Chapter 3
And so it went this way for a few weeks. I donned my ridiculous uniforms and submitted to Emma's new rule. I performed oral sex at least twice a day and got nothing in return but the occasional rub of my engorged testicles. We still kept up our appearances in social circles and family events but everyone began to notice a softer version of me coming forward. When questioned by my sister I simply mentioned seeing a marriage counselor but a simple dropping off my pants would show the red stripes that were evident even through my black pantyhose.
Luckily after about 3 weeks I was granted the 'privilege' of no longer having to beg to like maitresse's ass but now I was made to beg to lick maitresse's cunt (her words not mine). I often found myself begging for this privilege multiple times a day to the point to where maitresse put a limit to only morning, midday, and bed time I was allowed. A process we now referred to as worshipping her.
I could end this at any time and simply walk away but a deep masochistic desire spoke to me and kept me submitting to maitresse. Particularly embarrassing was an incident at dinner when I absent-mindedly referred to Emma as maitresse. We laughed this off as a lost bet but the troubled look on my sister Tiffany's face told me she put a lot more stock in the gesture than that.
Later that night as I worshiped maitresse after we returned home she made a new rule that in public around people that I was to refer to her as maitresse, and I was to call her Emma as infrequently as possible except around friends. I muffled an affirmative as I lapped at her on my knees.
A dull ache existed almost at all times between my legs. The cage kept my cock at bay and I buzzed with a dull frustrating desire. I just wanted out of the cage to get an erection and to feel somewhat normal again but it was unyielding and only for the occasional cleaning was the cage ever removed. Maitresse would tease me constantly by dressing seductively and even telling me she had a desire to suck cock but was unable to do to my cock cage. I could only groan in frustration and was forced to agree with her that a real faithful man would allow her to satisfy those desires no problem.
I'm sure brain chemistry was partially responsible but when I looked at myself in the mirror dressed up in a french maid uniform I didn't resent Emma at all for this. I was angry at myself, angry for taking her for granted for so many years, angry for not taking advantage of what I had. I figured I would serve my penance, could start over with the woman I loved, and in a way I deserved to be like this.
In my mind I felt a push-pull between hating what was being done to me and enjoying it on a masochistic level. I had always enjoyed pain and humiliation but getting it 24/7 was overwhelming. Plus the amount of work exhausting me each day accompanied by a bland diet I think my brain was being overwhelmed. I could barely get my shoes and dress of every night before falling into bed exhausted by each days schedule.
Emma experienced a new-found confidence that was previously not present in her and got in a toned ridiculously sexy physique. She dressed more provocatively as well. Gone were loose fitting pants and in were figure hugging skirts and dresses all designed no doubt to tease me into longing for what was now unattainable. She now often wore leather mini skirts with sheer black pantyhose which she knew is a look that drives me wild.
