Ex-Wife's Revenge

Please find and read Ex-Wife's Revenge before reading this second installment. I had no intention to write this sequel, but so many readers have expressed enthusiasm for the original story, that I felt obliged to continue relating these, my true-life experiences since returning to a life under my Ex's strict domination.

Keep in mind that this, and the preceding story. Ex-Wife's Revenge are a celebration of female dominance and male submission. So if those topics repel you, please do not read on!

I cannot tell you how happy I was to have found myself crushed and defeated at the feet of my now-vengeful ex-wife. My brief sojourn seeking freedom had left me hopeless. My ex-wife, Mavis was enraged at both the insult my departure had signaled, and the utter stupidity of my attempt to live independently from her.

Nevertheless, upon my return, she had rewarded my surrender with a grudgingly frugal hand job that she administered in flippant, uncaring manner. I begin this narrative right after that moment concluded. I was still kneeling before her which is how I was when the hand job was administered. I was forced to contemplate the predicament in which I had placed myself.

I realized that the terms of our reunion now were for me grovel and beg for the kind of sexual attention that she knew I craved. Just as when we were married, I expected that she would parcel out sexual favors on rare occasion and with haughty arrogance. She explained her intentions as I knelt before her, cleaning up the cum I had spurted onto her ankles and feet a few moments earlier. I had carried out the demeaning task of licking up my mess with complete, and almost ecstatic gratitude for her having used her beautiful hand to bring me to climax.

"Look at you!" she declared. "Look at what a pitiful fool you are. You come to me whining and begging to be taken back, because you miss me and the way I know how to satisfy you. Well prepare yourself for what I have in store for you. The first thing is that tomorrow you are going to go to the sex shop and buy yourself a nice, snug chastity device."

From my kneeling position I looked up with a start, an expression of shock and sadness on my face. I had no desire to be placed into a chastity device. I had never worn one. I didn't know anyone who had ever worn such a contraption. I was stunned to even learn that Mavis knew about such things. I would have protested or at least questioned the idea, but I was struck speechless. I was also afraid to oppose anything she said, for fear that my return to her control would be jeopardized.

"Oh," she smirked with scorn. "Don't tell me you thought you were going to be signing up for a situation in which you would be receiving sex -- or whatever demeaning form of sex that you settle for -- on a regular basis. Oh, no. Don't even think about it. You are here I my terms, and they certainly don't include pleasing your perverted libido." She ended with a loud, derisive laugh.

"What money do you have?" she inquired in a business-like tone. "Let's see. Empty your pockets. Give me your wallet. Turn it over."

I turned my pockets out, handing over a little over a hundred dollars in small bills with a few twenties thrown in.

"Your checkbook, too. Your credit card," she demanded. I told her that these were in my jacket pockets, and that he jacket had been left back at the motel.

"Go and get them. Right now," was her next command. I rose to my feet, having thoroughly completed the task of licking Mavis's legs and feet (including the platform-sole, backless high heel shoes) clean as had been commanded. I put my limp penis back into my pants and zipped the fly. I backed away from my seated oppressor in as humble a fashion as I could, trying my best to show how thoroughly I accepted her rule. Then I excused myself and left for the motel where I could fetch my personal items, clothes, toiletries and things, including the checkbook and credit card that she had demanded.

When I returned, Mavis was in her bedclothes, a clingy silk, black camisole and magenta-colored panties. I handed the requested items over to her. She took them without so much as looking at my face, and turned to enter what once was our marital bedroom. She closed the door behind her, so I did not get to see where the checkbook and credit card went, nor the small amount of cash I had handed her. Then she re-emerged from the bedroom with a cold, impatient demeanor and spoke.

"Go into the garage and get the cot that we have stored there, and set it up in a corner of the bedroom. That's where you are going to sleep. There are sheets and blankets in the closet where they used to be when you lived here. Set yourself up quickly because I'm going to bed soon, and I don't want to be disturbed."

I set the cot up in a corner of Mavis's bedroom and spent the night in a state of serene satisfaction. I felt that I was looking forward to the life that i wanted to live, basking in the sexy glory of this domineering woman.

The next day Mavis gave me one-hundred twenty dollars and told me to go to the porn store on the highway and come back with a male chastity device, specifying that it be a a particular design that only allowed about 2 inches of room of elongation, preventing an erection from developing. I did what I was told to do and returned with device, handing it over to her with some trepidation that I was no going to able to fit within its confines.

Mavis unpacked the device and examined the individual parts: the short, little transparent tube with a few small, oval perforations and an opening at the tip -- which I assumed was for peeing; the ring that would connect to the base of the tube; and small metal lock that would hold the two units rigidly connected.

"Go and get the jar of Vaseline," she commanded. I knew where to find it in the medicine cabinet and returned to her with it in hand.

"Now drop you pants. The panties, too," she added mockingly. I was humiliated to hear her refer to my underpants -- perfectly manly jockey shorts -- by the term that was normally applied to a women's lingerie item. But I pulled them down, exposing my three-piece set. Just baring myself in front of the woman I most desired in the world caused an erection to start to form.

