This story contains femdom and bdsm themes. If you are likely to be offended by such material please find yourself another story.
Forfeits – Chapter 1
The eight of us had known one another from our university days since when we had paired off and married. Whilst the other three girls were all desirable in their own way I knew that, in marrying Claire, I had got the pick of the crop. She was intelligent, vivacious and was blessed with a body that was almost too perfect to be true.
We were now all coming up on out thirtieth birthdays but we still kept up the ritual of organizing a dinner party every three months on a rotation basis. On that fateful evening Claire had excelled herself. She had cooked a wonderful Thai meal and was basking in compliments when I went to fetch the Trivial Pursuits board. This, too, had become customary. We had all enjoyed playing since University but there was now an added spice in that the losing couple had to carry out a forfeit. Tradition had it that the losing couple, having paid their penalty, got to choose the forfeit for the next game even though they themselves might fall victim to it.
David and Diane had lost last time round and their forfeit had been to spend a night in the hosts’ guest bedroom. This would not have been too bad except that the bedroom was in the process of being redecorated and there was not a single scrap of furniture or carpeting. When we met up the following day David and Di did not look at all happy and Claire suspected that they would chose a harsh forfeit on the basis that they were unlikely to lose twice in a row.
I poured some more wine and set up the board.
“Okay, so what’s the forfeit?”
Di looked across at her husband and smiled before opening her handbag. She took out what appeared to be a steel tube. It was about three inches long, an inch and a half in diameter and girded by three flexible notched belts. She placed it into the middle of the board and everyone immediately craned forward.
“What the hell is it?”
Di seemed to take great delight in explaining.
“It’s a male chastity tube. It will fit all sizes unless one of you boys really has a surprise in store for us.”
We all laughed but I sensed an undercurrent of unease. Several of the past forfeits had been a little risqué but this one seemed to be a shade more sinister. Claire asked the obvious question.
“What about you David? Are you prepared to wear it for a night if you lose?”
“Of course – and you and Peter can be keepers of the key if you like.”
Adele, our self-appointed champion of fair play piped up.
“How do we know there isn’t a spare?”
Di answered her.
“You can use a padlock of your own choosing – as long as it’s a reasonable size.”
I guess, in retrospect, that it was machismo that made us play along with it. None of us wanted to wimp out in front of the others. Di picked up the dice cup to start the game and then dropped her bombshell.
“Oh, by the way, it has to be worn for a fortnight; after all, it has to be a forfeit for both partners.”
I was willing one of the others to protest but it did not happen and before I knew it the die were cast and the game began. Over the years that we had played I guess that Claire and I had probably paid the fewest forfeits, not least because of Claire’s phenomenal range of general knowledge, and that night we got off to a good start. I thought that we were going to win at a canter but then, unusually for her, Claire made a couple of careless errors. Even I knew the answers but we had to answer alternately and I was not allowed to prompt. About an hour into the game we were in third place and Claire drew “Arts and Literature”. The question was on Hemingway and I gave a silent cheer; Claire had finished reading the book just the previous week. I looked across at Patrick, who now seemed doomed to pay the forfeit, and it was a second or two before I realized that Claire had answered wrongly.
I looked at her aghast but she just shrugged her shoulders and mouthed a silent apology.
On the next go Patrick and Petra answered correctly to go ahead of us and then, on their turn, Mark and Adele won and, because they had been the last to start, the game was over. I sat there bemused and tried to digest the implications. Di, meanwhile, picked up the tube.
“Time to get you dressed Peter.”
Claire turned to her.
“Who’s going to put it on?”
“Well we can’t trust you or the boys. He might get their sympathy vote.”
In the next few seconds the atmosphere was as strained as I had ever known it to be in our small group. Over the years there had always been some innocent flirting, as you would get with any group of people who had come to know one another so well, and before we settled on our established pairings we had dated in different combinations, but there had never been any suggestion of intimacy once they were settled. I hoped that one of the men might protest because Claire was certain to and I did not want her cast in the role of spoilsport. Di rose from the table.
