tagFetishWife in Control Ch. 03

Wife in Control Ch. 03


This is the third chapter in the story of my submission to my wife for punishment for failure to control my orgasm. My full offer of punishment for my transgression is fully set out in the first chapter for your reference. Each part of this story is true and is told as it actually occurred. As with the previous chapters, my wife told me to let the readers know that she welcomes your feedback and welcomes any suggestions that you may have of further cruelties and humiliations that I should suffer under her control. She thanks you for your input, and I am both fearful of and excited by your creativity.

This sissy needs to learn her pleasure to resist,
by taking your hand in my ass all the way to the wrist.
Corseted and stockinged like a true strumpet,
made to perform as your anal hand puppet

On Friday, my beautiful wife was up early for a meeting. Given vigorousness of the past two evening's activities in service to my queen, I thought she might take the night off to rest. I was certainly in need of rest since I had trouble sleeping because of the intensely heightened sexual arousal caused by her control and denial. Trying to sleep in the satin chemise clearly exacerbated this effect. Waking with swollen, aching balls, I showered, carefully shaving my legs and body smooth as she required. Returning to the bedroom, I quickly discovered that there would be no break.

I found a pair of white satin panties with a pair of travel buff Silk Reflections control top pantyhose on the bed. There was also a note instructing me that, although it might be casual Friday, I was going to be dressed as a proper young businesswoman underneath my casual Friday slacks. Although filled with fear of being discovered at work, I obediently eased the panties up my legs to my waist, adjusting them so that they cupped my cock and swollen, heavy balls. Carefully rolling the pantyhose to the toe with my hands, I pulled them over each foot, one after the other, and eased them up my legs and up to my waist. The additional compression on my cock roused the mounting butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I paused briefly, relishing the silken feeling of the pantyhose on my legs. My slacks slid smoothly over my pantyhose covered legs as I pulled them up. The cool sensation of fabric sliding over the silky smooth hose caused a further flutter of excitement. I pulled my socks over my stockinged toes and prepared to face the day with my silky secret constantly reminding me of my desperation and depravity.

By the end of the day, the sexual tension enveloped me in an edgy pink fog. That evening I had planned on cooking my wife a gourmet dinner, which was our usual weekend routine. When I arrived home from work crazed from the torture of the pantyhose and panties, she told me to go upstairs and change. She added, "I have left out some very dainty delights that are much more appropriate for a sissy slut trying to earn forgiveness for her lack of control." I climbed the stairs with a mixture of trepidation and titillation as I wondered what humiliations I would be forced to endure. My heart jumped with nervous desire when I looked on the bed and saw a white Victorian corset, white opaque stockings, white satin panties, and white satin 5 inch heeled evening pumps that looked like slightly slutty bridal shoes.

Fumbling with excitement, I put on the corset, hooking the fasteners all the way from my waist to the top of the corset. As you may expect by now, this was not my first time to wear a corset. It fit, but was not snug. I had no way to tighten the laces on the back. I pulled the soft opaque stockings up over my knees and high on my thighs before fastening the garters to the stocking tops. I pulled the panties on, noticing that they were made of heavier fabric that deliciously gripped my ass, cock, and balls. I slipped on the shoes, which tightly hugged my stocking feet. Buzzing with the thrill of this fancy lingerie, I sprayed on the perfume she left out for me and put on the heavy white robe that she left on the bed with the lingerie. I felt so feminine that I almost forgot the task ahead of me.

I struggled back down the stairs in my bridal lingerie and heels. When I arrived in front of my queen, she told me to remove the robe for inspection. She made me turn around, and she pulled the laces on the corset tight, squeezing my waist, straightening my posture, and constricting my lungs. Newly corseted into a feminine hourglass, I felt delightfully erotic in feminine bondage. I cooked dinner for her while she enjoyed a few cocktails to unwind from a hectic week. As she watched me try to cook in 5 inch heels, she told me I was a slutty bride who did not deserve to wear white and I should be nervous about tonight because I was about to feel like a real virgin bride. Her words exacerbated the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I cleaned up from dinner and prepared to follow her upstairs.

