A Female Led Relationship
by Sir Richard
Authors Note: This story is darker than what I usually write. It contains bondage, female domination, forced feminization, brainwashing and slavery or at least forced servitude. There is non-consensual sex both oral and anal including some slight homosexual sex. It includes spanking, caning and reference to a whipping. In the end there is a brief very violent punishment for the offenders. It is, of course, all fiction but if any of this bothers you please skip over reading this.
I learn of FLRs
I’m Robert (Bob) Willard and this is the story of how my wife Kathrine (Kat) and I became involved in a Female Led Relationship or FLR. Although I didn’t know it at the time it really began when Sharon and Tom Simpson moved into our neighborhood. The Simpsons were about our age and Kat and Sharon became good friends despite the fact that Kat worked as a lawyer and Sharon didn’t work at all outside her home.
Naturally with the wives so friendly, Tom and I saw each other frequently. He was a nice enough guy, though very quiet and so attentive to his wife that he appeared to be somewhat hen pecked. I know I invited him to join our Friday night poker game, but he declined saying he and his wife had a standing Friday night arrangement. Sharon piped up and said that he could go if he wanted to and that they could delay their planned night until next week. Tom got a little pale and insisted that he preferred to be with Sharon on Friday night. At the time I didn’t think much of it. Perhaps Tom didn’t enjoy playing cards or perhaps he just didn’t care to spend the evening with me.
Kat was very successful as a lawyer and was made a partner in the firm. Our lifestyle expanded considerably as her income increased. One day out of the blue Kat asked me if I thought we ought to try a FLR.
“What’s that? I asked.
"It’s a Female Led Relationship,” she responded.
I guess I must have looked blank because she went on saying, “In most relationships one partner or the other leads. More because of historical stereotypes that partner is usually the male who’s the bread winner and the dominant partner. Now though, with women like myself working, it is sometimes the female who leads the relationship. After all, I made more than you did last year.”
“What would really change?”
“Well, that depends on the couple. Usually it means some changes in who does what. For example, I might take charge of the checkbook and seeing that the bills were all paid on time and you might help out more with chores around the house. We both work but I do the cooking and the cleaning up. You might take over clearing the table and loading the dishes into the machine.”
I really love my wife and want her to be happy so I thought for a few minutes and then said, “I didn’t realize that you felt I wasn’t doing my share. Of course I will be happy to take over cleaning up after dinner. If you want to deal with the bookkeeping and sending out checks that’s OK with me.”
Kat gave me a smile and said, “Good. Sharon and Tom have a relationship like that and really enjoy it. Perhaps I can convince her to stop by Friday evening and explain it more fully. Can you miss the poker game?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides the way the cards had been running for me lately it would be good for our finances to skip a game or even two. I smiled at my lovely wife and said, “Sure! I’ll call the guys tomorrow and tell them not to expect me.”
When I got home from work Friday I wasn’t surprised to see Sharon and Tom in the living room with Kat. The women were sitting on the sofa and had glasses of white wine on the coffee table. Tom was at the bar, presumably preparing his drink, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink anything stronger than soda water.
I said hello and the women greeted me. Then Sharon turned to Tom and said, “Why don’t you make a scotch and soda for Bill, dear?”
Tom didn’t even look up but said, “Yes dear, of course.”
Sharon then turned back to me and said, “Sit down Bill, while Tom brings you your drink. I understand from Kat that you wanted to talk about FLRs.”
I guess I could have objected to Sharon telling both Tom and me what to do while in my house but Kat was smiling at me as though she expected me to sit down and, after all, she had asked Sharon to come by and explain FLRs to me, so I sat. Tom handed me my drink and I sipped it as I listened to Sharon explain what she meant by a Female Led Relationship. The drink tasted funny, Tom must have made it stronger than my usual drink.
I forgot about the taste of the drink as I listened to Sharon with growing incredulity. When Kat and I had talked, the FLR sounded like a marital partnership with the woman taking the lead in decision making and the man helping out with more of the household chores. What Sharon was describing, however, didn’t sound like a partnership at all. It sounded more like the woman giving orders and the man obeying them. This was ridiculous. I glanced away from Sharon to Kathrine, expecting to see the same disbelief that must have been showing on my face. Instead I saw her smiling and nodding along with Sharon.
I started to stand up and say something like, “I don’t think that would work for us.” But I was shaky on my feet and my voice sounded slurred and distant. Sharon and Kat were both looking at me and smiling and then I slumped to the floor and everything went black.
When I came awake something seemed wrong. I was cold and couldn’t move my arms. There was a strange feeling at my groin and my mouth was held open by something. As I became more aware I realized that my being cold was because I was naked and lying on the rug. When I tried to move my hands I found out that they were secured behind my back and when I pulled something metallic chafed my wrists. Gradually I came to the realization that I had been handcuffed with my hands behind my back.
I tried to figure out what was going on, but the thing in my mouth, which I later learned was called a ring gag, made it impossible to speak properly. What I heard myself say was, ‘Wha oing on?”
Kat giggled and said, “I think he is waking up.”
“Good,” said Sharon, “then we can get on with this.”
Someone behind me put their hands under my arms and helped me to stand up. Once on my feet I turned toward the two women and realized that it must have been Tom who helped me up. I tried again to ask a question but Sharon interrupted my garbled babbling by saying, “Shut up! You have just entered a Female Led Relationship and there is a lot for you to learn.”
She picked up a penis shaped thing and walked up to me. I tried to turn away as she raised it toward me but she simply grabbed my hair as she forced the artificial penis into my mouth. Once it was inserted she rotated it slightly and I felt to lock into the gag in my mouth. My speaking was pretty much eliminated.
Still holding my head so that she could look me in the eye, Sharon said, “The first rule is that you speak only when spoken to. No one is interested in your opinion or thoughts. Secondly if your mistress/wife tells you to do something you do it at once and without question. The next rule is that when you are instructed you acknowledge her instructions. If you are in public you respond with ‘Yes dear’ but if you are in private, you refer to her as ‘Miss Katherine’.
“If you accept your place and obey you can live a comfortable life. If you balk or let you ridiculous male ego get in the way you will be punished. You are wearing a chastity belt and, if you are a good submissive husband, you will be allowed to jack off once a week. For minor punishments your wife may extend the period between your orgasms. If you commit a serious offence you wife may punish you with pain in addition to extending your period of chastity.”
Turning to my wife, who was now apparently ‘Miss Kathrine’ instead of simply ‘Kat’, Sharon said, “Give him a demonstration jolt on the low setting.”
Kat did something I didn’t see and pain exploded in my groin. I tried to double over as you would when struck in the groin but Sharon had a firm grip on my hair and kept me more or less upright. She pulled my head up so that I was looking in her eyes and said, “That was the low setting. There is also a medium and a high setting!”
She released my hair and I staggered back a bit. Kat came up to me with a leash which she fastened to something at my groin. She said to Sharon, “I think that’s as much as he can absorb right now, let’s go over to your place.”
Sharon smiled and without turning said, “Tommy, pick up your clothes. Leave his on the floor and he can pick them up later.”
It was the first time I had heard her address Tom with the diminutive ‘Tommy’ and I turned my head to see an equally nude Tom bending over two piles of neatly folded clothes on the floor. I am not particularly bothered by nudity but Tom was middle aged and rather portly. It was not a pretty sight.
Tom picked up one pile, presumably his clothes, and walked toward our kitchen door, followed by the two women. I didn’t want to go outside nude but when the leash became taut Kat looked back and jerked the leash, saying, “Come along Bobby, or would you prefer another demonstration of what the shock collar around you balls can do?”
Even without the threat of additional shocks to my testicles the tug of the leash pulled me forward.
Tom is Permitted
So the four of us left my house, walked across the back yard, and entered Sharon’s house. Sharon told Tom to leave his clothes on the kitchen counter and prepare himself. Tom walked into the laundry room followed by the three of us. The laundry room looked pretty normal except that several large screw eyes had been set into the wall. Kat ran the end of my leash through two of them set about a yard apart. She pulled me up close to the first eye and then tied the leash off at the second one. It was clear that with my hands behind me I would have no hope of reaching the second loop and loosening my leash.
Kat gripped my chin and gave me a chilling look as she said, “Watch Tom and learn. This is the only way you will get to orgasm from now on.”
Of course I wanted to object but the penis gag made it impossible. As I watched, Tom went to a cupboard and removed several things. He placed a thin foam kneeling pad on the floor. The he put a small stool in front of the pad and a shallow glass bowl on top of the stool. He then took a length of chain that had been padlocked it to an eye set low on the wall. Tom knelt on the pad and wrapped the loose end of the chain around his neck, fastening it with a second padlock.
“This is all symbolic,” Sharon said. “Tommy is a natural submissive and is well enough trained that I don’t need to lock him up. The shock collar would be enough to keep him in line should he ever get any ideas. I just the like the symbolism of his locking himself on his knees before he begs for release.”
“I hope Bobby learns quickly,” said Kat. “Somehow, I think he will resist and it will take some time and discomfort for him before he learns that his place is to be obedient.”
I was raging mad. What did she mean that it was my place to be obedient? I was certain that I would find a way to escape this madness.
“Probably,” agreed Sharon. “Males are so predictable with their macho little egos. I actually enjoy training them.”
Sharon left the room to fetch a key and Kat looked at me and said, “I hope you are absorbing this. The sooner you learn to accept your place, the better off you will be. I’m not a sadist. I’ll get no pleasure from hurting you but, and mark this well, I will do whatever is necessary to train you. If that means causing you intense pain, so be it. The amount you suffer is up to you!”
Sharon returned and dropped a small key onto the stool. Tom’s eyes locked onto the key as Sharon said, “You may beg, Tommy.”
Tom looked up and pleaded, “Please Miss Sharon, may I jack off? I have been a good obedient boy all week and even got the knock out drops you wanted.”
So that’s how I had been incapacitated. I remembered Tom was a laboratory manager at a large pharmaceutical plant in town. I glared at him but neither he nor the women were paying any attention to me.
Sharon laughed and I thought I heard Kat giggle as Sharon said, “OK, Tommy boy, you may take off the chastity belt and jack off for us.”
Tom picked up the key and opened the lock holding his chastity belt. With the lock off he pulled the curved tube off his penis opening and removing the locking ring. I could see that under the locking ring there was a second locked band around his scrotum. Apparently this was the shock collar which allowed our wives to so easily deliver pain.
With the chastity belt removed, Tom was almost instantly erect. He grabbed his penis and began pumping. I was somewhat embarrassed to be watching a man masturbate but I didn’t want to risk another jolt from Kat, so I followed her instructions and watched.
In a very few strokes Tom came. As he did he picked up the shallow glass bowl with his left hand and deftly caught all of his ejaculate. He milked his softening cock and then hesitated.
“Come on” cajoled Sharon, “you know what comes next.”
Tom lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank his ejaculate. Then he began to lick the bowl with his tongue.
As he cleaned the bowl Sharon remarked to Kat, “They are pretty submissive when they are horny, but after they jack off the sexual frustration goes and they get embarrassed. That’s when they are most likely to balk. I find it best to tease them and get them horny. That helps focus their thoughts on pleasing you instead of fantasies of escape.”
Tom had finished licking the bowel clean and set it back on the stool. He put himself back into the chastity belt, locked it in place and gently tossed the key at Sharon’s feet. She picked it up and turned to leave the room saying, “Time to exchange keys.”
It was like watching an auto accident or a train wreck. I couldn’t seem to turn away as the thoroughly humiliated Tom looked down at the floor. I could see tears of humiliation glistening on his cheeks.
Sharon came back with a different key and gave it to Tom. He unlocked his neck and began to replace the items in the cupboard. Kat untied my leash and with a tug directed me to follow her and Sharon into the living room. She unclipped my leash and put it on a table. Picking up a quarter from the table she carefully held the coin against the wall using her thumb and index finger on the rim. With her other hand she guided my head against the coin until my nose was pressing against it. “Don’t move,” she said, “I plan to spank you tonight to provide a symbol of your submission, but I want to wait until Tom is here to witness it. That will add to your humiliation. If that coin drops I will double the number of swats you get.”
Spank me! Of course I wanted to object but the damn gag prevented me from saying anything. I was too afraid of Kat’s ability to deliver pain to my balls to pull away from the coin. I just stood there, nose to the wall, fuming at my treatment.
After a few minutes Tom must have come into the room because I heard Sharon say, “We will have white wine, Tommy.”
“Does little Bobby go down on you Kat?” Sharon asked.
“Sometimes, but he really isn’t very good at it.”
My ears were burning. They were talking about me as though I wasn’t even in the room. And what was that ‘little Bobby crack. I didn’t like Bobby instead of Bob and while I wasn’t any big dicked porn star, I was certainly a reasonable size. From what I had just witnessed I was bigger than Tom.
“Well, practice makes perfect. Let’s have a session now and see if we can improve him. Tommy, go get my riding crop and then bring over little Bobby.”
I heard Tom say, “Yes Miss Sharon. Right away.”
In a few minutes Tom, having apparently provided the crop, came over and removed the coin. Placing it on the table he held my arm and guided me to where the two women were sitting on a couch sipping white wine.
“Take off his gag.” she instructed him.
I felt his hands at the back of my head and then the dreadful gag, with the artificial penis still attached, was pulled out of my mouth and off of my head. My jaws ached from having been held open for so long and I must have moaned because I felt pain explode in my groin. I doubled over and then Sharon whipped her riding crop across my back. Angrily she said, ”I told you to remain quiet. No one here is interested in your whining or moaning.”
Between the pain in my groin and the pain on my back I fell to my knees. Sharon stood up and lifted the hem of her skirt exposing her panties. I had no particular interest in Sharon but she was an attractive woman and I felt my cock lurch in the chastity belt. “Take off my panties. Use your lips and tongue and if I feel you teeth I will whip you until you bleed.”
