In the Closet

 

 

It was dark, and I was scared and positioned uncomfortably in my wife's walk-in closet. My wrist and hands were numb. My arms ached from stretched cruelly upward through the pulley attached to the ceiling and running down to my handcuffs. My legs stretched wide apart and tied to the closet wall on each side of the tiny space.

 

I could hear the click of spiked heels on the hardwood floor just outside the closet door. Suddenly the door swung open, exploding my darkened world in a blaze of color. Blinking to focus my eyes, I gazed in worship at my beautiful wife and mistress. I had dedicated the rest of my life to serving and pleasing this beautiful creature who was wearing a short black satin robe and black spiked high heels.

 

In awe of my beautiful mistress, I momentarily forgot about the dildo buried deep in my ass, the life-like, flesh color, veined replica of a cock that my dominant wife used to remind me of my servitude and inferiority. 'Slave,' as my wife said that word, I trembled unconsciously. Her blonde hair glistened.

 

Her feminine shape silhouetted by the flickering candle light which highlighted her soft skin in the darkened room.

 

"Are you behaving yourself? You haven't been touching yourself again, have you?" she asked with feigned concern. I tried in vain to speak through my gag, but could only make grabbed, grunting sounds.

 

"You are demonstrating great disrespect by not replying to your mistress and for that you'll be punished severely!" She reached behind my head and removed the gag saying, "God, your jaws must be sore from wearing this nasty thing for so long. Does your mouth hurt?"

 

"Yes mistress, but I love you." My wife tilted back my head with her left hand then slowly raised her right. Swiftly, she slapped me across my aching mouth.

 

"You are such an ungrateful and forgetful slave. When will you ever learn to not complain to your mistress? Slaves have no right to complain about anything much less the discipline they deserve."

 

"I am sorry mistress. Please forgive me."

 

"Yes, I have decided to forgive you, but first you need to be disciplined and disciplined severely."

 

"Of course mistress, I do deserve to be disciplined."

 

As she walked out of the closet, she picked up a tall wine glass from the bedroom table. The glass was filled to the brim with her own still warm urine. Returning, she held the glass to my lips. "You must take my warm liquid gold and savor it."

 

"Thank you mistress."

 

"What does my slave want? What does my whimpering little toy want from my mistress?"

 

"A drink" I pleaded.

 

Dipping the index finger of her right hand into the glass, she touched my lips with her dripping finger. She watched with satisfaction as I opened my mouth and sucked every drop of urine from her finger.

 

"What does my little slave want from my mistress?"

 

"Your piss. I want to drink your piss. I want to swallow every drop of your precious golden liquid."

 

A subtle smile crossed her lips. A smile of both victory and contempt for what remained of the man she had married. She felt both aroused and exhilarated at her triumph of humbling a once proud and arrogant male. "Then you had better beg."

 

"Please. Please baby. I need it!"

 

My wife slapped me with ferocious strength. "What did you call me?"

 

"Mistress! Please mistress, I need to drink it so bad!"

 

"Tell me again what you need to drink, slave." She grinned.

 

"Your pee. Please let me drink it. Please mistress." Again, she dipped her finger into the glass of urine and touched my lips. This time, however, she did not remove her finger from my mouth after I had sucked it clean. This time she slowly began to finger-fuck my mouth, sliding it in and out.

 

"I want you to pretend that my finger is a cock and that you are performing a blow-job. Pretend that I am fucking you in the mouth with my little cock." She commanded. I shook uncontrollably but continued to suck and lick my wife's finger.

 

"What are you sucking." she taunted.

 

"Your little cock mistress," I mumbled as she removed her finger from my mouth.

 

"Good slave. Now drink!" she ordered, holding the glass to my lips and began pouring its contents rapidly down my throat.

 

Gratefully, I drank the glass of my wife's urine as fast as she poured it into my mouth. I drank it as if it were an exotic cocktail or a fine wine. I drank it as if I would never drink again. As I drank the warm fluid, tingles moved through my body.