First she closed the plastic capture ring right in back of my balls, carefully situating the connection spot that would receive the cock-tube connector at the top -- or 12 o'clock -- position above the base of my penis. Mavis had dipped her forefinger into the jar and it emerged with a gob of gel, with which she then began to lather my penis. The sensation was unbearably delicious. I let out a little whimper of ecstasy as she went on, smearing the Vaseline up and down and around the circumference along the length of my throbbing shaft.

"Enjoy it while you can," she said in a superior, scornful tone, then ceased with the task of lubricating my penis. "Who knows how long it'll be before your poor little worm ever experiences touch again," she chuckled. She then proceeded to apply the hard plastic tube of the chastity device over the head of my rapidly expanding penis. The sharp edge of the opening was definitely smaller than the size of the swollen head of the member. That didn't deter her or inhibit her intentions to squeeze the now six inch-organ inside the two-inch tunnel. Making use of the Vaseline coating, and taking advantage of the rapid detumescence resulting from the discomfort thereby inflicted, Mavis twisted the tube with a screwing motion -- clockwise and counter-clockwise -- as she advanced it down the full length of my manhood. The erection subsided, making the flesh of my member increasingly compressible within the clear plastic tunnel. The discomfort was nowhere near as unpleasant as the emotional disappointment I experienced, after the all too brief pleasure that her initial touch had produced. She proceeded to engage the connecting part of the tube to that of the ring that was behind, encircling my entire three-piece genitals. She slipped the shank of a small lock through the connection and snapped it shut.

I looked down to behold how my once impressive cock had been squashed down to a mere 2 inches, it's appearance ridiculously transformed, looking much like it were viewed in a fun house mirror that makes people look like squat deformities. She took hold of the device and gave it several sharp yanks to test its stability, and to confirm that I could never get out of it without the key.

"There, now," she exclaimed. "That ought to keep you in line, if you know what I mean. Anyhow, it's necessary as part of your training. You're going to feel oh-so obedient. You'll see. Examine your own feelings. Don't you want to do everything I tell you?"

I felt a surge of complete submission. I adored Mavis, my Mistress! I wanted to do everything and anything she told me to do. I wanted to think up ways to show her my total submission.

"Kneel," she commanded in a casual, matter-of-fact tone. I fell to my knees. "Tell me how you feel, you pathetic eunuch."

"Oh my goddess! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. I adore you. I worship you," were the words I spoke as I knelt below her in an an upright kneeling position. "Let me serve you. Tell me what I must do. I will do it! What can I... What do you...?"

Mavis stood, towering over my kneeling figure, her hands placed on her hips, and threw her head back roaring with hearty laughter. She turned a full 180 around and away from me, then stopped laughing long enough to look behind -- over her right shoulder -- back down at me.

"Lift my robe," she commanded. I immediately took hold of the hem of her bathrobe. She repeated the order. I lifted the garment to just above her waist. She wore shiny, magenta-colored panties that smoothly cupped her perfect, globe-like buttocks.

"Show me."

"I plunged my face forward and sunk my nose and chin into the crevice between her glorious butt-cheeks which snugly embraced my own cheeks, kissing and sucking the loose fabric into my mouth, making moaning sounds by which I hoped would make her aware of the sincerity of my subjugation. I made powerful kissing gestures right and left against both soft buttocks. While I was engaged in debasing myself this way, Mavis began to speak in a calm, authoritative manner.

"From now on, you do nothing but what I tell you to do. You don't speak unless spoken to. You will not talk back or question my orders. My opinions are -- to you -- law. You are to learn all the housekeeping chores -- I will instruct you -- and you will carry them out to my satisfaction.

"And yes, you will be responsible for maintaining my wardrobe of lingerie and shoes. You will keep such items neatly arranged in the dressers that you used to use when you lived here. Your own clothes, whether you brought them along with you, or if they remain at the motel where you stayed, will be given to charity. You won't need much, and when it's time, I will have wearing merely a floor-length kaftan that'll be your only garment." I nodded sadly with approval and resignation.

"It's not enough to nod your head, so I will give you permission to speak.

Is all of that clear?"

"Yes, Mavis." I replied.

"From now on you address me as Madam. You do not use my personal name. That's reserved for my family and friends. You are neither. To you I am Madam."

"My mother is coming to live with us. You will treat her and behave in the same way. You are allowed to speak to her only to ask what it is that you can do for her. She will have plenty of tasks for you, I can assure you."

I knew her mother to be a beautiful, shapely woman of fifty, an executive in some kind of law or accounting firm, always dressed sharply. Always in classic high heel pumps.

"You are not to ogle or stare at her. The same with me. Each of us may need you to tend to our personal care and that may involve our being in states of undress. You will keep your eyes down and avoid making either of us - especially mother -- uncomfortable when you are dressing or bathing either of us."

(To be continued)