Exposing Amy Ch. 05

Babes

It is vital to the understanding of this story to read the first chapters. As always I encourage comments as it helps to improve the writing.

In the ensuing months, Paul and I continued our extraordinary life and enjoyed the surreal (and what many people would consider abnormal) ménage a trios with our elderly milkman Ron.

For myself, life could not have been better, or I could not have been happier. I had a wonderfully perverted husband to share my sordid fetish with, I had an older man for my lover, my master and my keyholder. I was pregnant by that man with my fourth child and revelled in being nothing more than that man’s sex toy, slave, slut, call it what you will.

I continued to be imprisoned in my chastity belt and would be hard pressed to describe to you, just how much being in this captivity meant to me. I absolutely loved being in my belt, I enjoyed an ever present incredible state of arousal, driven by the hugely symbolic nature of my condition. I had come to feel that this vaginal cage defined me, the sensual eroticism I derived from it and the intense symbolism of a woman in chains consumed me. I was overpowered by the deep rooted feelings it gave me and the sight of myself whilst imprisoned, filled me with an all consuming sexual arousal.

I felt that my subjugation and my enslavement was complete, my submission to my owner and my compliance with whatever he demanded of me, was assured.

When I looked at myself in my full length bedroom mirror, naked except for the shiny steel and leather prison, I believed that I looked beautiful. I thought the vision to be the sexiest and most symbolic image of a woman as the possession of a man.

The jail in which my vagina lived, epitomized the time honoured badge of ownership and of being someone’s property.

To appear in front of my husband dressed in a chastity belt that another man controlled, was simply stunning. To appear in front of that master, a slave to his sexual demands aroused me intensely. This humiliation generated a sexual excitement, which was not just traumatic from my point of view as a captive woman but also for my husband, as a dispossessed and pathetic cuckold.

I also got an incredible and thrilling excitement from being in everyday, ordinary situations. To be in the company of family and friends, either in the home, or out and about, to stand in the supermarket or shops, talking to acquaintances, filled me with a secret and exquisite sexual contentment. All the time I was in unsuspecting company, the sensual warmth would run between my legs and my whole body. The knowledge that underneath that flimsy skirt, the shy woman they all knew was dressed and incarcerated in the most symbolic and profound manner a woman could be.

As I stood amongst people, family, friends and strangers alike, I felt special.

When my pregnancy reached an advanced stage, meaning that I could no longer wear the chastity belt, I was devastated. For the months until I gave birth to Ron’s son, I craved the belt on me like a junkie.

When I had given birth to Ron’s baby, I would love to lie in bed with him and our child whilst my husband served us. I would love to feed the baby, my tits dripping copiously as Ron fingered me, or made me play with his cock.

I never truly appreciated how awful and heart breaking this was for my husband. I never fully understood how his wife, her lover and their child together in his bed, was possibly one of the most traumatic things for a man to endure. The sight of my husbands little cock straining vigorously against his cock cage, made me assume it was exciting for him (which it was but I never knew the true depth of his despair that produced this would-be erection).

At first (and always in earshot of my husband,) I would talk dirty to my older lover. I thought he would want to hear (and know my husband could hear) me begging him to call me a whore and a slut and listen as I pleaded with him to fuck me, to fuck my slag cunt and other such shameful and disgusting talk. I was wrong however, Ron was not really interested in me degrading myself in such a manner, he much more enjoyed a more subtle denigration of me. To make my husband watch and listen to love making, not just fucking, to have me pour love and affection on my master, Ron knew to be much more humiliating for Paul than listening to my foul mouth.

Ron didn’t live with us, as he still had a normal home life and had to work around his wife. However, when he did come to stay a while, I would play up to him to humiliate Paul massively.

I was satisfying my need for humiliation by being confined in my chastity belt and being completely owned sexually by another man, so to provide the same level of shame and embarrassment for Paul, I would greet Ron at door like a gleeful teenager. I would kiss and hug him like a teenage girl with her new boyfriend. I would go totally over the top in my exaggerated (and quite embarrassing) behaviour and the worse I behaved towards my husband, escort fatih perversely made it all the better for him.

