Alternative Chastity

Sometimes a woman doesn't want her sissy to wear a chastity cage, but that still isn't reason to let his sissy clit just go free. Pantyhose are a good alternative as they hold a sissy's clit in place, prevent an erection (and thus ejaculation), but don't get in the way like a chastity cage can.

Size

Start with the regular size chastity cage, but understand that eventually you'll have to downsize. That's what we did.

They might be fake...

But they are fucking beautiful just the same!

So Small

"It's so small," she said, holding the chastity cage in her hands. "I don't know how a cock would ever fit in here."

"Too small," I asked nervously, scared of what was to come.

She looked up at me, smiled, "too small for a cock, sweetie, don't worry, you'll fit just fine."

Properly Dressed Sissy

There is NO reason a sissy shouldn't be dressed like this EVERY day (I say that, in part, because Emily are in the midst of some chastity play and I've worn lingerie and a chastity cage, daily, for the whole month).

You'd be AMAZED how respectful, compliant, and appropriate a sissy acts when she's feminized by lingerie and emasculated by a chastity cage.

Well?

"How do I look," Emily asked me, modeling the dress she was going to wear to out with her friends last night.

"Like you're going out to get hit on by men," I answered, the first thought that popped into my head.

"Yea," she smiled.

My clit tightened in the cage, not that it mattered, but I hadn't realized it was that kind of going out.

"Wait up for me," she said when she kissed me goodbye, "I've got plans for you later."


I raised my eyebrows and she knew exactly what I was thinking.


"No, sweetie," she looked down at my midsection, "not those kind of plans. I meant I have plans for this," she touched my mouth, "not that," she said, looking down again. 

Encasement = Chastity

They are saying, in effect, no, sissy, you can look, you can touch, you can lick, all for our pleasure, but that thing you want the most, to put your little sissy clit inside one of us, is NEVER going to happen.

Chastity Cage Amusement

How long has it been?

Two months.

When are you going to unlock him?

I...I don't know.

You're not.

What?

You're not going to unlock him, Eva, ever.

Trust

How can a woman be sure her husband remains faithful? Feminization and chastity are a good place to start.

Ready. Set. Go!

Before going out on a date, Jill liked to unlock her sissy cuckold's chastity cage and play a little dice game. Sissy rolled a die, then rolled it again. The numbers then represented how many seconds sissy had to play with her sissy clit and make herself cum. Once her time was up, it was back into the chastity cage, whether she made herself squirt or not.

And squirting was rare. Very rare.

See, Jill unlocked the cage, but would not let sissy remove it until her time started, so she always started with a flaccid clit, meaning anything less than thirty seconds was NEVER enough.

Tonight, sissy was lucky, very lucky. She rolled a 4 and a 6, giving her forty-six long seconds to reach an orgasm.

"Ready, sweetie," Jill asked, looking at her watch. "Set," she looked up at her sissy, to make sure she wasn't touching herself early. "Go!"

The second Jill spoke the word 'Go' sissy reached for the unlocked padlock, fumbling to remove it so she could remove the cage. Sissy was particularly excited today, she had not cum in six weeks and knew that forty-six seconds could be, should be, enough time. Barely, but enough.

Ironically, it was this knowledge, this eagerness, that was her downfall. Eager and excited, her boy clit was swollen, not erect, of course, impossible in the cage, but swollen to the edges of the hard plastic. The swelling made the cage tug against the lock, causing her to have trouble removing it. 

Second after second passed by.

"Thirty-eight seconds, sissy," Jill said when ten seconds passed, smirking watching her sissy struggle with the lock, wondering if there would be enough time. At thirty-five seconds, wasting thirteen precious seconds, the lock was off.

"Thirty seconds," she continued her countdown, just as sissy ripped the cage off, freeing her now fully soft boy clit, the pressure of the countdown ironically making her soft the second she should get hard (just as it made her hard when she should have been soft.)

The instant the cage was clear, she watched him start rubbing the tip of his boy clit with two fingers (two fingers, like any girl, all he was allowed to use).

"Twenty seconds." She watched him, watched his clit swell, slowly, too slow, knowing it would be close, knowing he needed at least fifteen seconds after he was hard to have ANY chance of cumming, knowing he knew it, too, and that would make it that much more difficult for him.

"Fifteen seconds," she said sternly. His clit was not quite there, not quite erect, close, close, but not fully. He was going to run out of time, she realized, suddenly elated. She much preferred the times he couldn't cum, preferred his attitude the next week, his desperation, his devotion to her. While she did not want to completely deny him, she wanted him to have the CHANCE to cum, she loved it when he couldn't. 

