Because She Loves Me · Part 2

Because She Loves Me · Part 2 (2/6)
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h on her full body shave. Aqua Velva. A splash on the face after a shave is a long-standing man’s tradition. An application on freshly shaved balls, legs and chest produces a whole-body burning tingle that is a notch too high on the pain side of pain pleasure.

“Does my Birthday Toy want some Brunch?” I am asked.

“Yes Ma’am.” I am left for a good half hour. The Aqua Velva sting was long gone by the time she returned. She spends a few more minutes fussing around and then I feel her climbing onto the bed. She straddles my head, pressing her snatch down onto my mouth and commands me to eat her out. What is in her pussy begins to leak out and I discern the distinct taste of yogurt. Specifically honey flavored yogurt of the Greek variety. She moves her pussy up and down my face as a very full vagina releases globs of goo into my mouth. Kinky girl. It tastes good but based on how it’s being fed to me reminds me of being forced to swallow cum, which does not taste ‘good’. This goes on for a good five minutes till she thinks that gravity and my licking has emptied her, and she dismounts.

She climbs off only for a moment or two and then remounts me facing the opposite direction and squats down on my face again, this time so I am more aligned with her butt hole. I can tell my second course instantly as peanut butter has a distinct smell. She has put globs of it along her crack and is sliding up and down my face. I open my mouth wide and just lay out my tongue as she does most of the work feeding me. I hear her say ‘protein’. I guess she is looking out for my nutrition. I think I have wiped her clean and she seems to have reached the same conclusion as I am again dismounted. I can feel peanut butter smeared up my chin, outer lips and nose. I do what I can to lick it with my tongue, but most is out of reach. She uses her tongue to finish the job. Both gross and arousing.

She then lifts my head and gives me a drink of water. It reminds me that I need to pee, but I dare not ask. It does make me uncomfortable again. I try to concentrate on my butt vibration and not my bladder pressure. She then puts ear buds into my ears and turns on music. She removes one bud and says, “I hope that’s not too loud. I’m going to take a shower and wash your Brunch dishes. I don’t want to get a yeast infection from any yogurt you left behind. I’ll be back when I’m done. So that you don’t forget about me while I’m gone, I’m going to leave you with something to remember me. She then lifts my head and slides over it a pair of her panties.

As she does, she adds, “I wore this last week while I had my period. They have been in the bottom of the hamper. I specifically wore cotton ones at Mike’s suggestion so my scent would be more absorbed for you. I hope you like them; they are a little dirty, sorry about that, but what would you expect during my time of the month? By the way, so you know, not all of Mike’s and his friends’ ideas I liked. Some I said outright no, others I am still pondering. For instance, in the downstairs freezer is a used tampon from the same day that he said I should feed you as a popsicle. I’m not sure of that, it’s disgusting, but I will see how the day goes and how well you behave.

Just stay where you are.”

While she was telling me all of this, she has been securing the panties so they will be tight against my face. She put a dog collar around my neck that captures the waist and then put a second tight blindfold over top of the upper legs portion, then pulls down tight the bottom, effectively securing the crotch tight against my nose and mouth. She is right, her scent is strong and my quick sweep over them with my tongue lets me know they are a bit crusty too. Arousing and a bit yucky at the same time. She puts the sound bud back in and I guess walks away as both my hearing and sight are now basically absent.

She has been gone for a long time. I’m not sure exactly how long, but I think at least an hour. She knows I like to be bound and then left, so I assume this is planned. Mike had a written plan when he did me. I guess he helped her create one too. I also know she would never abandon me in an unsafe or unsupervised situation, so I believe she is either quietly still here, or I am under the watchful eye of one of our baby monitors.

She does eventually come back. I didn’t hear her approach. She let me know her return by sucking on my dick. I was startled but pleased. I was erect in seconds. She’s good at BJs. Make that great. This time is no different and I’m afraid I’ll blow my load quickly. But she stops as soon as she feels me start to tense up, leaving me frustrated but happy at the same time.

Chapter 4: Wife’s First Try at Abusing Her Husband “Well, you didn’t pee the bed while I was gone. I guess I’ll let you up and you can go before we start your next adventure.” I am released from the ankle cuffs, and they are replaced by leg irons again. Next off are both wrist cuffs to be replaced with the handcuffs behind my back. She pulls out the earbuds but leaves me blindfolded and filled with the vibrating plug. I am guided from the bed into the bathroom and steered to being in front of the toilet. She let me bump my shins against the rim so I would know I was there, and she told me “Go ahead, pee, don’t miss or you’ll be cleaning it up with your tongue.” This reeked of classic Dr. D shenanigans. How could I aim into the bowl and not make a mess when I am blindfolded with my hands locked behind my back?

