Mistress Dusty

BUTTERMILK BOWL (possibly Sadistic Spouse in Buttermilk Falls)

"But I've not cum in six weeks, Dusty" Crake Ingledew said to his demure spouse. Dusty looked up from her "Cosmo" long pink nails tapping an article discussing depilatory body hair removal.

She is so beautiful! Crake thought. Languid hazel eyes with long lashes, the dark eyebrows frowning irritably, and oh, that flawless skin.

When she looked perturbed, or even angry, it seemed to inflame Crake even further in excessive horniness. His penis was filling with blood rapidly. Locked in a barbed wire cock cage, it wasn't entirely comfortable.

Once known as "Crake the Rake" a playboy womanizer in the Central West End of Buttermilk Falls, Crake was a changed man. He'd even had his mermaid tattoo painfully removed from his arm and had it replaced with a bouquet of roses...for Dusty.

Crake was a one man woman, although that woman had not had sex with him in almost sixteen years.

For the past seven years, however, his penis had been locked in a variety of chastity belts, tubes, and pouches, and his orgasms had been few and far between.

"Six weeks is such a long time, Goddess." Crake tried not to plead or whine. He was so horny, and his cock was about to burst the bars of the little cage.

When he wasn't horny, his penis barely took up an inch of the cage...

Crake had not been able to use a urinal in many years, had to go on the toilet like a girl, because of the chastity paraphernalia, but he marveled at how hard and elongated his dick became when he got so excited by his Goddess.

Or even watching secretaries or college girls bouncing down Buttermilk Boulevard...

Miss Windom, his admin, had kissed his neck drunkenly at the office Christmas party, and his dick had been injured in the cruel crotch jail from such an open desire.

And then of course, when he'd told Dusty about it after the party, Dusty, enraged at his desire for Miss Windom, had thrashed his penis with a bamboo cane that they'd picked up when touring Singapore.

Now, he just wanted a little break. Dusty looked so intensely sexual, long legs and the ballooning chest...her gorgeous face in this deadpan bored look.

"Six weeks...look at how purple my peeter is."

"Six weeks? Yeah?" Dusty inserted a Virginia Slim between her full, glossy pursed lips, and Crake leaned over quickly to light it.

His own upper lip still felt weird from having shaved his beloved handlebar moustache the night before. Crake had had the moustache since his senior year of high school, and he'd always been so proud of it.

But Dusty loved playing "Dress up slut training" and had insisted Crake get rid of the 'stache, saying that after it was gone, when she made him up, he would look like Martha Stewart, which would be hilarious.

Crake had cried over this, he loved his facial hair, but he wanted to be on his wife's good side. There was a football party he wanted to host, and he had to keep her in a good mood.

But he was so horny!

"Please, Miss Dusty?"

"Six weeks? It may be another six weeks till you cum, Crake. At least two and a half...You really don't want to irritate me today, of all days?"

No, he didn't want to piss Dusty off, this close to the party. If she cancelled it, he would have to call the guys, and he wouldn't get to see Smitty, who had been gone for many years.

And in general, Dusty didn't like being pressured about jerking off privileges.

Once Crake had been begging her, and she'd invited him to take off his clothes, and then she'd thrashed him with a vacuum cleaner cord...

And she'd had a month added to Crake's already very long chastity sentence.

When he was allowed to masturbate, kneeling at her glorious feet, it was so much fun. Sometimes she would stomp on his balls, grinding them into the hardwood floor as he wanked away...

But there was always a powerful splatter of semen, and then of course, licking it up. Which was repulsive, but oh well.

But now Crake backed off, teetering on his six inch Capezios.

Crake was clad in nothing but long black fishnet stockings, which encased his flabby thighs like a bad sausage. He also had a garter belt to support the stockings...

Crake was very turned on by this embarrassing outfit, and in fact had selected it for himself back in the day. But it was freakish to be wearing this get up outside on the deck in the back yard.

He really needed a drink to process all the humiliation.

But the last time he'd mentioned cocktails, Dusty had given him a Jack Daniels enema and then hung him by his pierced nipples, a cruel metal threaded through the holes, and now he didn't complain TOO much about being exposed outside.

The garter belt-stockings-heels outfit suited Crake as a sad suburban sissy boy.

When he returned from work, Crake stripped off his gray flannel suit, donning the "other" outfit before dropping to his knees to wait for his wife, who worked a little later in the little candle shop Crake had set up for her...

