Written by Suzi_sheffield

6 May 2007

I soon discovered that my wife’s sexual tormenting of me was to get more creative. After denying me my conjugal rights, making me use condoms to wank myself off into, and starting me down the road of drinking my own cum on a weekly basis, whilst dressed in fabulously girly lingerie in our matrimonial bed, she was soon introducing further petty “wanker’s rules” to control my life with. Rule one (only cum in condoms), and rule two (eat all my own stored up cum once a week, fresh from the fridge), were soon joined by “wanker’s rule” number three.

Rule three turned out to be a requirement to wear her wedding ring – on my little effeminate penis! Tina has nice slim fingers, and her ring’s diameter is less than three-quarters on an inch. I had to wait until my cock (or ‘cockette’ as Tina now began insisting on calling it) was totally flaccid, apply a little moisturising cream to my knob head, and gradually force it through the ring. This was difficult, but I eventually managed it by pushing my knob from one side, and pulling from the other. The ring then settled nicely in the narrower section of my penis immediately behind the head. Most of the time the ring is invisible, as my foreskin covers it completely.

I soon discovered that I could still get erections, and even masturbate, though with some difficulty compared to when I wasn’t wearing her ring. I could still cum too, but as wanking wasn’t as easy as before, and because erections soon got quite painful because of the narrow band of extremely tight constriction just behind my knob head, I was soon down to full wanking to orgasm and ejaculation just once a week or so.

Of course, still unknown to me, this was the result of an instruction to my wife from her new macho lover. He had decided to experiment further with controlling both Tina and me, and take one more step in his restriction and perversion of my sexual inclinations. Now I realise that this wedding ring trick was a very clever move on his part. Not only did it somewhat limit my ability to wank myself off, and actually physically restrict my cock’s size and ability to get erect, it also publicly liberated Tina from wearing that gold symbol of her married status. Now, looking at her own hands would remind my wife on a daily basis who she really belonged to: not her husband any more, but her lover.

He was also getting me used to longer periods of cy, and prolonging and intensifying my sexual arousal. I’d only wank properly now when my balls felt really heavy and full (once a week at the most). The rest of the time I’d touch myself through my nylon knickers, only to be reminded that I could no longer manipulate my foreskin up and down the sensitive head of my penis as soon as I became even semi-erect, and that a big, erect cock now meant quite a painful experience. After a week or longer I would still get so desperate to cum that I’d force myself to use the nylon or silk or satin of my panties, instead of my now inadequate foreskin, pulling and rubbing the slinky material furiously over my knob, forcing myself to ignore the pain, until I could finally shoot my accumulated load of globs of sticky spunk into the rubber teat of my condom, ready for the cum to be fed back to me to swallow at the end of the week.

I also found myself seeking other ways to stimulate myself, which didn’t directly involve my now semi-inaccessible penis. I stayed awake for hours at night licking my finger tips and passing them gently over my nipples, either directly or through the cups of one of my bras. At first this too tended to give me erections, but my now even more inadequate ‘cockette’ soon learned to stay soft and small, hence avoiding the tightening pain of Tina’s ring.

I also started playing with my balls again, which I hadn’t done since I was a teenager. I began enjoying the sensation of rolling their hardness between my fingers, and wrapping my suspender straps around my scrotum. I could twist two suspenders (one from each side of the belt) around my ball-sac, forcing the balls slightly downwards, which felt quite nice, before clipping them to my stockings. When I moved my legs the suspenders pulled on my balls… heaven!

Tina would never touch my ‘cockette’ of course, but she made me present myself to her at random times of the day and night, telling me to pull back the foreskin from my almost always soft and flaccid penis, so that she could see that her wedding ring was still tightly in position. It always was, because – despite myself – I found the idea of having my cock imprisoned by her wedding ring amazingly erotic and satisfying, even though I hated her coldness and lack of sexual relationship with me.

“No other woman would ever take you now,” she often gloatingly told me. “You like your girly, sissy panties too much to be ever able to give them up and act like a real man, don’t you! And my ring on your ‘cockette’ shows that I own you, just like men used to own women centuries ago. Now this ‘mere woman’ owns you: I deny you sex, make you eat your own cum (when you can produce any!), and you wear my ring on your penis. You’re incapable of going with another woman, and you’re completely dependent on me, even though I give you nothing; no conjugal rights, no sex, no love, no penetration ever of any female body, mine or anyone else’s. You’re a pathetic, useless, sissy, and I’m going to keep you that way.”

Only later did her lover explain how he’d coached her to say all these things… though only after he’d made her believe them first.

To be continued in Part Four.