When, with her free hand, Moira began gently to stimulate my crotch, I
relaxed even more. There was no chance of cuming unless she removed the
girdle from me of course, but once again lust began to violate my senses.
All this time Lars had remained standing next to Moira. Now she sat me up
again, and reached for Lars’s penis. I was made to face Moira, who was now
sitting cross-legged, on my knees, with Lars standing almost over us.
Once more Moira made me lean forward and take her gorgeous, round, feminine
breast between my lips, this time through her bra again. After only twenty
seconds or so Moira reached out with one hand and grasped Lars’s limp cock.
I watched open-eyed as she manipulated his foreskin back and forth only
inches away from me. Gradually his manhood began to expand afresh. Before
his shaft could rear up too far, Moira took her free hand and held my head
to it’s nipple sucking task. Then with her other hand still on Lars she
guided his knob towards me. Slowly she rubbed his penis up and down on the
smooth material of her bra, first on the breast further from me, then
transferring his expanding shaft to the same globe I was suckling. Now his
knob was only an inch from my lips, indenting the same bra cup I was sucking.

“Remember,” Moira told me. “Lars wasn’t lying. We don’t want you to do
anything you don’t want to. But I love you, and I want you to suck Lars’s
cock to show me how much you love me! It’ll be an incredibly erotic sight
for me if you do it. I want to see you suck Lars for me. But I want you to
want to do it darling. It’s really quite enjoyable. Believe me, I’ve tried
it. I’m going to put Lars’s cock in your mouth now, so if you keep sucking
my tit that means you agree to sucking his cock, OK?”

Originally posted 2008-01-09 15:33:25. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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As the hours passed I could not help but imagine Moira’s romantic evening.
Sometimes as I grew excited visualising Lars’s renewed seduction of my
wife I felt I was almost cuming, but it was impossible. The panti-girdle
held my cock under lock and key, and a pathetic semi-erection was the best I
could manage. I could rub my frustrated knob through the girdle on the edge
of a table or other object, but I couldn’t get enough friction to really
pleasure myself. I had felt sorry for myself having to wank into my wife’s
knickers on my own honeymoon to gain relief; now I couldn’t even do that!
Lars would be shafting Moira before long I knew, pumping as much spunk
into another man’s wife as he cared to, making her orgasm again and again on
his massive latin cock, whilst I couldn’t even give myself a hand-job any
more. For a short time I cried, but I felt I loved Moira more than ever, and
she had hinted that she’d give me some sexual relief at some stage, hadn’t she?

Originally posted 2007-12-28 15:00:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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By now I was telling her that I knew I had no right to question her
movements. I had to trust my wife, and if she wanted to dance with other
men, well, of course I couldn’t object. If she wanted to let other men hold
her, well, that was OK. If she wanted to socialise with other men in their
rooms, who was I to object?

She smiled. Moira actually smiled again. I was happy. I loved this woman who
could forgive me raising my voice to her. Laying on her back Moira spread
her legs apart and motioned me to put my head between her thighs. I did so,
crawling down into the bed beneath the sheet. Moira took my hair in her
hands and pulled my head up to her feminine mound of light brown hair. Then
she pushed my nose into her labia and held me there. The smell of sex was
overpowering. I breathed in deeply, and my little, shrivelled cock began to
relax and expand again. Moira just held me there. For several minutes she
said nothing, though once satisfied that I had understood that I was not to
move, she let go of my hair and began gently stroking and caressing my head,
and running her exquisitly sharp nails over my bare back.

As the minutes passed my heart rate slowed. I was in heaven. Moira loved me
in her own strange way, and we were finding a way of living together. I
tried to show my appreciation by licking Moira’s already damp labia, but she
tapped me sharply on the head until I stopped. After a few more minutes
though she began talking to me again, and I learned how things were going to
be between us from now on.