But I desperately had to go, so I said, “Yes Ma’am, I’ll try not to miss.” I was hesitant in my start, primarily because I could feel her watching. We’ve been married for a while, but I still don’t pee in front of her, nor does she. Completing this task with bowl accuracy was nearly impossible, though I know some of my stream made it from the sound of it hitting the bowl water. I also heard and felt splashing against my legs, not good.

When I’m done, she reaches in, takes hold of my penis and shakes it. Embarrassing. She then pulls off my collar, two blindfolds and panties mask while she scolds me for the mess I have made. I glanced down as my eyes adjusted to the light and saw my urine in the bowl, but also on the rim and a bit on the tile floor. “OK, Toy, get down on your knees and lick it up!” I look at her, so out of character for her. She then adds, “It is your best friend that assured me guys that crave bondage like you also want to be treated like a submissive when they play. Blame him if it isn’t true. He was clear to tell me this is a bondage thing not a gay thing or a perverted thing, it’s very, very common. And that you would want to be forced to do it. I don’t like it, but it’s your birthday, so I’m going to make you do it so that you aren’t disappointed. So down on your knees Toy.”

It’s not easy getting down to the floor with my hands cuffed as they are but I get it done. She then guides me to the two small floor puddles and tells me to get to it. Of course, I have had previous practice at doing this that she does not know about from my trips out West. I clean it up. She then pulls my head up with my hair and pushes my face to the bowl rim. She is guiding me to all the droplets there. Licking a bowl rim causes a weird sensation and shivers to me. There is the taste, I’ve grown use to that. But what is strange is the coldness and the smoothness of the porcelain. What comes next catches me off guard. “OK, Toy now put your face into the bowl.” Again, she grasps my hair with her hand to move me forward and downward in the bowl. It makes me fall a bit forward off balance, my shoulders coming into contact with the outer rim, giving me back some stability.

“Your pee is on the insides of the bowl too.” I cleaned the toilet yesterday. I’m not going to do it again; it’s your job to clean it this time.” I am really taken back at her aggressiveness. This is not her, but she is roleplaying to make me happy. I also can tell that these are practiced lines, probably rehearsed them over the phone with my good old friend. I’ve lived through this type of contrived lines with Sir Michael at his home and in Vegas. The toilet licking is a first, even the boys haven’t made me do this. And I love it, so I obey and lick the bowl, working with the knowledge that she cleaned it yesterday. I’m completely shocked with what she does next though.

She pushes my head further into the bowl till my face is pushed into the water. The water has not been flush since I peed into it. I am then commanded to: “Drink!” My natural reflex is to push back but she is holding fast. So, I think what the hell, I’ve drunk lots of piss in my BDSM contract servitude, my mind says just do it, go with what she has planned, and I take a gulp. I know it’s hard for someone to fathom why I am enjoying this, but I am. The biggest kick is that my bride is forcing me and that is so different from her personality. I hope she is getting at least some enjoyment from her personality reversal.

She pulls me back so I can take a breath, I do and then I am re-dunked and told to take a second drink. I do. It tastes like my pee but very watered down. Doable. She pulls me up again, I breathe, and she pushes me even deeper into the water till my nose and chin are against the base of the bowl and she flushes the toilet. The swirling adds another new sensory sensation to my repertoire.

I’m again pulled back up and this time out of the bowl. She helps me back up to a standing position and announces that “That was disgusting, remember to thank your buddy for toasting your birthday. I’m not kissing you again till you gargle. You are going to shower first so that taste in your mouth is going to remain for a while.” I’m sent to the shower, hands still cuff behind, ankles still in leg-iron cuffs, ass still filled with a vibrating plug. True to submissive bondage form, this is a cold shower. Somebody’s been schooling her.

Our shower is a large walk-in type with a handheld style shower head with an on/off knob that allows her to prewet me, wash me with a soapy rough cleansing sponge, then rinse me without getting herself wet. Just before she gives me a final rinse she brings in a small plastic cup with some Scope mouthwash. With her assistance my foul mouth is again fresh. We are done with the shower.