I found this harder to achieve than to say, as Sharon didn’t lift her skirt very high and the waistband was pretty much impossible to reach. Fearful of her threats, I finally managed to push my tongue under the band at the hem of the leg opening and then grip the material with my teeth. I pulled the one side down as far as I could then repeated the maneuver on the other side. Then the panty was far enough down that I could grip the gusset with my teeth and pull it down to her legs.
Sharon stepped out of the panty, picked it up and draped it over Tom’s head. Then she sat down, spread her legs and demanded, “Show me how talented you are Bobby.”
Buoyed by my success with her panty I moved directly to her slit, only to be whacked with the riding crop as Sharon instructed, “Not yet, you idiot. Start with my thighs. Soft kisses and gentle swipes of your tongue. Women have to be aroused to really be satisfied.”
I heard Kat giggle as she watched my performance. I have to admit it was pretty amateurish. With instructions from Sharon, reinforced by use of her riding crop, I did improve and eventually brought her to orgasm.
My tongue and jaw muscles were aching when Kat said, “Now it’s my turn. Crawl over her and show me what you have learned.”
I had mixed minds as I crawled on my knees to Kat. I was reluctant both because of the way Kat had been treating me and because of the time and effort I had spent on Sharon. On the other hand I did love my wife and she had a spectacular body. Going down on her had always been a pleasure. Of course, that was when I had hopes of her reciprocating or of us having penetrative sex afterwards. It was pretty obvious that neither of those things was going to happen tonight.
Despite my anger I was sufficiently cowed by the women that I applied myself as best as I could. It took some time but Kat was apparently turned on by her control over her previously macho husband, as she was quite wet. Nevertheless I began by worshiping her thighs as I had been told. It took some time but I brought Kat to a pretty explosive orgasm.
Kat came down from her orgasm and told me to stand to her right. She then told me to lie across her lap so that she could spank me. I made the mistake of opening my mouth and saying, “But Kat…”
I never finished what I was going to say as even stronger pain exploded in my testicles. Kat was angry and demanded, “Did I give you permission to speak? No I did not! And if I had, how are you to address me?”
Realizing my error I quickly said, “As Miss Kathrine.”
“That’s right Bobby boy. Now for questioning my order, the number of your punishment strokes is doubled. In addition, for failing to show the proper respect, instead of a hand spanking you will get something much harder.”
Turning to Sharon she asked “Do you have a hair brush I could borrow?”
Sharon smiled and said “Tommy, run upstairs to my dressing table and bring back my hairbrush. Get the one with the heavy silver back.”
I hear Tom say, “Yes Miss Sharon.”
My attention was distracted by Kat who said, “You are still not over my lap. I am going to double the number of strokes again. If you are not over my lap in two seconds I will double the strokes again and double your chastity period.”
In the situation I found myself, discretion was clearly the better part of valor so I draped myself over my wife’s lap like some naughty child. My head hung down near the floor and Kat used her left hand to push my handcuffed hands away from my body, putting pressure on my shoulders and holding me in place.
As we waited for Tom’s return with the hair brush Kat said, “Sharon warned you that you were to obey without hesitation. Let this be a lesson to you that whatever I tell you to do, no matter how unfair you may think it to be, can always be made worse. This spanking was intended to be more symbolic than a punishment. I was going to swat you six times with my hand. It was intended more to emphasize your new submissive role than as a punishment. By hesitating twice you have increased the number of swats to 24 and by failing to show proper respect you have gone from a hand spanking to one with a hair brush.”
By this time Tom had returned with the hairbrush which he gave to Kat. After thanking him she told me, “After each swat you are to count and then properly thank me for correcting you. If you don’t, that stroke will not count. Do you understand?”
I said, “Yes Miss Kathrine.”
Kathrine lifted her arm and brought the heavy brush down on my ass. I screamed, amazed that she could cause so much pain so easily, “Ow. Thank you for correcting me Miss Kathrine.”
“You didn’t count so that one doesn’t count”
She hit me again and I quickly said “Two, Thank you for correcting me Miss Kathrine.”
“No, you idiot! That wasn’t number two so it doesn’t count either.”
I finally got it right with the third stroke and said “One. Thank you for correcting me Miss Kathrine.”
“Finally! I told you before the amount of pain you have to endure depends on you.”
I managed to keep up until about the 18th swat when I was blubbering so hard I couldn’t get the words out. Kat decided to give a little time to compose myself. She flipped the brush over and began to run the bristles over my inflamed ass saying, “Does little Bobby’s bottom hurt? Perhaps he will learn to obey without hesitation and to show his wife the proper amount of respect.”
After a few minutes of taunting me while she scratched tracks into my inflamed flesh she said, “Let’s finish up. What number was that last stroke?”
I tearfully replied, “It was number 18 Miss Kathrine and thank you for correcting me.”
“Good boy,” she responded, as she lifted her arm for the next stroke.
Eventually she finished and sent me to stand in the corner, emphasizing her position as the adult and mine as the child. It was a surreal situation standing nude except for the handcuffs and the chastity belt and shock collar, both of which were locked on my groin. Here I was in my neighbor’s home while both women were fully dressed (well except for their panties). I had never heard of CFNM but that was what was happening. It was very humiliating.
I knew I had to escape this situation but as long as Kat had the control to the shock collar locked around my balls, I didn’t see how I could escape. I would have to go along with her crazy demands until an opportunity presented itself.
Home Sweet Home
I don’t know how long she had me standing in the corner while she and Sharon chatted. From time to time I heard them order drinks from Tom but I was afraid to move. Finally Kat came up behind me and said, “Turn around, Bobby.”
I complied and she snapped the leash onto the chastity belt or perhaps the shock collar and said, “Say goodnight to our hostess and thank her for helping with your education.”
I obediently thanked ‘Miss Sharon’ and we left for our house. There were yet more surprises in store for me. The first was when I said, “May I ask a question Miss Kathrine?”
“I should punish you for speaking out of turn but I know this has all been a shock so I will allow you to ask your question and won’t punish you.”
I carefully phrased my question and asked, “If you don’t love me anymore why don’t you simply divorce me?”
“Oh you silly fool. I do love you. I didn’t divorce you because I love you very much. I know this is hard to accept but even though you will have to behave differently I want you as my husband. You are really going to have to work at being submissive and accepting your new status if you want to avoid being punished. I hope you do, Bobby. I really take no pleasure in correcting you.”
I opened my mouth but before I could say anything she said, “Oh no. I listened and answered your question. If you speak again I will have to punish you. I know it seems hard but it’s only by accepting your place that you will be able to be happy. You must focus on the rules and obey and we can have a very good life together. If you fight or fail to obey you are going to have a very painful time while you adjust. Either way you will adjust and wind up a submissive and obedient husband, but it will be so much easier for you if you don’t fight it. Now, not another word.”
How does one process that? A wife that says she loves you but that she will beat you into submission if she has to. She is willing to break my will but wants me as her husband. Somehow that doesn’t compute in my mind.
Kat stopped in the kitchen and had me kneel next to a chair. The she put a frozen dinner into the microwave. While it was being warmed up she prepared a bowl of Cream of Wheat into which she mixed some liquid so that it was almost a soup or a thin gruel. She placed the bowl and a bowl of water on the ground in front of me and said, “I know you didn’t have dinner this evening so here is your supper. This isn’t very appetizing but it has all the nutrients you need. I don’t have the key to your handcuffs downstairs and I don’t feel like going up to get it so you will have to lean forward and lick it up. Both bowls better be empty and licked clean by the time I finish dinner.”
By that time the microwave had rung and Kat set the dish on the table and poured herself a glass of wine to go with what smelled like a chicken dinner. I remembered that my plan was to be obedient until I could escape so I followed directions and leaned forward to lick up my ‘dinner’.
After dinner Kat rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. She took a kitchen sponge and came over to me to clean my face from the gruel that had gotten onto my cheeks. It reminded me of a mother cleaning up a five year old child. This was my wife, not my mother, and my face did need cleaning, but I found the process to be very humiliating. I guess that was by design, in order to lower my self-esteem and make me more submissive.
Afterwards we went into the living room where Kat sat on the couch, turned on the television, and said “Get over here and lick me. I don’t know how many times you came in me and then rolled over and went to sleep leaving me hanging. Well, no more, Bobby boy. Now I am going to get plenty of orgasms while you can hope you are obedient enough to be allowed a weekly masturbation session.”
Then she turned up the television and ignored me as I did my best to bring her off.
Eventually I succeeded but when she had recovered she simply commanded, “Again.”
It was strange to hear the television in the background and I focused on her lovely pussy. Of course my cock tried to grow erect but was firmly held in its useless semi-hard position by the curved tube. I could feel my sexual frustration grow as I licked and tasted my wife but was unable to get any satisfaction. I knew I would be in bad shape before the week was out.
After her second orgasm Kat was too sensitive for more but kept me facing her and between her thighs. I could hear the news broadcast behind me but wasn’t allowed to watch.
And So To Bed
Kat led me up to the bedroom. On the floor on what had been my side of the bed there was a large dog cage with a mattress on the floor. Kat unfastened and removed the handcuffs and told me to crawl in back first. I hesitated a moment and felt the pain in my groin. Kat said, “If you don’t learn to obey at once you are going to have a very painful time. Why don’t you decide to be obedient and make it easy on yourself?”
I crawled into the cage which was big enough for me on my hands and knees but wasn’t large enough to allow me to lie down and stretch out. I realized why she had me back in to the cage, as it was too narrow for me to turn around. I saw that the door was fastened with a simple sliding bolt but as I looked closer I saw that Plexiglas sheets had been bolted to the inside so that it would be impossible for me to stick my fingers through the cage and touch the bolt.
Kat proceeded to get undressed as though I wasn’t there. I realized that the cage had been positioned so that I would see her in all her beauty as she undressed. Kat was, and is, a very attractive woman and my cock struggled against the chastity tube. Eventually she donned a sexy nightgown and climbed into bed and turned off the light. I found that if I drew my legs up into a fetal position I could lie down despite the tight confines of the cage.
I didn’t fall asleep quickly. Partly that was due to my cramped position but mainly it was because my mind was in turmoil. I had never suspected Kat would do anything like this. I figured out that Sharon must have convinced her but, having said that, Kat was certainly going at it enthusiastically. Did she really love me or did she just want to enslave me?
She certainly wasn’t reluctant to cause me pain or to force me to do what she wanted. I decided that my only course of action was to work hard at pleasing her to minimize punishments and the pain. If she was convinced that I was ‘accepting’ what she described as my position, perhaps she would ease off and an opportunity for escape would present itself. Having decided to be the best submissive I could be, I eventually fell asleep.
I woke to bright sun and the sound of the toilet flushing. I opened my eyes and saw my lovely wife Kat emerge from the bathroom. She walked over to my cage and said, “I am going to leave you with your hands free today because there are household chores to be done and you will need your hands to do them. I still have the control to the shock collar around your balls and I have set it up to the medium level, so you had better be well behaved. Do you understand?”
I nodded my head and pain exploded in my balls. I fell to the floor of the cage and tried to curl up as much as the tight cage allowed.
“I expect a proper response when I ask you something. Now let’s try again. Do you understand?”
I forced myself to say, “Yes, Miss Katherine.”
“Good.” She said brightly as she opened the door to the cage, “Then crawl out and stand up.”
I hastened to do as she had said.
“Go use the toilet and brush your teeth. We have a lot to get done today.”
I looked down at the curved chastity tube and Kat said, with a laugh, “Oh no, Bobby. That doesn’t come off for quite a while. You can pee sitting down. Actually it works in your favor as it will keep the bathroom cleaner. There will be less mess for you to clean up.”
I guess I must have looked surprised as she added, “Look, we both work but I have been doing all of the household chores. That’s all going to change starting today. Now get in there and don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
Remembering my plan to be as obedient as possible and avoid more painful shocks until an opportunity to escape arose, I did as she said. When I came out of the bathroom Kat was waiting for me in her sexy night gown. Surprising me, she swept me into her arms, hugging me to her firm breasts and kissed me. Of course I was startled but when my cock tried to get hard I understood that she was just trying to increase my sexual frustration. I have to admit it worked.
She led me down to the kitchen and had me prepare my Cream of Wheat and the nutrients that made it almost soupy. Then she had me place both that bowl and a bowl of water on the floor. She handed me a frilly long apron that looked like something that might have been designed for June Cleaver on the long ago show Leave it to Beaver. I held the apron and looked at her.
“Put it on, Bobby. You are going to be cooking bacon and eggs for my breakfast and bacon grease hurts when it splatters. It may look very girly but it will protect your skin.”
She proceeded to instruct me on how to prepare her breakfast of orange juice, toast, crisply fried bacon, two eggs sunny side up and freshly brewed coffee. When I had served her she snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor in front of the two now tepid bowls and said, “Hang up your apron and then eat breakfast. Don’t use your hands. Lick it all up as you did last night.”
When breakfast was done I cleaned up the pans and plates and submitted to having my face washed again with the kitchen sponge. Then I was sent upstairs to the master bedroom. I drew a warm bath with bath oil added to the water for Kat. She removed her nightgown, put it into the hamper and walked nude into the bathroom. As she ignored my presence it reminded me of how insignificant I had become. Of course my cock lurched in its chastity belt and pressed uncomfortably against the curved tube.
Kat luxuriated in the water for a bit and then had me wash her, beginning with her hair. I was given a soft sponge-like pad, apparently called a loofa, and instructed to wash her body. I washed her back first, then her chest and her firm and exciting breasts. She stood so that I could do her ass and then each leg, finishing up with her abdomen and hairless pussy. Of course my cock tried to harden but to no avail. By the time I had finished washing her I was thoroughly aroused and frustrated.