"Ten seconds, sissy," she began the countdown, sure now he would not finish. 

"Nine..." 

"Eight..."

"Seven..."

"Six..."

At six, he grunted, the grunt he should have made at ten seconds, the grunt that he was getting close, not there, but certainly close. All the better, she knew, for him to have a fighting chance to cum and lose it because of his own fumbling. Nine times out of ten, with forty-five seconds or more, he would cum, but not today, not today.

"Five..."

"Four..."

He knew it now, knew there wasn't enough time, knew he was going to have to stop in seconds, stop when he was close, so fucking close, so tantalizing close. This was the worst, the absolute worst...

"Three..."

The cage would be tight the rest of the night, the entire time his was was out on her date, he'd think of her with him, her with a man, and denied his own orgasm, he'd be wild with jealousy, envy, and lust.

"Two..."

"Please Jill," he rubbed furiously.

"One..."

"Please..."

"Stop."

Instantly, he removed his hand, knowing the consequences if he didn't. Not that it was easy, in fact, quite the opposite, stopping now, so close, so fucking close, was TERRIBLE.

Jill reached down to the floor, to where the cage had dropped, picked it up, handed it to him wordlessly. 

The looks on their faces said everything. His of crushed hopes, hers of smug satisfaction.

Dripping

Eight weeks. Eight weeks since I'd been unlocked. Eight weeks since I'd been free. Eight weeks since I'd been inside her. Eight. Fucking. Weeks.

So was it surprising?

"You're dripping," Emily giggled when I walked out of the closet, practically shaking I was so excited.

"Huh?"

"You're little clitty," she pointed to my waist, "it's dripping."

I looked down—she was right—there was a thick, goo, a small line of it, leaking out of my penis (my little clitty), leaking out of the hole in the front of the cage.

"Emily, it's been two months, of course I'm dripping, I...I'm excited."

She frowned. Fuck. What was wrong with dripping? "What?"

"You're right, I shouldn't be surprised, but..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know, Sara..."

"Em, you promised!"

"I promised to unlock you and let you cum, I didn't promise that you could do it inside me."

"Emily!"

"No, Sara, that was YOUR projection, not MY promise...my god, you're not going to last ten seconds."

"Please Emily," I mouthed.

She shook her head, "I'll let you squirt, sweetie—I promised—but NOT inside me."

I pouted. Heavily.

"Oh, honestly, don't be so melodramatic—you know you'd rather squirt into my hands like a sissy than inside me like a man," she said raising her eyebrows.

She was right, she was fucking right, of course, as badly as I wanted to be inside her, it was MUCH more exciting to me to be denied, it was MUCH more exciting to have her hands wrapped carefully around me, teasing me, touching me like a girl.

"Do you want me to unlock you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

She grinned. "After you lick me, sissy, I want to see you dripping while you're making me cum."

Does he masturbate too often

There's a relatively simple solution for that:

Bad Girl

When sissy maids misbehave, they get spanked.

The chastity cage is standard.

Love Maid Florence

Source | Slave-S11

Girlfriends

She Understands...

There is one cure for a chronic masturbator.

There is one solution for a husband who constantly begs for sex.

There is one prescription for premature ejaculation.

There is one model for establishing control in a relationship.

There is one paradigm for a sissy.

There is one template a wife must follow.

Emily left for a work meeting this morning, a week out of town, one of her quarterly things.

First, I’m in chastity. Like, still in chastity, like, fuck, I’d have to look at a calendar to figure out how long it’s been (I looked, today is day fucking 23!)

Last week I’d hinted for several days that it would mean so much to me if she would release me before she left—it got so bad that on Thursday I begged her to let me fuck her, begged her to even just unlock me and jerk me off. Of course, I picked this fight at like eleven at night when we were both tired and about to fall asleep. Needless to say, picking a fight with your wife at eleven at night and angrily asking for, almost demanding, sex, is NOT going to end well. It’s not going to end with sex.

Emily didn’t talk to me Friday. Didn’t return my phone calls. Didn’t return my texts. Didn’t come home after work on Friday until about midnight. Well, when she got home, her sissy was waiting—with flowers and a sincere apology. I apologized for starting a fight at eleven at night, apologized for being bratty and needy, but reiterated my point that it wasn’t just sex I missed, it wasn’t just cumming (I missed them both) but intimacy, too, cuddling, touching, kissing, talking.

Emily thanked me for the apology and the flowers, explained herself, agreed that whatever I felt, picking a fight at night was not acceptable. But she kissed me and cuddled me and I don’t think her hand left me all night.

