Excerpt from A Woman’s World Part 3

This is an excerpt from A Woman’s World, Part 3. Not intended for under 21.

This excerpt is intended for adult audiences.

I am working on A Woman’s World, Part 3, and this part is at least close to being ready. Always happy for comments!

poorpeter1

1 – Back to Work

Peter sat in his car in the parking lot at A Woman’s World, Inc. He had mostly wanted to come back – anything to escape the drudgery of the housework he’d been doing at home for the past month. But he had mixed feelings about the staff and mission of A Woman’s World, Inc., and he feared what they might do to him.

The last month had been long, but it had been preceded by an even longer three weeks of “initial training,” as he and Christine had come to describe it, at AWWI. During that time he’d gone from a normal, distinctly masculine guy in search of a regular job in marketing, to a completely feminized servant to his wife. He’d gone from relative comfort and security at home to being subjected to arbitrary pain and punishment. The chastity cage that had been his nearly permanent companion and jailer for the entire journey was on him now. It was made of some type of alloy that could not be removed in any way he could discover, short of simply removing his penis. He had considered that option quite a bit in the early days of his training, but it had faded in importance over time.

He supposed the hormone treatment was largely responsible for that. Immediately after beginning work at AWWI he’d been encouraged to take special “vitamins,” and during his training he had also submitted to regular injections. He’d been told they were all to regulate and improve his health, but he’d observed the rapid onset of female sexual characteristics. His breasts had become quite impressive – enough so that Christine no longer continued to suggest augmentation and the plastic inserts in his bra were a thing of the past. His penis, on the other hand, had been strangely silent.

When the cage had been put on, Peter had felt palpably stymied by it almost constantly as his penis sought to become erect from the numerous temptations and other events that happen during a normal day. He’d learned that his penis grew and shrunk during the day almost outside of his conscious thought – or would have, if he hadn’t been caged. The cage stopped most of the swelling, and now anything that would have caused it caused sexual frustration instead. At first, that had meant he’d been horny and frustrated constantly. Lately there had just been nothing. Perhaps it was the hormones.

His balls had shrunken a little bit. His sexual desire for escape from the cage had shrunken with them.

He’d spent the month following his disastrous initiation into AWWI by doing housework all day, every day, at home. From the time Christine left for her prestigious job until she returned at night, he cleaned house. When she got home, he made her supper, tended her bath and in general served her as well as possible until it was time for bed. Then he served her yet again in whatever way she wished – usually this was orally, but occasionally she had other requirements. Then he submitted to her energetic pegging for as long as she chose to do so.

Sometimes, with reason or without, Christine liked to pull out her paddle and make Peter submit to paddling which left him sore for hours and tender for days after that. She usually had some disciplinary pretext for the paddling, if she bothered to give one at all, but sometimes she said it was for “general purposes” or to “help him.”

Even though it was sometimes painful and always, he supposed, humiliating, the pegging was a high point of the day for Peter. It never failed to drive him to the brink of orgasm almost instantaneously and keep him there for an extended time. And it often resulted in a sort of quasi-orgasm which gave an instant of aching pleasure and contentment followed by a crushing return of the hunger for satisfaction. He was thoroughly addicted to that strange mixture of feelings and thought of it constantly when Christine wasn’t at home.

It had been a tough time for Peter, all things considered.

At least his relationship with Christine had grown stronger, he consoled himself. They’d spent a great deal of time together through it all, as Peter had begun to accept his new role. This togetherness often had a painful side, as Christine had taken to squeezing his balls on almost any provocation – and also just for fun. She also had found them a convenient handle, although this had been changed a little bit after the nose-ring had been put in. Now she sometimes used that instead.

Peter would have been able to stop her from using the nose-ring, but it seemed he could never remember that it was there in time to stop her before she grabbed and pulled. Of course it was perhaps better than being pulled by the balls, but it could be embarrassing when she did it in public. He’d heard whispers when they’d been out a few times, but of course he hadn’t been able to look around and see who had been doing it – a man led by a nose-ring can’t look around or hesitate at all. He’d just had to follow along and hope for the best.

2 Escaping the Routine

They had reached a new routine of deadly drudgery for Peter during that following month, and then Christine had announced that it was time for him to resume his work at AWWI.

“I don’t want to support you while you just sit around doing practically nothing like a great big slug!” she’d explained, although she knew very well that the list of tasks she left him every day filled his day with work. She knew he never just “sat around” at all. And she knew that when she returned from her job, he had to put on his skirt and heels and all the rest so that he could attend her in full French maid garb.

