He slowly eased the vibrator from my throbbing breasts to my wet pussy. At his first touch there I let out a moan, and I heard him whisper, “Relax, let me massage you. I know all the right places.” He pulled up my skirt, gently removed my soaked panties and placed me upon the massage table. With the vibrator he caressed my helpless, throbbing pussy while his free hand explored my breasts and he sucked and licked my erect nipples. My whole body was bursting with incredibly pleasant sensations.
Then, confident of my readiness, he put down the vibrator and inserted his throbbing dick into my eager pussy. His dick was so hard that it hurt me at first, but with each thrust I felt a more intense desire come over my body. I began to moan and toss my head from side to side. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face up to his and thrust his tongue into my open mouth. He ran it across my teeth, along the roof of my mouth, and then he thrust his whole mouth against mine until our teeth clashed. His hand was on my breast, sometimes gentle, sometimes rougher. I became aware of a sustained wailing sound and was startled to realize it was coming from my own mouth!
His strokes became faster and faster, and he positioned himself so that each thrust sent a delicious wave through my trembling clit. I began to see colors behind my closed eyelids. All of a sudden I felt something strange rising in me. It was as if a powerful surge were rushing up through my body from my cunt. In panic I tried to pull away from him, but he shoved me back down. “You can’t stop it now!” he snapped hoarsely. No sooner did these words leave his lips than the wave engulfed me—my body jerked and convulsed, and my arms went wild. I screamed and pulled at his hair, and then I felt him jerk and moan above me as he shot his wad deep into my cunt.
Since that wonderful night we have shared the same bed every evening. He thinks I am the sexiest, most responsive woman he has ever met. I haven’t yet told him my secret—that he is the only man who’s ever made me come—but I will sometime soon.—Name and address withheld
Domination & Discipline
DENIAL AND DISCIPLINE SPICE UP SEX
Even though we’ve been married fourteen years, my husband and I have a fantastic and ever-changing sex life. Let me share one of our favorite scenes.
We fantasize that I am his captured slave. First, we have a cleansing ritual. I’m not allowed to move as he soaps, rinses and roughly rubs me so that I am clean enough for my master. He is especially diligent toweling my crotch and clit. All the while, he tells me what a bitch I am, how I have failed him, and how my body belongs to him to do with what he wants.
“Isn’t that right?” as he flicks my left nipple.
“No,” I answer. So he squeezes, gently at first, then harder, harder until I’m on my knees whispering, “Yes, Master.”
Then I am pulled and dragged to the bedroom where I stand naked in my shame. Taking an old tie from the closet, he binds my hands behind me. My master then takes out our special earrings. One earring is screwed on to each nipple, not too tightly at first, but then tighter and tighter. The delicious pinching brings me to my knees. Then he pushes my legs apart with his knee and shoves me backward, with my legs still bent at the knees behind me. He now separates my cunt lips and puts in place the third earring—tightening it on my clit. I squirm and writhe as he works my clit, now squeezing, now pressing and rotating. My complaints just make him screw the earrings tighter. Then, using his hard knuckles, he works in rhythmic circles toward my cunt lips. There, he manipulates two or three knuckles round and round and up into my hole—just enough to have me want to be filled—but never quite filling me. I want to pull my knees together and squeeze them, but he keeps them shoved apart and doesn’t quite let me come.
Then he reaches over and grabs me by the hair, shoving his bare foot in my face. He makes me kiss his feet and suck his toes. I want him in my mouth so badly now, but he makes me beg first and tell him how much I want to suck him and lick his balls. Finally, I am allowed to suck and he forces his prick down my throat. I am on my knees now, with my ass in the air. He takes our paddle and rubs it on my ass, teasing, rotating, telling me what will come. He makes me beg to be hit. He prolongs my impatience by raising and lowering the paddle. Each time I shudder and cringe, anticipating the hard whacks. This makes him hotter. Finally, he smacks my ass several times, with each smack thrusting his cock down my gagging throat. Then, off come all the gadgets and we fuck like crazy.