His wife simply having sex with Ron was traumatic enough for my husband, as it was always done in a manner to humiliate him in the most fundamental way. We still fucked whilst my husband lay on a mattress at the foot of his wife and lover’s bed, either slyly watching in the half light, or being tormented with the sounds of love-making in the dark. However, it was Ron owning me that did the most damage to Paul, to his self-respect and his pride. Knowing what hurt Paul the most, I always coupled my whore-like submission with the love and affection (even though fake) that I knew would destroy my pathetic husband.

Sometimes I felt guilty at my treatment of Paul but it was as much for him as it was for me. I loved Ron as my master, keyholder and the father of my child but I was not in love with him, I was in love with Paul.

We made him serve us breakfast as we lay naked in each others arms, with me constantly exaggerating ‘our love’ with my head on Ron’s chest and my arm affectionately around him. Waiting for the optimum moment as my husband approached the bed, I would begin kissing Ron’s nipples and start toying with his cock, taunting my husband by showing him what had been buried deep in my slut cunt the whole night.

Paul being naked, his cock cage shaming and belittling him, made the conquest and the triumph of Ron over him complete.

Ron loved to parade me naked in front of my own husband throughout his stay. It seems strange as though that wouldn’t faze Paul, just me being naked but somehow it worked, because my nudity and my body were Ron’s and not Paul’s. It succeeded in showing my husband Ron’s power, dominance and possession of me.

This situation continued for a few months, however the impact of Ron being around and doing what we were doing had started to wane. Although the wonderful warm and erotic feeling and mood it put me in never lessened one iota, it had simply become a situation of me having a lover, cuckolding my husband and wearing the chastity belt to keep me from my husband’s advances when my master left me.

The trauma of humiliation had gone again and Ron had simply become someone who I shamed and disgraced myself with and used as a weapon to destroy the fragile confidence of my husband.

I needed something more – but what? The answer was to come from an unexpected source.

One day I made Paul’s best/worst fantasy come true. One afternoon I had some friends round to a wine and cheese afternoon.

Paul takes up the story

I was in the kitchen preparing drinks for Amy and her friends, when Amy called me into the room.

There was five women sat drinking wine and getting giddy like women tend to do. I went into the room and stood in front of Amy.

That is when the balloon went up as they say.

Amy ordered me to stand by her side and without any warning whatsoever, she grabbed my sweat pants and pulled them to my ankles.

I stood naked from the waist down, my cock cage, my genital prison, on show for all the women to see.

“Now do you believe me? Amy asked the stunned women, this is what I was telling you about.”

The emotions I experienced in those first moments of total humiliation are quite difficult to explain. The shock of my exposure making me want the ground to open up and swallow me, was mixed with the old familiar surge of arousal, the rising excitement driven by that very humiliation. The women recovered from their initial surprise and very soon began to smirk to each other. They began to deride me and laugh at me, all which made my shame infinitely worse/better.

Amy soon ramped up the humiliation.

My wife smacked my ass and told me to stand still. Amy talked to me like a naughty boy, further embarrassing me and her genius began to show. Amy held my arm and imperceptibly shoved me away from her, making it look like I was trying to escape.

“STAND STILL you naughty boy,” she shouted and pulled me back towards her, smacking the backs of my legs, calling me names and talking down to me. Again she deftly eased me away from her, giving herself the opportunity to again pull me back and then smack me. I looked like a naughty, fidgety boy who wouldn’t do as his mummy told him.

Taking my submissive position besides my wife, chastised, smacked hard on my ass and legs, I came under Amy’s control.

“Go and show yourself to Sharon,” Amy ordered me and on incredibly shaky legs I approached Sharon who was sat forward on the edge of the sofa.

Whilst Amy provided the commentary and explained to her friends how things worked and gave details of my cage, Sharon tentatively reached out her hand and gently cupped my balls in the palm of her hand.

If I had not been confined in this humiliating prison, I would have cum in her face.

Lifting up my cock, feeling the weight of my humiliated manhood combined with the metal güngören escort prison, she would then let my penis drop back with a slap into the palm of her hand.

