The Conversion Ch. 01 - Abdication

There comes a threshold beyond which abandonment is finally achieved.

"You can light this now." It was an innocuous statement, delivered in a slightly annoyed tone of voice, justified by my lengthy pause while I contemplated the situation. I heard her give me permission, in the same way that she might have said, "you can cum now." I seemed to be doing that a lot lately, assuming sexual overtones where none were intended.

My perceptual misappropriation of mundane dialogue had been increasing in frequency ever since Erin and I had begun testing the limits of our curiosity about Domme/sub relationships. But my conversion was not the boner-inducing rocket ride I had been anticipating. It was a process. Don't get me wrong, neither of us were complaining. I was working at relinquishing control and giving myself permission to submit to a female-led version of sexual release. Not an insignificant aspiration, considering the depth of my previous commitment to male-dominated coitus.

My wife Erin was finding herself delighted with the results of assuming a more assertive role in our relationship. She appeared to be blossoming with characteristic panache and abandonment. Her enjoyment was contagious and surprisingly, I found myself eager to satisfy her wants, rather than simply using her to satisfy mine as had previously been the case. She was discovering some different ways of behaving too, like taking advantage of me to fulfill her own fantasies. She told me that turning the tables on me was enlightening, in terms of taking pleasure like she hadn't imagined possible before. Erin was finding the experience more than a little self-rewarding, so she decided that daily practice was preferable, even necessary, to achieve our goals.

"The splif?" she reminded me. "Pay attention honey. You look like you're preoccupied with something other than me," she joked.

I leaned over and lit the end of the joint. I felt my cock tingle. I told her. She looked at me for a long thoughtful minute, her eyes half-closed. Then she blew a column of smoke in my face.

"Take your clothes off." She watched me decide to obey. Then she watched me strip.

My conversion to sub status involved achieving a number of shared objectives. One of our goals was my unquestioning obedience where sex was involved. We had agreed that my moods and preferences would have no bearing on my compliance. I would do what I was told, when she told me and for as long as she wanted me. She agreed not to over-demand obedience at inappropriate times. But she had the final decision concerning when, where and for how long we had sex. She also insisted on controlling my orgasms. I was simply not allowed to cum without her supervision.

I stood naked waiting for instructions. She inspected her naked man from face to feet, finally indicating with a gesture that I should adopt a wider stance. I spread my legs about three feet apart and clasped my hands behind me, like I had been taught. My erection was so hard it was almost painful. She ignored my boner and got straight to the point, no pun intended.

"So let me see if I have this straight. You started to get horny over having my permission to do some inane thing that you wanted to do anyway? That's interesting. Know what I think? I think you're starting to get turned-on by following orders. You stripped just now because I told you to, and complying made you hard. Look at your cock. I haven't even touched it and it's twitching with anticipation. Do you know what that means to me?" She wanted to know.

"No, I don't," I admitted.

"No, I guess you don't. Maybe that's because you are just a stupid sex-slut, good for fucking but that's about it. Well, perhaps that's not important. Maybe you don't need to understand. Maybe you just need to do what you're told. Stand closer." I shuffled nearer the woman who decided when or even if, I could cum. She was right. I didn't need to understand anything. We already discussed this. I just needed to do what I was told and stay hard, that's all. Simple. Even a fuck-toy like me could remember that.

Her eyes traveled up and down my body. I could see by her expression that she liked what she saw and that made me feel accomplished, like I was providing her with the means to satisfy her lust. I was her tool. Her hand trailed across my stomach and down my thigh. The tips of her fingers traced the length of my erection then left it quivering. Leaving me stiffer and waiting for attention, she stepped back and appraised her work.

"I've been giving your inability to comply with my 'no-playing with yourself' rule some thought," she began. I started to protest but she cut me off.

"Oh don't bother," she said. "I know you can't help it and I don't blame you, I'm just trying to problem-solve a barrier here." Erin reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small metal device. I knew what it was. I could not be trusted to leave my cock alone, so she would make sure I was unable to disobey. She was going to keep me locked up when I wasn't being used.

"Technically it's a male chastity device but I call it a man-cage. It will ensure that no other hands but mine touch your cock, including yours. I'm sure you can imagine what an advantage this will give me in establishing control, right?" Erin cocked her head to one side and dangled the little cage in her fingers provocatively. I nodded my head but said nothing.