It didn't make much money, but it made Dusty happy, and we all want that.

Crake shouldn't complain. One of the submissives in his Men's Chastity Group had given his wife a damn art gallery...that was expensive!

The girls, exuberant nineteen year olds Selden and Salem had been shielded from Daddy's peculiarities until they'd finished high school, and now they found the whole thing hilarious.

Seldi even gave her father hairbrush spankings when she thought he was being "bitchy."

Though, if Daddy wants to run around in his goddamn birthday suit, he should consider doing some spin classes, maybe lifting weights, but otherwise they just let it go.

Being naked in front of his pretty clothed daughters was quite mortifying for Crake, but of course that made him even more excited.

Now, he focused on his wife, who, at forty-three, still looked like an older sister of the twins. God what a gorgeous creature!

Enjoying the summery day on the back deck, which Crake and several of his pals from the Men's Chastity Group had built wearing these same outfits, their wives urging them on with whips and canes...

It was a pleasant relaxing place to hang out. Crake had finished pruning the rose bushes and cutting around the edge of the lawn, where he'd looked ridiculous on his hands and knees, balls swinging.

Seldi had come out of the house for a few moments and had stuffed crickets in his chastity belt, and that had been horribly irritating and painful...but it was calm now.

But Crake was on edge, worrying he still might annoy Dusty, and she'd cancel the party.

Oh God, is that Mr. Greenbaum staring at me? Here I am teetering around in my size 15 heels, my dick waving around in the belt.

Fortunately, Mr. Greenbaum was having an affair with Dusty, and was putty in her hands, so he was a docile neighbor, and he just grinned, and sipped iced tea on his own deck.

Crake lowered his head in humiliation. And his penis expanded more in the little barbed wire.

The cage, commissioned by Dusty, had been constructed from pieces of a barbed wire fence, put together by F.X. "Cope" Copeland, the handyman at the Pain Café's Dungeonopolis Gift Shop.

Now Dusty reached over and ran her nails slowly up and down Crake's wavering penis, her little fingertips beneath the pink nails, tickling Crake's member.

"Todd Greenbaum really is amazed that you are such a ladyboy queer-oh. Remember, you used to scream at him about putting his garbage cans away? You can't bully him now, I told Todd he can take his belt to you if he likes."

Crake's face turned very red and his penis swelled further.

"Look at that bloated wee-wee." Dusty said softly as she stroked the sensitive underside of Crake's puffed and distended member.

Dusty had instructed Cope to leave a two inch wide spot when he constructed the cage to expose Crake's frenulum, the "sweet spot" beneath the head...

And, rubbing a little spit between her fingers, Dusty stroked it madly until Crake's legs wobbled.

"C'mon, Crakie...stay home the next time Todd Greenbaum comes over to fuck me and you can lick my juices off his cock, that would be an honor, wouldn't it? You could suck his balls, which Chris Rock always says men die for."

"Whatever you want, Miss Dusty."

The pain...the passion...the pain..oh God. Crake's penis began pushing, attempting to pop the bars of the cage open.

"I love playing with this big engorged vein here. I hope I don't cause you a groin-ish aneurism. Of course we could just cut off your cock and you could be my transgender eunuch, what do you think of that?"

Crake knew he could not ask her to stop rubbing his now insane stiffie, but the arousal and pain was so intense, he dropped to his knees, and then Dusty, with a musical laugh, let go.

Of course Crake wanted to ask Dusty to continue the teasing hand job, but to please remove the cage, but she had to want to take the cage off of her own avail.

If Crake told her to remove it, Dusty would get icy and miffed and sometimes refuse to touch his cock for weeks, leaving the cage on, and parading around in her miniskirt as Crake followed her, begging...

Tears streaming down his face, as she ignored him. This also amused the daughters, Salem and Selden as they gazed at this spectacle over their Iphones.

They really couldn't have friends over, but home was certainly not boring!

And of course even if Crake's dick hurt, pressing against the cruel barbed wire of the cage, it was still glorious having Dusty rub her fingers all over his trapped groin.

Sometimes Crake, in the bathroom at work, would toy with his caged dick on the commode, but it was an alternating struggle between agony and ecstasy...

Dusty had let go of Crake's cock, and he rose, his balls feeling leaden. The backed-up semen of six weeks, which rose more and more with his wife's manual teasing, made it feel like he could barely stand.