“Huh, not very big is he?” Sharon giggled, to be quickly followed in laughter by all the other women. The put-down was excruciating and arousing.

I was made to move along the line of young females, who each in turn examined me in the most shameful manner possible. The atmosphere had noticeably changed, there was still the derision and the laughter aimed in my direction and at my pathetic appearance but that mockery had become a nervous one and the laughter and ridicule a little more forced and intense.

I think amongst those women who were being entertained at my expense, there were all kinds of differing reactions creating the nervous and awkward tension. I believed some of my tormentors were themselves embarrassed, I believe some were actually excited sexually, some I am sure were at that moment thinking of their husbands and boyfriends being similarly incarcerated and I think a certain amount of femdom fantasies were activated.

“He is a dirty little pervert who can’t keep control of himself around women, Amy said, and then lied to further humiliate me. I caught him cheating on me, so as a condition of me staying with him, he has to agree to spend his life with this cage on.”

This lie cleverly took away any suggestion that I was a willing participant. It destroyed any illusion that this was (what it actually was!) a consensual game between Amy and myself.

I was a completely subjugated and dominated, cheating little man.

As I was completely and utterly humiliated in front of these women, Helen held my manhood in her hand, she had shaped fingernails which were quite thin. Looking at me and smirking malevolently, she pushed a nail between the bars of my prison and scraped it along the head of my cock.

I came in her hand.

I had never before believed it was possible, never mind actually experienced, ejaculating from a completely flaccid dick. Don’t get me wrong, I did not have a muscle spasming, powerful, cum shooting orgasm, my semen simply oozed from the end of my tormented cock. I had been denied release for weeks and as full a load as I was capable of producing, slowly and gently ran into the palm of her hand.

The bitch had set me up and she wasn’t going to miss the chance to further humiliate me.

“Oh my God, he just came on me!!” she shrieked. Looking me in the eyes and sneering, to let me know she was doing this to denigrate me, she continued.

“Oh God, he’s just emptied himself on me, the dirty bastard!!”

This woman, one of the biggest sluts in town, this bitch who had swallowed more semen than the Bermuda Triangle, was screaming as though she had never seen cum before in her life.

The genius that was Amy was not going to let this wonderful opportunity go begging.

After quite a few moments of chastisement, being berated for being a dirty pervert and a filthy little animal and being laughed at by nervously embarrassed women, Amy played her ace.

“Get on the table you dirty boy, I am going to have to clean you up now,” she ordered.

“Oh no – please god no – Amy for the love of God – don’t do this to me,” I pleaded to myself, but to no avail.

Minutes later the clean new cage was ready, Amy had the warm wash cloth, the talcum power (not actually necessary but as a ‘prop’ to the scene it was invaluable for humiliation purposes) and I was laid back on the table, my legs pulled back and the offending, cum oozing cock in it’s confinement fully exposed. That was when things got even worse.

“Let me do it,” said Rebecca, a usually timid shy girl, who nonetheless was the prettiest little thing you ever saw.

Grinning at me from ear to ear, Amy gave the things to Rebecca and stood back. This gorgeous but demure and shy little creature, unlocked me and sponged me down. She tended to me so gently and carefully, that I was in imminent danger of a repeat performance from my errant dick. As Rebecca powdered me and attempted to put the replacement cage over my rapidly lengthening, swelling and hardening cock, Amy stepped from the rear.

“Here you will need this, she said handing the icepack to my tormentor. He has to be iced because he is a dirty little pervert who can’t behave himself with girls, that’s why he is kept in that cage in the first place.”

Rebecca teased me and mischievously caressed my manhood, then maliciously slapped my rising cock with her hand. She meant to hurt me and she succeeded. This innocent ‘English Rose’ grinned at me, then with a naughty, yet all-knowing smirk, she put the ice on my humiliated yet excited cock with gleeful malevolence. She fitted the ring around my balls then slid the metal cage over my tiny shrivelled dick. It fit easily over my humiliated cock which instantly swelled to fill its cage, the moment Rebecca snapped the lock in place.

I left bağcılar escort the room to raucous and derisory laughter.