“You don’t need to worry about Lars,” she told me firmly. “You’re my
husband and as long as you’re loyal to me, obey me, and look after me, I’ll
stay with you. But you may as well know that I didn’t choose you to marry me
because of your body! I chose you because of your one key quality: loyalty.
I reserve my right to fuck whomsoever I choose. You’ll fuck nobody without
my say-so. I might choose to mate with you ocassionally. Then again I might
not. Either way you’re going to have to learn to control that nasty
masturbating habit of yours. You needn’t think I don’t know all about it!”

Originally posted 2007-12-15 19:20:35. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Moira loved to encourage me to play with her breasts. She’d laugh at my
nervous, still almost adolescent, fumbling attempts to ‘touch up’ her tits,
but she almost always allowed my wandering hands to find their way under her
stretched woolen jumper. How I loved to feel the weight of her globes in the
palms of my hands. Touching and stroking the incredibly taught smooth nylon
of her bra cups made my stomach turn flip-flops! Even today I get a kick out
of thinking back to how my unsteady finger-tips would gradually work nearer
and nearer to the engorged, protruding firmness of her nipples. Moira liked
me to work her large and prominent nipples between my fingers, rolling them
around through the thin, silky material of the brassiere. Of course I’d get
a huge erection, but I was never allowed to relieve myself in her presence
in any way, never mind actually fuck her.

“Wait until we’re married darling, then I’ll make you happy” was her
watchword. She’d keep me pleasuring her divine, feminine orbs for ages, with
my balls getting bluer by the minute, and my pre-cum wetting my underwear,
but I never dared risk upsetting this goddess by suggesting going any
further. Every night in bed I’d wank myself silly thinking of her. Just
imagining being allowed to actually suck those huge nipples was enough to
make me cum with huge gushes of wasted spunk spurting into my hand.

The day finally came when Moira consented to marry me. I walked down the
isle with a penis like an iron rod in my trousers, thinking about getting
Moira into bed at last on the honeymoon, but fortunately I was able to
arrange my clothing so that it wasn’t too noticeable. In any case, everybody
was looking at Moira, resplendent in layers of virgin white, rather than at
me. The honeymoon first night went off reasonably well. I came too soon of
course, in fact before I’d even managed to get Moira undressed. Yes, just
sucking on those gorgeous nipples did it! Fortunately Moira took a very
understanding view of this episode. Within no time she’d got me hard again,
and before very long the marriage was successfully consummated.

What (even at the time) struck me as being – surely – rather unusual, was
that for the rest of the honeymoon I wasn’t allowed to repeat the success of
that first night. Moira kept me at arm’s length, claiming that she felt sure
it wasn’t “normal” for a husband to want to molest his wife too often, not
if he really “respected” her. Well respect Moira I certainly did. She saw to
that. Having had my first fuck of my life with her I was hooked. She was my
goddess. I was infatuated with her. I’d do anything for her. She was always
kind and sweet to me, pulling down the zipper on my trousers, reaching
inside and stroking me into a fervid state of ball-bursting desire whenever
she had me alone… only to then leave in search of a drink or a swim in the
pool. I followed her everywhere like an obedient dog, waiting on her every
whim, hypnotised by the slinky sway of her hips and gentle bounce of those
irresistible tits.

Originally posted 2007-12-03 19:14:31. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Before long we arrived at a women’s “lingerie and bridal accessories” shop.
After a brief study of the shop’s windows Moira led me inside. I enjoy
looking at women’s underwear as much as any red-blooded male, and my eyes
drank in the mannequins in their tight, stretchy panties and under-wired
brassieres. Most had wigs and had even had the faces made up. They really
looked quite fetching. While my eyes wandered over to a tall, slim tailor’s
dummy with long legs and rather large breasts, decked out in sheer black
stockings, black satin knickers, and a beautiful lacy basque, Moira
attracted a sales’ assistant. “I’m interested in a standard, firm-control
panti-girdle,” I heard her say. “I want something that’s a fairly full
design, but in a small size, perhaps a 26/28 inch waist?” The sales’ girl
promptly disappeared under the counter and returned a few seconds later with
several packages.

“This is the Berlei, Madame,” she explained. “It has an extra firm control
panel at the front. 79% nylon polymide, 21% elastane, available in black or
white only.” I was inwardly cringing. Moira meant me to control by male
appendage by crushing it, it seemed! Still, I liked the black.

