Exposing Amy Ch. 04

The milkman continued to caress my breasts until he had no option but to get back to his round. Stopping as nonchalantly as he had started, he simply let go, turned around and said cheerio as though he had only just popped in for a moment.

From that day onwards, the milkman would arrive, enter our kitchen, put down the milk and then avail himself, either visually or physically, of my body. Although we will never ever have sex, being an exhibitionist is all I need to give me the shame that I crave. We play the game almost everyday, It always looks as though he has a hard on every day, yet for all the obvious reasons I firmly refuse to acknowledge the existence or knowledge of this.

I felt that if we accepted and openly acknowledged what he was doing, then that would bring everything into the open and into our conscious. It would become real and it would be sexual between us. Once we stopped pretending and playing this surreal game, then it would need to be addressed and dealt with, which could only mean the end of what I was finding to be incredibly naughty and sensual entertainment. This way the denial allowed it to continue.

However it was only a matter of time before I pushed it a little further. I deliberately left my robe over a chair at the end of the kitchen furthest away from the door. Waiting until I heard him in the house putting the milk on the kitchen top, I walked into the kitchen fully naked, my hair wet to validate the 'just got out of the shower' claim.

I made a rather pathetic and not very successful pretence of putting my hand across my breasts and one hand between my legs to protect my modesty, my saggy tits and my smooth vaginal cleft fully visible.

I rushed to put the robe on but then with a gesture that said,

"Hell you have seen it all now anyway,"

I just left it completely open.

Then as he stood before me, he reached into my gaping robe and cupped my dripping mound. He felt my rounded lips then put a little more pressure on with his fingers and tried to push into my wet inner lips.

For the first ever time, I was forced to openly acknowledge that he had touched me.

"No, not that," I whimpered.

Then, as he hesitated and then pushed gently again, I said,

"Please no, not that."

I assume that he knew he had a good thing going here and that he could be on the verge of fucking it all up, so he released the pressure on my inner lips and returned to caressing my swollen vulva.

It was in this situation a few days later, as we pretend our way through small talk and I let him play his fingers lightly over my pudenda and cup my swollen mound, that I had a tampon inside me. He touched the string, played it around his fingers, then ever so slightly pulled on it, just enough for me to feel the movement inside me. It was a surreal and exquisite feeling, to find myself sharing with this man the most intimate condition for a woman. I was as close to climaxing at his caress as I ever had been, or ever intended to be. The desperate fight to not orgasm, which I thought would also shatter what we had, took every ounce of my self control.

Eventually, I could no longer justify not telling my husband Paul what I had been up to these last few months. After the birth of our third and last child (thankfully not given to me by the rapist pimp) we agreed that this safe and gentle fetish would be best all round for us both. So now Paul stands in the shadows, he watches the unreal and imaginary scenario through strategically placed pc's with their cameras running and peeps through cracks in the door like the sad pathetic little sub he is becoming.

I then continued to expose myself to callers but I had begun to tire of that side of things, I also had plans for Paul now that he had become involved in my game. The first part being to cover my neck and breasts with fresh love bites every now and then to maintain my shameful appearance.

The street which ran parallel behind ours had gardens which backed onto ours. This meant that the garden from each street ran up to each other and was only separated from each other by a fence. The fence that separated us from the one which lay directly behind was only a lathe fence and could quite easily be seen through.

I used the back lawn to hang my washing out to dry.

Cutting out a long story of how I arrived at the situation, I will skip to the point where all the men from adjacent houses had started to watch me. With trembling hands and shaking legs, not to mention a very aroused vagina, I would make a daily ritual of washing and drying.

As you have probably guessed, my mode of dress remained the same as when I was in my kitchen.

As I bent down to my wash basket, my saggy breasts, together with the terrible love bites would invariably fall out. I pretended I had no idea that anyone was watching me and didn't try to keep putting them back inside my robe, because they would only fall out again. I had to reach up to the line to peg my nappies and children's things on the line, which quite deliberately exposed my smooth prominent vulva to all watching.

My immediate neighbour could come right up to the fence on the pretext of 'pottering about' in his garden and would be only a matter of feet from my embarrassing body.

It was absolutely vital that the whole context remained as innocent and the exposure as accidental, as I could. This had to make me feel so inferior, it had to make me feel like those men would be laughing at me and my saggy body. It made me damn excited and humiliated at the same time. These men had to smirk and mock the saggy bitch at number 27 who, with derision would think,

"She doesn't even know we can all see her tits and cunt."