So, fast forward to Saturday night, dinner, wine, candles, music, simply a relaxing environment, classic Sara seduction of Emily. And it worked!

We found ourselves in bed Saturday night, kissing, touching, smiling, giggling; my body was almost shaking with anticipation. Until just before I started to kiss my way down her stomach, on my way towards kissing her inner thighs, to licking and teasing and making her...

“Sara,” she interrupted me, “just a second.”

“You want me to stop,” I said, hurt creeping into my voice, the emotions from the last few days and weeks flowing into my mind.

“Stop, no, god no, just before you...before you start...”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate the flowers yesterday, and the apology, you wouldn’t be doing this...”

“I know,” I interrupted her, wanting to get back to what I wanted to do, knowing where it would lead.

“You should have apologized, I’m glad you understood that, you were acting like, well, a spoiled child.”

“Yes, I...I know,” I said, feeling my sexual excitement start to ebb ever so slightly, which was sometimes a relief—it took the pressure off the swelling in the cage.

“And while the flowers were nice, your behavior was completely inappropriate and disrespectful and I think you need a consequence, too.”

OH FUCK, my mind was suddenly very alert, very focused, and very scared.

“You do?”

“Don’t you?”

“I...” I started to say that I supposed, but that didn’t seem strong enough, because she was probably right, was right. “Yes,” I looked down, very aware of just what that consequence was likely to be. “We’re not going to...”

“No,” she shook her head. “I would have, I planned to, but no, not now. Not until I get back.”

“Nothing,” I asked, seeking clarification, I suppose, if she meant no sex or worse, and more likely, that she wouldn’t unlock the cage at all.

“No, sweetie, not for you, anyway, you’ll finish what you started,” she grinned, “but that stays on until I get back on Saturday.”

My stomach sank—another week? Another fucking week? Worse, she wasn’t being evil or arbitrary, like a child, the consequences for my actions flowed naturally from my actions themselves. There’s a time and place for everything and that fight was the wrong time and the wrong place. I fought about being unlocked so I was not going to be unlocked before she left.

Which led to the second thing.

See, Emily has this thing where she asks my advice on outfits she picks up—kind of a Sunday ritual before she goes out of town. She models each outfit she’s selected to wear and wants my opinions on the outfit, the shoes, the accessories. Yea, she’s married to a sissy, so of course she asks me my opinion.

How's it go?

Well, she'll come out of the closet wearing something like this:

And I'll give my opinion (this one, needs jewelry or color)

Or something like this:

My comment, add the pink/black scarf.

Red skirt suit, easy, add a bracelet and a necklace, pearls or silver

We went through all her outfits for the week, then she came out of the closet wearing a dress similar this, no bra, and obviously, from the clings, no panties either.

“Emily, you can’t fucking wear that to a work event,” I gasped, “Jesus Christ, not even dinner after your meetings.”

“Obviously,” she frowned.

I just looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

“We don’t have anything scheduled on Thursday night and,” the frown disappeared and she looked down, almost shyly, almost ashamed, but not quite, “and, well, Adam, you remember Adam, my old boss, Adam will be there the second half of the week and...and he asked me if I wanted to go to this club, and so...it’s just us and...you know I have a little crush on him and...

“By crush you mean you’re attracted to him, isn’t that what you told me before?”

“A little, yea.”

“And how you used to banter with him? And flirt a little...more than a little...he’s going to think...you know what he’s going to think...are you really going to...” I started to ask, knowing she would not answer, knowing she loved to tease and torment, knowing that...

“Yes,” she whispered softly.

“What?” Did I hear her right? Yes? Yes? Did she say yes?

“Yes,” she said again, “I...I want to...I...I’m going to...you...,” she looked down at my midsection, where my cage was, where I was locked up, knowing without asking that I was swelling, that locked up, denied release for weeks, I’d never say no, I’d never beg her not to, that I would want it as much as she did.

I swallowed, looked down, too, ashamed at my own excitement, excitement magnified by weeks of denial. “You...you should pack something pretty to...to sleep in...”

“Will you pick something for me, Sara, something pretty,” she asked, looking at me with such tender eyes, eyes I can barely describe, the beautiful, lovely, loving eyes of a woman who knows, KNOWS how much I love her.

I did, a black and mocha fly away babydoll with matching thong panties, something tastefully pretty because Emily is tastefully pretty. Yet purposefully skimpy, so that if...when...she put it on for a man, for Adam, she’d do so in the bathroom while he waited for her in the bed, waited for my wife, knowing he was going to fuck her. She’d get dressed in the bathroom, that’s just something she’d do, come out to the candle lit room, and ask him nervously, “do you like it?”