After finishing in the kitchen, I teetered up the stairs and found her sitting on the bed. She told me that, while I had adequately completed my first two acts of contrition, she was still very disappointed in me. She said she knew I was probably just being poetic in my verse about taking her entire hand in my ass all the way to her wrist, since, in previous attempts, I had worked my way up to being able to take all five of her fingers, but could not get past her knuckles. She was correct because my anus was simply not capable of stretching wider to get over her knuckles when she tried to shove her whole hand in my ass. Shaking her head in disappointment, she said that nasty girls with no self control should not tease people with promises that they cannot keep. She laughed mischievously, telling me that she had dressed me as a virgin bride, because tonight I was going to be faithful to my promise and take her hand all of the way to her wrist. If I failed, she would try again once a week for as long as it took to fulfill my sissy vow. She added that I would have no hint of stimulation to my hungry cock and could not move forward toward regaining the pleasure of her touch until I lived up to my promise, even if it took a year without any touch for my lonely, orgasm starved cock. I was filled with sadness because I knew from my past failures that it was highly unlikely that my ass could physically stretch enough to slide over her knuckles to reach her wrist.

Then she pronounced one more condition, since my punishment suggestions were a shameless act of topping from below, she was adding a new twist to my rectum stretching task. I would have to earn each finger she gave me and her whole hand by entertaining her with confessions from my early development as a slutty girl while wearing my older sister's clothes. While I had generally described my naughty adventures in my sister's closet and panty and hosiery drawers, I had never fully confessed the embarrassing details of my depravity.

She told me to climb on the bed and prepare for my deflowering. I nervously assumed my position, tightly corseted on my stocking covered knees with my ass in the air. She emerged from the bathroom wearing a blue exam glove and carrying a large bottle of Maximus lube. She removed my panties leaving them hanging around my left ankle above the satin fuck me pump as yet another reminder of my sluttiness.

She rubbed the lube on her gloved hand and began massaging it on the outside of my asshole telling me to relax and start my efforts to earn the first finger. Craving the stimulation of her finger, I started my confession.

My fascination with women's clothing began when I pulled my then high school aged sister's ballet tights and leotard out of the laundry hamper and tried them on. I was overwhelmed with a warm, highly pleasurable sensation as the light pink tights hugged my legs and the leotard cradled my cock and balls. I wore them at every opportunity, savoring the strange warmth and titillation every one of my sissy girl brethren knows well.

She said my first story was barely adequate, but I could ask for the first finger. I calmly asked her to please stick the first finger in my ass. She slid her finger into me forcing her way through my initial tightness.

To earn the second finger, I had to share another embarrassing story. I told her that when my sister was in college at the University of Texas, I moved into her bedroom over the garage so my parents could convert my old room into a home office. Since she was only in college, it was still her room. The girly pink walls and decorations remained in place and, happily, so did the clothes she did not take with her to college. For a budding young sissy like me, it was wonderful, almost like my unknowing parents had given this budding panty boy a frilly high school girl's room as my own personal feminine playground. At night when my parents had gone to bed, I would lock the door and try on her clothes, again enjoying the warm sensation and softness and connection to my ultra feminine sister. To earn another finger, I described for my wife the thrill of pulling on my sister's cable knit private school uniform socks high up to my knees and wearing her silky panties, pointing my toes in the air as I stroked myself over the edge to orgasmic bliss, spurting into a tissue in my cupped hand. My wife deemed this acceptable and eased the second finger into my eager hole as I relaxed to accommodate it. In my sexual desperation, I relished the feeling as she slowly massaged my prostate with her fingers; giving me the closest thing to penile contact I had experience since she last touched my cock weeks ago.