We would love to hear from anyone else who enjoys a little bondage, a little female submission and just a little pain with their pleasure.—Name and address withheld
SLAVING FOR AN ‘A’
I’d like to tell you of a learning experience I had. I had to study for a big final exam which dealt with twelve chapters of vocabulary words and meanings. So I asked my girlfriend, Sandy, if she could help me study. When I told her I didn’t know any of the words, she was mad at me for not going to class. But later in the evening, after she had been reading a Penthouse letter about “female rapists,” she said she would help me. But I would have to agree to any rules she made. Being as desperate to pass as I was, I readily agreed.
She said that I would learn my vocabulary through a reward and punishment system. When she told me this, I was dying to fuck her right there and then. But she was more interested in my learning the words, so she told me not to change the subject, and that meant no fucking around. Besides, I knew she was planning something for the next evening, a lesson that I now know I would never forget.
The rest of the evening was just an appetizer. She grabbed my hand and led me to our bedroom, stripped me naked, tied me to the bed, and made me eat her out. I also had to sleep like that so I would be totally horny and up for the next evening’s “lesson.”
The next afternoon I picked her up from work and to my delight she was wearing a black shift, black seamed nylons and black high heels, which I love. She told me to move over and said that she was going to drive. She reminded me that I had agreed to go by all her rules. While she was driving, she told me to unzip my pants, which I promptly did. She then drove to a store to buy another pair of black seamed nylons because the others were ripped. As she left the car, she commanded me to pull my pants down to my ankles. She told me that I had better be like that when she came back because she wanted to humiliate me and embarrass me in case anyone should walk by the car. She told me that I would have to stay like that until we got to the motel. Naturally I obeyed.
When we got to the motel room, she said that I was a naughty boy, and would be taught a lesson. I was to do everything she ordered and be her slave. She gave me my notebook of vocabulary words and told me to study while she took a shower. I was going to be quizzed on them later. After she got out of the shower, she put on her seamed nylons (garter included), black five-inch spike-heeled shoes, and wide black belt. She also put on a black-laced bra. She then told me to remove my clothes. She made me put on a pair of black panty hose. She had cut a hole in them so part of my cock hung out. Then she tied long pieces of cloth to my hands, and tied the cloth together. She ordered me to get down on my knees and kiss her high heels. She knew how much I enjoy her feet. After I kissed every inch of her feet and her spiked heels, she made me kiss my way up her nylons—without touching her pussy. Then she bent over in front of me and made me kiss her ass and tell her she had the nicest ass I’d ever seen (which she does).
She stood up and said, “Now the lesson will begin, you naughty student.” She pushed me onto the bed, put my hands over my head and tied them to the corner of the bed. I was lying faceup so that she could tickle my ribs and chest with her long fingernails. She had also left the panty hose on me so that my aching prick would be encased in its own type of bondage. Next, she tied my feet together, making sure she touched the bottoms of them with her fingernails, in order to show me that I had lost all control. Another string was tied around my thighs and yet another around my knees, so that I was completely at her mercy.
Sandy told me she was now going to ask me vocabulary words, but first she laid out some rules
. For every three I got wrong I would be punished. I would be either tickled on the ribs, get a hard brush rubbed against my nipples, or if I pleaded and begged enough, I only would have to lick her ass or pussy as punishment. She told me I would get a hard-on, but that if I was going to come, I had better let her know. If at any time my hard-on was to fall, she would lick it back up to attention. She added that every time I got more than ten words in a row wrong she would suck on my toes, as she knows I hate to be tickled that way. Then she said that if I got five in a row right I would be rewarded by getting my prick licked—but only the portions of my prick that were not encased in her panty hose. The only way I could take the panty hose off was either to get two chapters correct, or to satisfy her with my tongue and drink all of her pussy juices. In either case, the panty hose would only be removed an inch at a time. So, at best, it would take me twelve chapters or six of her orgasms, to get the panty hose off my aching prick. In either case I still wouldn’t be able to come, even after I had finished the requirements, unless she let me. However, she told me that if I was very good about licking her ass and pussy in the way she liked, she would remove her panty hose from my cock at the rate of one inch per chapter, but that I would have to beg her appropriately and also that she would spank me until my whole ass was red. If I protested while I was being spanked, I would have to spend the whole night without coming.