But then I learned that I hadn’t finished. I had to pat her dry with a large bath towel and then rub and blow dry her hair. Then she sat on a chair at her vanity table while I obediently brushed her hair 100 strokes. I know it was 100 strokes because I had to count them.
Kat then had me stand in the shower stall and apply hair remover to my entire body from the neck down. She even had me coat my jaw and neck. She checked and added the heavy cream to a few places I had missed. Rinsing her hands she told me to wait until she told me that I could rinse it off.
So I stood there watching as my wife dressed in a lacy bra and panty set. Kat was very pretty and had some sexy lingerie, but normally wore plainer, more comfortable underwear unless she was dressing for some special occasion. I understood this was all a tease for my benefit when she pulled on thigh-high stockings.
My mind was taken off how sexy Kat looked when the cream began to heat up on my skin. Soon I felt as though I was sunburned. I debated calling out but was weighing the pain the cream was causing against the very real pain Kat would create if I spoke without permission.
After about 15 minutes Kat came into the bathroom, opened the shower stall door and said, “You can move and turn around but stay under the water.”
Then she turned on the cold water tap and closed the stall door. I shrieked as the cold water first hit me and I could see Kat grinning. Actually, after the first shock, the cold water felt pretty good after the chemical heat of the cream. I rotated my body twisting this way and that to get all of the cream off. Of course my hair came off with it.
I noticed Kat was running another bath, complete with the bath oil. When she was ready, and my teeth were chattering with the cold, she turned off the shower and told me to get into the tub. The water felt hot after the cold shower but as I sank into it I realized it was warm and soothing. Kat tossed the loofa and soap to me and told me to scrub myself clean.
When I was done she had me dry myself. Then I had to strip the linens from the bed and put them, along with the damp towels, into the hamper which I carried down to the laundry room. I learned to sort laundry into three piles, whites, colored and delicates. I loaded the washer with the whites and, with Kat supervising, added soap and bleach and started the machine. Then it was back upstairs where I made the bed with fresh linens and hung fresh towels in the bathroom. With that chore completed, Kat directed me back to the laundry room.
While the white load was washing, Kat showed me the gentle soap and had me start hand washing the delicate items. I have never had a fetish for clothing but as I worked through her bras and panties and nightgowns I remembered just how sexy she looked in them. In fact I couldn’t get my mind off how she looked wearing the items I was holding.
Good lord, it had only been one day without sex. How was I going to stand it if she was serious about keeping me locked up for a week? Knowing that she planned to do exactly that increased the sexual frustration I was feeling.
When I finished each delicate item I carefully hung it on the wood rack we had in the laundry room. Kat inspected my work. By this time the washer had stopped and she had me put the white load in the dryer and start the colored load in the washing machine.
Then it was time for me to prepare lunch. Kat decided that I would make soup and toasted cheese sandwiches for both of us. Surprisingly she allowed me to sit at the table with her. Of course she had a glass of wine while I drank water but at least it was iced water and taken from a glass rather than lapped up from a bowl.
After lunch I cleaned the dishes and started the dishwasher. The laundry machines had stopped and Kat had me put the dry white load on the sorting table and load the colored items in the dryer. I had just started the dryer when her telephone rang. I heard her tell Sharon that she had trouble hearing over the sound of the dryer and to wait a minute. Then she walked out of the laundry room, through the kitchen with its noisy dish washer, and into the living room.
As Kat disappeared from view, I couldn’t believe my luck. If I couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see me. The laundry room served as a sort of mud room entry way and stood between the kitchen and the garage. I slipped through the garage door and went to my tool bench where I grabbed a metal saw and a pair of pliers. Gripping the lock on the control collar with the pair of pliers, I pulled it forward and attacked it vigorously with the hack saw. In two or possibly three minutes I was able to remove the shock collar and turn to the lock on the chastity belt.
Of course in hindsight what I should have done was grab the saw and run out the garage door, nude or not. That’s good thinking but then hindsight is usually better that foresight.
Punished and the Domestic Academy
At some point Kat must have told Sharon she had left me doing laundry and Sharon must have recognized the danger. I had just started on the lock on the chastity belt when an angry Kat came through the garage door followed by Sharon carrying what looked like a plastic pistol. She pointed it me and must have fired it.
I found myself on the floor with no control of my muscles which seemed to be twitching. As the pain receded Kat and Sharon roughly turned me face down, pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me. As the electric jolt faded they pulled me to my feet. Sharon told Kat not to bother with reinstalling the shock collar onto my balls.
Kat angrily told me, “You just couldn’t behave, could you? I warned you that not accepting your new role would bring you pain. You are really going to get it now and I want you to understand that it’s your own fault.”
Kat, still sounding angry, said to Sharon, “I want to punish him for trying to escape instead of accepting his new life.”
I was pulled through the laundry room into the kitchen where my ankles were fastened to the legs at one end of the table. Sharon draped a long rope over the back of my neck, pulling the ends under my arms and crossing them behind my back. Then she pushed me forward, bending me over the table as she threw the ends to Kat at the far end of the table. Kat pulled the ropes tightening them across my back and, rather painfully, under my arms. She tied the ropes to the table legs ensuring that I wasn’t able to move.
I couldn’t really see the women but I heard Sharon ask, ”What do you plan to use?”
“I have that riding crop you had me buy.”
“That’s OK to warm him up but you really need a cane. I’ll call Tommy and have him bring one over.” She used her cellphone to call Tom. “Tommy, we have a little discipline issue over here. Bring that whippy cane. Oh and you better bring the gag we used last night as well… What? ...No we don’t want to wait while you change. Get over here now!”
“Can you imagine that. Tommy is bashful because he is dressed as a woman. He was fine jacking off in the nude but didn’t want Bobby to see him in a dress.”
Kat laughed and said, “There’s no understanding the male mind.”
The women moved off toward the living room with Sharon saying something about some sort of ‘domestic academy'.
Soon they returned followed by Tom wearing a maid’s dress. It wasn’t some sexy parody of a French maid’s uniform but a simple light brown dress with white lace trim at the collar and cuffs such as might be worn by chambermaids at any major hotel chain. Over his right breast the name Tomi had been embroidered. I was startled to see that he also wore some eye shadow and lipstick and a long dark wig. If I hadn’t known it was Tom, I might have mistaken him for a woman. Granted it would be a not particularly attractive woman, but a woman none the less.
Tom handed Sharon a cane which she placed beside me on the table, and the gag that had been used on me last night. While this was happening Kat apparently approached me from the other side. The first I knew of her presence was when she grabbed my hair and angrily yanked my head back and up. She looked in my eyes, with as angry a look as I had ever seen and twisted my nose with her free hand.
Of course I opened my mouth in pain and Sharon took advantage of the opportunity to shove the penis gag into my mouth. Sharon held it firmly in place and Kat released my head and yanked the straps brutally tight, fastening them behind my head.
I was frightened. Oh, Kat and I had had spats from time to time and I had seen her angry at me but I had never seen her as upset as now. It was as if she had changed into a different person, a cruel and vengeful person that I didn’t know. I knew that whatever they had planned as a punishment would be painful. In my worst nightmare I could not have imagined how painful it really was.
Sharon picked up the cane and passed it to Kat who was out of sight behind me. I heard her say, “Damn you! I warned you that not accepting your role would be painful. Now you are going to be punished.”
I heard the ‘whooshing’ sound as the cane sliced through the air. I didn’t so much feel the impact as I felt a line of fire erupt across my buttocks. I would have screamed if I could have. In fact I guess I did scream into the gag but very little sound came past the gag, mostly the sound came from my nose through my sinuses. I felt a second and a third fiery line erupt.
Then Sharon said to Kat, “Slow down. Let him fully feel the pain from each stroke. It will be much worse for him and you won’t tire yourself out so easily.”
I couldn’t imagine how it could be made any worse but, with Sharon coaching her, Kat managed to do exactly that. I would feel the line of fire across my ass or on my thighs and then there would be a pause as the pain spread out. Then there was another stroke. I don’t know how long it took or how many strokes I received. I do remember Kat crossing from one side to the other to get a different angle and I have a vague recollection of someone holding something like ammonia under my nose to revive me when I had slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
Eventually the pain overwhelmed me and my body shut down. In short I passed out again, and the punishment must have ended. I woke to find myself lying on the floor of the rear seat of an automobile. I was still handcuffed and could feel leather cuffs on my ankles. My feet had been pulled up and fastened to my handcuffs holding me in a loose hogtie. With the front of the rear seat on one side and the rear of the front seat on the other I found that I couldn’t roll to either side and had to remain on my stomach. My upper thighs and buttocks burned with pain but I couldn’t reach them to see if they were bleeding and as raw as they felt. Some sort of covering, it felt like a blanket, had been thrown over me to hide me from casual observation.
While I couldn’t see anything I could tell from the stop and go nature of the drive that we were still in the city. I also heard Kat and Sharon speaking in the front seat. It was pretty muffled but I gathered that we were on the way to some sort of domestic training academy. Sharon was singing their praises and pointing out to Kat that Tommy was so submissive that she could allow him to go to work during the week. I became even more worried when Kat said that she didn’t think that would be possible for me.
It was apparent that I was going to be there past the weekend as they also talked about how Kat would call my boss and tell him I was sick on Monday. Then on Wednesday she would call him again to tell him that the doctors had diagnosed a contagious infection of some sort and had moved me to an isolation ward in a hospital some distance away. There was also some discussion of workers arriving Monday to install some sort of fence but that didn’t mean anything to me at the time.
The ride changed as we apparently got onto a highway as the car picked up speed and there were no stops for quite a while. Then there was a slowing and a decrease in speed. Finally there was the sound of gravel crunching under the tires as if we were on a gravel road or a very long driveway. Eventually the car came to a stop and I heard Kat ask if they should bring me inside. Sharon told her to leave me as the staff would fetch me later. I heard the car doors open and close and then there was silence.
The Domestic Academy
I don’t know how long I lay on the floor but eventually a rear door opened and the blanket was pulled off of me. Someone untied my ankles though they left the leather cuffs in place. Hand grasped each of my ankles and roughly pulled me halfway out of the car. They dropped my ankles and I found myself kneeling on the gravel driveway. I heard a female voice say, “Help him to his feet.”
Someone helped me stand up. I turned and saw two women. One was younger than I, reasonably attractive, dressed in a dark skirt and white blouse. The other was somewhat older, closer to my age, wearing a maid’s dress similar to the one I had glimpsed Tom wearing. As I looked I saw the name Terri embroidered over her breast and, after a moment of confusion, realized that this must be a man in a dress.
Then I thought that was impossible, as this woman had a narrow waist and, while they were not large, breasts. I realized that I was nude and handcuffed in front of two female strangers. The younger woman was clearly in charge and told the older one, “Take him to dinner and feed him. There will be an orientation after the meal.”
The older woman dropped a curtsey, and said is a breathy, rather sexy voice, “Yes ma’am.”
Then she took my arm and guided me towards the building in front of us. I didn’t see much of the building but I had the impression of an imposing private school with, as I glanced around, equally imposing and very extensive grounds. Inside we went down a long corridor with nicely carved wood doors to the dining area.
Across one wall was a long table covered with a white linen table cloth set with china and crystal. A number of women sat along one side of the table looking across the room. I recognized both Kat and Sharon at the table, as well as the young woman who had been in charge of getting me out of the car. Several other women at the table were wearing similar clothing and I assumed that they were the staff. A number of women in the maid’s dresses were serving their table.
On the opposite side of the room was another long table with seats for ten along one side. There were four nude men seated, all of them with their hands behind them, presumably handcuffed as I was. Next to each man was a woman (or as I later learned, a man) in a maid’s dress, feeding him. The maid with me had me sit in one of the two open seats and went to fetch my food. When she came back she began to feed me.
After dinner the maids left the room and one of the staff, a slightly older woman, spoke to us. She explained that throughout history, and only because men had greater physical strength, humans had be governed by men, and that had led to wars, famine, pestilence, and misery. She noted that there had been female leaders from time to time. She gave examples ranging from the Celtic warrior Queen Boudicca in 60 AD, through Cleopatra of Egypt, Elizabeth the First of England, Catherine the Great of Russia, Victoria who ruled the United Kingdom, and Golda Maier who was Prime Minister of Israel. But, she pointed out, they had been isolated and surrounded by testosterone-driven male leaders, which had forced the females to act as warriors instead of being able to resolve issues peacefully.
Now however, technology had supplanted the need for brute strength and it was time for women to take the lead. She pointed out the competitiveness of men and the collegiality of women and cited several studies to support her point of view. Women were, according to her, gradually taking their rightful place as leaders and humanity would presumably benefit in the future.
Apparently it was important for her to convince herself that forcing us into a female-led relationship was both morally and ethically correct. I don’t know if she convinced any of the others but her version of history of the world certainly didn’t change my mind.
Having stated her theoretical basis for female leadership, she proceeded to turn to FLRs. She said, “Your mistress/wives have determined that it would be best for your relationship to be led by her. Some of you may disagree with this decision but that is because of your inferior male ego, which causes you to think only of yourself. Your mistress/wife is thinking of what is best for your relationship.
“Your foolish male mind tells you that this isn’t fair to you, yet you accept governments drafting men to go to war where many die and many more are maimed either physically or psychologically. Your wife has decided on changing your role for the good of your relationship and none of you will die or be maimed.”
I didn’t, I thought to myself, remember registering for this draft when I took my marriage vows. I suppose I wasn’t maimed, but that cane certainly felt like an injury.
“Never doubt” she continued, “…that your wives love you. You will be fed female hormones to counteract your natural testosterone but your individual levels will be carefully monitored to avoid chemical castration.”
And to maintain our sexual frustration and thereby enhance our submission, I thought.