 

Feelings of submission and passion swept through me. I drank the urine deeply, savoring every drop, trying vainly to quench my inner thirst for submission and humiliation. After I had drunk the entire contents of the wine glass, my wife set it down and moved behind me. With one hand, she unbuckled the black leather chastity belt cutting into my waist and let it drop to the floor.

 

She had used the harness to control my cock and balls, and to restrain the eight- inch girthy dildo buried deep inside my anus. My mistress eased the extreme shaft from my ass, then, paced up and down in front of me, holding it scornfully between her thumb and fore finger.

 

"Your punishment slave is to clean my shaft like you cleaned my finger."

 

"I'm not gay." I mumbled.

 

My wife stroked my freshly shaved chest and legs. "Your body is so smooth and delicious. You wear my panties and my nylon stockings. And you pretended my finger was a cock. You must be gay."

 

"I'm not gay," I said in a pleading voice.

 

"But if you look like a homosexual and you act like a homosexual, you must be a homosexual. Maybe you're just afraid to admit that what you really want and need is a real cock since you can't use yours anymore? Wouldn't you like to taste a real cock in your mouth? I could go out and bring home a real man for you." Silence filled the room.

 

I was crushed by my wife's words, and deeply humiliated but a feeling of arousal was spreading through my body. The sensation grew as my cock thickened. Noticing my growing erection my beautiful mistress reached to the wall and selected a short stiff riding crop. She walked behind me and gently stroked the backs of my smooth legs, my inner thighs, and my buttocks with the soft leather tip of the crop.

 

My mistress stroked up and down the crack of my ass. I quivered uncontrollably. I would do or say anything to please my wife. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did harbor homosexual tendencies. My own cock was hard. 'Crack,' went the crop.

 

"Now I want my little queer slave to tell my mistress what he is."

 

'Whack,' again. "I'm a ...," I hesitated then blurted out, "I am gay."

 

'Crack'

 

"Say it louder, little slave, I can't hear you!"

 

"I'm a homosexual."

 

'Crack'

 

"That's better, but still not good enough. Say it louder and this time in a little girl's voice," my mistress demanded.

 

In a high-pitched feminine voice, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "I'm gay."

 

"And what does my little gay slave want more than anything?"

 

'Crack! Crack.' "Cock. Your little gay slave needs cock!"

 

'Crack!'

 

"Tell your mistress again. Tell your mistress each time you feel the sting of the crop. Tell your mistress until there isn't any doubt remaining in your mind what you are, and what you need."

 

'Crack'!

 

"I'm gay and I need cock." My mind was reeling. The entire scene was becoming a blur. I no longer felt the rapid blows of the riding crop. My very consciousness was fused with my mistress.

 

As I received my beating and shouted in a high-pitched girl's voice that I was a homosexual, my own large cock was stiff and proudly erect. Drops of pre cum had formed on the head of my cock slit and were beginning to trickle down my rigid shaft.

 

Suddenly, the door slammed, as my mistress abruptly swung the closet door shut saying, "That dildo had better be clean when I open the door again." Again, I was engulfed in darkness.

 

The discipline I had just received was beginning to work on my sexual psyche with calculated effectiveness. As I collapsed on the floor, I questioned myself. Did I need cock? Did I need a cock to hold, a cock to suck, a cock to caress with my lips and tongue? Did I want and need a warm, pulsating real cock? Did I want to be fucked in the ass?

 

I visualized being fucked in the ass by my lovely mistress. I imagined feeling the initial contact with my anus and the slow, satisfying penetration as my anal muscles succumbed to the unrelenting pressure of the dildo as the massive shaft filled my deep, dark, colonic tunnel. The rhythmic movement as my mistress plunged the fake cock in and out of my ass.

 

In the still quiet of the dark closet, I managed to find the dildo and began to lick it clean. As I licked, my mind traveled back in time. Back to our first anniversary. Back to when my lovely mistress and wife first taught me to desire cock. Back to when she first taught me the worthlessness of my own manhood.