Life Sentence Pt 2

LIFE SENTENCE Pt 2. By Throne. The initial shock of what my wife did to me after our wedding left me dazed. Because she and her new lover, Randy, controlled me so completely and mistreated me so badly, I couldn't get my mental balance back enough to even think of doing anything to make my situation less horrible. Maybe I would have recovered enough to seek some sort of improvement, but I lost all hope of that during the third week of our marriage, when she did something that sent me into a tailspin. It was a Friday night when Bridget called me away from cleaning the toilet, which she made me do with a toothbrush. I was naked except for a cord she sometimes made me wear around my waist, onto which were clipped some of my cleaning tools. I rinsed my hands and hurried to see what she wanted. My wife was waiting for me in the living room. As usual, she was dressed in a way calculated to keep my sexual interest at a peak. Her long hair, with naturally tight waves, was tied back to show off her strong forehead, high cheekbones, and broad face. There was no bra under her snug sleeveless top, not that her overgrown breasts needed any support, and I could see the sides of them peeking from the large armholes, as well as her nipples pushing out against the tight material. Her jeans were perfectly fitted to her generous curves and led down to high boots with square toes and stacked heels. "Y... yes, my love," I said in a whisper, fearful of setting off her temper. "What may I do for you?" "My girlfriend Patty's coming over in a few minutes. She picked up a gift for you that I ordered the other day." Bridget was very free spending the money I earned, of which I saw almost none, but I couldn't imagine her buying me a gift. Keeping my voice soft, I asked, "Did you want me to put on some pants, dearest?" "Nah." Her full lips curved into a wicked smile. "What she's bringing, you'll need to be undressed for." I didn't like the sound of that. My wife flopped down on the sofa and threw her feet up on the ottoman. She snapped her fingers imperiously and pointed to her boots. Immediately I unclipped a clean cloth from my 'belt' and knelt before her to buff her footwear. I was focused on that, feeling unwanted arousal from touching her boots, when the doorbell rang. I jumped to my feet, clipped the cloth back in place, and scurried to the door, opening it halfway and praying no one would spy my nakedness. Her friend Patty sneered at me. She looks a lot like Bridget but her hair is red. I blushed at being seen unclothed but she wasn't put off at all by it, only amused. As she brushed past me I noticed the pink shopping bag she was carrying. On it, in fancy script, was the word Exotique. Wasn't that the name of the sex toy shop Bridget had visited several days before? Yes, that had been while I was at home, hand laundering her panties. "I got all the goodies we picked while we were at the store," Patty told my wife. "And that special item, which came in just this morning." "Yeah," Bridget answered. "Pretty funny that they had to special order it in his size." "Really." The redhead eyed my shrimpy genitals meaningfully. My worry mounted as Patty handed the bag to Bridget, who peeked inside and grinned. She reached in and pulled out a pair of bamboo canes, gave one to her friend. They swished them through the air experimentally before setting them aside. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. Then she produced something else from the purchase, a small object I couldn't identify. As I stood there, bare-assed, my wife held it in front of my crotch. All at once I knew what it was, one of those male chastity tubes used so a man can't get an erection. But I wasn't allowed any sexual relief as it was. Still, the thought of not being able to even satisfy myself, in secret, as I had been desperately considering doing, made me feel cold inside. Bridget said, "Into the bathroom, stud." I preceded the women, who had retrieved their bamboos and playfully flicked my bottom as I walked. Though the strokes were light, they still burned deeply. Once in the bathroom, my bride made me use my electric razor to trim down the scant hair on above my penis. Then she had me take one of her disposable safety razors to neatly remove what little remained. When I was done, with my small parts, I resembled an immature boy. It was shameful but I had to stand there and take it while they make hurtful jokes about my size. Then Bridget crouched down to put that damned device on me. As upset as I was, her proximity still got me half hard. She told me to lose the erection, which of course I couldn't do that easily. Patty stepped up and gave me four sharp slaps across the cheeks. I was startled and suddenly went soft. Bridget giggled as she slid the chastity over my flaccid member. It closed behind my scrotum and she used a tiny padlock to make sure it stayed that way. The key was on a silver chain which she made a show of putting around her neck. Anytime I snuck a glance at her deep