Suddenly, she roughly ripped the panty hose off my body, tied my legs spread eagle to the comers of the bed and said that it was even better for her to play with my anus! By this time I was so horny that I begged her to let me have this new alternative. The whole time I was begging, she just laughed and tickled me with her nails. Finally she agreed, and let me lick her ass, which I did to the best of my ability.
The lesson finally began with her asking me questions and rewarding or punishing me appropriately. If she got really angry with me for not knowing the words, she flipped me over and spanked me without my being able to utter a complaint.
Well, I finally learned my words and Sandy had a hell of a time spilling her juices all over me and teasing my helpless prick. She loves to have me tied up and horny, totally obedient, answering to her every order. As you can guess, by the end of the night, I was doing everything that Sandy ordered to her specifications. Needless to say, I got an A on the test and another A in obedience from my newfound “Master Sandra.”—Name and address withheld
PUNISHMENT WITHOUT MEASURE IS HIS CONSTANT PLEASURE
I am a thirty-five-year-old male who has become the completely feminized slave of my mistress/wife. This morning, before she left for work, my mistress shackled me into my punishment chair (in the backyard utility shed) and ordered me to remain here until I wrote to you to tell the world of my enslavement and degradation.
I am, as I have been for the past six months, dressed as a woman. I’m wearing a bra, a waist-slimming corset, garters, stockings, panties, painfully tight spike shoes, a slip, a frilly chiffon dress, a blond wig, earrings, and the chastity device I was fitted with five months ago. The chastity device, which is truly devilish in design, resulted from my mistress’s noticing a semen stain on my panties.
My penis, which Mistress insists I refer to as my “pussy,” is encased in an openended length of plastic hose and tucked back between my legs. The hose is attached to a molded-rubber support that is shaped like a vagina, and the entire assemblage is locked in place with quarter-inch steel cable. The tightness and smoothness of the plastic hose keeps me in a constant state of erotic arousal, although denying me fulfillment. I am required to wear a sanitary napkin to absorb any discharge of semen.
Mistress often squirts baby oil inside the tube (reducing all friction), and has me do deep-knee bends until my arousal makes me shake violently. Then she straps my head between her legs, keeping it there until I have brought her to satisfaction, which sometimes takes hours.
The chastity device requires me to sit down to urinate. Mistress controls my bowel movements by releasing the locked butt cable once every other morning for my enemas. This takes less than ten minutes and is closely supervised by her. I am not permitted to touch or even look at my “pussy,” and Mistress has permitted me to ejaculate (which she detests as “unladylike”) only seven times since my enslavement, and then only as a reward.
On these occasions, I am bound and blindfolded, and Mistress, administering a suction device, gives me only five minutes to climax. Failure at this results in my being required to wait several weeks before I am so favored again.
Besides my daily duties of housekeeping and cooking, I bathe and dress Mistress, do the grocery shopping (which is still acutely embarrassing because of my being six-one, though I am learning to move as a woman), and must pass her stringent inspection of my makeup, my wig (as soon as my own hair has grown more, I’ll be required to perm and set it myself), nail polish and accessories. I shave my whole body every day, but my facial and pubic hair has been removed through electrolysis. I am also required to wear stockings and garters twenty-four hours a day, and to sleep in a locked leather slave helmet and leash, which denies me sight, sound, movement and speech. I have truly been reduced to insignificance and servitude.
My forced feminization and enslavement began on our vacation last winter. For years, I had secretly donned female attire for the deep sexual arousal it provided me. My first wife, discovering my secret playthings, divorced me because I would not admit my obsession to her. I let her believe that I had been unfaithful, and that she had found the clothing of an illicit lover. When I met my present wife (Mistress), I chanced hinting at “dressing up” as a sexual game. We also played at light bondage, and everything was wonderful.