“Come on Peter, we’ll do it in the bedroom. Adele and Petra can come and ensure fair play.”
I waited for Claire to blow a fuse. One of her few bad points is her quick temper and Diane must have realized that she had pushed it too far. I looked at my wife and prayed that she would remain diplomatic but there was a curious half smile on her face and when she spoke it was with an unmistakable hint of amusement.
“Don’t be too long. I’ll be timing you.”
I now looked at Mark and Patrick hoping for rescue from that quarter. I was sure that they would not let their wives get this heavily involved in Diane’s devilment but I could see that they too were nervously excited and curious.
Looking back, I should have risked their derision and called a halt right there but I suppose that I still believed that Diane would not go through with it. She took me by the hand and pulled me from my seat and the others cheered mockingly as she led me to the stairs. Less than a minute later I was in my own bedroom with my three closest female friends and Diane was locking the door.
“The moment of truth Peter. Get undressed.”
“Di, you’re not serious? We’re going to go back downstairs and pretend that I’m wearing it right?”
“I’m very serious. No one’s ever reneged a forfeit up to now.”
She was right but then no one had ever been asked to do anything quite so outrageous before. I decided to call her bluff. I’ve got a good body. I row and play tennis and my Mediterranean ancestry has left me with dark, healthy, complexion. I also knew that I had nothing to fear in the manhood stakes as, like me, my three friends were fairly averagely endowed. I started to unfasten my belt betting with myself that Adele would be the one to break ranks. She is our paragon of virtue and easily embarrassed but she stood quietly as I dropped my trousers.
“It will be easier if you take your shirt off.”
Diane’s matter-of-fact tone was getting to me but I removed my clothes until I was standing in just my designer boxer shorts. They had all seen me in swimwear in the past and I had a feeling that this was the break point. I expected them to laugh, tell me I was a good sport, and call it a day.
“Take them down Peter.”
I looked for a hint of a smile but Diane was in deadly earnest and now I was in trouble. All three of them were looking down at my groin and it suddenly began to appreciate the attention. I hesitated as I felt the familiar stirrings but Diane was impatient; before I could react she reached forward and tugged my shorts down. I covered myself with my hands but there was no disguising my excitement.
“Well, well. We’re pleased to see you too. Take your hands away Peter”
“Look, Diane, let me go into the bathroom and put it on.”
“No deal. Let’s see the goods.”
I dropped my hands but now it was with a perverse sense of pride.
“Very nice Peter but you’re going to have to lose it. Adele. Your wine glass will do.”
Petra and Adele had brought their glasses upstairs with them and Adele’s, having been recently refreshed with Sancerre, was frosted with condensation. In the next few seconds my opinions concerning Adele changed forever. Far from being shy she came forward and, without another word, she knelt in front of me and touched the cold glass to my ball sac. I yelped, as much in surprise as from the shock of the cold glass. I stepped away and clutched my manhood but the glass had had the desired effect and my erection began to wilt.
“Hands behind your back Peter.”
I had the horrible feeling that things were spinning out of control but obeyed like an automaton and it was with a weird sense of detachment as I watched Diane kneel down to take hold of my manhood and slip the tube on so that only the head of my penis remained exposed.
“These three bands tighten it up.”
So saying Diane took hold of the first band and pulled it through its retaining loop. It made a clicking noise and with each click I felt the tube get a little tighter.
“Petra, you do the next one.”
Diane got up and Petra took her place. She giggled as she tightened the second band and Diane admonished her.
“Not too tight we don’t want it dropping off. Adele…”
Adele tightened the third band and, looking down at her blonde head so close to my groin, my thoughts became more lascivious but I had no time to dwell on them. Diane took Adele’s place again and I wondered what was coming next. The tube felt snug but its weight made it decidedly uncomfortable. Diane took a fourth band and threaded it through the first three, effectively locking them in place. She then passed it behind my scrotum before she pulled it through its own retaining loop on the tube.