One day I wore a shelf bra, which obscenely pushed my tits up and out like an offering. I also wore a t-shirt a size too small for me, resulting in the most blatant and obvious pokies, which in turn became wet rings around my areola as I openly lactated into my clothes. I looked a cheap, common slag.

As Paul watched from the bedroom window he would see most of the curtains across the way moving and twitching and he would regularly see many pairs of binoculars focussed on me.

The second plan I had for Paul arrived in a parcel. I called him into the room and ordered him to get his cock out. Excited, thinking he was going to fuck me, Paul rushed to drop his pants and stood waiting.

That is when I put the cock cage on him.

I took his flaccid dick and encased it in the lockable little cage.

"You will wear this whenever I tell you to, understand? You will not take it off, ever, without my permission."

Paul was dumfounded.

Whenever I allowed the milkman to idly fondle and caress me, as we made our small talk and I performed the charade of acting unaware and unknowing, Paul would stand in the shadows, a pathetic voyeur. His cock, unable to harden due to its confinement, driving him insane as he was so incredibly aroused. My husband watched the milkman take advantage of me in my unflinching and unresponsive state, a pathetic figure naked, the metal cage, the only thing he had on.

Almost everyday, as I went into the garden, the neighbour whose garden adjoined directly to ours, would try to engage me in conversation. Out of politeness (or so he assumed) I always approached the fence when he addressed me. I would pull my robe closed over my breasts in a show of modesty and innocence but as we talked, just that tiny fence apart, I could feel when my robe 'betrayed' me and slid slowly apart. The swell of my breasts with the purple/red hickeys would appear, closely followed by my dark areola and erect nipples (I desperately hoped were lactating) would become visible to him.

So as not to appear in the same garb constantly which might have aroused suspicion, I managed to fix other items of clothing the same way as I had fixed my robe. The cleavage and the opening between my legs did exactly the same as my dirty chav robe. It was the easiest thing to let these dresses part naturally over my heaving breasts and come open lower down to expose my hairless sex, all so 'naturally' and 'innocently'.

This 'natural' movement allowed me to be naïve and innocent and feign total unawareness of my clothing being slightly apart. At this point my neighbour would always drop something or pretend to bend down to pick a weed. He would slowly bend down to retrieve it and as I knew what he was doing, so I would make a great play of looking away, giving him as long as he needed to gaze at my bare vaginal lips merely inches away.

If this wasn't embarrassing enough, one day when he went through this charade and bent down to see a tampon string between my swollen lips, my humiliation went into overload. (I was not on my period but after being in this immensely personal condition with the milkman, I was eager to experience the shame and humiliation as many times as possible, I would regularly insert a tampon when I knew I was due a delivery and allow whoever came to my door to see me in that intimate condition.) He had seen my nakedness, yet here, a simple piece of string elevated the intimacy beyond all previous levels. Allowing this stranger to see the incredibly intimate and delicately private sight of me in that condition, was degrading in the extreme and highly exciting.

When I first got pregnant, I bought a breast pump as I was unsure whether I would have problems feeding my child, yet because I lactate freely it was never an issue and I had forgotten about it until now.

Now before each visit from the milkman, or before each time I go out and engage in conversation with our neighbour, I attach the pumps to my breasts and turn on the machine. The suction on this model was extremely strong and in no time it would be pulling my nipples into the tube and stretching them to an incredible length. I would wait up until the last moment of contact between myself and my voyeur, before quickly disengaging. Once my distended nipples were as long and thick as they could be, when the blood had made them red with excitement and when the milk had started to flow, enhancing the sight of my love bite-covered tits, dark areola and engorged milk literally running from saggy breasts, then I would expose myself to my waiting and very appreciative audience.

All this whilst knowing that my husband would be watching me, his little cock imprisoned, awaiting my permission to free his humiliated tiny dick.

Paul Continues

I have been humiliated by Amy so many times now that it should be of no surprise to me when she twists the knife a little further each time. This time however, in the absence of the debauched and sordid actions we had engaged in previously, I didn't expect her to be able to do it to me much.

When I came home from work one day, Amy ordered me to the bedroom and on arriving there promptly told me to stand still. Amy pulled my pants down whilst telling me I had been naughty. I was wondering what game she was playing when she produced the cock cage.

I was dumbstruck to say the least, but when she took control and ordered me to take off my pants, things were beginning to get a little scary. Amy told me to stand still like she was talking to a child, slapped my legs like you would a small boy who was misbehaving and fastened that horrible metal prison around my manhood. I was stunned.

