Can't Go Wrong

CAN'T GO WRONG by Throne It was an easy plan. Harriet was older than me. She was wealthy, especially after divorcing two rich husbands and walking away with everything they had. Now, in her late fifties, I figured she just wanted companionship. Sure, she might expect a little bit of sex but that was fine by me. At 25 I could do it several times a week. That was what my girlfriend Betty was for. I would stick it to her whenever I pleased. So when Betty cued me to Harriet's situation, I didn't ask any questions. I went to the cocktail lounge she frequented, a place that had been around since forever, sat next to her at the bar, and started a conversation. I mentioned how attracted I was to mature women, how they were easier to be around than flighty young girls, and how I appreciated their experience, hinting at but not coming right out and saying that what I meant was sexual experience. Harriet responded, insisted on buying me a drink, and we spent the next hour with her telling me about her life and me lying about mine. I should mention that she wasn't repulsive or anything. Actually she was quite attractive, with a very full figure and a face that had once been beautiful and was now what might be called handsome, or full of character. Plus, I found myself strangely turned on by her fancy clothes and somewhat overdone make-up. There were special touches that added to the allure, like the pillbox hat she kept on indoors and the netting on it that covered the top half of her face, and the long black cigarette holder she used. The fact that I was aroused by her would make my job that much easier. So we started seeing each other, going out to excellent restaurants, and hearing some veteran cabaret performers. While all that was going on I was also noting the expensive furs Harriet favored, the showy jewelry, and ever present leather gloves and boots. At the end of the second week we ended an evening at her palatial home outside the city, and matters progressed naturally until we found ourselves in her bedroom. She sat in a wing back chair -- she had the impressive antique in her bedroom -- while I slowly worked her tall black leather boots off her feet. My fingers closed around the stiletto heel as I set the first boot aside, and a tingle ran through me. I purposely held the second one the same way and this time the sensation went straight to my groin. I got her out of her old fashioned yet sexy dress. Under it she wore a satin girdle from which four garters descended to her taupe stockings, which were seamed in the back. For her age she had fantastic legs, full, firm and shapely. She said she could see that I liked them and encouraged me to stroke her thighs, above and below her stocking tops, then her calves. To my surprise, I was wildly turned on by the act. Fleecing her was going to be both fun and profitable. She laid back on her wide bed and took the pillbox hat she had set aside, to position it neatly atop her pulled back hair, which was fixed into a bun at the back of her head. Harriet summoned me closer by crooking her finger and wiggling it. I went to her eagerly. She unfastened the crotch band of her girdle and let it fall away. As I moved in she gently took the sides of my head and redirected me, so that I ended up with my face in front of her exposed pubes. I didn't want to have any disagreements so early in our relationship, so I pressed my lips against her femininity. That's not my favorite thing to do -- far from it. Even so, I got my tongue busy and she pressed the insides of her full thighs against the sides of my head, signaling me to not stop. Soon she was moaning softly. I figured this would be a good way to get her sexually dependent on me, so I kept it up. It took quite awhile but at last I coaxed a shuddering climax from her. To my surprise, she squeezed my head between her thighs again. I started lapping once more, slowly. This time it took even longer but I made sure she enjoyed a second orgasm. I was really hard and eager to have my fun, but when I backed up Harriet put her legs together. She smiled and told me, "You're very good at that. I like a man who can take care of my needs. I could get to like you very much." What can I say? I played along, giving her all the oral sex she wanted. Each time she declined to let me have my shot, but I didn't protest. After all, I had Betty stashed away at my apartment. Otherwise I would have gone crazy from frustration. By the end of a month, Harriet announced that we should make our arrangement more permanent. I had expected it to take longer and was thrilled to be moving ahead so quickly. I agreed, we had a few drinks and then signed some papers that she said would allow her to put my name on her bank accounts, and we set a date. The wedding was small, with a limited number of guests. That was a good sign, if it meant that she didn't want everyone seeing her with a much younger husband. It would give me some leverage later, when I was ready to siphon off her money. At least, that's what I thought. Instead, Harriet became very controlling. She still expected me to go down on her all the time, and gave nothing in return. Finally, I decided to confront her about it. "Well," she said frostily. "You should have thought about that BEFORE you signed the prenuptial agreement. Maybe you should have a closer look at it now." I hadn't even realized that was what I had signed. She must have fed me more to drink than I thought, or else put something into my glass. Either way, the agreement was signed. When I read the photocopy she provided, I realized that if I left her I would get nothing. In fact, she would end up with all my assets. When I tried to reason with her, she didn't budge. Then I played my trump card. "But, Harriet, I