Chapter 5: The Start of Attic Play “Let’s go for a walk,” she says as she grabs a hold of my cock and pulls me out of the stall. I have not been dried. The water, as I said, was cold. So, I’m shivering a bit. She says, “Where we are heading is warm so those goosebumps will soon go away. Try not to drip on my floors.” We head back up the stairs to the main floor, then down the hall to the stairs to the second floor. It’s a bit difficult with the leg irons and her pulling me by my dick the whole way. I managed to make the climb without tripping. We head down the main second floor hall and I assume we are going to the master bedroom. We are not.

This house has one more set of stairs, ones that lead from the second floor to a walk-up unfinished attic. We love them because it makes easy access to where we keep storage like our Christmas decorations and tree, memorabilia, and odds and ends that we just want to keep. It is a large space and not overcrowded with too much junk. The kids used to play here when they were young. It is also the place where I bound my younger wife up twice, maybe three times, when I was still doing her and not the other way around. The open studs, beams, joists, rafters and wood floor make for good securing points. The imagery is great for my fantasies. Good times, well, for me it was.

It will now be Ma’am’s play space for the next few hours. Payback time, maybe, or just a convenient place to play these games. Her and her Toy. She pulls me up the final stairs.

The attic has windows at both ends plus three dormer windows that individually project vertically from our roof looking out over our front yard. They are of traditional design and smartly sets off the look of our house. Like the rest of the attic, they are unfinished. The floor throughout is plywood, and it covers the insulation that serves the house. The attic itself is uninsulated, unheated and not air conditioned. It’s late spring so this afternoon it will be quite warm in here. We move to where the center dormer juts out. Sitting within the space I see my Black & Decker Workmate portable workbench. These sturdy tables have a nice flat worksurface with a built-in vise feature that splits the top into two when opened. It is used to hold a work piece tight as you sand, plane or in general, work on it.

She walks me up to the Workmate still guiding me by her firm hold on my dick. She maneuvers me around it and then backs me up to it and instructs me to hop up onto it. There is a step as part of its frame that will help me. I am apprehensive about this request for several reasons. First, I am standing in front of the window. There are curtains hanging there, but they are arranged to be open. Anyone looking up can see my naked body. Second, why the Workmate? What does she have planned? She gives my dick a little swat to encourage me. Climbing up is a little awkward due to the cuffs. Sitting down on the dual wood planks that make up the top work surface/vise pushes against my butt plug. I have met her request: I am sitting on the Workmate. Positioned to look out the window.

I quickly found out her purpose of lugging this tool from my shop up into the attic as she starts to rotate the two handles that adjust the vise feature. She is opening the tabletop. I watch as the platform I am sitting splits beneath me. She opens it about an inch and a half, my weight not inhibiting it at all. I now have a gap between my butt cheeks and the underside of my upper thighs. Ma’am then reaches under the bench and between the opening, searching for my ball sack which she quickly finds. She pulls it down, stretching it to its limit while keeping my jewels in the bottom of their bag. She then slowly and carefully starts closing the vise.

A couple of turns on the left handle, then a couple of turns on the right, all done with one hand, as the other holds my balls below the vice. Back to the left, then the right. After about six revolutions of left/right turns she has captured my balls so that I cannot pull them up. She encourages me to try. Stuck. She has trapped me by the testicles holding me to my seat. Not done, she now turns both handles simultaneously, ever so slowly, but deliberately tightens the hold on my sack. She watches my eyes for reaction. It’s only when she knows they are gripped as tightly as possible without causing damage or strangulation does she stop. I try to buck up but can’t.

It is surprising how narrow the space is that remains, yet no physical issue to me. This sinister entrapment is fully effective. I cannot go anywhere. I look down and see that my dick lays flat and tight against the worksurface that is my seat. Pulled down and held by the vise that now separates him from his balls. I’m intrigued. I wonder who thought this up. I’m sure it wasn’t her.

“Let’s change out these handcuffs with more suitable leather cuffs.” She has collected from our trunk my favorite leather cuffs which she fastens to my wrists before removing the handcuffs. She pulls the buckles tight and secures them with miniature locks. The cuffs are then secured together with two larger matched locks separated by a short chain. My hands secured behind my back are not enough to satisfy her in her new persona. She begins to put similar leather cuffs on my ankles and securing them to the metal legs of the Workmate. These cuffs are also secured with miniature locks on the buckles and larger locks on the cuffs.