My wife proclaimed I was going to have to be more forthcoming with my confessions to earn her additional fingers. Hoping to satisfy her, I shared that my sister also left a pair of white opaque knee highs in her drawer. I would put them on with a pair of white nylon bikini panties pulling the thin, feminine socks up high to my knees. In my girly knee socks and panties, I would try on the shoes that she left in her closet. I wore two shoe sizes larger than my sister, but some of her shoes were broken in enough to fit if I wore thin socks or hose to help my foot slide into them. I eased my feet into a pair of navy blue ankle strap wedge sandals with a three inch heel. They were very tight, but I could buckle the ankle strap around my ankle using the last hole on the strap. I described the naughty feeling in the pit of my stomach I experienced as I modeled the shoes in front of my sister's full length mirror. I told her I would also wear my sister's Dr. Scholl's exercise sandals, which were very popular at the time, with the dainty knee highs. People of that era will remember those iconic sandals. My sister's had a hot pink strap. I will never forget the strange, titillating thrill I felt as the thin knee socks would slide against the smooth wooden foot bed of the sandals as I walked across my sister's pink shag carpeting. She withheld her third finger telling me she was not yet satisfied with my story and sensed I was withholding something particularly shameful.

Desperate to earn the third finger and move forward toward my ultimate release, I confessed to her the last humiliating detail of this event. I described being dressed in my sister's knee socks, panties, and the Dr. Scholl's sandals. Entering my sister's attached bathroom, I crouched down to snoop through her cabinets. Between the hair products, I pulled out a half empty box of super tampons. I unfolded the sheet in the box and felt light headed with naughtiness as I looked at the diagrams showing a woman squatting slightly, inserting the tampon in her pussy, and removing the applicator. Removing the paper from one of the tampons, I squatted and pushed the front of the applicator into my ass. I pushed the end of the applicator into the front part injecting the tampon into my ass. The cottony fibers burned slightly in my ass as I removed the applicator allowing my asshole to contract around the string hanging out of my ass. The burning sensation subsided, and I began to enjoy the feeling of the tampon stuffed in my ass. I walked back to my sister's bedroom, and, taking her round lighted makeup mirror off of her dressing table, I inspected my ass with a feeling of naughty femininity. I pulled my sister's soft pink bathrobe off the hook in her closet, inhaling the smell of her favorite body powder that lingered on the robe. I rubbed the soft fabric of the robe over my pantied cock as I again admired myself in the mirror. Moving to the fluffy pink duvet covering my sister's bed, I opened the robe and propped my legs up on the foot rail so I could see my knee sock covered feet in the very girly Dr. Scholl's sandals. Pulling my cock out from the right leg opening of the white panties, I smoothed the front of the panties down over my mound, enjoying the girl like visual effect.

I squirted my sister's Lubriderm lotion into my hand, inhaling another of her familiar scents, and began rubbing my already stiff cock. The pressure of the tampon plugged against my prostate felt incredible and hastened the arrival of that familiar building of my climax. I straightened my legs, pointed my toes, and then curled them over the cool wooden bump on the front of the sole of the sandals. As I began to come, I reached around to my ass and pulled on the string of the tampon. My body exploded with a new level of pleasure as the string pulled the tampon against the inside of my asshole. I came violently as the tampon popped from my ass like a cotton anal bead.

"That is the most perverted thing I have heard in a while." My wife teased, "You really are a pitiful sissy." She told me I had earned the right to beg for the third finger. I asked her to please fill me with the third finger. She inserted it, stretching me past my comfort level as I tried to relax and accept it.

As my sphincter relaxed enough to settle around her three fingers, she told me to make my fourth sissy confession. I told her, in the mid 1980's, my very fashionable sister was a debutant. Making your debut is a big deal in Texas. She was home from college almost every weekend, shopping with her friends, attending parties, and preparing for the debut ball. She was a beautiful Texas sorority girl and most of her friends were also gorgeous, appearing in my fantasies doing many perverted acts as I obsessively jacked off while exiled to my old room for the weekend.