We have discussed this option before," she reminded me. "At that time you were pretty much in favor of whatever was going to heighten your arousal. Is that still the case?" She flipped the cock cage casually in her hand, waiting for me to finish extrapolating what this might mean for me. But I had already been anticipating the deprivation, the craving for release, the need to submit to anything just to feel her hand on my cock.

"I mean, I like the idea myself but I'm not the one who will be wearing it while I'm swollen and desperate." The corners of her mouth curved up a little as she imagined what that might feel like for me. "Still, with this thing on you I know for sure you're not cheating and you can't give in to temptation, doesn't matter how horny you get." She produced a tiny lock and key. "I'll wear this key on the ankle bracelet you bought me last year. So you'll know where to find release," Erin grinned.

I blew out some air and nodded. "Ok, let's do it. It's tough not bringing myself off after you have had your fun and put me away hard," I admitted. Erin smiled, knowing my compliance was a foregone conclusion.

"Do I need to handcuff you or are you capable of restraining yourself while I fit you into this?" Erin asked, while she opened the lock on a very short, curved metal cage. I stared at the cock cage, apprehension apparent on my face.

"Clasp your hands on top of your head," Erin instructed. "Shove your hips toward me and stay still. Hmm, we're going to need to get rid of that boner first." Using my stiff cock as a handle she pulled me toward the fridge. Five minutes later an ice pack softened my cock enough to work with.

Her fingers moved quickly and almost before I knew it, a metal ring was slipped over my genitals and my cock was forced into a permanent non-erect shape, but the cage left my balls free to play with. The tiny lock snapped shut and I watched her clip the key onto her ankle. It felt comfortable as long as my cock was soft. But then she weighed the whole caged package in the palm of her hand and I felt my dick try to stiffen.

"Erin, can we try this after you let me cum please?" My cock ached and it filled the little metal cage. "Please Erin," I begged, but there was no use.

"I think that's all for today," Erin replied. "Put your pants back on, it's almost time to go. We are meeting Linda for drinks this evening at that local bar we were curious about. Remember the place?"

I remembered a crowded little place with more than a few female patrons that might cause me to wish I hadn't agreed to this mechanical solution to my lack of will power. But it was too late to argue exacerbating circumstances. In fact I suspected we were going out with Linda exactly because Erin wanted to watch me squirm while she withheld my relief.

"What's the matter honey? Don't you want to have a few drinks with two attractive women while your cock is locked up?" Her smile deepened and her hand slid down to my crotch and fondled my exposed balls affectionately. "Just imagine how it will feel when the cage gets removed." She squeezed and was rewarded with a grunt. "No underwear for you tonight. Wouldn't want to lull you into believing everything's normal. I'm sure you'll agree David, normal is about to become a distant memory."

The bar was crowded for a weekday. Fortunately Linda had arrived earlier and had saved a couple of seats at a small table close to a three-piece band that was already playing. In my hyper-aroused state it seemed to me that the women must have agreed beforehand to deliberately wear boner-inducing clothing. Erin's athletic frame was wrapped in a loose-fitting, low-cut dress that barely concealed her braless breasts. Her friend chose to wear jeans that might have been spray-painted onto her perfect thirty-something year-old ass, along with a cut-off T-shirt that hung off her tits like a napkin draped over a desert tray. I felt my cock swell, but there was nowhere to go with that. It was an odd, strangely pleasurable discomfort. We snuggled in, knee-to-knee, shouting over the music.

"Hey Dave, want to dance?" Linda yelled over the clamor of a bunch of horny men and women trying to get laid before morning.

Dance? I barely trusted myself to walk. Linda winked at me like she knew what was going on then pulled Erin to her feet and onto the dance floor. Did my wife tell her best friend what we were doing? Did Linda know my cock was straining against the cage Erin had locked around it?

Watching Linda and Erin dance together demonstrated why our friends said they were 'hot'. Their gyrating was making me more than just uncomfortable. I squirmed against the table, helpless and getting hornier by the second while they smiled at me. I watched them do a slow bump and grind to the music as my cock tried to achieve the impossible. I knew Erin was well aware that she was torturing me. I hoped she had a plan for later, cause I sure as hell couldn't do anything about it on my own. Knowing that just made my cock try harder. The women danced like they didn't notice that I was being tormented.