“The white’ll do fine,” Moira decided. “I’ll take two, one in a 26 inch, one
in a 28.” I kept quiet, not daring to express an opinion. Moira told me to
pay, and within half an hour we were back at the hotel.

“Well done,” my wife congratulated me when we were back in our room. “You
didn’t protest, which is just as well mind you, because I was going to tell
the sales’ assistant who the panti-girdles were for if you had!” In no time
she had me trying on the girdles over my cotton briefs. When I’d got one on,
after somewhat of a struggle with the tight, constricting garment, to my
surprise Moira put her slim hand down the back of my girdle, reached between
my legs, grabbed my crushed but semi-erect penis, and pulled it hard
backwards, so that my knob was practically sticking up my own bum. Then she
pulled the girdle up my legs another inch. My balls seemed to have almost
disappeared inside my body. The effect was a little uncomfortable until my
semi-erection wore off, but from the front my hips now looked quite feminine.

“You’ll wear one of these girdles from now on” I was informed. “I don’t
think you’ll be chatting up many other women while you’ve got a panti-girdle
on underneath your trousers, will you darling? And I don’t expect you’ll be
getting any silly ideas about challenging any of my men friends to a fight
or anything silly either, will you? When you go to the bathroom you’ll have
to use a cubicle, and remember, I’ll be checking all the time to make sure
that nice, tight, firm-control panel is still in place helping you keep
yourself under control, so no cheating, or I’ll never make love to you
again, OK? Eventually you can buy yourself a whole range of corsetry
perhaps, but this will do for now. Wear one in bed as well, whether I’m
there or not. It’ll help you resist being naughty and touching yourself up.
My little husband must keep all his pent up spunk in his balls for his wife,
mustn’t he darling?” she concluded as she kissed me fully on the lips,
deeply and sensously. My cock hardly stirred so constricted was it, though I
still felt a rush of lust for Moira’s body.

Originally posted 2007-12-25 12:00:54. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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“I’m not hurting you little pansy, am I now?” Lars cooed at me. “Don’t
worry, I’m not a homosexual, and I’m not going to rape you, but you have to
show me you accept my right to shaft your wife any time I like. You know,
dominant male, that sort of thing. No…. maybe you don’t, but you’re going
to learn quick!”

With that Lars got close to me again. His prick had cooled to about half
it’s previous maximum size by now. It was dangling loosely in front of what
women would no doubt refer to as his “well hung” testicles. With horror it
dawned on me that having collapsed on to my knees, my mouth was now within
about two inches of his knob. “Suck me,” Lars commanded. “Take my knob in
your pretty little mouth and suck me. It’s your responsibility as Moira’s
husband you know! You really should see to it that you keep her lover’s cock
nice and big for her. Lick my penis, anwhen it’s hard again we’ll see what
Moira wants me to do with it, shall we?”

I started shaking. My nerves had gone completely. “Careful Lars”, Moira
said quietly.

“Look little man,” Lars responded, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not
going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. Look, I’ll even let you
go if you want.” With that he reached forward and, with a sharp tug, undid
the belt buckle imprisoning my wrists. I was free!

“Thank you Lars”, Moira congratulated her man. She stood up now and, after
rummaging in a drawer for a moment, pulled on a pair of lacy red french
knickers and matching bra. I hardly dared look at her anymore. I felt as if
I’d lost the right even to ogle my wife’s body. “You’re still my husband,” I
heard her say. “Look at me!” I looked. Tears were in my eyes but I was too
emotionally used up to cry. “Tell me you love me” she commanded. I obeyed,
in a high-pitched, squeaky voice I didn’t recognise as mine. “Again!”

“I love you Moira,” I managed. “I’ll always love you, and adore you, and
need you.”