Then, white vacationing, we were invited to a masquerade party by people we probably would never see again. I convinced my wife that it would be fun if she went as a “pimp,” and I as a “hooker.” We bought all the clothing necessary, and I ended up in a black satin dress, heels, blond wig, and some very sexy, very dainty underwear. She applied my makeup and, when I got a raging erection, promptly taped it up tight to my belly. This merely increased my excitement, but she was extremely businesslike about it. I should have noticed this early warning, but I was feeling too wonderful.
The party was a blast. We won second prize. I got drunk and passed out in our hotel room later. When I woke up the next day, still dressed as the “Happy Hooker,” it took me a few minutes to realize that my wife was gone, as was all our baggage. I also realized that all the hair on my body had been removed during the night, and that I had been undressed and then dressed again. On the bathroom vanity was a note addressed to “Kathy” (my former name was Kevin), and there were two Polaroid photos. As I saw in the pictures, she had brought a man to our room while I was asleep. One photo graphically depicted me, in drag, being butt-fucked, while the other photo showed me, eyes closed, with someone’s cock stuck in my mouth. (Unless I’d been drugged, I can’t understand how this was done without my waking up.)
I was disgusted and terrified. The note told me that if I failed to follow her instructions, similar photos would be sent to many of my friends and associates. She said she had left me a bus ticket to San Diego, some makeup, and a coat (no money or ID). She would meet me at the San Diego terminal the next evening, she said, and she warned me that I had better arrive as “Kathy.”
The next thirty hours were the most terrifying, humiliating, and deliciously erotic that I had ever experienced. My fear of embarrassment during the trip was intensely stimulating.
Well, I did make it to San Diego, and there she was, grinning as I had never seen her grin before. She greeted me as “Kathy” and advised me that, thenceforth, “Kathy” was to be my only name. In the car, she placed a silver collar about my neck (it is still in place). She told me that I was to call her “Mistress.” I would go to my office as “Kathy,” quit my job, retain an attorney to change my name legally from Kevin to Kathy, and sign over my real estate and other assets to her.
It was as if
I had been hypnotized! Mesmerized!
Mistress had discarded all my male garments, providing me instead with frilly female clothing. My life as a feminized slave had begun.
We moved to another town, where I am always introduced as my mistress’s sister. She owns me, body and soul.
So far, my life as a slave has been wonderful. I would caution others, however, who are tempted to confess their secret fantasies to their spouses, that the consequences can go far beyond their expectations.—K.S., Westminster, Calif.
WIFE-SPANKING SPREADS HOUSE TO HOUSE
I’ve seen many letters in your excellent publication about “spanking games” between husband and wife, but I feel my experience is slightly different. A couple of years ago, my wife appeared at breakfast wearing only a flimsy negligee and became rather teasing. I threatened her with a spanking, and she dared me. So, putting her over my knee and wedging her shoulders under the table, I slapped her bare buttocks until she asked to be let up. No sooner had she gotten up than she said she wasn’t at all sorry, so I repeated the treatment, this time with a long-handled clothes brush.
That evening our neighbor, Joan, dropped in after my wife had gone to the cinema. Joan is a smart, attractive blonde and behind her back she held a polished willow stick. She was very friendly and said teasingly that my wife had told her about the spanking after I’d gone to work, and shown her the damage! We had a sherry and I asked why she had brought the stick. She was doe-eyed and said she had wanted a spanking but that her husband would not oblige. She explained that he was very placid and more interested in marine biology than love.
We kissed on the sofa and started petting. She gradually worked herself facedown across my lap, then opened my fly and caressed my penis into a major erection. I slipped down her silk panties and she opened her thighs, so I entered along her lips, and she started pleading for a spanking. She was very moist and with each spank her vagina slipped up and down my penis. From a few gentle starting slaps I progressed to harder and harder blows, which made her sob in ecstasy, till we both came together. After another sherry, she knelt on the end of the sofa, bending over the arm, and asked, begged, for the cane. I gave her twelve quick medium cuts on the same spot and she writhed and sobbed. “Harder, harder!” After six more, as hard as I could apply them, she rose and kissed me all over and, taking the cane, gave me two dozen as hard as she possibly could. Then, with me on my back on the floor, she bestrode me and performed like a veritable Bathsheba.
Letters to Penthouse IV Page 8