“In addition to reducing your aggressiveness you will find that you will have less upper body strength but you will gain strength in your calves and thighs. You will also have a saline solution injected into your pectorals which will make your nipples more sensitive for when your wife has time to play with you. Your body will absorb the saline naturally so your ‘breasts’ will have to be re-injected each day.”
Yeah, and the saline will make the pectorals swell like small breasts. Together with heavier thigh and less upper body strength it sounds like they want to feminize us.
“Your wives have decided that, since you will be assuming the domestic duties traditionally viewed as female, you will dress and present yourself as a woman. To that end each of you will wear a corset to help define your waist and chest. You will be taught how to walk and sit in a dress and heels. To assist in reminding you to walk properly you will also wear an anal plug. You will also be trained in hair care, makeup and both manicures and pedicures. “
Holy cow! They do want to feminize us. This is a real horror story.
“In addition to being taught how to present as a female you will be trained in your domestic duties. There will be classes covering laundry and ironing, making beds, dusting and polishing furniture, cleaning carpets and scrubbing both wood and tile floors. Additional classes will cover difficult areas such as scrubbing bathrooms and cleaning kitchens.
“Not all of your duties will be menial. You will also be trained as a lady’s maid to help your wife dress and undress, prepare and assist her in her bath and the proper accessorizing of her wardrobe. Of more interest to most of our students, you will be trained in the arts of pleasing your mistress / wife. You will learn foot massage, full body massage and of course cunnilingus.”
Hey lady, I thought, I already know how to go down on my wife.
At this point the maids came back and sat beside us. I realized now that these must all be feminized men and understood why they all seemed to have cutesy names ending in an ‘i’. Once they were seated the woman who had been speaking said, “It is getting late and, as you have heard we have a great deal to cover. Let’s drink to your success in the program.”
The maids lifted a glass, of what looked like the ‘nutrients’ I had been pouring into my cream of wheat, toward my mouth when we were all interrupted by one of the men sitting two down from me. He turned his head away from his maid and shouted, “You’re crazy, lady. I’m not drinking any of that female hormone stuff.”
The maid beside him held him in place as one of the staff members stood up and walked to the man. When she reached him she gripped his hair and pulled his head back so he was looking up. Then she pinched his nose until he had to open his mouth to breath. As he did, the maid poured the liquid into his mouth. The staff woman let go of his nose and pulled his chin up closing his mouth. She held him until we could see his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. Then she used his handcuffed hands to lever him up and half over the table. My maid nudged me and lifted the glass to my mouth. Realizing the futility of resistance I opened my mouth and drank the liquid.
Two other staff members came up to the man. One pushed what looked like a penis gag into his mouth. The other told the maids to, “Clear the table and watch his punishment.”
The maids walked the four of us to one side where we could clearly see the offender without blocking the view from the wives and staff table. When we were all in position a staff member caned him with six strokes. Then she handed the cane to the second staff member who gave him six more strokes. All five staff members (excluding the older woman who appeared to be some sort of supervisor or head mistress) gave him six strokes. He was then led away on wobbly legs. We could see his entire ass and about half of thighs were purple and swollen. Black lines where bruises were growing on the welts that criss-crossed the entire area.
The older woman who had been the speaker came to stand before the four of us and said, “You have all been told not to speak out of turn and to obey orders immediately. We have a great deal of training to cover in a limited amount of time. As a result, while we are fair, discipline here is strict. That man wound up drinking the same hormones all of you drank. He not only failed to drink as he was told, but spoke out of turn. I hope he serves as an object lesson for all of you. Do as you are told and your life will be much more pleasant.”
Turning to the younger staff members she said, “Take charge of your students. Have them issued clothing and then prepare them for bed.”
The four of us were each led by a staff member to a large room. I was third in line and stopped where I was told to. Then the four staff members began with the first man. One would measure him and call out a number. One of the others would retrieve some article of clothing and place it in a mesh bag. There was a package of panties in various colors with the days of the week embroidered on them. Next came a garter belt and several packages of nylon stockings. Finally two long corsets were set on the counter. All of the items except one of the corsets were stuffed into the mesh bag.
‘His’ staff member told him, “This bag will be used to hold your dirty laundry.”
She then removed his handcuffs and had him don a pair of fuzzy slippers with heels that, while broad, appeared to be at least two inches high. She led him to a place near the door and said, “Stand here while I help with the others. Now that we have your sizes, your dresses can be embroidered with your name. Two dresses will be issued to you, probably tomorrow.”
Each of the rest of us went through the same procedure. Then we were led to the next room. One by one we had bondage mittens tied in place over our hands and then attached to a short spreader bar or, as we learned, lacing bar. Once secured, the bar was raised and the man’s hands and arms were hauled up over his head.
The staff began to inject saline around the nipples and pectoral muscles of the person fastened to the bar. The injections were painful and there was some groaning from the man held on the bar. This was met with a cut of a riding crop across his thighs and an admonition to, “Keep silent!” While the saline would eventually be absorbed by his body there was a noticeable swelling after the injections. In fact it looked as if the man had small budding breasts.
The staff woman when picked up the corset that had not been placed in the mesh bag. She wrapped it around the man’s middle and another staff woman fastened it in front. Then the two staff women began to tighten the laces pulling hard and compressing he waist. As they pulled tighter and tighter the slight amount of flesh on his chest was forced up into the breast cups creating a slight but noticeable cleavage. The man tried to protest how tightly he was being laced but was slashed across his thighs and reminded to be quiet, although she added, in a kindly tone of voice, that he should take shallow breaths and told him that it would become easier over time.
When he was tightly laced they lowered his arm and detached them from the lacing bar. Then they used Velcro strips to fasten his bondage mitten encased hands to his thighs. Pushing him to one side one of the women called “Next.”
Eventually all four of us were injected and had been tightly laced into corsets. With our hands laced into the bondage mittens and secured to our thighs we were then led to a corridor containing what could only be called cells.
These were concrete rooms with three solid walls and a barred fourth wall. Along one side was a concrete block with a thin mattress intended to serve as a bed. On the opposite wall was a short wall creating an alcove. Inside the alcove was a metal bar to hang clothes and several built-in concrete shelves. Along the same wall but closer to the front of the cell there was a metal washbasin and a metal toilet.
‘My’ staff guide asked if I needed to use the toilet, telling me that there would be no other opportunity before tomorrow. When I told her I was OK she had me lie on the bed with my feet towards the blank wall. I realized this would mean that I couldn’t see into the corridor, at least not without twisting my head. I soon learned that this would be impossible.
Once I had lain down, the leather cuffs on my ankles were fastened to the foot of the bed holding my legs apart, though not so far as to be uncomfortable. I looked at the woman and then down at my corset. She understood my unspoken question and answered with a laugh, “Oh no, my boy. We have a lot of body shaping to do in a short time. You will sleep in that corset until you are ready to leave. Well…” she amended, ‘…in one of the two. You will only get out of that one when it is time to wash it.”
She helped me lie back on the bed and fastened a strap across my chest. Then she removed the Velcro strap holding my hand to my thigh and used it to fasten my hand to the side of the bed. She did the same with my other hand leaning across my body as she did. I could smell her perfume and perhaps a hint of her bath soap or shampoo. While she was no great beauty, she was young, fit, and attractive and I felt my chastity belt pressing against my cock. A final strap went across my forehead. She was about to install some large earphones when I heard a familiar voice ask, “Before you do that, may I speak with him?”
The staff woman took the headphones off and backed down into the cell saying, “Is this one yours? Go ahead and talk to him if you like.”
Kat walked in far enough that she was able to turn and look into my face as she spoke, “I warned you to accept your position. I had hoped you would be submissive like Tom so that you could continue getting out and going to work and seeing your friends on weekdays. But you let your ego get in the way and had to try to fight it. Now you are going to be feminized and trained as a live-in domestic servant. I don’t think you will ever be allowed out of the house again. It’s a bit sad really, but you did this to yourself. All you had to do was accept your place and follow orders and you could have had a relatively normal life. Now you are going to have to disappear from public view. I hope you understand that you can still live a good life if you learn your job and accept your place. If you continue to resist you will be punished and probably will live a very unhappy life. Stop thinking about what you were, accept what you are now and try to be the best you can be. It will be so much better for you.
“I’m going to be leaving now and I won’t see you until the staff of the academy have decided that you are ready to take up your new life. They can be very severe but if you co-operate, they won’t have to break you. Please Bobby, make it easy on yourself.”
Kat left. Although I couldn’t see her leave I heard her steps echo as she walked down the hall. I had never felt so frightened and alone as at that moment.
Shortly after Kat left, ‘my’ staff guide came back and placed the large earphones over my ears. For a moment I could hear nothing at all then a soft soothing music began. I could hear a voice in the background but couldn’t quite make out the words. Once the earphones were in place the lights dimmed and I found myself very sleepy. Had they drugged the meal? I didn’t know but the music and the whispered voices seemed to blur my thoughts and gently lead me to sleep.
* * *
I don’t remember much detail of my time at the academy. There were classes on all the subjects they had told us about. The staff was quite strict. They would use riding crops while correcting us during lessons but if they thought you weren’t really trying your best they would stop the class and fasten you to a whipping bench. Then they would cane the offender until he was sobbing and promising to do his best. I guess we should have called it the caning bench.
I only saw one real whipping. That was the guy who had fought drinking the hormones at orientation. I don’t know what he did but the lashed him to the lacing bar and hauled him off the ground. A leather apron was wrapped around his lower back and sides. Apparently they wanted to protect his intestines from any low strokes. Then they cut loose with what appeared to be a multi strand flogger with weights in the tips. Whatever it was, his back was shredded and bloody before they let us leave. By that time his screams had stopped but they rang in my ears for days afterwards. I never saw the guy again but rumor had it that they let his back heal up and then started him over again with the next batch of trainees.
There were a few courses that hadn’t been mentioned at the orientation. We learned how to inject the saline solution carefully moving around our nipples so that the resultant swelling would give us attractive ‘boobies’ and an attractive cleavage. We also learned how to measure and drink our hormones each morning. I noted that while they didn’t remove the chastity belt, it really wasn’t of any importance while at the academy. I suppose the female hormones prevented me from having an erection. After a while between the hormones and the belt I couldn’t grow erect. This lack of attempts at erections actually reduced the pain caused by the belt.
I remember the day I received my dresses with ‘Bobbi’ embroidered in cursive over the right breast. Of course we washed and ironed them so that we always were properly turned out.
Each night we were fastened to the beds and the strange soothing music was played through our ears. I know that at first I looked for opportunities to escape but I can’t remember why I did that. Gradually I came to realize that my purpose in life was to serve Miss Katherine and that only by working as hard as I could to serve her could I achieve true contentment. I think once I realized that, I worked very hard to be the best domestic servant and submissive partner that I could be. I longed for the day when I would be released to serve Miss Katherine and obey every order she gave.
The Good Times
Eventually the day came when the academy sent me home to serve Miss Kathrine, fulfilling my purpose in life. There was no warning. One day several of us were simply given suitcases and told to pack our clothes and cosmetics as we would be returning to our mistress/wife. I can still remember my euphoria as I realized that I would be home with Miss Katherine.
We loaded our suitcases in a delivery van and climbed in. There were benches on either side of the van and six of us were seated and strapped into place with normal safety belts. A staff woman placed a sort of sack hood over each of our heads. They weren’t tight hoods but just loose sacks which prevented us from seeing out the front windows.
We traveled for quite some time. I remembered the highway driving and then the city stop and go with occasional stops of longer duration. This was explained when my hood was removed and I saw that three of my companion maids were no longer in the van. I was led out by the staff woman and given my suitcase and we walked up to the familiar front door where she rang the doorbell.
The door was opened by Tom who was dressed in his normal male clothes. He ushered us into the foyer and then turned to a box next to our home alarm. He turned a key and a light on the box turned from green to red. “This" he said “…activates the invisible fence.”
He then removed the key and led us into the living room where both Miss Katherine and Sharon were seated. Tom passed the key to Miss Katherine who looked at me and said, “Welcome home Bobbi.”
With my suitcase in my hand I couldn’t curtsey properly but I sort of bobbed and smiled as I responded, “Thank you, Miss Katherine.”
She handed me the control belt and a padlock and told me to put them on. Of course I did as she said. After all, my purpose in life was to do whatever Miss Kathrine wanted.
Sharon couldn’t resist gloating. She said, “We hope you are ready to perform your duties. Just so you know there is an invisible fence around the house and if you try to go out any door or window it will deliver a shock to your balls so painful that you will be incapacitated. You are going to serve your mistress and remain inside this house for the rest of your life.”
Surprisingly it was the staff woman who spoke up. She said, ”There is no reason to frighten him. An invisible fence is fine, but Bobbi has been fully trained and wants to serve his mistress. Don’t you Bobbi?”
“Yes miss,” I responded.
“He tried to escape before,” Sharon said.
“That was before we trained him.” She sighed. “Let’s have a little demonstration. Had you planned to peg him to welcome him to his new status?”
“Yes, I thought having Sharon and Tom watch would help reinforce the symbolism,” Miss Katherine responded.
“Where do you plan to do it?” asked the staff woman.
Sharon chimed in, “We have cuffs and ropes all set up in the dining room.”
We walked through to the dining room where I saw a set of ankle cuffs tied to the table legs at one end and a set of wrist cuffs with ropes stretching loosely to the legs at the other end. On a towel on top of the table there was a strap on harness with a long fat dildo, a tube of KY lubricant and a box of latex gloves.
“We won’t need these,” the staff woman said, sweeping the wrist cuffs off the table. Turning to Miss Katherine she asked, “Are you going to wear the strap-on over your clothes?”
Miss Katherine responded, “No, I thought my bra and panties would be enough.”
“Good. Tell Bobbi to undress you. Sharon, can you have Tommy take care of her clothes to speed things up?”