“Adele, would you get the padlock out of my handbag.”
Adele did as she was asked. The padlock was small, almost flimsy looking, which was reassuring, but the added weight as Diane clicked it into place was significant.
“Di I’m not comfortable with this.”
“Don’t worry, the instructions said that it takes an hour or so to get used to it after that your body adapts to the weight.”
I thought that was a little optimistic but it did not matter. I had already decided that it was coming off at the earliest opportunity. The girls left me, laughing as they went, and I got dressed quickly and followed them downstairs. The boys cheered as I came back into the room and they insisted on a quick flash. Needless to say the remainder of the evening comprised almost entirely of a series of double entendres at my expense and, whilst I smiled along, my tolerance was getting ever thinner. Finally the time came to say goodbye and Di took great delight in flourishing the key before she got into the car and David drove off.
Claire quickly set about gathering glasses and went through to the kitchen to load the dishwasher. In the meanwhile I slipped into the garage. I am definitely not a DIY enthusiast and I keep just enough tools to carry out the odd running repair about the house. It seemed odd, standing there in the chill air under the harsh fluorescent lights with my trousers around my ankles, but I wanted to get it over with before I went to bed. My first thought was to pry open the padlock but now, on closer inspection, I could see that it was so close fitting that I could not insert the blade of the screwdriver. It was frustrating but I was not unduly worried. The padlock was no larger than my thumbnail and it was bound to yield to brute force. Unfortunately, its size proved my undoing. I could not get a good enough grip on it to yank it free.
I could hear Claire moving around in the bedroom overhead and knew that it would only be a matter of moments before she began wondering where I was. My final option was to use a saw. As it happened the only one I possessed was a small hobby saw which should have been perfect for the job. I decided to attack the narrow band which held the tube around my scrotum but two things quickly became obvious. Firstly, the saw had been used and abused over a number of years and the blade was long past its best. Secondly, and perhaps more telling, I could not get a good angle of attack at least not without hurting myself.
I swore under my breath and threw the saw down. It would be easy if I could get someone else to do the job but it was going to be slower than I anticipated and there was no way Claire was going to start on it so late in the evening. I pulled up my trousers, turned off the light, and went upstairs.
Claire was in the en suite brushing her teeth and so I got myself undressed. I always sleep naked but, catching sight of myself in the mirror, the tube made me look so absurd that I dug out a clean pair of boxer shorts and slipped them on. I joined Claire in the bathroom and, as I reached for my own toothbrush, she caught my eye in the mirror.
“Why are you wearing those?”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Take them off … I’m not going to be wearing a nightdress.”
She said it seductively and ran a finger down the centre of my chest.
“Claire, why the hell did you get that question wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that we were going to lose so quickly.”
“You mean you did do it deliberately?”
“We’ve won the last three times and we were all set to win again. It takes all the fun out of it for everyone else.”
“What about the bloody forfeit?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t deliberately trying to come last I just wanted someone else to win. Besides I didn’t think for a minute that Di was actually serious. Look, if you feel that badly about it, we’ll get it taken off tomorrow.”
She gave me her little girl smile and then went back into the bedroom. I surreptitiously watched her in the mirror as she undressed and, as I had countless times before, I thought myself a lucky man. Claire is tall and stands only a couple of inches shorter than my own six feet. Her height is in her long legs and that evening she was wearing black stockings and suspenders which was a combination always designed to fire up my libido. As she pulled her silk evening dress over her head my eyes dropped downwards and that’s when it hit me. As Diane had said the discomfort of the tube had dulled to a background ache, which was not dissimilar to the feeling you got when lying in bed and not giving in to the urge to go to the toilet, but now my manhood was trying to follow it’s blind instincts and the pain was suddenly like a kick in the balls. I winced and clutched at my groin but Claire remained unaware. The pain passed within a few seconds but I realised that I was going to have to be careful until the tube came off.
I brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face but decided that a shower could wait until the morning. When I went through into the bedroom Claire was as good as her word but not in a way that I had anticipated. She was not wearing a nightdress but was, instead, lying on top of the bed in her red silk underwear and still in stockings. Usually, after a night with the gang, things would go one of two ways. Either we would end up making love, borne up by the bonhomie that the evenings engendered, or, slightly more often, we would both have too much to drink and would be happy just to snuggle up and go off to sleep.
I had assumed, given the circumstances, that this would be a night to snuggle but Claire clearly had other ideas. She knew full well that my penchant for women in classy underwear, and more especially her, would fire me up but I do not think she was ready for my reaction as I grunted with pain and sat down heavily on the end of the bed.
“Oh, sorry babe, I didn’t realise ….”
She sat forward and we both looked down at my groin. The head of my penis was literally throbbing, as its attempt to come to an erection was thwarted, and I felt each pulse as a dull cramping pain. When I replied I could not keep the edge from my voice.
“What did you expect?”
She reached down and took hold of the tube.
“I thought, you know, that it was just a piece of jewellery. I didn’t think that it would stop you functioning.”
She had that tone of genuine tenderness in her voice that I found impossible to resist and she ran a thumb gently across the angry red head of my penis. Her hands were cool and the relief was almost immediate but within a few seconds the pain returned as my body reacted to her ministrations in a different way and made a renewed attempt to rise to the occasion. I winced as I took her by the wrist and moved her hand away.
She looked at me slightly puzzled.
“You’re joking aren’t you? Surely it’s not that bad.”
She could see from my face that I was in earnest and she put her arm gently around my neck and pulled my head down onto her shoulder.
“Oh, you poor babe.”
She began to stroke my hair and then she lay back taking me with her. We lay for few seconds with me breathing in her perfume and watching the steady rise and fall of her breasts and then, almost without thinking, I slipped my hand into the silky confines of her bra and my fingers sought out her nipple. I was surprised to find that it was already solidly aroused as I pinched it gently between my finger and thumb and Claire shuffled her body slightly to allow me easier access.
She closed her eyes as she said it and relaxed more deeply into the counterpane. For my part I flexed my hand, turning the bra cup aside, and then I rose over her to take the hardened teat into my mouth. I have always loved her breasts, so perfectly shaped and weighted, with their dark clearly defined nipples but I had barely started to tease her with my tongue before my groin renewed its complaints and I could not help but groan.
Claire misread the signals and she put her hand to the back of my head and pulled me more firmly onto her breast. I squirmed to try and get myself free but that only compounded her misunderstanding. She shifted slightly up the bed whilst at the same pushing my head downwards. I half twisted and used a little more force but Claire turned with me lifting her hips at the same time. I found my face pressed into her panties and I was shocked to find that they were sodden.
Claire is normally slow to come to the boil and I fleetingly wondered what had gotten her so aroused but then, in another new departure, she began to rub herself against my face. Now, whilst I like women in underwear, it is in the aesthetic sense of glamour poses, the idea of being so up close and personal with my wife’s panties had no great appeal, but Claire obviously saw it differently.
“Lick me …”
I was so taken aback by this unusually forthright approach that, for a moment, I forgot my own difficulties. I eased my hands under the side straps of her panties so that I could slip them off but Claire pressed a little more firmly on the top of my head.
“Leave them on …”
Now we were really entering uncharted territory. This was something she had not asked me to do before and my immediate reaction was to say no and laugh it off. Cunnilingus was never my favourite activity and I usually only enjoyed it in the context of a classical soixante-neuf, when I could lose myself in my own pleasure, but then I felt a pang of guilt about our recent difficulties; if I did as she wanted I would earn myself a few bonus points and, one thing was for certain, I was not going to get turned on by it.
Claire laid back with one leg stretched and the other drawn up and I settled in between them. This left me uncomfortably half on half off of the bed but I did not intend to be long about it. Now that I could see her panties they looked distinctly unedifying. There was a damp stain which not only covered her crotch but also most of the back of them and the unmasculine thought, that we were going to ruin the counterpane, entered my head