Erin and Linda pulled their chairs up close on either side of me so we could hear one another over the music. But it soon became apparent that I was only a peripheral part of the conversation. The two women leaned into me as if I were a piece of furniture. On my left side Erin pressed her hands flat on my thighs, resting her weight on her arms so she could get her face closer to Linda. On my right, Linda bent her left elbow and leaned against my shoulder to get closer to Erin. Her fingers played absent-mindedly with my hair while she chatted with her friend. I suspect she was not unaware of what she was doing. Her other hand braced her weight against my right thigh. After an hour or so of chatting, with Linda almost sitting on top of me and deliberately bouncing her tits in my face, Linda leaned into me again to yell at Erin over the music. "We're still getting together tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"Absolutely," Erin assured her friend. "Come over at one, we'll have a drink or two by the pool."

Linda tilted her head sideways and smiled at me, her face inches from mine. "Will you be around David?" My throat was suddenly very dry. Linda's hand was only a few inches away from my straining, metal-encased cock. I would have done anything to close that distance right then. I tried to articulate a response, but no luck.

"Sure, we'll both be home tomorrow afternoon," Erin answered for me. Linda smiled curiously at me then pecked us both on the cheek and left.

"You like Linda, right?" Erin asked me.

"Of course, she's great. Funny, intelligent, just like you," I replied. And built for a good time, just like you, I thought. Erin sat closer to me. In the dim light her hand slipping down the front of my pants went unnoticed. I gasped. She cupped my balls.

"Hmmm, seems that cage is getting filled out tonight," she whispered. "Did you like watching Linda and I dance?" Her fingers closed around the cock cage, reclaiming ownership.

"Uh huh," I managed.

"Whose cock is this?" she whispered, tightening her grip.

"It's, uh ... it's your cock," I stammered.

"Yes it is. Now get home quickly. I want to use my cock tonight." Her breath smelled like booze but I knew she wasn't drunk, just uninhibited. I had only been allowed one drink in case this very contingency arose. She needed me to be focused on satisfying her, not inebriated.

I drove back to our place. Erin insisted I drive so she could play with me on the way home. Once in the door she collapsed into a living room chair and kicked her shoes off. I stood in the middle of the room, uncertain about what was coming next, but reasonably sure it involved me getting naked and her being satisfied. I stared forlornly at the key dangling from Erin's ankle. She leaned back into the chair and crossed her legs. The little key jingled as she swung her foot back and forth, torturing me with anticipation.

"Let's see how desperate you are. First, lose the clothes, I want to see how badly my pet needs to get out of its cage." I kicked my shoes off then stripped out of my shorts and T-shirt. Completely naked, I stood close to her, praying she would release me. She inspected her captive thoughtfully, weighing the possibilities in her hand. I spread my legs apart to give her complete unobstructed access. Erin slid a finger between my legs, under my balls and into my asshole. She pulled me closer. Her finger slid in and out of my hole like she was fucking it. I moaned, she laughed. Her other hand reached down to her ankle.

"I'm going to let you out now. Be a good boy and play with yourself like you expect to cum," she teased. "If I like what I see I might let you." My wife unlocked the cock cage and worked the metal sheath off. She left the ring where it was, encircling the base of my cock and balls.

"No point in taking the whole thing off," she giggled. "You'll be going back in the cage when I'm done." As my erection took over my senses she awarded me one of her wicked smiles and settled back, content to watch her sub struggle. "But you'll need to entertain me before I put you away, so perform, slut."

I stood in front of her, naked, hyper-aware of her undivided attention and of my historic inability to let go of my control issues. I slowly began stroking my cock.

"Wait! Walk your slut ass into the kitchen and get me a drink first." I hesitated, my cock threatened to burst out of its constraint. I knew that if I wanted release I needed to do exactly as I was told. But I felt like a cheap whore servicing a customer. As I walked by she slapped my ass.

"SMACK!" Hurry up cock-slut! Let's see that ass jiggle," she barked then laughed.