Dusty looked at Crake, biting her lip to resist further mirth. "Crake, you okay? Anything bothering you?"

Crake shook his head wanly. Today was the Buttermilk Bowl!

Dusty normally forbade televised sports, although she was a coach for the Pain Café's Shorn Lambs, naked slave boys who played rugby with the testicle kickers sponsored by Dyke's Leatherwear in Buttermilk East Village.

Wearing her coach's cap, Dusty would tease Crake. "Isn't this exercise enough without you watching college football?"

And of course as the center forward of the Shorn Lambs, Crake had had his nuts turned into mush time and again.

Yes, Dusty disdained sports, and had always been sad that her father had ignored the family in pursuit of sports in each season...

Even before their relationship had turned into a femdom experience, Dusty had demanded that Crake limit his sports viewing to the Superbowl, but now he got nothing...and it was very important that he get to have this party.

Dusty had been worn down by Crake's pleas this year, and her hopeful spouse was going to be able to view his alma mater, Buttermilk State in their championship!

There had been quite a few hoops for Crake to jump through to get his wife in a generous enough mood to allow this.

Crake had been forced to deep clean the entire house, including grouting out the bathtub, hand washing curtains in stinging Woolite, and scrubbing the garage floor on his hands and knees.

Crake had also been required to suck off Dusty's boyfriend Rex, and bisexuality had been a hard pass for him in the last few years. But he used his safe word no more for it, as he needed the football party badly.

"You are becoming my pain slut over this, honey." Dusty had observed one night.

Rex, a lackadaisical janitor of the Buttermilk Falls Tabernacle still called Crake, who was temple Senior Warden, "Mister Ingledew.

Yes, even after getting blown, and after Crake had served Dusty and Rex breakfast in bed!

"He ain't goin' to poison us, is he, Mrs. Ingledew?" It was too much for the humble custodian to wrap his head around, this cuckolded submissive thing.

Rex had banged many of the choir and Ladies Aid of the church, and he was aware some husbands tolerated this as long as it wasn't discussed.

But breakfast in BED?

Then, of course, Rex had been asked by Dusty to give Mr. Ingledew a little discipline with her "Persuader" a cut off piece of garden hose that resembled a South African police baton.

Since, of course Rex had a strong right arm from all that mopping and pew shifting.

Gee,Mr. I. cried easily...he's a real sissy bitch. No wonder Mrs. I. puts all that blue eye-shadder on him.

It had been difficult for Crake to endure taking a whipping from a maintenance man, but it had been an exhibition for new members of Dominas Anonymous-a Dungeonopolis Gift Shop group.

In a way, the whipping had made Crake mad with lust and it was amazing how low he could go just because he wanted to watch a college football team play with his friends.

Another hideous moment was when Dusty hosted a one woman BDSM comedy show at Terwilliger's supper club in Samburg County...where she whipped, spanked, and tweaked Crake onstage.

Dusty had also given Crake an enema with jalapeno peppers and made him dip his cock in a jar of angry hornets that had been collected by the town entomological society.

After the show, Crake had assumed they would both dress and go downstairs to enjoy the after-party, but Dusty had merely bound the naked Crake to a table leg in the stage manager's office, before changing into an evening gown and going downstairs to party with her fans.

It had made Crake feel like he was a kept dog, or something, but thinking about how he'd been treated, while he was tied to the table, had made his penis stretch and spread in the cage until he'd cried.

Crake, with the promise of Dusty's consideration of the possible football party, as she'd said he could invite his old college pals, if he earned the privilege, had allowed his anus to be an active volunteer at Fist Fuckers of Buttermilk County.

His poor asshole was ravaged by a group of muscular Leatherman who just loved expanding Crake's rectum. One of these fellows had had to work in Crake's car wash, and said "This really will help you to not be so anal retentive"

Crake usually would have balked at all this. When Dusty had let an air conditioning repairman pee in his mouth, he just swallowed the stinging liquid manfully.

When Dusty used a saucepan for paddling, which was in violation of the slave contract as being too cruel (and culinary) Crake went along...because he really, really wanted to have the reunion of the boys.

When Dusty had tied Crake to a beam in the garage and let her girlfriends take turns shooting his cock and balls with the Daisy Air Rifle he'd had since seventh grade, he'd almost said, "Forget it, no football game is worth this" The stinging metal balls had really made him almost rethink this...but he so loved football.