Originally posted 2008-01-05 19:31:58. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Eventually Moira came and pronounced herself satisfied that I’d proved my
loyalty to her. “This is only the beginning though,” she was keen to
explain. “I’ve got plans to keep my little husband a proper, respectable,
chaste little husband, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy them! There are ways for
wives to keep cuckolded husbands happy and faithful which will still allow
me to keep my promise to Federico. They may seem a bit strange at first, but
I’m sure you’ll come to thank me for keeping you in a permanent state of
sexual tension. You and I may be going on a little shopping trip tomorrow,
so bring your credit cards darling; I want to spend some of our money on
keeping you happy!”

With that I was told to go to sleep now, but though Moira was soon
peacefully sleeping, and I was totally exhausted from the previous few hours
of nervous tension and lack of sleep, my aching balls just would not let me
rest. That and the thought of what on earth it might be that Moira want’d to
buy me tomorrow! One thing was clear to me though: I had just let Moira take
charge of my life, humiliate me in ways which most men would never accept,
and yet I felt only a profound happiness, almost elation, conquering what
remained of my infantile jealousy. Moira had promised to keep me hers
forever if I obeyed her, and that was all that mattered to me!

Originally posted 2007-12-21 19:24:15. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Eventually, about five o’clock in the morning, I heard a key turn in the
hotel room door. I didn’t say anything, but listened intently as Moira’s
silent outline made its way to the side of our honeymoon bed. She was
obviously trying not to wake me, but I needed to talk to her and see what
kind of state she was in. I felt nervous, angry, self-pitying and hot for
Moira’s body all at the same time. Steeling myself to some kind of
confrontion I turned the bedside lamp on.

Moira froze. She was just about to get into bed beside me, and looked
startled. Other than surprise though she didn’t look too unkempt; she’d
obviously had time to groom herself after satisfying herself on that other
man’s cock. This was the first time I’d seen Moira looking somewhat less
than confident, and emboldened by her worried, surprised look, I built up
courage to act the part of the outraged husband.

“Where the hell have you been?” I barked at her. A quick flash of anger
distorted her beautiful face. Before I could say anything else the open palm
of her hand slapped heavily across my cheek, her long, red nails tearing my
skin like claws. “Never speak to me like that again!” my wife mouthed
quietly to me, barely controlled outrage quivering in her voice. This was
the moment which changed my life. Even then I knew it. Should I attempt to
hit Moira? Should I show her who was going to be boss in this marriage? Or
should I simply get up and leave? For a moment I hesitated, but deep down I
knew what I had to do. I crawled to her, Moira my goddess. I implored her
forgiveness, and whimpered on about how I’d learn to control my stupid male
jealousy, if only she’d forgive me and let me stay with her. I’d serve her
loyally all my days. I’d work hard and have my pay-cheque paid into her
account every month. I’d do anything, but – please Moira – allow me to stay
with you!

Originally posted 2007-12-12 19:19:30. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Before I knew what was happening he seemed to be getting ready to cum. His
thrusts were bringing his balls to my lips now. Moira held my head firmly.
Then Lars cried out: “Yes, Moira, yes. Hold him, I’m going to do him!”
Three more hard, quick thrusts, and then Lars held his cock in position. My
jaw muscles were aching with being forced open so long, but I thrilled as
his powerful phallus began to quiver in my mouth. His knob was blocking my
throat and I could hardly breathe, but dimly I was aware he was cumming. At
first I felt nothing, but when after a minute he withdrew, the salty, musky
taste of cum was on my tongue. He had indeed mouth fucked me. Moira released
my head and turned me around to look into my eyes. I had been filled with
another man’s cum for her. Gently she kissed me on the lips, her tongue
snaking out and savouring a real man’s juices. I noticed her nipples were
rock hard as she joined her tongue to mine, both of us tasting Lars’s semen
together.

When she broke off there was a look of triumph in her eyes. I was rewarded
for my obedience to her desires by having my girdle removed at last. Moira
explained that this would be a rare treat for me, but that in the
circumstances she was sure Lars wouldn’t mind(!). I was given Moira’s
panties and told to put them in my mouth and suck on them. Then I was
ordered to masturbate in front of both Moira and Lars. This I did, shooting
a huge load of pent up spunk into my hand. I had wanted to use a pair of
Moira’s knickers to wank into but was denied that pleasure. Inevitably my
liquid dripped off my hand, so Moira ordered me to rub it into my body, and
then take a shower, before getting back into a clean girdle!

