" she asked.

"Jessica, you can't wear that!"

"Why not?" she pouted.

"Cause...cause they...they'll think..."



"What? That I'm a party favorite?" she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "That I'm trying to look pretty, that I'm trying to seduce them?"

"Jessica! They'll think..."

"What?" she asked again.

"I...they..."


She stood, turned, started to pull her panties down. "What are you doing?"


"Maybe they'll think I'm like one of those pinup girls, you know, Art Frahm...oops, did my panties fall down?"

"Jessica!"



"What will they think if I need help, if I say, 'Say, boys, maybe whoever wins the next hand could help with my panties?'"

"But...but," I stammered.



"So much better without panties, I'll tell them. Of course, they're going to look at you and wonder, but don't worry, I'll explain."

"Ex...explain?"


"Don't worry, boys, I'll say, he's not really a manly man, like you boys are, in fact, he's kind of a girly man. In fact, if he wouldn't be all embarrassed about it, I'd have him show you the panties he's wearing."

"Jessica, you wouldn't," I said, realizing my penis was straining in those panties.

"In fact, I'll say, I bet his little penis is straining in those panties this very second wondering which one of you boys is going to win the next hand...and win me."

"Jess," I mumbled.

"Well part of me, anyway. This hand is just for my mouth...next hand is for my ass...and the one after that is for my pussy."

"J...Jess," I was dizzy.


"And the big loser of the night...that's my husband...he gets something too...he gets to lick me clean. So, who's deal is it?"

Questions Answered

I like answering them.

In response to State of Being, John asked in the comments:

Does Matthew allow Emily to unlock you on your Days of Priority?
Generally, unlocking me is Emily's call, not Matthew's. While we've played with that idea, Emily and I believe chastity is one of the intimate things between us, so she generally keeps the key.

Either way, does she unlock you?
On Days of Priority? That depends; some, but not always.

If so, does she let you orgasm on these special occasions? (Real orgasms, not just milkings?)
Yes...the kind depends on what you mean. If 'real orgasm' means inside her, fucking her, like husband and wife...um...no.
If 'real orgasm' means an actual orgasm while unlocked, as in not a 'ruined' orgasm. Yes, but those are rare. More likely a 'ruined' orgasm. Or a milking.
Usually my sexual relief comes from a milking, usually while still locked. Sometimes it comes after I've been unlocked (milking, unlocked). Rarer are 'ruined' orgasms. An actual orgasm is the rarest (orgasm inside her being non-existent)

Saturday, September 2, 2017

State of Being




"What...what's wrong," Emily asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"N...nothing," I lied, eyes drawn to her thigh, to the bare flesh where her dress had ridden up, exposing her stocking top.

She followed my eyes, realized what I saw, tugged at the hem of her dress. "Are you mad?" she asked me.

"Mad? No," I said flatly.

"You're mad," she frowned, "why?"

"I'm not mad," I insisted, mostly telling the truth.

"What then?" she asked. "Please...tell me what's wrong."

"It's nothing," I lied again.

"Honey," she said gently.

"I...I'm not mad, really. I'm...I don't know...disappointed," I swallowed.

"Sweetie," she said, understanding.

"I had dinner all planned," I said, looking at her in her sexy dress, her stockings.

"Sweetie," she said again, "you didn't...you didn't tell him..."

"I didn't think I had to; I thought he was out of town," I defended myself.

"You could have told him," she said.

That was all the difference, I could have and I didn't. I didn't want to, didn't think I needed to use a day. See, that was a rule he'd come up with. I got eight "Days of priority" a year. My birthday, our anniversary, Thanksgiving, and Christmas were scheduled days, days I got my wife to myself, regardless (notably absent was her birthday). I got to pick four more, days I could block with a month's notice, one a quarter, if spaced out.

They were important, for the other 357 days were his.

Not that he used them, of course, he and my wife only went out once or twice a month, given his work and travel schedule. But he was often available at the last minute, sometimes just an hour's notice, and unless it was a "Day of Priority", he got her when he was available and when he demanded it.

That was one of the rules of having a dominant man in our life. His schedule, within limits, dictated when he got to fuck my wife.

And today he texted me at four in the afternoon telling me he was back in town a week before he thought he was going to be and to tell me to tell my wife he was picking her up at seven that night.

"We have dinner plans," I texted back.

"Cancel them," he responded.

And so here I was, here we were, I was disappointed but not mad and she felt empathy for me, but was obviously excited, too, as she always was when he called.

"You're excited," I said to her, almost accusatory.

She looked down, blushed ever so slightly under her makeup. "Honey..."