Miss Katherine told me to undress her and Sharon ordered Tom to fold and stack Miss Katherine’s clothing. Miss Katherine was wearing a blouse and skirt. First I unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it out of the skirt’s waist band. Stepping behind her I gently eased the blouse from her shoulders, handing it to Tom. Then I undid the single button on her skirt and slipped the zipper down. As I had been taught, I knelt in front of her so that she could rest a hand on me as she stepped out of the skirt. Then, without further instruction, I rose and brought the strap on to her. Sinking back to my knees I held the harness open so that she could step into it. I lifted it to her hips and fastened the waist belt.
“I didn’t give him any orders,” said Miss Katherine.
“No, you don’t have to give him many orders. Bobbi isn’t stupid. He really wants to serve you. Once he understands what you want he will eagerly do it.”
While this was going on I reached behind me and pulled down the long zipper on my maid’s dress. I stepped out of it revealing my tight corset, panties, nylon stockings and high heeled shoes. As I stood there holding my dress, Sharon said, ”Give the dress to Tommy.”
I did, and then asked, “Shall I deal with the lube Miss Katherine?”
“No,” she said, “I’ll do that. You just get in position.”
Stepping to the side of the table I pushed my panties down until I could lift one foot out and spread my legs. It is difficult to bend forward in a corset but I had been properly trained, and managed to lie across the table with my hands firmly gripping the far edge.
With my face on the table I couldn’t see but imagined that I could hear Miss Katherine putting on a glove and then opening the tube of lubricant. There was a squishy sound as she rubbed lube over the dildo. Then I felt a greasy finger push into me. It was followed by a second finger. Both fingers rotated coating me with the lubricant.
I felt the dildo at my sphincter and Miss Katherine asked, “Do you understand what this will mean?”
“Oh yes Miss Katherine” I replied in a happy tone of voice, “it means that you will have complete mastery over me and that I am serving your desires as I should.”
“You sound happy?” she said in a tone of voice that made it a question.
“I am happy, Miss Katherine. It is my purpose in life to serve you and meet all of your desires.”
I didn’t understand, but heard Sharon say to Tom, “Good grief. Maybe I should send you for training.”
Then Miss Katherine began pushing into me and I knew my wife was doing what was best for both of us. I didn’t really enjoy the anal sex but I was almost giddy at the thought of Miss Katherine exerting her superior power over me. All things were as they should be.
She thrust for quite some time until she reached an orgasm. I remained in position holding tightly to the table until she said, “Very good Bobbi. Go clean up your ass and then get dressed.”
I stood up to obey and noted that the staff woman had left at some point and only Sharon and Tom remained. When I returned I saw that Miss Katherine had gotten dressed. When she saw me she waved at the towel that held the harness, lube, and box of latex gloves. “Clean up the dildo and put that stuff away. It goes in a drawer in the kitchen. Put the towel in the hamper for the next time you do laundry. Then come back here.”
As I moved to obey her she asked Tom if he would mind getting a glass of wine for Sharon and herself. Of course he replied in the affirmative. That’s how we both wound up in the kitchen at the same time. As we worked Tom asked, “What happened to you at that school? I could never stand still for a pegging without being tied down. Did they beat you into submission?”
I laughed and said, “No silly. They are strict but don’t really beat you. They just helped me find my place in life and trained me in the skills needed to do it well.”
He looked at me doubtfully as he went back to the living room with the women’s wine. I wondered why he would think I had been beaten. When I had cleaned and stored the dildo, harness, and gloves I returned to the living room where Miss Katherine and Sharon were chatting.
Tom was standing in the corner with his hands on his head. His trousers and underwear were around his ankles and his buttocks were a bright red. I don’t know why he had been punished but clearly he had been chastised for some indiscretion or other. I wondered if it was because he had spoken to me in the kitchen.
In any case, I simply ignored him and stood near Miss Katherine and waited for her to notice me. When she did she dropped a pillow from the couch onto the floor next to her feet. She didn’t bother to break into her conversation but snapped her fingers to get my attention and pointed at the pillow. I immediately knelt on the pillow next to her.
We remained that way for perhaps half an hour until Sharon said, “Well we must be leaving.” She turned to Tom and said, “Pull up your trousers, Tommy. We have to get home so that you can finish your chores.”
After they left I was able to bring Miss Katherine to two orgasms before I was sent to prepare dinner. While I was working she came into the kitchen and said that I seemed happy. When I assured her that I was indeed very happy she asked if I understood that I would be restricted to the house and that I wasn’t to contact any of my old friends. In addition, when she had guests I was to be Bobbi the domestic and not ever hint that I was Robert her husband. Of course I told her that whatever she wanted was fine with me. I just wanted to serve her.
My mistress told me that she was glad I was happy in the arrangement as she loved me and wanted me to be happy. After dinner and my cleaning the kitchen, she led me to the maid’s quarters where I was to sleep and discussed the arrangements for the morning.
The Good Times Roll
That homecoming was the start of the good times. Each morning I would wake Miss Katherine with juice and run her bath. She read the newspapers on her tablet while in the tub. That gave me time to prepare her breakfast which I served in her bedroom. I would give the bathroom a quick wipe down while she ate and then help her get dressed. I would follow her downstairs carrying the used dishes on the tray.
Once we were both down I would slip out of my dress and she would fasten my hands and wrists to a newly installed lacing bar. The bar would be raised by an electric winch until I was almost off the floor and mistress would then check the lacings in my corset. Most mornings she could tighten the laces slightly.
Then she watched as I measured and drank my dosage of hormones and then injected saline around my nipples to ensure my pectorals and breasts were as full as possible. Of course, as a partner in her law firm she was very busy, so after observing my injections she left for work. I would get dressed and begin cleaning the house, making the beds, and doing the laundry. Around midday she or her personal assistant would call and tell me if she would be dining at home and if she was going to be alone or if she was having guests. Of course sometimes she went to business dinners and didn’t return home until very late.
The afternoons were generally devoted to preparing dinner for Miss Katherine and her guests if she was having any. I was always delighted when I could prepare something to impress her guests and she often remarked on how my dinners helped her further her business objectives.
While I was delighted to help her in business, I really preferred the nights when we were home alone. When she came home she would sit on the sofa and begin to review legal briefs or draft contracts on which she was working. I would prepare a cocktail for her and then, while she worked and sipped, I knelt before her and removed her shoes so that I could massage her feet.
When dinner was ready I would serve. Afterwards she would finish her work while I had my meal and then cleaned up the kitchen. Then came the best part of the evening when I would be allowed to worship my beautiful mistress. I would lick at her center glorying in her scent and taste as I aroused her. Eventually I would bring her to orgasm and a feeling of pride would surge through me. I had given Miss Katherine such great pleasure.
Of course there were variations. I think my favorites were some particularly bad days when she would want a full body massage. Then I could undress, her marveling at her beauty, and work out the knots in her muscles as I handled her body. As mentioned before the hormones prevented me from getting an erection but I was still able to appreciate her beauty and the sensation of touching her. Often the massage led to my providing oral sex, which made the evening just perfect.
Other evenings Miss Katherine would strip down and take me anally. Often she had some problem at the office and pegging my ass let her work out her frustrations. I didn’t like anal sex but was overjoyed to be able to help her work out her frustrations.
Every other Saturday we were visited by a woman named Maxine who was a hair dresser. She would wash, trim and set Miss Katherine’s hair in the bath off the master bedroom while, under her supervision, I would give Miss Katherine a pedicure. When Maxine finished with Miss Katherine’s hair she would give her a manicure and sometimes I was even allowed to paint the nails on one hand while Maxine finished up the other.
When Miss Katherine was finished, Maxine would style and trim my hair. I was responsible, of course, for washing my hair and for my own nails. Once done with my hair, Maxine would have me remove my dress, panties and shoes. Then dressed in my corset and stockings I would stand in the tub leaning slightly forward with my head pressed against the wall and my hands behind my neck while Maxine would let Miss Katherine know that we were ready.
Miss Katherine always came in to observe as Maxine donned a latex glove and carefully lubricated it. Inserting two fingers into my rectum, Maxine would massage my prostate, milking all of the accumulated sperm and ejaculate from my body. Of course there was nothing sexual in this. It felt, more or less, as though I was urinating but without the urgency felt when emptying your bladder. We didn’t even have to remove the chastity belt.
Miss Katherine was always smiling when the milking was over. She told me that she wanted to keep her Bobbi healthy. I then got dressed again and went to work cleaning the bathroom and eliminating any trace of Maxine’s visit.
Sharon and Tom were frequent guests but until they arrived, I never knew what role Tom was to play. Sometimes he would sit at the table and be served as a guest similar to the women. Other times he was relegated to a submissive role. If Sharon was angry with Tom I was often called upon to tie him over a chair so the women could paddle his rear or even take him with a strap-on. Very occasionally he appeared in his maid’s dress with full facial make up and a wig. On those evenings he would serve at the table while I remained in the kitchen, cooking and preparing the plates for service.
Then there were the parties. Generally on a Friday or Saturday evening we hosted six or eight to sit-down dinners or had light food and drinks for twenty or more. Almost invariably Tom, dressed as Tommi, assisted me in serving. Of course, I was thrilled to be sharing the secret of my true identity with Miss Katherine alone. Often I overheard guests talking about the fact that Miss Katherine’s husband had disappeared. Little did these outsiders suspect that I was, in fact, right there serving my mistress/wife as nature had intended.
A Party at Sharon’s House
I mentioned that sometimes Miss Katherine didn’t come home for dinner. She had joined with Sharon in a group that met each Wednesday at each other’s homes. At first Miss Katherine referred to these meetings as ‘women in FLRs’ but as time went by she began to call it a meeting of the ‘dominant wives group’. One day the rotation had the meeting at Sharon’s home and Miss Katherine loaned me to Sharon. I was to serve cocktails and finger foods alongside Tom. Miss Katherine turned off the invisible fence, snapped a leash to my chastity cage and led me next door.
When we arrived Tom, who was dressed in male clothes, was serving. There was another male there also dressed in male clothing. I gathered that both he and Tom were naturally submissive. Both men appeared to be worried about something but I had no opportunity to find out what it was.
The meeting was called to order by one of the women. After reviewing some club business matters she announced that it was time for the educational portion of the meeting.
Sharon took charge and said that tonight’s lesson would be prostate milking. Taking my tray she told me to remove my dress. I glanced at Miss Katherine but she had told me to do whatever Sharon said and didn’t object to the order. I took off my dress and following Sharon’s directions knelt on top of the coffee table on my hands and knees.
Sharon announced that I was a male who had been trained at the Domestic Academy and was now kept on female hormones that prevented me from having an erection. I had not, however, been castrated and therefore sperm and ejaculate were building in my testicles. She pulled my panties down revealing my caged penis and plump balls, much to the amusement of the women.
Tom was sent to collect the shallow bowl into which he normally masturbated and Sharon placed it under the tip of my cock. Then she proceeded to don and lubricate a latex glove. Ordering me to hold still she then pushed several fingers into my anus. After a moment she found my prostate and began to massage it, all the while describing what she was doing to the assembled women.
I felt the same sensation of urination but without the powerful rush as when Maxine milked me. Glancing down I saw that a milky white ejaculate was dripping from my caged cock into the bowl. Sharon explained that this method of removing the built up sperm and ejaculate did not provide any sexual relief. She recommended it for husbands who were to be kept sexually frustrated for long periods of time.
When Sharon was satisfied that she had emptied me, I was ordered off the table and told to clean myself and get dressed. Accompanied by much laughter, she reminded me to wash my hands before resuming serving.
I was in the kitchen cleaning and dressing but heard Sharon say, “I know you were wondering why I had used Kat’s husband for the milking demonstration tonight. It is because my Tommy and Grace’s husband Gerry are both to provide tonight’s entertainment and, as you will see, they both need to be fully loaded to provide our amusement.”
I was just returning with a tray of full wine glasses when Sharon turned to the two men and said, “OK, both of you strip right now.”
As the two men undressed, Sharon pressed a button and a lacing bar descended from the ceiling. The bar had rings at either end which provided a place to attach both the suspending cable and a person’s wrists while they were being laced. Tonight there was a short chain with two wrist cuffs hung from each ring. The now nude men were brought forward and cuffed to the bar facing each other. A second woman, presumably Grace, had joined Sharon.
Sharon produced a roll of what appeared to be duct tape which she set on the coffee table next to the bowl of my now cooling ejaculate. Then both women donned fresh latex gloves and produced keys. These were used to remove Tommy’s and Gerry’s chastity belts. Of course both men grew hard and tried to back away to avoid touching the other.
This was not to be, as Sharon and Grace each grabbed their husband’s cock and tugged them forward toward the other man. The women forced the cocks down so that they were pointing at right angles toward each other. Then they manipulated the cocks so that they were held side by side touching the other man’s cock with the tips just at the other man’s belly. While Grace held the cocks in position, Sharon wrapped duct tape around the shafts leaving only each man’s cock head exposed.
Sharon raised the lacing bar so that each man was pressed to the other from wrists through chests. Only the length of their taped erect cocks separated them at groin level. Then she announced to both the men and the women spectators in the room, “The game is simple. Grace and I will be using canes on the men’s asses. When struck they will be forced to move, rubbing their cocks together. The first man to come loses the game and will be punished. To keep things fair, I will cane Grace’s Gerry and she will cane my Tommy. Before we begin I want to warn Tommy that I don’t like to lose and he had better hold back on his orgasm.”
Grace chimed in, “You had better not be the first to come Gerry.”