For the remainder of that night I slept on the floor by Moira and Lars’s
bed. Lars tied up my hands again “to stop me wanking in the night”. This
was just as well, because in the morning when I awoke it was to the noises
of Lars in rut again, shafting Moira hard and long. I could do nothing
but lay there, listen, and imagine this man making my wife cum on his cock.
I no longer even dreamt for a moment of trying to make him stop. He had
fucked my mouth after all, ejaculated his manly sperm down my throat, and I
probably even still had his spunk in my stomach! I was as much his as Moira
was. When he eventually left to go back to his own room I was almost sad to
see Moira’s lover leave us. She was in such a good mood after being
satisfied by him, and she allowed me to have my wrists freed, and to snuggle
up in bed with her for an hour before a very late breakfast. Of course the
girdle stayed where it was, but Moira rubbed my little prick through the
tight, elasticated garment a bit, and I felt I was in heaven! I had been
required to prove my love to this woman, and I had done it. In the future
she could do what she liked with me, and I knew I’d enjoy it. What could
England bring after this? What would we tell our friends we did on our
honeymoon? I snuggled up to Moira’s warm breasts and dreamed of a long life
of slavery.

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I was (quite literally) in a state of shock. I had just been forced to
witness my bride being taken by her virile, latin lover. Lars had
finished with her for now. Lazily and full of manly confidence he withdrew
his still huge and well lubricated cock from up my wife. I watched intently,
noting every thick globule of spunk on his shiny knob as it reappeared from
within Moira’s shapely body. When he stood up, leaving Moira prone on our
honeymoon bed, his member bounced in the air before him, still about
three-quarters erect, and enjoying the freedom which my own pathetic willy
was denied, being held tightly confined inside the new, over-small sized
panti-girdle my wife had made me buy earlier that day. I had a sudden
horrible thought that maybe the girdle had been Lars’s idea, and probably
the belt too, which held my wrists together before me. I was trussed like a
turkey, and almost felt like I’d been slaughtered. Every muscle in my body
felt rigid with shock. I felt light-headed, almost as if I might faint at
any moment.

Moira moaned quietly in a satisfied, exhausted tone. The noise drew my eyes
from Lars’s phallus back to the body of this woman who was legally
mine, but whose slave it was clear I had become. She was laying on her back
with her superb, perfectly smooth thighs spread wantonly apart. As I watched
she shifted a little, and a thread of her man’s cum slowly slid from inside
her and began to slither down her cunt lips on to the bed. Lars’s eyes had
followed mine and he guffawed loudly. Then, for the first time, he spoke to
me rather than Moira. “Looks like you’ve been well and truly put in your
place, doesn’t it?” he smirked at me. “I’ve always wanted to have another
man’s bride, and now I’ve done it. I don’t know why women bother marrying
pansy wimps like you. Must be for the money or the security I suppose. Well
she’ll never be satisfied with your little prick again now you know. I’ve
shown her what it’s really like to be taken by a man. She won’t want your
pathetic efforts any more!”

I didn’t dare say a word. Lars looked broad-chested, strong and muscular. I
had my wrists tied together. He had just fucked my wife in front of me and
I’d done nothing. I wasn’t about to do anything rash now. It was still a
shock though when this potent, nude male walked over to me, lifted me out of
my chair, held me to him, and kissed me full on the lips. I struggled to
escape but resistance was hopeless. One arm was all it took Lars to hold me
in his iron embrace. I felt nothing as his lips fastened on mine, neither
stimulation nor repugnance…. only sheer fright! In a second his free hand
was on the crotch of my Berlei panti-girdle, his strong fingers reaching
between my legs, following the slim form of my ensheathed penis. He rubbed
my encased knob vigorously for a few seconds, and then let me go. I fell to
my knees. My world was collapsing.

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