Worshipped Wives: A Fem Dom Novel
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by M. J. Rennie
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: The women who are the subject of Worshipped Wives learn that the problems of male infidelity can be solved through the installation of a polycarbonate Chastity Device. From first date to the honeymoon and subsequent years of marital bliss, through confessionals and Feminine Dominant marital therapy, Keyholders like Victoria, Lori, Katrina, and newbie Annalese encourage the submissive tendencies of their present and future husbands. No technique for achieving their cherished romantic ends goes unexplored, including enforced Chastity, discipline, humilation, and Feminization. But however capable our heroines might be, they are still running counter to a retrograde patriarchal paradigm. Can they successfully overcome the very real gender warfare of our era to impose their vision of Loving Female Authority, one man at a time? Or will they be thwarted in their efforts to live as Worshipped Wives? In a novel as unique as an individual Woman, M. J. Rennie delivers a sprightly blend of eroticism, personal relationship advice, hardware hints, and trenchant social commentary that will linger in the mind long after the reader has logged off.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/SIZZLER EDITIONS,
eBookwise Release Date: December 2007
4 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [297 KB]
Reading time: 184-258 min.
CHAPTER ONE: TESTING AND EVALUATION
"Do you remember the first time you had an orgasm?" Katrina Van Kessel asked, lightly stroking her fiance's penis.
They sat together on the velvet sofa in her apartment, the cushions colored a muted gray. Katrina's fiance, James Joseph Conner, had just the moment before finished giving Katrina oral sex. Now she was toying with his rigid, inflamed erection. They were going to do something Katrina had promised they would do from the beginning of their relationship.
James was a handsome, well-proportioned man a shade under six feet tall. He had pale blue eyes and curly, light-brown hair.
At this moment, James was naked and Katrina was dressed in her favorite silk lingerie--a lacy cream-colored bra and panty set, matching stockings, and high heeled pumps.
She looked exquisite.
James had to think back a bit, but yes, he could remember his first orgasm. He was in the eighth grade, delivering newspapers to the customers on his route.
One of the people on his route was a slim, attractive brunette that had recently been divorced. It was hard for James to tell her exact age, but she was probably in her late thirties.
James had forgotten her last name but remembered that her first name was Myrah.
Whenever James came by to collect, Myrah always had a friendly greeting and would ask about school or things he was doing. Although Myrah called him "Jimmy," she could get away with it because it was so obviously affectionate.
As far as the money went, Myrah never put Jimmy off and always had her payment ready, along with a tip that was particularly welcome.
At the same time, James didn't figure Myrah had much money, on account of the car she drove was kind of a beater. As a young male teen, a person's method of automotive transport was the kind of thing James paid keen attention to.
Another thing James noticed was Myrah's body. He had no way of avoiding that. James was going through the latter stages of puberty at fourteen and his memories of the period were at this point somewhat hazy, but the overall contours of Myrah's fetching form retained their razor sharp clarity.
"Yes," Katrina said softly. "This is very good, please go on." She gently squeezed James' testicles, rolling the bulging sacs with her slender fingers. His erection stood up straight and tall.
Pausing briefly, James went on with his story:
One day, he went to Myrah's house to collect for the paper. It was in the early evening on a summer day, and he stood at her front door, pressing the buzzer.
Inside, James could hear a vacuum cleaner going. He waited for a while and Myrah didn't come. He pressed again.
Still no answer.
There was a window facing the porch on the right side of the door and James thought if he walked in front of it, she might see him and answer the door.
What do you suppose James saw when he looked through the window? A completely nude woman, with a ripe, lush body, vacuuming her living room.
Along with the noise of the vacuum, Myrah had headphones on, apparently listening to music while she worked. She had her back to James, and he could see the jiggly globes of her lovely white bottom.
Then Myrah turned to one side, and he a got a good view of her perfect breasts, perched atop her chest, crowned by small, dark nipples. Following her luscious figure down along the enchanting sweep of her hips, James gaped at her long legs and large, slender feet. Myrah was not only beautiful but strong and well-developed. Fascinated, he stared, his eyes wide, as Myrah maneuvered the vacuum cleaner around her living room carpet, totally naked.