Sharon nodded to Grace and the torment began. Grace swung across both of Tom’s buttocks and he jerked forward. As his body settled back Sharon swung at Gerry forcing him to jerk forward. Then it was Grace's turn again. After three or four strokes the men were screaming in pain. I guess the pain offset the normal arousal because it took an awful long time before either man came. In fact I was so fascinated by the brutal display that I forgot to circulate and stood watching the horrific ‘game’. I was soon reminded of my duties by a woman who pinched my butt and said, “Better get back to work before your mistress sees you standing around.”
She was right and I turned away from the spectacle and resumed offering glasses to the women. Even though I avoided the sight of the two men being tormented, I couldn’t help but hear the whack of a cane impacting flesh and the cries driven from the man being struck.
Eventually Gerry came, spurting all over Tom’s belly. Tom wasn’t far behind and came before Gerry finished spurting. Gerry’s punishment was to drink my now cold ejaculate while still bound closely to Tom (or Tommy as the women referred to him), but I think Grace was planning further punishments for him once they reached home. Sharon lowered the lacing bar and released the men’s hands. They were still bound together at their now soft cocks and the duct tape prevented them from shrinking as they normally would. As closely fastened as they were each man’s belly was rubbing in their mixed cum. The women found this to be hilarious and made the men walk into the kitchen so they wouldn’t drip cum on the rug.
Can you imagine how awkward it was for the two men to maneuver into the kitchen? When they got there Sharon took out a long sharp carving knife. There were many jokes about what she was going to slice off, but in the end she carefully slit the tape between the two cocks. Even then their torment wasn’t quite over as pulling the tape off the sensitive skin of their deflating cocks was clearly painful. Entertainment over, the men were sent to clean up and dress though Tommy was told to get in his ‘jammies’. The women finished their drinks and said their goodbyes.
I was still collecting dirty glasses and bringing them into the kitchen when Sharon thanked Miss Katherine for loaning me to her and said that Tommy could finish cleaning up. The leash was snapped on and I was led home. The invisible fence was turned on and the night was over.
We Host the Dominant Wives
I was quite content when I heard no more about the dominant wives group. After all, my purpose in life was to serve Miss Katherine. I didn’t mind doing things for other women but had no desire to be involved with the club and their harsh treatment of men. Imagine my chagrin when I was told that on the coming Wednesday it would be our turn to host the group.
While I didn’t say anything my expression must have changed because Miss Katherine asked me if I was happy serving her. Of course I told her that I was very happy both in my position and in being able to serve her. She told me that she had decided to use me in both the educational and entertainment parts of the evening. She said, “I want this party to be a success as it will heighten my position within the group. You may find the evening uncomfortable and embarrassing but remember that I love you and am deciding on what will be best for both of us. Even if you are uncomfortable, I will not allow you to be injured in any way."
I didn’t say anything as I knew Miss Katherine was making the best decisions for both of us in our female-led relationship.
Despite my trepidations the night didn’t start out all that bad. I had been ordered to strip to my corset, stocking and shoes and just before the evening began I was given two blue pills. This was how I served the drinks and finger food. Of course some of the women couldn’t (or didn’t) resist pinching my ass or playing with my balls.
When the education portion of the meeting began Miss Katherine untied the laces and removed my corset. I was ordered to lie on my back on the coffee table. Cuffs around my wrists and ankles were tied to the table legs ensuring that I remained on the table and a further belt wrapping over my chest and under the table ensured that I wouldn’t be able to twist my body. My mouth was fitted with the ring gag and the penis-like dildo was forced into my mouth, ensuring my silence.
Miss Katherine removed my chastity belt and surprisingly I became stiff. Some of the women asked if my hormones had been reduced but Miss Katherine told them that while my female hormones were still high, I had been given erectile dysfunction medicine, especially for this evening.
Miss Katherine held up a tool that looked a bit like a pair of pliers and said, “This is a docking tool. It is used on farms to castrate livestock. As you can see…” demonstrating as she spoke, “when you press the handle the jaws open stretching this elastic band. The band is slipped over the animal’s testicles and the handles released allowing the band to snap tightly around the scrotum. The band is so tight that it cuts off the flow of blood. The animal’s testicles blacken and die and in a few days they simply rot off the animal and fall. There is no messy blood to be stanched and after the initial shock the pain caused by the band becomes numb, so it is less traumatic for the animal.”
“While designed for farm animals, it is equally effective on human males. That’s something to keep in mind if your husband misbehaves.” A ripple of laughter came from the women.
“Tonight, however…,” she continued, “…we are going to use it differently. I know many of you have enjoyed edging or, as some prefer to call it, tease and denial sessions. What is the biggest problem you have when edging your male?”
One of the women spoke up, “Keeping him from hiding his arousal and getting an orgasm before you can stop?”
“Exactly!” said Miss Katherine. “Tonight we are going to place the elastic, not on the scrotum, but on the base of Bobbi’s cock. It will compress the flesh so tightly that the urethra will be closed. Not only will no blood circulate, no other fluid will be able to pass. We will then be able to tease him for as long as we wish with no danger of his getting off.”
Suiting action to words she lowered the elastic over my erect cock and let the elastic band snap tight. There was instantly circle of sharp pain where the elastic was and I tried to scream. A slight bit of sound came out of my nose and I understood why a gag had been necessary. The restriction of blood flow actually caused my cock to swell slightly and it became even more sensitive. It was then that I learned the educational portion of the meeting would be a hands-on session for all of our guests.
The women used feathers and brushes to tease and arouse, observing as my cock jumped and moved in reaction to the soft touches. Within the limits of my bondage my body twisted and tugged to get away from the terrible increasing arousal with no relief. Most of them worked directly on my cock but with six women crowding around the coffee table there were strokes on my testicles, my sphincter and the perineum (the very sensitive skin between the asshole and the scrotum). My body responded and tried to ejaculate but as Miss Katherine had predicted the elastic band so compressed the base of my cock that I was unable to do anything but moan into my gag.
Eventually they decided that circling the underside of the head of my cock produced the greatest reaction. After that consensus, all of the women had to sample just how sensitive that particular bit of flesh was and I was teased for almost another hour.
When they had finished I thought I would be released but instead a slim pillow was placed under my head and my ankle cuffs were untied from the table legs. Although I couldn’t see it, they actually left the ropes on my ankle cuffs. Miss Katherine had three ladies line up at each leg and they lifted my feet and legs up and back towards my face. I realized that this was why my corset had been removed as I could actually bend at the waist. The women continued to pull my ankles up over my head folding me in half, my buttocks and groin now being more or less over my face. My chest was still secured to the table by the long strap.
After my ankles had been tied off in my new position, Miss Katherine spoke to the assembled women, “Remember how we agreed that there was nothing more humiliating for a male than having to drink his own sperm? I think it might be even worse if we made him spurt into his own mouth. For the entertainment portion of the evening each woman will have one stroke to make Bobbi come right into his own mouth.”
“One stroke?” one of the women asked.
Miss Katherine laughed and said, “Well, as on edge as he is from all the teasing we have done, I don’t think it will take much more than five or six strokes. If he manages not to come we will just continue with each woman having another go at it. And, the woman who makes him come gets a prize. Well really two prizes. She gets to continue stroking and milking him until he has swallowed it all and then she gets to cane him as many times as the total number of strokes it took to make him come.”
I had mixed emotions. I knew Miss Katherine was doing what would be best for both of us but I really didn’t want to come into my mouth. At the same time I knew that sooner or later it would happen and the longer I held out the more times I would be struck with the cane.
The women all donned latex gloves as Miss Katherine used a sharp scalpel to cut off the elastic strap from the base of my cock. Then she pulled the dildo from the center of the ring gag leaving my mouth open and exposed. I mentally surrendered and prepared to come in as few strokes as possible. The women were, however, more devious that I had realized. I first woman set the tone barely running he latex clad finger down the length of my cock.
“Not much of a stroke.” the next woman in line remarked.
“If he comes too soon he won’t get many strokes with the cane,” she responded.
The second woman smiled and said, “Oh, what a good idea.” Then she stroked her finger over my anus and perineum, not touching my cock at all. I don’t think Miss Katherine had planned on this at all as when her turn came she gave me a firm tug that had me in the edge of exploding. I won’t bore you with a blow by blow account but the count was at fourteen before several women in a row decided to actually stroke my cock and it was at seventeen before I came.
The winning woman had pretty good aim and painted the inside of my mouth and even the top of my throat with cum. She also used her other hand to press my nostrils shut and she commanded, “Swallow.” If I thought her aim with my cock was good, her handling of the cane proved that she was an expert. She laid the 17 strokes about two inches apart, moving down from just below my waist to well onto my thighs. When she was done one of the women laughingly commented, “I don’t think he will sleep on his back tonight.”
I mentioned that we often had dinner parties with six or eight at the table. To keep the numbers even Miss Katherine would invite one of the other partners from her office to be her dinner partner. The people varied but I began to notice that one particular partner seemed to be invited more and more often. That was Mr. Peter or Peter Martinson. I also noticed that Mr. Peter seemed to be arriving earlier and departing after the other guests. He also seemed to become more comfortable in the role of host, telling me to refill drinks or to fetch coats for departing guests.
Miss Katherine also began to more frequently say that she was working late at the office. She also began to say that she would be too late to commute home and would take a hotel room. Of course this saddened me as I was happiest when I was serving her needs.
This all came to a head one Friday evening when Miss Katherine had instructed me to prepare dinner for herself and one guest. I was washing her back in the bathtub when she asked, “Bobbi, are you happy with your role in our relationship?”
Of course I was happy. My entire life revolved around serving her.
As she stepped from the tub she asked, “Do you want me to be happy as well?”
When I told her that was my greatest desire, she smiled. Then she told me that she had sexual needs beyond oral sex or taking my ass with the strap-on. As I knew, she had tried to have me use dildos (including one that projected from a gag in my mouth) and vibrators but these didn’t really leave her feeling fulfilled. Further, since I no longer got erections I couldn’t satisfy her needs. So she felt taking another man to bed would be the best solution.
“But Miss Kathrine, I could have erections if you reduced my hormone dosage.”
Katherine looked at me and said, “I thought you said you were happy serving me. If I reduce your hormones your libido would grow and you would constantly be frustrated and unhappy. No, your hormones have to stay as they are.”
“Miss Katherine, couldn’t you give me those little blue pills?”
Miss Katherine replied, “Don’t be silly. I don’t want to have you taking chemicals just to satisfy my needs. That could be dangerous. I would worry about you and wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”
“But Miss Katherine, you are my wife.”
“Yes and I love you very much. That’s why I don’t want to reduce your hormones or give you drugs. We have a wonderful Female Led Relationship and our marriage is just perfect now. I don’t want anything to change it. Don’t you remember when it was explained that in a FLR the female took the lead and made the decisions that were in the best interest of both of the partners?”
“Yes, but I love serving you and don’t want to lose you to another man.”
Miss Katherine smiled and said, “You are so silly. You won’t lose me. You will still care for me and cook and clean for me. You will still make love to me with your mouth and fingers and I will still use the strap on to peg you, my darling. Everything will still be the same except that I will use someone else to satisfy the physical needs that you can’t handle. Now I’ve listened to what you had to say, and have carefully considered all the alternatives, and have made the decision that is in our best interest. Now, there will be no more discussion. Go get my black lace bra and panty set with the matching garter belt.”
Of course I knew that her decision was always what was best for both of us so, although the idea of her with another man troubled me, I put my concerns behind me and helped her get dressed. Then I went downstairs to finish dinner preparations.
When the doorbell rang I opened the door to Peter Martinson. He seemed to be uncomfortable as I took his coat so I ushered him into the living room and offered him a drink. When Miss Katherine came downstairs they kissed in a manner that told me it wasn’t their first time. Peter said something like, “Is this really your husband?”
Miss Katherine said, “Don’t be impolite Peter. Just call her Bobbi like it says on her dress and pretend we never discussed who or what she is. Oh, I see you have a drink. Could I please have a gin and tonic, Bobbi?”
The rest of the evening went more smoothly though I could tell Mr. Peter was uncomfortable being around me. Clearly he didn’t understand FLRs as Miss Katherine and I did. Most of their discussion focused either on their office or a play they had seen last week. Of course I didn’t hear all of the conversation as I was in and out of the kitchen as they ate.
While I was cleaning up the kitchen Miss Katherine came in and told me what they would like for breakfast and that I was to serve it on a tray in the master bedroom at eight or eight thirty tomorrow morning. She leaned over and gave me a very sweet good night kiss and then went upstairs with Mr. Peter.
When I took the tray up the next morning I found them both in bed. I had reconciled myself to her having decided what was in our joint best interest and wasn’t really bothered any longer by Mr. Peter having had intercourse with my wife. After all, she really did know what was best for us.
Miss Katherine looked marvelous but Mr. Peter looked decidedly uncomfortable. I set the tray down and went about opening the curtains. Since I hadn’t had instructions I asked, “Shall I run your bath Miss Katherine?”
Mr. Peter answered, “Just get out. I want to use the bathroom and I don’t need you watching.”
I looked at Miss Katherine and while she smiled at me, she said to Mr. Peter, “Don’t be so uptight. Bobbi isn’t going to bother you.”
“I don’t like her here. It’s not natural.”
Miss Katherine sighed and said, “OK Bobbi. I guess you better go downstairs. I’ll take care of my own bath and dressing today.”
I turned and left. Later on that day, I approached them to find what they wanted for lunch and overheard them talking. It seemed Mr. Peter was trying to convince her to divorce me. He was pointing out that after three years she could claim abandonment and the divorce would routinely be granted. Miss Katherine countered that that would involve court adjudication of assets, whereas if she waited until seven years she could have me declared deceased and all of the assets would go to her as the surviving spouse.
I didn’t care about the assets. I had no access to them anyway. I was pleased that Miss Katherine wasn’t interested in divorcing me. I knew that she was still acting in our mutual best interest.