Of course he would, both—the lingerie and her body. And she’d know, as he stared at her, as he stiffened, as stared at her with lust in his eyes, that she was wearing what her sissy, the love of her life, picked for her to wear. That her sissy, me, was home, locked up, imagining her in this moment, knowing the shy look she’d have on her face as her old boss started at her, welcomed her into bed.

Chastity, obviously, is on my brain

Caged and Plugged

Perfect!

His New Rule

I walked into the master suite carrying the try of drinks, heels clicking and clacking on the hardwood floor, the petticoats of my French Maid’s uniform rustling softly. My wife looked at me as I set down the try, caught my eye, so I took a chance and mouthed the words. “Is there anything else,” I asked her silently, hopefully, mentally begging and pleading.

She bit her lip, looked down as if embarrassed, and while he may not have seen me ask her the question, it was quickly obvious that something had passed between my wife and I, something that bothered her.

“What is it,” he asked her, putting an arm around her possessively.

“It’s…it’s nothing, don’t worry.

“What,” he asked again in that tone only a man, a real man, an alpha man could use.

She looked up at me, her eyes silently apologizing for what she was about to say, for the imminent betrayal. “It’s nothing, Jason, she just asked me if there was anything else, that’s all. But there isn’t, this,” she pointed to the tray of drinks, “this is all we need.” Her words were meant to diffuse the situation, to diffuse something, but her tone betrayed her. And me.

“That’s not what he’s was asking, is it,” Jason challenged my wife, purposefully referring to me as a ‘he’ instead of a ‘she’ something he did when he was displeased with me, knowing it only reinforced my humiliation.

She paused before answering, but did just the same. “No,” she said quietly.

“He’s asking about the key. Again.”

“Yes, but please, don’t worry about it Jason.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“Jason…”

We looked at each other again. Tell me what, my eyes asked, but she looked away again.

“I told you to tell him, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And if you didn’t, I would…is that what you want? For him to hear it from me?”

“It’s just hard Jason, I mean, I know he’s just a sissy cuckold to you, but…but I still love him.”

“As you should,” Jason said, “but that has nothing to do with this, so again, do you want me to tell him?’

“No, no, Jason, I…I need to be the one,” she sighed, then looked to me again. “Honey, Jason’s upset with, well, I guess I told him you’ve been bugging me to unlock you when he and I are together and…”

“Pestering you,” Jason chimed in, “you said he’s been pestering you non-stop, even after you said no.”

“Yes, well, he…he said that sissies shouldn’t pester their wives, I mean, you can ask, but, well, he’s right, I said no and you still keep asking and…”

“Go on,” Jason encouraged her.

“And he doesn’t want to hear me complaining about it anymore, you know he doesn’t like to hear me complain about anything about you, so…” She paused, looked me straight in the eyes again, seeming to steel her will, then rushed ahead and finished quickly. “He’s going to be holding the key from now on.”

My eyes widened, the walls of the room seemed to rush in quickly, smothering me. He was going to hold the key? Jason? My wife’s lover (a bad word because she did not love him), boyfriend (perhaps a better description), fuck buddy (also accurate, as he and he alone fucked her)? He was going to hold the key to the lock on my chastity cage? He was going to…to…

He snorted. “Obviously I’m not going to tolerate you pestering me to unlock you,” he said with a smirk.

“But when will I…will you…,” I started to ask, quickly thought better of it and shut my mouth.

He decided to answer just the same. “Rarely. Depending on your behavior, very rarely, and much less than you are now.”

Now was once a month, minimum, at least once a month she would unlock me and play with me, once glorious time a month, though often more, often twice a month, sometimes three or four times.

“But…but…I…one should…should

He held up his hand, stopped me. “Rarely,” he said with finality, “you’ll be unlocked rarely, a few times a year, maybe, and if you pester me like this, like you did her, never.”

“I…” I composed myself, tried to take hold of the terror running through my brain at the thought of my wife’s lover holding the key, controlling my chastity, determining when I was unlocked, when I could cum. I felt terror because I knew I could play on my wife’s love, on her sympathy, to let me out if I really, really wanted to, but Jason would never listen to that, would not care. “Sir,” I started again, knowing addressing him by title, formally, was ALWAYS a good start. “May I…may I say something.”

“Yes.”

“We, she, unlocked me monthly because, well, I know because I liked it, I know, but…but for health reasons, too.”

“I understand,” he said, “she told me. And I agree, completely. She’ll still drain you monthly, you’ll just remain locked.”

“He said I can milk you, honey, you know,” she lowered her voice as if ashamed of the words she was about to say, “massage your prostate until you…squirt."