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When my first dominatrix wife divorced me, I was devastated, and tried very hard to find a replacement.
I dated dozens of women, and discovered that my only hope lay in a much older woman, probably not great-looking.but hopefully VERY determined to take control of a younger male who would do almost anything for her. I found what I needed in the form of a prematurely retired psych nurse from the state asylum for the criminally insane, who finally admitted to me that she had resigned to avoid being fired, for vanishing a younger inmate deep into the bowels of the old, unused section of the asylum, where she could keep him strait-jacketed in a padded isolation cell, for what turned out to be years! She milked him twice a day, lengthily and mercilessly, concentrating on orgasm delay and denial, his screams unheard in the bowels of the old part of the building. I found this so exciting, I asked her to marry me on our first meeting, and told her she could indulge HER addiction freely, while enabling mine!
I have a trust fund, which she now controls, and she keeps me comfortably but inescapably in an ex-army bodybag, of olive-drab rubberized canvas, with two small zippered openings, at crotch and mouth, so she can have access to whatever end of me she wants. She is deliriously happy, and spends hours convincing me that I will never see the light of day again, but will spend the rest of my life pleasuring her, as she tortures me, even to the extent of cruelly rationing my air to mere survival level. I have learned exactly how she needs to be pleasured, and strive always to improve.
My wife keeps me locked up in a heavy rubberized fabric hazmat suit, with built in socks and mitts. The built-in hood is connected to a gasmask, allowing me vision at times, so I can do housework and repairs, remodeling stuff, etc. The central filter has been replaced with a half-inch valve, and the open/close lever removed, so that the only way it can be opened or closed, or partially either, is with an Allen key. Thus she can ration my air supply, and once set, without the key, I can't make any adjustment. She's not interested in sex, other than her own self-pleasuring, and I'm restricted to whatever I can achieve through the thin but immensely strong material that encloses me 23 hours a day. The other hour, I eat, shower, and use the toilet, before being reconfined. We love each other, and are happy to do whatever the other wants, within certain parameters. I am glad that I will spend the rest of my life like this, serving her from my rubber prison. Shocking? There are worse things out there, believe me!
My first job was at a local county office, as gofer and general dogsbody. I was a shy, naive orphan of eighteen, and shared an office with two plain, much older secretaries, who flirted shamelessly with me, I was such an easy mark. They loved embarrassing me, and they were pretty merciless with it! After a long-term period of abuse, in the orphanage, again involving a plain, middle-aged director, it felt horribly familiar! To make things worse, one of the women habitually wore an old beige trench-coat with a heavy check lining, which hung behind the office door all day, and sometimes overnight, in the warmth of the summer. Mornings were pretty cool. Now I had a history with a garment like this, as the orphanage director had one very similar, and she used to throw it over my head, and knot the sleeves tight round my neck, before undressing me, and "wanking" me mercilessly. (This was Britain, and that was the word they used then) Anyway, I was fixated on this one at work, and something deep inside me longed to re-experience what had happened to me. One Friday at five, everyone left, and I noticed the woman Jean, had left the coat behind the door. After making sure the outer door was locked, and I was alone on the premises, I pulled it off the door, and tied it over my head, just like before. Then I dropped my pants, and began to wank myself, slowly, savoring the familiar feelings. This was a very heavy coat, and it kept me from hearing someone approaching, in the building. First thing I knew, was a heavy slap to my head, and Jean's angry voice hissing abuse in my ear! "You nasty little pervert! Boy you're in trouble! You're gonna get it now! Just wait til I tell the Boss - you'll be out of here! Meantime, if this is what you wanted so bad, well, we'll see what you feel like on Monday morning!" She tied my wrists with the belt from the coat, efficiently and firmly, then said "I left my house-keys in the coat! You never saw that coming, did you? She led me stumbling, pants around my ankles, to the tiny coat-closet, and stuffed me in, and locked the door. I was begging her to stop, and said Please Miss Shaerer - don't do this! I'll do ANYTHING! I promise! Anything!" My voice was faint in the smothering folds of cloth. Silence, and I thought she was gone, then the door unlocked and she said quietly "Anything?" I nodded frantically. "ANYTHING! Just don't l;eave me like this!" She took hold of my half-erect cock, and began wanking me, gently. Quickly I was unimaginably aroused, and dancing on the spot! " Will you come and let me be your landlady?" Oh yes!! "Will you let me tie you up?" Ooooh yessss! "A lot?" Yess "Will you buy me a new coat? You're gonna own that one, soon, or it's gonna own you!" Yesssss ma'am! "Okay, I'm going to take your picture now, with the office Polaroid, and they go straight to the Boss, if you disobey me in ANY way, or if I get bored with you!" Yess Ma'am! So I became her prisoner, which lasted for five whole years! During that time I became hopelessly addicted to bondage and sexual slavery, and learned how to please a demanding woman, just in time to be married off to her younger sister, still twelve years older than me, and every bit as demanding!
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