When discussing (or blogging about) FemDom, the one thing you don’t hear enough of is health and safety. In our home, we understand it well. But even the best trained submissive hubby is still a man. They will exploit ANY opportunity if they think it will get them relief from the tension that’s building in their loins.
Just the other day, out of the clear blue, my husband decided that he needed a shower. This despite having just had one that morning and smelling just fine. He reminded me how clean and fresh I like him to be down there and insisted that he was only thinking of me. “You are soooo thoughtful.”, I gushed as I appreciatively removed him from the confines of his chastity device.
He hurried off to the bathroom with all the eagerness of a free man. I chuckled and shook my head. He wasn’t fooling me. I gave him exactly 5 minutes. The bathroom was steamy and the water was loud. No sneaking was necessary. He was too busy “showering” to notice me enter. I quickly ripped the curtain open. Startled, he danced around spastically trying to cover himself.
He finally settled in the corner, his crotch covered, his ass pointing at me. “Oh my god. Can’t I get some privacy?”, he asked defensively. I turned off the water. “What were you doing in here?”, I asked with exaggerated interest. “What?”, he asked again with the same tone of defense. “Turn around and let me see you.”, I ordered.
I took hold of him by the wrist and turned him toward me. It was exactly what I expected. His cock was red, big, and rock hard. By the look of it, I had interrupted him doing him something that he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing. And just in the nick of time! “Were you jerk…”, I started to ask. But he interrupted before I could finish. “No!”, he exclaimed. “Then what were you doing?”, I continued. “I was washing.”, he muttered with absolutely zero conviction, “You told me to do it.”.
Was he serious? I catch my hubby masturbating red handed and he tries to lie his way out of it. Such a man! Worse yet, he tries to blame it on me. I would have been infuriated if it weren’t so cute. He was just a helpless little boy, cowering in the corner, with hard little penis.
I just stood there for a minute with my hands on my hips. He looked confused. He couldn’t tell if I was annoyed, amused or neither, but he knew the worst was yet to come. Finally, I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You’re right, baby.”, I agreed. He watched cautiously as I reached for the liquid soap.
Fear was starting to show on his face. I squeezed a generous amount of the soap into the palm of my hand. I then worked the soap into my hands methodically, making sure not to break eye contact with my terrified little boy. He tried feebly to prevent the inevitable, “you don’t have to….”. But the second I grasped his little member, he shut up. “Let me help you with that.”, I grinned.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft and slowly pulled both hands toward me, one after the other. I applied only gentle pressure. It allowed my hand to glide smoothly down his slippery shaft, gently pinching the tip once I reached the end. The soap created additional sensation, much more pleasurable than normal stimulation. His mouth hung open and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It had been over a week since he had cum, and months since I had caressed him in such an erotic way. He’d shutter or convulse a little from time to time, but fortunately, the soap also reduced friction.
I didn’t have to worry about husband cumming and soiling all my hard work. I alternated strokes and speed as I saw fit. When my hands went dry, I would simply re-lube with soap. I continued this for about 15 minutes, just to make sure he was good and clean. The whole time I continued to remind him how important hygiene was and how lucky I was to have someone so willing to maintain himself for me.
His only contribution to the conversation were moans and groans. By the time I was done, he was unresponsive and was unable to stand without the aid of the wall. I rinsed him off and gently helped him out of the shower where I sat him on the toilet seat. “Done?”, he composed himself enough to whimper. “Oh not quite yet, honey.”, I corrected.
I grabbed a hand towel and laid it across his crotch. Through the towel, I cupped his testicles with my left hand. Even through the towel, his testicles were burning hot and felt about pounds heavier than usual. I wrapped the other end of the towel loosely around his stiff penis. With my left hand drying his testicles and my right hand wrapped around his penis, I ran the towel up and down the full length of his erection. Slowly at first, then faster. His face began to tense. I increased my speed, faster and faster.
He couldn’t take it. His hands clenched desperately at the sides of the bowl. I continued, faster and faster and faster. My hand was now a rapidly moving blur of flesh and linen. He began to shutter and his ass lifted off the seat. Until finally…… “All done!” I squealed as I pulled my hands away. I had stopped just in time.
My husband collapsed in his seat like a rag doll. His hard penis slapped violently against his abdomen. His testicles dropped against the porcelain. I stood above him, waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t have anything to say this time. Instead he just sat there, slumped on the toilet seat with his arms dangling to the sides and his chin buried in his chest. Everything but his penis, that is. It was alive, standing tall and proud, piercing through the towel.
I removed the towel to admire my handiwork. I almost gasped. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. His penis was engorged and throbbing and a deeper purple than I had ever thought possible. It had swollen far beyond it’s normal limit. It looked painfully hungry. It was like it was trying to burst through his skin and veins. He was obvious discomfort. But I wasn’t about to let him cum. It would have ruined all my hard work. The important thing though, he was clean. His penis almost glistened it was so well polished.
I then explained that as soon as his erection subsided, he would be locked back up.