She takes her time, assuming I guess that some of my joy in this play is experiencing the bonds being applied to me, so she doesn’t rush it. It is not till these are in place does she remove the leg irons. “I know securing your legs is completely unnecessary. With your balls held tight and your arms useless in freeing the vice, you are here till I decide to let you go. But what the heck, why not make your legs useless too. You begged, well maybe you didn’t beg, but you said you wanted to be bound tight and inescapable for your birthday and now you are. By the way, I think I want a cruise for my birthday, just saying. Now, enjoy the view. Hope no one comes up the drive, I’m sure you’re visible from most of the front yard.”

“I have some work to do on my thesis defense, I’ll check on you in an hour or two, maybe three.” She then puts the earbuds back into my ears. My balls feel the pressure of the vise, but it does not hurt. The plug in my butt still humming away, now dancing to a different program she has selected. She can control it remotely with her phone. Over the next two hours she’ll change it four times. Before she departs, she gives me a good drink of water. She insists I drink it all as she wants me to stay hydrated while up here in the heat.

The earbuds mute out most of the sounds, I barely hear her leaving and walking down the attic stairs. I do hear the door closing at the bottom of the stairs. I settle in for the duration. I am dry. I am not cold, in fact, it’s a little warm here in the attic. I’m hungry, I’m sure it’s well past lunch. I haven’t been offered anything since ‘my pussy brunch’. I stared out the window, constantly scanning for anyone approaching. Nothing I can do if someone comes but be humiliated. I cannot flee. I am here to be on display.

I do keep watching out the window. It is a stressful view, waiting for someone to come with nothing I can do if they do. I see plenty of wildlife crossing my lawn, they don’t seem to notice or care. The house sets back far enough that the street isn’t much of a concern, but the driveway and front walk worry me. Delivery people were a fear at Dr. D’s house when I was put outside in the front yard naked on a one pole prison. It’s a similar concern here. More at risk though, I’ll know these people. It would turn out that my fretting was for not, no one came during the duration of my display.

She must be working hard on her schoolwork as I sit for a long time. Probably for an hour. I am safe, I can see the baby monitor in front of me keeping a watchful eye. This is one of the more comfortable bondage positions I have ever been in. I am just sitting. The board is hard, though, so my butt in time will start to ache. My back is unsupported, so it too will have some minor discomfort. The good thing is that I can twist my upper body and the stretching helps. My ball sack will eventually also hurt, likely tied to my unconscious attempts to pull myself free of the vise’s unyielding clasp of my sack. My sack around the balls is so tight due to the natural slack being taken up by the inch and a half space of the vise face.

Owwwwwwwl, crap, ohhh! My tight ball sack has just been whipped with the leather tip of a riding crop. It seems she has taken ownership of all the trunk’s bondage toys including my whips. It stings, bad. It was a full force upward swat. It is still stinging. Enough to make my eyes water. I never heard her come up the stairs and move behind me. She now is lightly hitting my sack on one side, then the other, then underneath. The vise has me firmly in its grip and my bag is rigid and full, so even if they are light swats, they are effective in causing the desired pain, assuming that is her intent. The vise allows for zero movement of the bag. I can do nothing to avoid the attack.

Her hits continue. Unlike the first swat, they are lighter and bearable. It’s a pain/pleasure moment. I will not object, fearful she will stop playing with me, I know this is a huge stretch for her. I want her to believe I love every bit of this…truth is I would rather move on to something else now. This is instead one of those ‘building character’ moments. She bores and stops.

Chapter 6: Icy Hot Enlightenment “OK Toy, I’m told to blame this next bit of fun on your buddy’s buddy. This is something I would have never thought of and doesn’t sound like fun or sexy to me, but they tell me you’ll love it with your nuts held as they are.” She then shows me a tube of Icy Hot Pro cream. “I guess you know where this is going, don’t you? Mike said to use the ‘Pro’ cream as it has both menthol and camphor, where the original Icy Hot balm only has menthol. I didn’t ask him how he knew which one was better, but he was pretty sure of himself. He said the combination is supposed to make the cold and hot feelings more enjoyable.

Maybe he used the word ‘entertaining’, I don’t remember exactly. I’m not so sure about either because he also said to keep it away from your holes unless I wanted to be extra, extra nasty. He also told me to wear plastic gloves when I put it on you. That is scary and made me apprehensive, but Mike was persistent, mentioning it on more than one phone call. What convinced me to do it was when he said it would make for one of the best parts of your birthday. I guess you’ll find out soon enough, here goes.” She then slathers a coating over my entire trapped ball sack. I know better. This is going to be bad. So bad. My bride has crossed over to the evil side and she doesn’t know it.