During this time, my sister regularly wore these wonderful Evan Picone pantyhose. They were not the typical nude pantyhose, but rather came in a variety of pastel colors, pink, baby blue, light grey, ivory, and a beautiful soft white. These expensive feeling pantyhose were softly sheer and very silky. My sister was very particular about keeping her pantyhose in perfect condition, so at the end of every weekend when she went back to college and I moved back into her room, I would find one or two pairs of her pantyhose in her bathroom wastebasket, the sheer feet sometimes draped invitingly over the edge. At night during the week, I would pull one of the discarded pair of pantyhose over my legs and high up above my waste. I would be enchanted as the silky softness of the hose encased my feet and legs and firmly squeezed my cock and balls. I would lie down on my sister's soft duvet covered bed, lift my legs up in the air, and admire the shiny softness of my pastel covered legs. By this time, I was a highly advanced beat-off artist. I would pull the waistband of the pantyhose down just below my cock and position myself over the small wooden finial sticking up about 3 inches above the foot rail of her bed. Stroking myself with my sister's Lubriderm body lotion, I pressed my ass over the finial, enjoying the pressure as my asshole crept over the finial and closed around the base. I would straighten my legs out in front of me to see and feel the pretty pantyhose stretch over my legs and feet, enjoying the feminine look. The smell of my sister's lotion, the girly surroundings of her room, and the look and feel of her pantyhose, made me feel warmly close to my favorite sister. The motion of stretching out my legs would cause my asshole to tighten around the wooden finial and trigger a wonderful orgasm as I came in my left hand rocking on the bedrail and milking my cock until it became soft in my hand.

"If your sweet sister only knew of your perverted use of her things, she would be shocked. Maybe I should tell her" my wife cruelly threatened as she inserted the fourth finger. A wave of fear passed through me as I moved my satin pumps further apart and spread my legs to accommodate the invasion of her four fingers. "Your sister and I are going to have a very interesting walk on the beach this summer when we go on vacation with the family" she threatened. "If you cannot take my whole hand to the wrist, I am going to tell her everything."

My fifth confession was not my naughtiest, but is one of my most intense and erotic memories of frolicking in my sister's clothes, lingerie, and hosiery. My sister took ballet throughout high school. While she was tall and did not have the petit frame needed for a future in ballet, images of her beauty in her ballet costumes and tights as she ripened into a woman are burned into my perverted memory. I remember how feminine she looked as a ballerina with her black hair pulled back in a bun. During her debut, one of the parties she attended was a costume ball. She dressed as a ballerina in soft pink tights and a white satin ballet costume with a wide platter tutu. I was filled with the most erotic, warm thoughts as I glimpsed her standing in her costume and tights fixing her makeup in the mirror. Her costumed friends arrived to pick her up and raved about her graceful beauty. Each one of her friends also looked amazing as they modeled their costumes for each other. One dressed in her old private school uniform complete with knee socks and saddle oxfords, another as a little girl in a short smocked dress, white tights, and patent leather Mary Jane shoes, and another obviously confident beauty dressed as a cat in a black spandex unitard that fully displayed her tight hot body. Feelings of lust battled strange feelings of envy over their girlish costumes as I retreated to the bathroom for a date with some baby oil after they left for the party.

Some months later, when my sister was back at school and my parents were out for the evening, I found her ballet costume hanging in her closet. I went to her hosiery drawer and pulled out her pale pink ballet tights, my stomach wonderfully nervous with anticipation and excitement. I stretched the tights up my legs and pulled them high up my waist. The compression from the soft tights made my cock tingle with sexual electricity. I carefully removed the costume from the hanger, careful not to crush the tutu. Unzipping the back of the costume, I carefully placed each of my tights covered legs through the openings, pulled the costume up over my waist, and carefully eased my arms through the shoulder straps, adjusting the very tight satin costume over my body. I pulled the zipper up the back as far as I could. I imagined how great it would be to have my sister there to zip me all of the way up and teach me how to be a proper ballerina. While knowing she would be horrified at my violation of her feminine things, the fantasy remains one of my favorite. I will never forget the wonderful feeling of the satin panty of the costume tightly gripping my cock and balls under the frilly tutu. I do not know what it was, but something about the structure of the costume made it perfectly grasp my tights encased cock and balls in a way I have never been able to duplicate, despite my prolific panty boy history since that time. I posed in front of the mirror, feeling like a real ballerina and uniquely united with my sister's extreme femininity. I loved the effect of the tights and tutu making my legs appear coltish and miles long. I admired myself for more than an hour stretching and prancing in a girly trance. Finally, fearing my parents would be home soon, I carefully removed the costume and hung it back in her closet. Overcome with sexual excitement and tension, I pulled the front of my sister's ballet tights down below my cock. Then, I quickly relieved myself with my sister's lotion, my juices spurting powerfully into my cupped left hand.

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