I didn’t hear any more because at that point I entered the room. Mr. Peter asked aggressively, “What do you want?”
I ignored him and turned to my mistress and asked, “What would you and your guest like for luncheon, Miss Katherine.”
Mr. Peter stayed Saturday night as well and then left about midday on Sunday. Miss Katherine was very sweet and declared her love for me as she pegged my ass that afternoon. Then she allowed me to service her orally that evening.
Mr. Peter staying overnight Friday and Saturday became a regular thing. In time he became more used to my presence but I could see that he was never actually comfortable when I was near. As a result I tried to avoid them when he was in the house. On the other hand my marriage to Miss Katherine became better than ever. She seemed to work late much less and had fewer evenings out (except her Wednesday dominant wives group, of course). As she spent more time at home I was able to massage her, make love with my mouth and hands and generally serve her more fully. I still didn’t enjoy anal sex but even her increased pegging of my ass seemed to be more a statement of her love for me.
Changes and Afterward
It was about three months or so after Mr. Peter began having intercourse with Miss Katherine in what had been our bed that it happened. I remember it was a Wednesday morning because I was polishing the silver and didn’t expect Miss Katherine to come home before the meeting of the dominant wives group. As I recall the meeting that night was on the other side of town and she and Sharon were going to eat at a restaurant along the way.
I heard the front door open so I put down the polishing cloth and went to see who had entered. I was surprised to see Mr. Peter. He said, “Kat sent me to fetch you. Put away whatever you were working on and pack all of your things. Kat wants you to take a trip with her.”
This was very strange as Miss Katherine hadn’t said anything about a trip and, up to this point, had never allowed me out of the house, even to run mundane errands such as grocery shopping. I guess I must have hesitated because Mr. Peter positively roared at me, “Get going Bobbi. Your mistress told me what you were to do and you had better obey her orders if you know what’s good for you.”
I quickly put away the silver and the polishing supplies and moved to my quarters to pack the few things I had in the suitcase that had come from the academy. Since I didn’t know how long we would be gone I retrieved my prior day’s panties from the hamper and placed them in a plastic bag. I remembered to pack my hormones and saline solution and syringes. While I was doing this I heard the garage door open and sounds of a car driving in.
When I finished packing I returned with my suitcase to find Mr. Peter with another man. Mr. Peter said, “Bobbi, this is Stuart Miller. He is going to take you to your mistress.”
Mr. Stuart looked carefully at me and asked Mr. Peter, “This is the she-male slut?”
I didn’t like being called a slut, or even a she-male. I was Miss Katherine’s husband but I had been trained not to speak out and Mr. Peter answered, “Yes. She’s quite lovely isn’t she? If I was into guys I think I would have loved to take her ass.”
Then turning to me he said, “Bobbi, lift your skirt and show Stuart your chastity belt.”
I did as I had been conditioned to do and obeyed, lifting the hem of my dress. Holding it at chest height with one hand I used my other hand to push down my panties.
Mr. Peter began franticly searching through the keys he had while he said, “Oh shit. I forgot about the control belt on his balls.” Finally having found the correct key he unlocked and removed the electric control belt. It wasn’t all that heavy but I had worn it so long that it felt strange to be without it. Mr. Peter set the belt and padlock on the coffee table.
Mr. Stuart said, “OK that’s enough. Pull up your panties and smooth out your dress, sissy boy.”
I did as I was told. Mr. Stuart pulled out a set of handcuffs and approached me saying, “Hands behind your back, slut.”
I didn’t want to be handcuffed and I didn’t like this man or the way he spoke to me so I simply crossed my arms across my chest. Mr. Stuart sneered at me and grabbed my wrist, twisting it and bringing my arm behind my back. I felt him snap on one cuff.
Something was wrong here. Miss Katherine hadn’t said anything about a trip and if I was going to be with her why didn’t Mr. Peter drive me. I knew Miss Katherine and Mr. Peter worked in the same law firm. Why was I being handcuffed? I tried to struggle as much as I could but Mr. Stuart was stronger than I was. Mr. Peter grabbed my other arm and pulled it behind me saying, “I don’t have time for this crap. I’ve got to get these keys back in her purse before she misses them.”
The second cuff snapped over my wrist. Mr. Stuart produced a ball gag from somewhere and said, “Open up, sissy.”
When I didn’t comply he pinched my nose shut. I had to open my mouth to breathe. When I did he grabbed my jaw forcing my cheeks inward so that my teeth bit into the soft flesh, forcing my mouth to open wide. In went the ball gag, and in a few seconds it was tightly buckled around my head. The he hauled off and slapped me. Hard! My ears were ringing and my eyes watering. “You have earned a good hiding, bitch. When I give you an order, you obey and quickly.”
I saw Mr. Peter close and lock the front door. Then he picked up my bag and walked to the garage. Mr. Stuart took one of my arms and forced me to follow.
In the garage there was a large older car. It looked like an older model Lincoln Town Car. Mr. Stuart pressed a button on his key fob and the trunk sprang open. It was a huge trunk. Mr. Peter placed my suitcase to one side and fastened it to the side wall with an elastic strap. While he was doing this, Mr. Stuart spun me around and pushed me toward the lip of the trunk saying, “Sit, bitch.”
I stumbled backwards and fell into a sitting position with my legs still outside the car. Mr. Stuart reached into the trunk and pulled out a couple of elastic straps. He quickly bound my thighs together just above my knees and then fastened my ankles together. As he stood up he lifted my ankles so that my legs were straight out before me. Then he twisted me so that my legs were fully in the trunk.
By this time I was trying to struggle but he was much stronger that I was and used one hand to press my back forward folding me face down over my legs. With his other hand he pulled the lid of the trunk down until it latched, imprisoning me securely in the trunk of his car. I managed to roll onto my side and bend my knees, getting into a marginally more comfortable position, as the car started up.
A New Home
It wasn’t a long drive and when the trunk was opened Mr. Stuart removed the straps from my ankles and thighs and, rather surprisingly, gently helped me out of the trunk. He even said, “Watch you head,” as he helped me to the floor. I was in a parking garage and he walked me to an elevator, still handcuffed and gagged. Once in the elevator he used a key next to a plaque that said “P” and the car began to rise. I could see that there were 36 floors marked on the panel and gathered that the “P” stood for Penthouse.
The elevator opened in a tiled foyer that had a pair of rich looking double wooden doors. About two feet from the elevator a line of black tiles crossed the entire foyer. Mr. Stuart pointed to the line and said, “There’s an electric cable under that line. Don’t ever try to cross it or your collar will shock you senseless.”
I wasn’t wearing a collar, but as soon as we entered the penthouse he picked one up from an entry table and buckled it around my neck, securing it with a small padlock. We were in what must have been the living room and he guided me past a staircase through a dining room and kitchen to a laundry room. Off one side of the laundry room was a small bedroom with an attached bathroom.
He said, “These are the maid’s quarters where you will live, slut. The bedrooms and my den are upstairs. One of the bedrooms upstairs is used as a punishment room. You’ve already seen all the rooms on this floor. The entire apartment is heavily soundproofed so you can scream yourself hoarse and no one will hear you. You can’t reach the elevator and don’t have the key for it if you could. There is no land-line telephone and my computer is password protected. There is no place for you to go so you better behave. Believe me, you don’t want to see the punishment room. Now go check out the kitchen and make us some lunch.”
As he said this he took off the gag and my handcuffs. Since I knew he was much stronger than I, I knew I had better obey. At the same time I didn’t want to be some sort of she-male slave to this man. I wanted to serve my mistress, Miss Katherine. I had no idea if she had sent me here or if Mr. Peter had simply told me to go with Mr. Stuart in order to get me out of the house. I decided then that I would have to be obedient until I figured out how to escape and return to Miss Katherine.
The work in Mr. Stuart’s apartment wasn’t much different than it had been in Miss Katherine’s house. If anything it was easier as there were no dinner parties and, of course, there were no delicate items to be sorted out and hand washed. The main problem I had working for Mr. Stuart was that I had been trained to believe my destiny was working for my mistress.
Another problem was Mr. Stuart’s homosexuality or, more accurately, his unwillingness to accept his homosexuality. You have already seen how he tended to call me slut or bitch. After he raped my ass, which he did frequently, he tried to run away from his sense of shame at having homosexual desires by slashing me with a cane while calling me “queer” or “faggot”. While I wasn’t homosexual I had been conditioned to anal sex when serving Miss Katherine and while I didn’t enjoy it, I didn’t really mind it.
The actual rape wasn’t all that bad as Mr. Stuart’s penis was considerably smaller, both in length and girth, than Miss Katherine’s strap-on dildo. He never bothered to lubricate my sphincter but since his penis was sensitive flesh he slathered it with lube before attacking me. No, the problem wasn’t the rape, it was that he always tied me down and then after he had satisfied himself, he became ashamed of what he had done and blamed it on my having ‘seduced’ him. The beatings that followed were brutal.
Mr. Start also used a long slim vibrator to massage my prostate when he milked me. This wasn’t every two weeks as it had been with Miss Katherine but varied from every second week to three weeks or more. When he did remember Mr. Stuart was quite brutal ramming the vibrator into me and moving the exposed end from side to side until he managed to vibrate my prostate.
Preparing to Escape
While I had no escape plan I had decided that two things were necessary. First I had to reduce the hormones raging through me and allow my natural testosterone to gradually build up my normal male aggressiveness. That was easy as Mr. Stewart didn’t monitor my hormone intake the way Miss Katherine had. Each morning I measured the correct dosage into a glass but instead of drinking it I poured it down the kitchen drain. If he ever checked, the dirty glass and reduced level of the bottle would suggest that I had taken the proper dosage.
The harder thing was to regain the upper body strength the drugs had robbed from me. When Mr. Stuart left the apartment I tried to do pushups and, using a suspended lacing bar, chin-ups. The results were terrible at first. I could barely manage two pushups and even then the second one was pretty poor. Further I couldn’t manage a single chin up. I kept at it and gradually saw some improvement. I was concerned, at first, that Mr. Stuart would notice my arms becoming more muscular but the change was so gradual he never noticed it.
The decreasing levels of female hormones had an uncomfortable side effect. Gradually I realized that when there was a sexy woman on the television I would attempt to get an erection. The chastity belt disguised this by preventing an actual erection but the attempts were uncomfortable, verging on painful. Actually I welcomed this change as I knew that I would be able to meet Miss Katherine’s sexual needs once I escaped and got back to her.
There was a second, more disturbing, effect of my rising testosterone levels. I began to doubt the concept of a FLR and wonder if my wife was really doing what was best for both of us. I found myself thinking of her as Kat rather than Miss Katherine and realized that while my male aggressiveness was building, I was also beginning to doubt whatever subliminal messages had been imposed on me at the academy. Oh, I still wanted to get back to Kat, but the abject servitude seemed to vanish as the female hormones, and whatever else was in the drugs, worked their way out of my body.
I became aware that the female hormones must have also contained some sort of psychotropic drugs. I had read about the so called date-rape drugs that made a person more susceptible to suggestions as well as blurring memories. Obviously I didn’t know exactly which drugs had been used on me, but I had certainly been susceptible to the barely heard voices that had been delivered while I slept.
While all of this was going on I gradually realized that Mr. Stuart was obviously involved in criminal activities and that simply escaping would not be enough to free me from him. While we didn’t have dinner guests, there were often business meetings at which I served beverages. The Russian Mafia liked iced vodka while the older Italians preferred grappa. There were many others with tastes as diverse as their backgrounds. Mr. Stuart was apparently quite high in the criminal pecking order. Rarely were there thugs as principals at the meetings, but often they were in attendance as bodyguards. Some were lieutenants getting assignments and instructions; others were competitors working with Mr. Stuart on boundary issues, both geographic and activity boundaries.
One of these boundary meetings involved several women who apparently ran brothels and escort services. It seems that there was going to be a large sports event in town and the brothel owners wanted their girls to be allowed to pick up any overflow that the escort services couldn’t handle. The escort services were concerned that some of the brothel women were so ‘trashy’ that it would damage the escort agencies' reputations.
Shortly after that meeting a woman, who I knew only as Elaine, took over the living room and began a series of interviews which, I gathered, would determine which of the brothel workers were ‘classy’ enough to represent the escort agencies. I didn’t really know much about it but as Elaine had many interviews she was in the apartment for some time and I was frequently bringing refreshments or cleaning up after the each interview.
Most of the interviews were when Mr. Stuart was in his upstairs office or out of the apartment. They were scheduled an hour and fifteen minutes apart but many ended sooner than that. It was only natural that Elaine and I exchanged a few words while I was cleaning up after an interview. I found her to be a very intelligent woman who enjoyed sex and had decided to make a living from it. Over the couple of weeks that she was interviewing, I learned that she saved most of her fees and tips and had a structured plan to retire. She was the only person I really talked to during my time with Mr. Stuart.
Escape Plan Revised
I didn’t really listen in on any of the ‘business’ meetings Mr. Stuart had, but the participants weren’t particularly worried about my leaving and talking about what I heard. They generally continued to talk as I entered and served the drink orders. Of course I picked up a snatch here and a few words there but it was enough to convince me that Mr. Stuart was pretty high up and that my first escape plan would not work.
I had planned to continue my exercises until I could overpower him and force him to give me the key to my collar. Then I would return home and begin serving Miss Katherine or Kat as I was thinking of her. I came to realize that if I did escape and leave Mr. Stuart alive he would simply send some ‘muscle’ to bring me back and that his retribution would be very painful and perhaps fatal.
In short, I decided that I would have to kill him. I would try to blame his death on Mr. Peter, hopefully leaving both the police and the underworld going after Mr. Peter. In fact, I decided that this plan would be best as it would remove a second obstacle to my reunion with Kat. If possible, I would arrange for Mr. Peter to apparently commit suicide over his having murdered Mr. Stuart.
