Angel Wife - Chapter 1.
This is a story of magic, love and discovery for a young man that has been deliberately coddled and his maleness subdued until his guardian angel comes to tell him that she will make all of his dreams come true.
The story is in six parts and I will publish each one in turn. They are ready to roll and will not take long after their final edits.
Enjoy.
My wife, true story, is an angel. One that had come to Earth especially for me. She had turned up at the side of my bed one night as I lay in hospital recovering from yet another broken bone and the surgery that had gone on to reset it. I never did things by halves and the resetting of the multiple fractures of my arm was simply the latest in the scrapes of a kid that thought he could fly.
I was twenty years of age and honestly you thought I would have had enough sense to believe that my double man-sized kite was never going to lift me off the ground even if the wind was strong and the roof of the house was six metres above the ground. Not enough tail I remembered thinking as the kite turned sideways and my arm couldn't get out of the homemade restraints as I plummeted to the ground.
I was fortunate that this arm, my right arm, was the first time I had broken it. My left arm had been broken twice as had both my legs. I was obsessed with flying and my home constructed gliders, wings and kites were my dreams of taking me up above the rooftops and letting me be free of all the bullshit and worries of my life.
I was the fourth, youngest and most protected, child of a wealthy family. I had three sisters. Three demonesses that dominated my life so badly that I wanted to run away, no make that fly away, from them every day. It is not that they are much older than me. Veronica, never Ronnie, is only one and a half years older than me and the twins, Kirsty and Merri-Lee only barely ten months. My father kept his wife pregnant until something with a dick popped out of her hairy cunt. Satisfied he had produced a suitable heir he banished my mother to her own wing in the massive, sprawling sandstone mansion and hired servants to look after her and her daughters. He hired a man-servant and a nanny for me. Ralph became my pseudo father. Of the real one, I saw him on birthdays and family holidays.
My first Nanny was a severe faced middle aged woman whom was as quick to use the riding crop she had hanging from her apron as she was to use her hand to clip me over the years for the merest thought of back chatting her. God help you if you asked anything remotely connected to sex! For what I later learned were wet dreams got my bare arse striped, the foulest of curses from Nanny Elizabeth and banishment to a room in the attic where I was told to pray for my soul. Hence my sexual education was zero and remained that way for far longer than it should have.
At seventeen I had had enough of her and sobbing on Ralph's broad shoulder one night and revealed the secrets to him of the torment she inflicted upon me. The man I had come to love very much was appalled and shocked and told me he would fix it. Nanny Elizabeth never darkened my days from that night on.
I was home tutored in everything from mathematics to biology. There was a huge emphasis on business financial studies. I was forced to follow the stock market since I understood the codes, prices, share indexes and what holding, options and market movement meant. To be fair, the million dollars my father set aside for me to play with was now a much greater pool than I ever half-heartedly thought I would make. However, a twelve year old boy with an eye for company stocks and an instinctive feel for what would and wouldn't move in the business world needs a broader education. Ralph told me I was something of a prodigy as I learned not only about markets, I learnt the languages where those major markets resided. I could speak passable Japanese by ten, German, French, some Chinese and even a few dialects of the Asian tongues. I could also speak Russian fluently.
My sisters were the bane of my life. They stole from me. Not money but my mother's love for a start. It seemed the appearance of a child with a cock did not impress her as much as it did my father. Her attitude rubbed off on her bitch daughters. They took my toys. They stole my underwear or rather they swapped my underwear for their skimpy and frilly knickers forcing me to either wear none or put on theirs in order to preserve my dignity when I ran around in play clothes.
I had to wear something under the short pants or ridiculous dress like clothing I was forced to wear. You see I had developed a rather large cock. It was the subject of derision from Nanny Elizabeth and if she ever saw it hanging from my shorts or revealed under the tunics that my sisters sometimes adjusted so that they were shorter and would show my genitals to the world, bitches, she would chase me with her riding crop. Sometimes she would deliver stinging blows to my flesh and I would howl like a banshee much to her perverted delight. I would wear the embarrassing pink or red knickers just to save my aching dick.
I guess her disgusted faces at even the slightest bulging of my trousers, pants or the revealing of my underwear in the tunics gave me a very unbalanced and extremely immature view of my role as a male. Coupled with the sissy games I was forced, by my mother, to play with my sisters I had almost begun to believe that the only difference between me and a wooden post was that I could move and, with permission, allowed to talk.
After Elizabeth left Nanny Jessica came and she tried to be my mother for all intents and purposes, and like my real mother, I
had
hated her with a passion. However, the fat titted and even fatter arsed woman had a different view of my dick. Even at eighteen it was, as Nanny Jessica told me, a pussy wrecker. I had no fucking idea what she meant and the mean old bag never enlightened me either. She did however, like to spend a lot of time washing and handling that pussy wrecker when she made me bathe with her. I say mean old bag but in reality Nanny Jessica was a pretty woman of probably not much older than late teens or early-twenties. Events that happened and I am about to reveal changed my attitude towards her beyond what I ever would have believed.
It was Ralph that enlightened me. Nanny Jessica had been jerking and rubbing my cock for about two years and finally one evening I had spurted something from the end of my cock and it had hit her big wobbly boobs as she knelt at the other end of my big bath. She had cried out in happiness as I lay in the bath simply dazed and bewildered by this dramatic new torture she had put me through. I had thought that her happiness would be an end to this activity but it seemed that now I was a "proper man" in her words the handling of my balls and cock became something of an obsession for her to try and make me spurt as often as she could.
AS a side note: Many, many years after Nanny Jessica came and became obsessed with my cock and its size it was revealed in a secret diary that Nanny Elizabeth had kept that she had tried her utmost to prevent me from becoming a man. Lists of ingredients that she placed in my meals were the equivalent of female hormones and growth inhibitors. According to some of my doctors they had effectively reduced my testosterone production, slowed my body's growth rate and restricted the amount of blood that would flow into my penis even if I was excited beyond normal male endurance. Instead my body had tried to compensate by giving me a larger than normal penis and, I learnt to my delight, a propensity to last longer and recover faster when I was engaged in sexual activity. So suck that, Elizabeth!
Ralph came into my bed chambers one evening after I had finished analysing my latest stock acquisitions and sold off shares in a couple of lame ducks I had thought might fly. "Master Oliver," he said kindly in his cultured British accent, "may I have a word?"
I liked Ralph. He was patient, he was kind and he was quick to smile and laugh with me. He even helped me get revenge on my sisters for their endless torment of me several times. I still chuckle when I recall snotty little bitches scratching their cunts as the superglue in their knickers ripped their pubes off and the regrowth caused them much discomfit. He taught me more than the school lessons and he was always there to hug me when I felt so bad that I just couldn't face another day in this horrible place that I had to call home.