cleavage I would also see the symbol of my enforced celibacy. The two of them made me parade around. Bridget toyed with my nipples and my penis tried to get hard but couldn't. I muttered to myself, distressed by the degree of control they had just gained. Patty didn't like that. She told me to shut up. I started to say something, even though I knew I shouldn't, but I was close to a panic attack. She grabbed me by the ear, twisted it painfully, and bent me forward. Then she marched me out of the bathroom, making sure to bang my head on the door frame, and off to the kitchen. She positioned me, still bent forward, with the side of my face against the kitchen counter and told me sternly not to move. Then she stepped back and gave me two hard cracks across both buttocks with her crop. Bridget laughed and put herself on my other side. It was her turn to burn a pair of stripes across my pale narrow sitter. They alternated, hitting hard, while I yowled and trembled and eventually cried. Not until I had suffered about two dozen blows did they halt and step away. "Straighten up!" Bridget ordered. When I did, she stepped behind me, reached around, and teased my nipples with her fingers. Her heavy breasts pressed against my bare back. Again my poor dick tried to stiffen and again it was frustrated. I stood there, tears on my cheeks, sniffling, forcing myself not to make any further complaint and risk added strokes. My rump was blazing and my legs felt unsteady. There was no rest for me, however, as my wife barked at me to go to the bedroom. As I walked she prodded my sore bottom with the tip of her crop. I flinched but managed not to vocalize my pain and anxiety. Once in the room she stripped from the waist down and laid back on the bed, legs spread. "That really gets me hot, being mean to hubby dearest. The useless jerk. Now I need my pussy eaten. Gee, if I'd known he was going to have to do that I would have cleaned up after sex last night with Randy. We did it right here in the wedding bed, where my brainless spouse isn't allowed to get laid, but I fell asleep afterwards so he didn't have to clean me up with his mouth then. Now all that thick rich cum has been laying in there overnight. It should be extra flavorful for the little geek. I really think he's developing a taste for it." As I got into position, my marked backside on show, Patty said, "If he doesn't like doing it now, he might after a while in that chastity. Imagine how desperate he'll be for any kind of sexual touching, even if it is just eating used pussy, after he's been locked up for another three weeks. Or months." The moment I got my lips and tongue on my bride's uncleaned mound, my trapped dick tried to erect again. It was uncomfortable but what was worse was the realization that Patty might be correct. The longer they maintained my enforced celibacy, the more extreme would be my need for release and the greater my reaction to not being able to get any. Already I found myself digging in more actively than usual, even though Randy's overnight cum was utterly disgusting. Continuing her previous thought, Patty said, "Just imagine how screwed up he'll be if you keep him in that tube until your first anniversary." "I've been thinking that. It gets me so wet, imagining him taking my boots off me, rubbing my feet, washing my back in the shower, drying me, and then helping me get dressed to go out with Randy. Think of him having to do all that after he's got such a case of blue balls that he can't think of anything else except shooting his little shot." Patty snickered. "Yeah, you could get him addicted to anything, like sucking your toes." "Ha. He's already halfway there," she said as I continued to serve her. "Maybe I'll train him to WANT to clean me up after Randy screws me. Can you picture him coming to me and begging me to get laid so he'll have a nice big mess to slurp up?" "I like it," Patty enthused. She idly tapped her crop against my agonized bottom as if she might deliver a few more strokes, just for fun. "And I wonder how twisted you could make his mind by your SECOND anniversary." "A lot. But there's no hurry. We're married and we're staying that way for a loooong time. Isn't that right, darling sweet husband?" "Yeth, dearetht," I managed to say without removing my tongue from her slit. "He's gotten so good with his mouth," she added. "In fact, after he pops me off, Patty, how about you take a turn with Mr. Pussyface?" I froze up when I heard that. She had never made me touch anyone else. Bridget grabbed my hair and yanked hard. She told me not to stop. Patty laid the crop across my bottom cheeks half a dozen more times, not holding back at all, until I was wailing. In ferocious pain, I got my mouth back on Bridget's mound and tried to distract her with lots of licking and sucking. She relaxed. Patty was already removing her jeans and panties. I could only ask myself, how much could they do to me by the 12 month mark of our marriage? Or the 24? And beyond? The End. Part 2. 5056 1.34/512345