Then Kat and I would have a heart to heart over our relationship. I still loved the woman with all my heart. I didn’t really mind being submissive to her, though we would need some clear boundaries in that area, but I didn’t like the idea of her screwing around with other men. Now that I had stopped taking the drugs I ought to be able to satisfy any need she had for heterosexual sex.
Mr. Stuart had a large locked gun cabinet in his upstairs den. One day he called me upstairs and told me to clean the weapons and then run a light coating of gun oil over the metal parts and to treat the wooden stocks with a wood preservative. He showed me where the supplies were stacked in the cabinet along with the cleaning rods of various sizes.
I went back to the kitchen for a supply of soft rags. While I was there I also donned a pair of green plastic gloves designed to protect hands when scrubbing pots and pans. When he saw the gloves he snorted something about sissies.
There were quite a few guns in the cabinet, both pistols and long guns. Mr. Stuart hadn’t survived in the underworld by being careless and he observed closely as I handled the revolvers and automatics. As I replaced them in the cabinet I noted the boxes of ammunition stacked on the lower shelves. I moved on to the long guns, the hunting, sniper and assault rifles and the shotguns.
Mr. Stuart became bored and sat down to do some financial work on his computer. He glanced over from time to time to assure himself both that I was doing a good job and that I was just doing the job he wanted. I noticed that the interval between his glances at me were becoming longer and longer. After all, wasn’t I the sissy she-male bitch that always obeyed orders and even bent over to be tied down for anal rape and beatings?
When I finished the rifles there were still the shotguns to be cleaned. Of course I had to get the proper cleaning wads from the cabinet. While I was bent over the cabinet I was able to palm a box of 12 gauge shotgun shells. He had three shotguns, two of which were modern magazine fed, pump loaded guns.
The third was a much older double barreled, side by side 12 gauge gun. Of course in cleaning it I had to move the little lever that allowed the gun to ‘break’ open exposing the breech. Mr. Stuart was looking at his computer screen when I loaded the two shells and closed the breech. Then I cocked both hammers and swung the gun in his direction.
Mr. Stuart heard the sound of the hammers being cocked and looked up. He saw the gun pointed at him and stood shouting, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bitch?”
I wanted to tell him that I was paying him back for all the beatings but this wasn’t a movie or a novel and he was a dangerous man. Instead I just smiled and answered, “Killing you!”, as I pulled the triggers firing first the left and then the right barrel. The noise was huge in the enclosed room but I was relying on the apartment’s extensive sound proofing. He was only a few feet from me but the pattern spread out obliterating most of his torso and chest. He bled some but was dead within seconds of hitting the floor.
Still, it was messy when I searched and found his keys and wallet. I left the wallet but took his driver’s license and the couple of hundred he had in cash. In addition I took his ring of keys.
I went to his computer desk and found a list of bank and investment accounts and their passwords. Most of them were carefully hidden in offshore accounts. He did have a local account with several hundred thousand which I transferred to none other than Peter Martinson. That ought to point the police and his underworld friends in the proper direction. I took the list of offshore accounts with me.
I packed my suitcase with all my belonging and used his keys to remove the collar from around my neck. Then I gave the house a thorough cleaning, hoping to eliminate both my fingerprints and any residual DNA. I know I couldn’t have gotten it all and just hoped the police would follow the obvious leads and not look deeper.
I found a duffle bag that would hold the shotgun and the remaining shells and used the late Mr. Stuart’s keys to operate the elevator and start the Lincoln in the garage. The Lincoln was left in a parking garage near the law offices where Peter and Kat were partners.
Leaving the car I slipped the gloves into the duffle bag and took a cab to a shopping mall. I dined at a chain restaurant, paying cash. If anyone thought a woman in a maid’s dress, carrying both a suitcase and a duffle, buying dinner was strange, they didn’t say anything. Since I didn’t want to confront either Kat or Peter until much later that evening, I sought obscurity in a multiplex movie theater located in the mall. It was approaching midnight when I took a cab to an address one street over from Kat’s house. Of course, I paid for dinner, the movie, and the taxi with Mr. Stuart’s cash, leaving no paper trail.
I cut through a neighbor’s yard and then through Kat’s back yard. Funny, I was thinking of it as her, not our back yard. Perhaps all the academy training hadn’t worn off after all. Leaving my suitcase I opened the duffel and removed the shotgun and the gloves. I carefully put on the gloves and then I loaded and cocked the shotgun.
I knew there was no dead bolt on the back door so I used Stuart’s plastic driving license to pry open the door latch. Then I quickly moved to the front door and entered the code to turn off the burglar alarm. That had been a risk, but Kat hadn’t changed the code which we had set as her birthday. I smiled when the alarm light turned green. The box for the invisible fence was on but since I didn’t have the control collar around my balls it really didn’t matter.
I quietly climbed the stairs and opened the bedroom door. Peter was asleep on his back and Kat was sort of draped over his side. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and I was immediately angry. I crossed to the bed and placed the muzzle of the shotgun under his chin. I must have pushed a little hard because he started to wake up. I thought about waiting but didn’t want a struggle. I wanted him recumbent as if he had committed suicide.
When I pulled the trigger the first barrel fired and took off the top of his head. Of course the noise woke Kat up and she sat up. Seeing the mess that had been Peter’s head she shrieked and rolled out of the far side of the bed. I lined the gun up again and lifting Peter’s right hand moved his finger over the trigger. I worked my finger over his so that his hand would actually fire the second barrel. This was important both for fingerprints and for imprinting his hand with gunshot residue.
“What the hell have you done?” screamed Kat.
“Me? I’ve done nothing, but Peter just committed suicide after you and he argued over his having killed Stuart Miller.”
Kat came around the bed toward me saying, “You’re crazy if you think the cops will buy that. They are going to throw you in a cage with some three hundred pound convict called ‘Bubba’ who will rape your ass night after night.”
I said “But Kat, Miller is dead and this gun came from his home. You and I can go back to being man and wife.”
“You don’t get it. You and I are done. I couldn’t go back to being with some wimpy cross dressing excuse for a man.”
“But that was all the academy brainwashing.”
“Don’t be stupid, I’m going to tell the cops you killed them both. Here, give me that.” she said, as she reached out and tried to pull the gun from my hand.
Unfortunately with both Peter and my fingers jammed in the trigger guard I couldn’t release the gun. As she pulled it towards her twisting our fingers the second barrel went off. The muzzle must have been almost against her chest as it left a small wound, about the size of a baseball, going in but spread and left a gaping hole coming out. Her eyes opened in alarm and she fell to the floor. She was still breathing and bleeding and I knew I had to get help. I pushed the gun back under Peter’s chin and worked my gloved finger out of the trigger guard.
At first I grabbed towels and tried to staunch the bleeding but that wasn’t working. Then I ran downstairs to the telephone in order to call the emergency number. I don’t remember thinking about it but as I ran down stairs I must have remembered her telling me that we were done. I thought about the mob that would be howling for revenge for Mr. Stuart’s death and about what my plan had been and modified it slightly.
Once I reached emergency services, I told them that Miss Kathrine and Mr. Peter had been arguing over something Mr. Peter had done to some guy called Stuart Miller. Then Peter shot Miss Katherine and when he realized what he had done he lay down on the bed and killed himself. I told them to hurry as Miss Katherine was still alive but bleeding heavily.
They confirmed the address and told me to stay on the line but I had things to do and hung up the phone. I brought in my suitcase and hung my dresses. The duffel bag with the shotgun shells and the rubber gloves went down into the basement out of sight. Then I went back upstairs and used some more towels to make it look as though I had tried to stop the bleeding the entire time. When they banged on the front door I went back down and opened it for them. Unfortunately Kat was gone by that time.
I (more or less) Tell the Truth
Basically I told the police everything that had happened up until the day that Peter and Stuart had kidnapped me. Then I skipped to last night and told them the story I had given on the telephone about an argument over some guy named Stuart Miller, Peter shooting Kat and then killing himself.
The police recognized the name Stuart Miller as he was apparently a big time guy in whatever the local underworld was called. Based on my story they got a warrant for his place but had trouble getting into his apartment as even the fire department’s so-called 'master key' wouldn’t take the elevator to the penthouse and despite the zoning rules there were no emergency stairs from that level. One of the police remembered that there were a couple of sets of keys on the dresser at Kat’s house. Sure enough they found Miller’s keys and got into the penthouse where they found his body. They also found the transfer of funds to Peter’s account.
I couldn’t tell them where the academy was located but I fingered Sharon as having driven us there. I also named Tom as having helped drug and later abduct me. They arrested both and poor submissive Tom folded quickly under interrogation.
Sharon held out a bit longer but Tom’s testimony was pretty damming and she eventually gave up not only the Domestic Academy but the dominant wives group. About half of the dominant wives group consisted of dominant wives and adult submissive husbands so there was no real crime. The other half had drugged and brainwashed husbands and the wives were charged with all sorts of felonies including anti-slavery laws that hadn’t been used for years. The story was too juicy to stay hidden and the tabloids had a field day. Even those couples that hadn’t committed a crime in their relationship were named as accessories and co-conspirators to the felonies and had their social standing dragged through the mud.
I continued to play the poor brainwashed schnook who just wanted to serve his deceased mistress. The police had no reason to doubt my story and were even helpful in locating (on Kat’s key ring) the key to remove my damned chastity belt.
Of course, as the star witness I was taken into protective custody while the dominant wives group was being tried. At the same time federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies had a field day rounding up senior criminals with the information from Stuart’s computer.
I had to have ‘therapeutic’ sessions with a number of shrinks but I never allowed the doctors to drug or hypnotize me. Some doctors pressed me on this but I told them that I had been drugged and brainwashed and forced into slavery and that my aversion to drugs and hypnotism was, under the circumstances, entirely rational. Eventually the doctors decided I was functional, and the law enforcement agencies finished off tracing Stuart’s various criminal connections, and I was released back into society.
Once the notoriety had died down and I was released from ‘protective custody’ I turned to finding out my financial situation. As it turned out I was in pretty good shape. The transfer from Stuart to Peter was reversed, of course, and whoever got Stuart’s estate got to keep that money. Because of the underworld connections I think most of it was confiscated by various government agencies. I know both the state and federal district attorneys managed to snare quite a few of Stuart’s associates and were very happy with the resulting publicity.
On the other hand Peter and Kat had made wills leaving their worldly goods to each other. Since Peter was dead while Kat was still alive, though wounded, his money went to her. In addition, since he predeceased her, her will was null and void. As her lawfully married husband it all passed to me. Both Peter and Kat had been very well off if not extremely wealthy.
Included in their estates, however, were their partnerships in a very old, very conservative law firm that still operated as a general partnership instead of a PLLC. That stands for Professional Limited Liability Corporation, and if they had set up one it would have saved them a boatload of money.
I met with their managing partner and brought along an attorney from a competing law firm. I explained that as inheritor I wanted them to buy out the two partnerships. They suggested a total settlement of $10 million and I countered with $15 million for each partnership. I also told them that if this went to court I would also ask for damages due to alienation of affection and sexual harassment.
My attorney suggested that if we went to court, the discovery request would include a request for the firm’s profit statements for each of the past three years, a balance sheet from each of their 127 partners as they were all jointly and severally liable, and all written and electronic communication between Kat and Peter. This would have been a massive exposure of the internal operations of the firm and of every partner, so they negotiated. In the end we agreed to $12 million each or $24 million in total. My lawyer got a third so I was left with $16 million, but much of it was considered a return of capital and not taxable. Of course I also had the list of offshore accounts and passwords but I decided it would be best not to tap them any time soon.
I was torn up at the loss of the woman I loved but as I learned more and more about her and her relations with Peter I realized that I was just another dumb cuckolded husband. Kat and I had maintained separate funds throughout our marriage. Peter and Kat were waiting to have me declared dead so that my funds would flow to them. I had no idea if they planned to actually kill me but I wouldn’t have put it past Peter and I now had my doubts about Kat. I found no signs of any rift between them when Kat found me gone, nor was there any sign of an attempt to recover me. In the end, I decided that Kat must have agreed with Peter’s plan to sell me to Stuart. Now I had no cheating wife but did have pretty much all of the funds that I had put away plus what I got from their estates.
I found that sex is never a problem for a wealthy man. There were many nubile bodies impressed by expensive meals and perhaps a winter trip to the islands. Later I found that there were many bored trophy wives stuck with men more interested in their career than their wives. My skills at massage and cunnilingus helped, but I found that little things like remembering which scent she preferred or which was her favorite bath oil often carried more weight than expensive gifts in these relationships.
While I might have wished for a life-time companion it was clear, in retrospect, that I didn’t have that when I was with Kat. I might have fooled myself at the time, but with 20/20 hindsight I saw that she had never been that.
My time with Stuart had overcome my rather prudish views of sex for money. I found several lovely intelligent women who worked as escorts. They had decided to trade on their body in their early years of womanhood in order to reach their retirement goals.
One day, entirely by chance, I ran into the woman I knew as Elaine. Of course that was her working name and she was now Sarah Murphy, the owner and manager of a florist shop. I recognized her immediately but she had only seen the feminized Bobbi and didn’t know who I was. I suspect that if I had looked familiar to her she might have thought that I had been a prior client and would have chosen to suppress any recognition.
I found her as charming and intelligent as I had when she was interviewing at Stuart’s apartment. I persuaded her to have coffee with me at a nearby shop and eventually we began dating. After things had progressed to a romance I admitted that I knew of her background and also told her my story. Yes, it was a risk. There is no statute of limitations on murder, but I didn’t want to start our married life without her knowing who and what I was and had been. She eventually became my wife and the life-time companion of my dreams. All in all, I came out of the FLR better than I might have expected.
Copyright© 2015 by Sir Richard. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at email@example.com