love you. That's why I got married." "Really?" She was sitting on an ornate antique sofa. Beside her, on a matching table, was an intercom. She pressed its 'Speak' button and said, "Dear, would you come in here, please?" In walked Betty. I was stunned. My girlfriend said, "What's the matter, Lover? Didn't you think I would get tired of how you were living off me? Or of your selfish idea of making love? I guess you had no clue, when I told you about Harriet, that I didn't do it for you. I did it for HER." "That's right." My new wife picked up the story. "You see, after cleaning out my two husbands, I was left with a taste for destroying men. They both had breakdowns, but now I'm ready to try something more subtle." Betty laughed at my distraught state. She went on, "And I've screwed up your credit so badly that you couldn't even charge a bus ticket out of town. You're stuck here, dearest, for Harriet -- and me -- to have fun with." There was no way out. I stood there in defeat and asked, "What do you want from me?" "Right now," Harriet said, "I want you to strip." I considered objecting, but until I could think of a plan, it was safer to cooperate. I got out of my clothes and stood there naked, in front of two women to who I was sexually attracted. Harriet sent me to fetch a different pair of boots for her from a nearby closet. I was surprised to find that the walk-in space was full of boots and shoes. I got the pair she requested, returned to her, knelt and began working her other boots off her feet. It was demeaning to be naked in front of her like that, but at the same time I couldn't help getting aroused, probably because Betty had put me off the past few days when I wanted sex. I exposed her stockinged feet and, after a break while they cooled, slid on the new pair of boots. My fingers lingered on their four inch stiletto heels. Then Harriet had me go to another closet, a much smaller one, where I found -- a butler's uniform? They watched me as I got into it. I was relieved to no longer be naked before them, but at the same time disturbed by what my new outfit might portend. That was when Harriet announced that company was coming and I would serve everyone in my new capacity. What could I do? I nodded and told her, "Yes, Ma'am." An hour later the women were dressed. Harriet had on a gown that clung to her generous curves, along with glamorous high heels, and a tri-cornered hat with feathers sweeping back from it. Betty wore an inviting mini-dress and skyscraper heels. All I could think about was what I would do with her if we were still in our former relationship. My balls started to ache. About a dozen guests arrived. Most of them came as couples, but there were two unattached men. A dignified older man paired off with Harriet, while a younger, more casual one got close to Betty. Both my women knew their partners, with who they chatted and joked -- and got affectionate. I had to watch the females being stroked and kissed while I was limited to performing my serving duties. The gathering went on for several hours before guests began to leave. In the end only Harriet and Betty remained, along with their men. I had to stand in readiness, off to the side, while my girlfriend sat on a couch with her date and they began to get intimate. At the same time, on the sofa, my wife and her man got very free with their hands as they began to undress each other. I was distressed and excited at the same time. After a half hour, Harriet announced that she and her lover -- that's the word she used -- were going to her bedroom. "And you," she said haughtily to me. "Get us fresh drinks and bring them to us there." In a daze from the successive shocks of the evening, I did as I was ordered. My marriage had turned into a nightmare. My former girlfriend was my enemy, and obviously about to cheat on me. There was no hope of escape. When I got to the bedroom with the drinks, Harriet and her lover were on what should have been our bed. She had on her girdle, stockings, and heels, along with her tri-corn hat. I handed them their drinks and she proposed a toast. "To my new marriage, in which my husband will never be allowed to have sex with me. He will only be permitted to serve me with his mouth, which I shall keep VERY busy." She laughed. "I, on the other hand, will have my handsome lover Andrew here whenever I please. And Betty will be moving in with us. My husband will have the same relationship with her that he does with me." They drank and then shared a deep kiss. I was trembling with anxiety. This couldn't be happening. It was, though, and getting worse I found as Andrew reached into his suit coat, which was draped over the back of a chair, and produced a small box. He opened it ceremoniously and showed Harriet what had been inside. It was a male chastity tube, designed to fit over the penis and lock behind the scrotum. The tube was short and narrow, leaving no room for an erection, except that the end was open so that the head of the organ could protrude. Harriet turned to me and said impatiently, "Well, husband dearest, what are you waiting for? Drop your trousers and put it on." I stood there with my jaw loose. Andrew gave me a hard look. Instead of responding in kind, I meekly undid my pants, let them fall to my ankles, and sent the boxer shorts after them. I was so nervous that my cock was completely limp, which made it easy to slip on the device. I hesitated only seconds before shutting its lock. The mechanism made a soft click, which sounded very final to me. Harriet made me shuffle around to her side of the bed, the pants hampering my mobility. I stood there, shamefaced, while she giggled and reached out to tickle the head of my member. It responded to the touch of her plump fingers