He knew better than to dispute her, but found it impossible to resist the urge to respond to such an absurd and unjust claim.

“I don’t sit around here all day! You give me a list of things to do every day that takes me all day, and then when you get home I spend the evening taking care of you!” he’d said heatedly.

“You’re so damn lazy!” she said. “No doubt you’re watching television or listening to music as you putz around. And do you even thank me for taking care of you?!”

She was getting angry, so Peter had tried to assuage her, saying he knew she worked hard, and he was grateful, but that he also spent the day working at the things she’d given him to do.

She hadn’t bothered to respond logically, simply grabbed his balls and twisted, bringing him to his knees instantly in agony – and she had held on.

“I think it’s time we had a little conversation,” she said, keeping firm pressure on him. “But I think we could do it better upstairs, don’t you agree?”

Of course he’d agreed – anything to stop the pain. Then she’d charged up the stairs, leaving him to follow as quickly as he could or instantly suffer the consequences, as she never relinquished her grip on his aching balls.

When they got into the bedroom, Christine shoved Peter into bed on his belly, finally releasing his balls, but holding his head firmly down on the bed. He knew not to resist as she quickly put on her harness. Then…

“Omigod!” he gasped as he felt the monster at his back door. It was huge, but she wouldn’t let him turn around to see what she was doing as she slid the dildo into his anus. He was sure it was at least twice the size of the dildo she usually used. He whimpered as she slowly worked it into him, and then gasped as she pulled it back and slammed it back into him. Then again she pulled back, and again she thrust it deeply home.

Despite the pain Peter almost came from the anal intrusion. It seemed that the least thing down there put him on the edge of orgasm these days – even using the bathroom made him drip precum. Then he felt the familiar buzzing deep in his essence as the dildo began vibrating. His cock, which had already begun to respond to the thrusting itself, quickly began oozing come as he neared the odd sort of orgasm he got from her penetration.

Christine was not concerned with his feelings for the time being, however. She thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew as it suited her, playing with the pressure of the vibrator on her sensitive parts, and by the time she’d had her three orgasms and shut off the vibrator, Peter still tingled madly, but he hadn’t come yet. His whole body felt invaded by the massive dong, and his anus itself felt stretched to its capacity, yet he was weak with desire for more.

“I said, I think it’s time for you to go back to A Woman’s World and get back to work, Peter,” said Christine.

“Yes, Mistress!” he gasped. “Whatever you say is correct!” He’d learned the litany of responses through painful repetition at her hands in earlier lessons.

“I’m not happy when you contradict or dispute me,” she said, pulling back the dildo and thrusting it home again.

Despite the pain, Peter felt himself nearing orgasm.

“I’ll never do it again!” he said.

“Oh, I’ve heard you say that before,” she said, pulling back and thrusting into him again.

He was going to burst. He was either going to split in half from the agony of the intrusion or explode in an orgasm if she kept doing it.

“I think I need to think of something more memorable so you don’t forget yourself again,” she mused, switching on the vibrator again and thrusting in and out again and again.

Peter was going to come. He felt it nearing, nearing, his penis curled and puny in its cage felt enormous in the final moment as he gathered all the muscles in his body for the climax, when suddenly, at the very instant of ejaculation, Christine pulled out, and something happened. Did she hit him in the balls with a sledge hammer? Did she hit him in the head? Did she set his balls on fire? Peter wasn’t sure – it felt like all of those things combined with the strongest orgasm he’d ever felt.

“Ahhh!”  he cried out, whether in agony or ecstasy he couldn’t have said, and, as she had finally taken her hand off his head so he could turn around, he did so in time to see her pulling back what looked like a wand or billy club. She waved it towards his genitals, and he instinctively reached for it, but then pulled back in agony as she activated it and delivered another jolt of electricity.

“I thought this electric prod might help you remember to obey me a little better,” she said, waving the wand in the air.

“I’ll never forget again, Mistress!” he’d exclaimed in panic, and she’d put the wand away with a satisfied smirk.

“Clean up yourself,” she said. “You’ve come all over the bed and you’re still leaking all over the place. Tomorrow you will dress for work in the appropriate fashion and be there by eight-thirty.”

Author: elenanewton

I write erotica. I'm a hotwife who likes to write about my experiences and the stories that occur to me. I'm a serious craftswoman of my trade of writing, and am also a thinker who gives the "sexual battleground" a great deal of serious thought.

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