I wanted to be her slut, but I wasn't used to being stared at while I played with myself. She didn't care about my self-consciousness. For her, it was just one more barrier to my ceding control that needed to be removed. We both accepted that, but it was easier said than done.

The problem was I lost my hard-on when I was compelled to perform. What was it about being put on display and forced to produce that was simultaneously exciting and threatening? Did it matter? We reasoned that it did not. In the end, we agreed; I didn't really need a convincing rationale. I didn't need to understand my performance anxiety. I just needed to be retrained. What mattered was complying with her criteria for success. In this instance, compliance simply meant getting hard and staying that way until she was finished. For me it meant somehow morphing my performance anxiety into erotic stimulation.

I needed to perceive the situation in a way that turned me on: I wasn't being judged, I was being exhibited. I was on display for her amusement. I was proving useful to her as a slut, without any pretense at dignity; not even allowed the right to be embarrassed. I was property, a slave to her sexual preferences. Right now, my purpose was to be the hard cock she wanted.

"Let's see where you need improving," she mused. "I'd like a lot of hip action and some enthusiastic grunting from my sub, so don't be shy. For the rest of the evening you're some slut I hired. Not my husband, not my partner, not my equal," she grinned. "Your purpose will be to keep your cock hard at all times. I will take care of everything else. If I see your cock is soft you will be punished. You will be spanked until you regain your erection. Is that clear?"

"Yes Ma'am," I replied.

"Will your cock get harder if I spank you," she asked?

"Yes Ma'am, it will," I admitted.

"Only inherent sluts get hard when they're spanked," she drawled. "Did you know that?"

"No Ma'am"

"Yes, so what are you?" She cupped her hand to her ear theatrically.

"I'm a slut Ma'am," I mumbled.

"That's right. You're a natural. Begin again slut, you have stopped playing with yourself. Begin again."

I began pumping my hips hesitantly, sliding my hand up and down the stiff shaft. Faint guttural sounds snuck past my embarrassment and integrated with my bump and grind testimony to obedience. She grinned. I was performing for her.

"Stand over there in the center of the room. I want to watch you fuck for me, and I want to hear you. Keep grunting. I know it's a lot for you a stupid man-toy like you to coordinate and still keep a hard-on, but it's what I want. So do it."

She knew that treating me like her whore, good for only one thing, would help me feel degraded and used and turned on. I spread my legs further apart in the middle of the room, pushed my hips forward and fucked my hand like a paid male stripper. I moaned and made crude grunting noises. I put on an act for her.

"Get used to being on display. I intend to show you off to my instructor as a model of obedience if you can manage to obey me." She laughed and uncrossed her legs. "I'm sure Karla would love to watch you cum for her."

From three feet away I could see up her skirt. She wasn't wearing underwear. My hand pumped frantically now. My grunting became involuntary. I could feel the tension building.

"Do better! If you cum in the next 5 minutes you can lick me," she promised. She spread her legs wider and the short skirt rode up her thighs. I could see her slit. It was already wet.

"Four minutes whore." Her fingers disappeared into the hole between her legs. She was enjoying my show. We realized some time ago that setting a limit on the length of time I was allowed to make myself cum sometimes helped that process along. In addition, watching me hand-fuck myself always made her horny.

I reminded myself that I was here, on display, completely nude and fucking my hand strictly for her amusement. That thought helped me reach the edge, and then I kept on going. Unable to stop and ask for permission, my cock erupted. A jet of cum arched out of the swollen head and splattered at her feet.

She smiled and leaned back into her seat. "Good boy, crawl over here," she demanded breathlessly. "You're not done." As my cock drooled the last of its load onto the tile floor, I lowered myself and crawled through it, eager to demonstrate my subservience. She clutched handfuls of my hair impatiently and pulled me between her outstretched legs.

"We have made great progress today. You deserve a reward." Her hands snaked around to the back of my head and pressed my face against her soaked slit.

"Lick until I tell you to stop!" Her voice was throaty, demanding. Her need made me hard again. Being used gave me purpose. I immersed myself in the degradation. My mouth sucked on her opening, tonguing the hard nub, licking her sopping hole. Her thighs clamped around my head. Nothing was going to prevent her from releasing the tension she had built from using her sub.