The boys know it and so do I. Yes, this is going to be bad. I feel like I'm back in Vegas.

“I’m going to leave you to your fun and get back to my work. Oh wait, I forgot, I wanted to do one more thing.” And she twists and pulls each of my nipples, before placing a broad billed clothes pin on each. She then kisses me and leaves.

The clothes pins would initially capture my attention, but my thoughts are only on my balls. The chemical torture has already begun. I have previously experienced Vick’s Vapor Rub on my privates, which isn’t bad at all, kind of nice and stimulating. I have also had the irritant muscle balm ‘Atomic Bomb’ put on my balls by my tormentors in Vegas. Excruciating. Suffering only a BDSM submissive in bondage could enjoy. Applying the Icy Hot to the vulnerable skin of my compressed and recently shaved genitals turns out to be especially diabolical. More so, because it was executed through my naive and uninformed bondage partner. Ah, my sinister friend Dr. D, your hands are all over this.

On the other hand, the love of my life is downstairs working on her chemistry PhD. She’s got to be smart enough to know what this cream is going to do to me. If she has just crossed over to the other side, this day may have become my perfect birthday.

It grows slowly but strong, a cool then a cold feeling, like ice being held to you that you can’t pull away from. It’s penetrating. The skin doesn’t like it and neither do the testicles trap within. I find myself trying to pull out of the vise with all my might to no avail. It’s a ‘burning’ cold, yet not one that gives you shivers, it gives you pain. Irritating pain. The label says it delivers pain relief. Maybe on a sore shoulder, not here. It keeps building and building. My upper body squirms as my legs pull and twitch against their restraints. I shake and quiver. Misery is a good description. I start breathing hard, then shallow as I try to internally deal with the suffering of my trapped balls.

Then slowly it changes. The cold is changing. Not for the better. My balls are warming. Make that getting hot. No, they are starting to burn. They are on fire. Pain, oh wow, the pain is intense. I fight my bondage. It holds. Especially the vise that clutches my sack. The self-inflicted yanking up on my nuts is causing its own pain. I must stop pulling as I could hurt myself beyond my irritant suffering. But damn, it burns. This is torturous. “Please stop it, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE! OH GOD, PRETTY, PRETTY PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY. PLEASE!” My plea falls on deaf ears. With no safe word called out, she will ignore what I say, that is our agreed rule when we play. Oh, what I would do to have someone wipe this off, to put some kind of neutralizer on my balls. Anything to make it go away. It’s not going anywhere.

I know that in time it will start to calm down, but time is moving slowly. This is the fantasy though, being abused by my mistress. I’ve been recently seeking and satisfying this bondage and punishment pleasure and relief through gay BDSM masters. Now I am being bound and abused by my own loving wife. This is the dream come true.

Just because this is at my wife’s loving hands doesn’t mean that this doesn’t hurt, hurt bad. In fact, at the moment it is excruciatingly painful. It is relentless. I so want to touch my sack. Hold it. Wipe it free of this crap. Ice it. Dip it in cold milk. But my bound hands are useless. I can’t rescue myself. No one is here to save me. Even my torturer isn’t here, she’s downstairs keeping busy, so I can enjoy this in solitude. I don’t understand how this stuff keeps getting more intense, but it is. The pain is penetrating to my core. How can a simple cream do this? It’s sold over the counter! I’m suffering. Just like a BDSM submissive is to suffer for his Mistress.

Just like I suffered for my surrogate Masters out West not long ago. I need to suck it up. But it hurts so much, and I can’t touch it. Oh, if I could only cradle my nuts. It won’t go away. I work on my breathing and find that that pregnancy breathing that women do in delivery really helps. I try to redirect my agony into a more satisfying pain pleasure. It seems to be working. Or maybe the effects are just starting to fade. It will be another half hour for it to get to the level where my nipples and vibrating butt balance it out. I have survived. And I am back in my ‘happy bondage space.’

I also realize as I go over my recent thoughts that my wife’s part in all this is almost entirely based on her desire to make me happy. She might be having more fun today than with previous bondage sessions with me, and maybe she did have a good time planning for this day with Mike and his friends, keeping it a secret from me, but this will end soon enough. If her motivation is limited to just trying to make a special day for me, then selfishly I hope she is mo

Because She Loves Me · Part 2 (2/6)
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