instantly, stiffening without enlarging. It rose up until it was pointing at her. Only the head could expand, which it did, creating a bizarre mushroom image where it protruded. She flicked it lightly under the glans. I moaned and felt my scrotum contract. It was maddening to be stimulated like that and be able to do nothing about it. Then they ignored me as they resumed their foreplay. When Andrew got out of his shorts I saw that he was hugely hung, with balls to match. In contrast to my disabled organ, his cock was overwhelmingly impressive. Harriet kissed his chest and squeezed his firm biceps. He rolled her onto her back, got hold of her stilettos, and drew up her bent legs until they were doubled back almost to the large cups of her girdle's bra. He aimed his rampant shaft at her sex and she begged him to put it in. "Please, Andrew, bury that monster inside me. You know my husband won't ever be allowed to do that, so it's going to be your job, you animal, all the time." He grunted with pleasure as he sank himself into her, inch after inch, up to his weighty balls, and then began pumping her, still holding her heels. My wife moaned happily and wiggled her broad bottom. The couple managed to appear aristocratic and animalistic at the same time. I could only stand there in my servant's role, trousers dropped, penis trapped, and watch my new bride being willingly ravaged by her virile partner. He had endless staying power. They humped spiritedly for over a half hour before he drove her to a loud, quaking finish, in the midst of which he allowed himself to explode. Then, after a shared afterglow, they rolled apart and lay alongside each other, her hand on his muscular shoulder. "All right, Jeeves, or whatever your name is," he said to me. "Time for you to have some fun. Get your face down on her pussy and lick up all that fresh cream I left there. Hurry up or I'll turn you into my punching bag." He balled his big fists at me. I couldn't do what he was saying. But Harriet and Betty had taken all my money. The pre-nup made it impossible to get a divorce. And both women were bent on destroying me. I whimpered loudly and got into position. Andrew chuckled as I got my face directly in front of Harriet's messy, gaping slot. I was still trying to force myself to obey when Andrew put his palm on the back of my head and pushed my face into his spilled cum. It was horrible. I gagged as I got my tongue into it and began to slurp up his copious output. Harriet laughed so hard she shook. And then she calmed down as pleasure ignited her nerve endings. "This is getting me so turned on," she told Andrew. "Knowing that we're doing things to his mind that he'll never recover from. He's going to clean me this way EVERY time you empty your balls into me, Andrew. My new husband is going to be on a steady diet of your cum, darling. And he'll be doing the same for Betty." She sighed contentedly. "Imagine how much damage we can do to his psyche between now and our first wedding anniversary." That was nearly a year ago. The 12 month mark of our marriage is almost here. It has been an impossibly awful period for me. Betty moved in after that first get-together. Both women teased me relentlessly with their bodies and the fetish fashions they wore. They worked to get me addicted to their shoes and boots, and succeeded beyond their dreams. At the same time, they got me hooked on their panties, rubbing my face and body with them, making me sleep with them on my pillow. All day long I stay naked while I clean this immense house and they go out to shop and take long lunches. On their return they often put on impromptu fashion shows that leave me with my blood boiling and no way to cool it. Of course, the chastity tube stays on 24/7 and I have a perpetual case of aching blue balls. The closest I get to relief is when Betty puts on her nurse uniform, a tight one with tiny skirt, low cut top and white boots, dons latex gloves, and milks my prostate. It's humiliating for me, provides little relief, and is followed by me having to lick up my spend from wherever it lands, usually on the bathroom floor. I give both women oral sex if they so much as snap their fingers. Their lovers are here several nights a week and I have to clean the females up with my mouth after every encounter. My male ego has been reduced to a crippled remnant of what it once was. I crave the indignities that are heaped on me and long for worse, even though I hate every minute of it. Harriet has certainly fulfilled her goal of destroying me. Even so, I know that she can do more of the same for years and years to come. And now they're talking about a special party for our first anniversary. There are plenty of bedrooms in this big old house and they plan to put a couple in each one, with me naked except for my chastity, waiting to run and provide clean-up service when anyone calls for me on the house wide intercom system. I haven't had to serve women other than my wife and ex-girlfriend that way yet, so it is frightening to think of what that night will be like -- and how much further away it will take me from any chance of recovering my confidence, something I know can never happen. No, I'm trapped here for as long as it amuses them to play their sadistic games with me, to deepen all the kinky perversions into which they've initiated me, and to utterly crush my sense of self worth. I am cheated on by both of them all the time and have been conditioned to want that, just so I can have some kind of contact with sex, no matter how unpleasant. I had a scheme. I told myself it couldn't go wrong. Now I'm paying the price for being stupid, paying the price every minute of each day and night. I attempted a crime and ended up with a life sentence. 6085 1.25/512345