This incident was to shape the next phase of our future.

That night, as a reward for my performance and my submission, in tolerating what Amy had forced upon me, Amy took my cage off me at bedtime.

“I want a fuck, so don’t disappoint me,” she sneered.

I did not disappoint one iota in rising to the occasion but then again, she got more than she expected.

I had so much humiliation/excitement built up in me, that I could not control myself. I grabbed Amy by her hair and forced her to her knees. I did not ask, or beg, or plead for her to suck my cock – I forced her. I grabbed her hair on either side of her face and simply pumped her face and her mouth up and down on my turgid cock, until I was ready to use her slut cunt.

I fucked her like a dog in heat, I pounded that tormenting pussy like my life depended it. I came for the first time that evening in no time and finally felt the intense sensation of the cum shooting from my recently paroled cock. After each time I fucked Amy, I would force her to stay on the bed, she was not to be allowed to clean my jizz from her sodden pussy. After resting between fucks, I would again force her to suck my cock back to life, back to the state in which it could use and abuse her battered pussy again and again.

Her dom-bitch cunt was awash, it was a disaster area, her thighs, her pussy, the bed was covered in cum. Each time I didn’t just lay back and let her work on me, each time I forcibly fucked her mouth, her face, I rammed my cock into every orifice that she had, with a force generated by temporary hatred and revenge.

Amy resumes the story

The abusive fucking I unexpectedly received from Paul that night changed things yet again. As his cock pounded into me, my pussy was forced into responding, it had no choice as orgasm after orgasm wracked my abused vagina. However, I realised that this was Paul’s moment and he needed to use me, he needed to reassert himself. The last thing he needed was this to be consensual, or for us to enjoy a mutual pleasure, either of which would lessen his power in the moment. My orgasms would show I was deriving pleasure from this, so I hid my frenzied passion and allowed my husband his moment of power.

Although I am not into violence and did not find that side of things arousing, the emotion behind that rough treatment excited me. I had heard the term ‘hate fuck’ and ‘revenge fuck’ but I had never taken much notice of them. However, now having experienced what could reasonably be classed as a hate fuck, it had given me a new idea. I needed to replace Ron, as that situation had finally petered out. He still had a life with his wife he didn’t want to ruin and who was also asking awkward questions. Familiarity in our seedy game had crept in and a natural parting of the ways had arrived, so with no animosity or hard feelings, I took his child and we parted company.

When Paul had fucked me savagely and used me like a whore, I suddenly got a real feel for the intensity and baseness of such treatment. After my shocking humiliation of my husband, the consequences produced this hate fuck in its truest form. I did not fantasise of rape but the old feelings came back to haunt me. My previous humiliations may have manifested themselves in a different guise but it was still the belittlement and the submissiveness of my previous alter ego’s that came flooding back.

It gnawed away inside me and became the new thing.

I realised the shocking truth, I actually wanted and desired being a cheap worthless slut and I wanted my husband to live the life of a man, married to such a common and nasty slag. From now on I only wanted to fuck men that I despised or hated, or men that despised or hated me.

Anyone who was even remotely an enemy of Paul’s was a likely target. The character I was, even before all the sickness started, had meant that due to my shyness, I had avoided men and became a figure that engendered doubt and distrust. That apprehension and mistrust manifested itself when it came to social interactions, we had had no time for others as a rule and felt that old friends and acquaintances etc had fallen out with us, or drifted away and animosities had arisen. In truth Paul and I had turned into ‘not very nice people’.

The intensity of the life we have been living had made us shun people to keep them away from our sordid secret and that had succeeded in alienating people. Their reaction to this (although totally understandable) has left me feeling bitter and twisted. Even though this was all my own fault and I am to blame, human nature being what it is, the defence mechanism of blaming everyone else, had left me with any number of men that I now felt resentful towards.

The catalyst for this next experience came from our need to move away from the area. I had had too many relationships, there were too many histories out there and we had exposed ourselves as a perverted couple, to people ‘too close to home’. If we got away from here and forged a new life together and a new life for our family, then what could, or would happen between now and the point of leaving, could be justified as,

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