Crake had never made the team at Buttermilk State, he was too bloated from drinking, cocaine and cigarettes. but he loved watching them! He had to see the game!

Crake was truly desperate to watch the game, to see the fellows, and although he loved and was tremendously aroused by being Dusty's sissy-boy, sometimes he just wanted to be a regular guy who wore jeans and burped with the fellows.

Dusty had made Crake give up his poker games, his golf outings, windsurfing and so many other things. She felt that Crake should be devoted to her and the daughters.

Often, when she got sick of watching Crake mooch around, and there was no housework, Dusty would put Crake in a dog kennel in the basement, order him not to soil himself, and have a nice party or play a little poker herself...

At the appointed time, Crake looked questioningly at Dusty. It was fifteen minutes to kick off and the guys would be coming.

Dusty nodded with a sigh. "Your friends are coming, right? I'll make myself scarce, al that guy stuff."

Crake was jubilant. Even standing there in his stockings and heels, cock locked...glitter polish on the nails of his chubby fingers (he'd have to get that off immediately) he was happy.

For an afternoon, he could munch chips and trade jokes...and be a guy!

The last time they went to a barbecue at Crake's brother's place, Crake had gotten a little loud arguing about politicians, and Dusty had quietly gone and cut a long switch from a nearby willow tree, and yup, Crake's pants had come down and he'd been thrashed until his bare buttocks were fresh with long weals.

His dick had been lunging, though, and his relatives were quite amazed, as Dusty had ordered Crake, post whipping, to just kneel with his pants down as the barbecue continued. Kneeling silently...with tears running down his cheeks...

And of course when they got home, Crake had carried Dusty upstairs in his arms and licked her to many orgasms, holding her close and telling her how much he loved her and cherished her discipline.

But turned on as that experience made him, (and relieved that he was no longer invited to his brother's barbecues, they were annoying) Crake was glad he would have a nice break from the femdom stuff.

Dusty smiled at Crake. "You sure worked for this. Just so you understand how you're putting me out though, I probably will keep you locked up for about ninety more days..."

Although Crake's heart turned over at all the extra chastity time, he was so grateful for his privileges. He dropped to his knees and kissed Dusty's shoe.

"Thank you, Miss Dusty for giving me this privilege. It means so much to me. Ralphie, Whitey and Smitty were my close buddies in my frat, and it's old home week. Smitty's coming all the way from Saudi Arabia, where he's been stationed for a bunch of years, and you'll meet him for the first time.

Crake breathed inwardly. This was going to be so much fun! "Thank you again, and I always want to be your devoted submissive, I will not ask for anything else for..."

"You made the sale, okay? Shut up." Dusty gave Crake a severe look as he knelt in front of her. "You will be drinking the beers with the yellow tabs, right?"

Dusty frowned upon alcohol consumption (though she drank like a fish) and she'd filled one six pack with her urine, and a few of Rex's cigar butts. She'd sealed them up with yellow tabs, and Crake could drink those while the guys had Heineken.

"Yes, of course, Mistress" Crake could see Dusty trying to suppress a smile, watching her pudgy husband kneeling with that hopeful smile, and his penis waggling around in the cage, still pushing hard, as she was a babe...

Dusty had really been surprised years ago when Crake had begged her to put him in chastity...but it seemed to be working out rather well, no?

"Great. Well, have at it."

Crake turned to open the screen door to go inside.

"Where are you going? No one's here yet, Crake. The guys will be coming in about twenty minutes, but you can hang here with me, hon."

Crake looked lovingly at his dominant princess.

"Honey, I'm just getting dressed for when they come."

"No you're not." Dusty shook another ciggie from her pack and snapped her fingers. Crake dropped to his knees again, (painfully) opening his mouth wearily as Dusty flicked the burning old butt just above his tongue.

Wincing from the burn, and his stomach turning from the disgusting cigarette-trash in his mouth, Crake lit the fresh cancer stick for Dusty.

Becoming a human ashtray had been a real chore for Crake, but again, he was trying to make his lady happy...the football game and all.

"I have to get the polish off my nails and get dressed, Dusty. I can't let the guys see me like this." But, sensing what was to come, Crake's heart began sinking and his dick started swelling in its stifling barbed prison.

"You're not getting dressed. The glitter polish stays on your nails till Monday morning, when you go to work, although I think your employees already know what a wimpy little faggot you are.