She got like this every time, the excitement from a man treating her like this, his masculine confidence, his dominance. He treated her in a way I never did, never could. Like a whore. Not really, but still...like a whore. Not that he wasn't protective, respectfully even, but he demanded and received her submission. As he did to me.

"I feel...I feel like you'd rather be with him," I asked, letting my disappointment slip through, become too obvious. I didn't mean to hurt her, but that must have stung and she frowned, bit her lip.

"You want me to answer that?" she asked, "because it's complicated.

"Complicated?" I asked, surprised.

"Do you really want me to pick?" Emily asked.

"No," I quickly said, suddenly concerned.

"Because you're right,  I would rather be with him...the times he calls, the times he wants me, I'd rather be with him. But the rest of the time, I'd rather be with you...and if I had to pick, I'd pick you every time."

I felt weak, dizzy.

"I'll call him right now and tell him no," she said and I realized she meant it. Always meant it. Our bond was stronger than their bond, she was with me, not him, committed to me, not him, and as much as she liked him, liked dating him, fucking him, I came first.

"You...you don't have to do that," I said, "I...it...sometimes it's difficult."

"The chastity?"

I nodded. "I...I get jealous," I admitted.

"You miss it? Being inside me?"

I nodded again. "Sometimes."

"We've talked about that, haven't we? Sometimes I miss it, too."

"You do?" I said, surprised.

"Well not the actual sex," she said, "just that particular intimacy. It's just..."

"I know," I said.

"Do you?" she asked. "Sometimes I think you think this was always easy for me, it wasn't you know."

I blushed, knew she was right, knew discovering the 'man' she loved was as far removed from a 'man' as one could get. "I just...I get jealous sometimes...I'm locked up and he..."

"Gets me whenever he wants?"

"Yes," I swallowed.

"Why are you locked up?"

"You want it locked up," I said.

She paused. "That was the wrong question, I don't mean why are you locked up now, why did this start? It wasn't my idea, was it?"

I looked down.

"Who's idea was it?" she asked again.

"M...mine," I admitted.

"Why? Why did you ask me to play that particular game? Why'd you ask me to take the key?"

"Emily," I said, embarrassed.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Be...because I was m...masturbating," I stammered.

"Compulsively. You were compulsively masturbating." I said nothing, just looked at the floor. "Right?"

"Y...yes," I admitted.

"And what happened when you masturbated?"

"I don't know," I mumbled.

"You came. Like a boy. And then what happened?"

"Emily..."

"You started acting like a boy, you started trying to be the top, you didn't want to dress up anymore, you didn't want to serve."

"I...I did..."

"No, you didn't. Every time you came like a boy you acted like a petulant brat for days. What did we agree?"

"I...I shouldn't masturbate."

"Yet you continued," she said.

"I...I tried..."

"Who asked to be caged?"

"I...I did," I said.

"Because..."

"Because I wanted to feel more feminine, more often," I said.

She smiled, nodded. "Masturbation was bad for you, bad for us," she said. "Orgasms like a boy were bad for you and bad for us. Do you want to go back to that?"

"N...no," I said softly.

"I can unlock you," Emily said, "just say the word."

"No," I said again.

"I know part of you misses it, I get that," she said gently, "I know part of you wishes you were him."

"I'm not," I interrupted.

"No," she agreed. "You're not. You like being locked up, you like staying soft, you like being denied. I know part of you is jealous, part of you wishes you were inside me, but when push comes to shove, that's not what you want, is it?"

"I get jealous," I said, admitting the real issue.

"But not enough to stop," she noted.

"I...I don't know..."

"Do you want to go back to being a boy...trying anyway?"

"Not...not really."

"Do you want to be free to jerk off whenever the mood strikes?"

I laughed. "No."

"Do you want me to stop seeing him?"

"You really would."

"God, do you listen to anything I say?" Emily asked. "Do I want to? No, of course not. I like being with him, but I would, I really would."

"Em..."

"You like it, too, though."

"Yea," I admitted.

"I know it's hard on a day like this, when he just pops in, but that's kind of what he does, being the man and all."

"I just...sometimes he's selfish."

"He's a man," she laughed, "men think with one thing. Besides, it's part of it with him, with all of us, isn't it? Would you like him as much if he was timid?"

"I suppose not," I said.

"I know you're jealous," she said, "but it excites you, too, when he acts like he owns me, it's like he owns us."

"Jesus, Emily..."

"Do you want me to stay home?"

I looked at her, the way she was dressed, the glow she had, knew she was tingling inside, all over. "No," I said.

"I would," she said. "I don't want to, but I would."

"I know," I said softly, "I know."