He peeped for as long as he dared, fearing that any moment she would look and be horrified to see a creep looking through her picture window. But James couldn't help himself. He licked his lips and felt his cock twitch inside his pants, marveling at how gorgeous and sexy Myrah was. It took every ounce of his willpower, but James forced himself to turn away, and quietly stepped off the porch, getting on his bicycle and riding home.
Whoa, James thought. That was intense. He had never been so aroused before. The physical sensations were pleasant, yet troubling.
Back to the present.
"This is very interesting, but you still haven't told me about your first orgasm," Katrina said, in a tone of mild annoyance. The caress of her hand on his cock was maddening.
"I'm getting to that," James answered, adding a sound that was part gulp, part gasp.
The night after James saw Myrah in the nude was a hot one in Slateville and he tossed and turned in his narrow cot in the bedroom he shared with a giant freezer unit. What mostly kept him awake was the fact that he had an erection like the kind only a teenage boy can have.
It was exactly the sort of stiffy that makes adolescent male life a trial, because it gets hard as iron, the outlines visible in any pair of pants.
Except right now James wasn't in any kind of pants, not even underpants. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he had to get up and move around, even with this massive upright pole rising past his bellybutton.
Good grief. What was going on? What was he doing?
Quietly, James opened the back door and the next thing he knew he was out on the lawn in the backyard, a naked teenage boy wandering in the dark.
The air was cool, and a yellow slice of moon hung low on the horizon, just above the roofs of the houses on the next street over. James didn't know what to do with his cock. Everything he had been led to believe up to that point assured James that touching himself was an impure act, unclean, a sin against Mother Nature.
But James couldn't help himself. He started to fondle his cock, a boy caressing himself in the dark of night.
At first, he did it slowly, thinking about Myrah's body as he applied his fingers to the tight, swollen head. The shaft was unbearably hard and throbbing, already advanced in size but not yet quite the huge prong it would eventually become.
Dropping to his knees behind the back fence, James imagined kissing Myrah, feeling her breasts, maybe even putting his tongue in her pussy, tasting her.
Mmmm. Yeah. Tasting her.
That last fantasy really got James going. His breath started coming in shallow, rapid puffs. Not quite knowing why, he could sense an intense excitement building.
Soon James was beyond being able to stop. He found himself frantically stroking his cock, still not knowing why he was doing it. He experienced sensations that were out of this world.
Then it happened!
An imaginary surgical saw went around the outer edges of his skull, cutting it open directly above his ears. The top of his head blew off in an explosion rivaling the detonation of the H-bomb. It was so overwhelming that James was afraid he might die, or at least pass out. Then, to his utter astonishment, a thick syrupy paste spewed from his cock out onto the warm grass--a sticky, sweet, musky-smelling substance.
"AAAEEEeeuuughh..." James stifled a scream.
Waves of pleasure washed over him as his cock pumped the fluid out, spouting in gouts that flew ten or fifteen inches with every burst. Tumbling to the ground, James bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming again. His natural inclination would have been to shriek like a banshee.
The spasms went on and on, causing James to writhe on the cool grass, his hugely inflated cock just spraying away.
When it was over, James felt relieved.
"Was that all?" Katrina asked. "Weren't you frightened?"
"I probably would have been," James acknowledged. "Except that I felt so terrific afterwards."
Besides, his cock was wilting down to its normal size once more. Had he harmed it? Exactly what had happened? There was nobody he could confide in, nobody he could ask about it without feeling embarrassed.
Asking his mother was out of the question. His father was just a name on his birth certificate, having been killed in the war. What James craved was an older man, a trustworthy adult, who could tell him what had just happened with his cock and how to deal with it. Unfortunately, there was no such person around in little "Jimmy's" life.
"So there you have it," James told Katrina. "My first orgasm. What do you think? Can I have another one soon?"
"Not for a real long time, darling," Katrina answered. "Now let's go on to the next question." * * * *
Why was Katrina asking James about his first orgasm?
His beautiful fiance was conducting the Psychoanalysis of the Submissive Male, an evaluation tool that in various forms is widely available in books and on the internet. It's designed to help dominant women gather critical information about potential male partners, so as to better understand and control them.
How had James gotten involved with a Dominant Woman?
For that, it is necessary to go back and begin, as they say, at the beginning.