"You will wear this at all times, you will never attempt to remove it, it will only ever be removed with my permission, do you understand." She talked down to me.

I was too shocked to respond, so Amy slapped my legs again like she was dealing with an errant child.

"Do you understand?"

"Err err yes," I whispered.

I had been embarrassed and humiliated in many ways by my wife but now Amy had added the piece de resistance, she had now found the way to add physical humiliation, to the mental torment I suffer regularly. The physical presence of such a prison for my cock was so hugely symbolic and such a profound statement of my abject submission.

I had to wear this thing whenever I was ordered, the humiliation unbelievable, I thought that such a simple thing would be nothing compared to the sleazy sex acts performed by my wife. I was wrong and every time I stood naked like a naughty boy with my cock cage on, looking through the gap in the kitchen door, as our milkman lazily fondled my wife, it was unbearable.

As I watched Amy expose herself shamelessly and disgustingly to our neighbours I would watch, the feelings of abject misery, arousing me beyond belief as my tiny cock strained unsuccessfully against its metal prison.

I felt so belittled and such a pitiful and sorry excuse for a man that at times the excitement was intolerable.

Wearing a chastity cage meant ceding full control of my sexual organ to my wife. Not only does my wife control when I allowed to have sex, or to orgasm, which is not often but she even decides whether I am to be allowed an erection at all. It is extremely frustrating and humiliating not being able to have sex or being allowed to masturbate. This new situation was not conducted as a loving couple playing a sex game, this was pure and genuine enslavement.

When my wife needed a fuck I was released. The sexual tension and build up was always immense, yet woe betides me if I came before I had pleasured her. On the only occasion that I couldn't hold out and came very, very quickly, it resulted in my punishment being severe. I remained locked up for a whole month. To make matters worse she made me lick her pussy and make her cum everyday, deliberately making me desperate for my own release, all the while my chastity cage denying me any relief whatsoever.

Some days Amy made me put on a strap-on cock and I was then made to fuck her with this false dick, therefore giving her all that she demanded, yet I still had to remain caged. As I fucked my wife doggy style I was made to watch as the dildo stretched her pussy and plunged into her, yet I was denied an erection, I was made to remain highly excited mentally, whilst physically imprisoned.

My wife will reward me once in awhile by allowing me to masturbate but more often than not, I am usually just given a ruined orgasm or milked. I had absolutely no idea what the hell a ruined orgasm was - I do now!

Amy became a master at giving me a ruined orgasm. She learned all the signs of me getting close to cumming and would stop all stimulation just as my ejaculation began. This 'edging' would keep me on the verge of ejaculation, then she would take great pleasure in stopping when I began to release my semen. The result being, that my cum would weakly dribble from my cock, leaking out rather than spurting. This was the most frustrating experience I had ever had, although I got pressure release from ejaculating, I was denied all of the pleasurable sensations associated with a full orgasm. I could not attain the pleasure of the muscle contractions that cause the semen to spurt during a full orgasm.

If the actual orgasm denial was bad enough the aftermath was just as bad. Despite having cum I would find himself still horny and frustrated - and, in many cases, still hard (until Amy ordered me to stand still, whilst she forced the ice pack onto my entire genital area.)

For all my terrible frustration I actually enjoyed my ruined orgasms, as they intensified the teasing and denial elements of my enforced chastity and therefore my total and complete humiliation.

For hygiene, my wife always insisted that she be the one to clean me. Ordering me to the bedroom the humiliation would start straightaway. I was ordered to lie back on the bed, naked and pull my legs up and back to expose my caged manhood. It was like the position a baby is in when its mother changes its diaper or nappy. All the time talking down to me, patronising me and condescending me, after unlocking me and freeing me she would wipe me down with a cloth and powder me like a baby, before putting the spare clean cage back onto my genitals. Amy would always have an ice pack ready just in case I got an erection (nearly always!) and would force the metal prison back onto me. After changing me she would always talk to me like a child and tell me to,

"Run along now," and smack my ass like a naughty boy.

We have both since agreed that she owns my cock and that only she can decide how and when it gets used.

I love the feeling of the cage around my cock. It's a constant reminder of Amy's complete superiority and mastery of me and the fact that she owns it. She conducts frequent, frustrating tease and denial sessions that are agony for me and fun for her. An ice-pack is then applied to my dick so that Amy can immediately get me back in my male chastity device.

At home most days, I am made to wear nothing below the waist all evening. My bottom half completely exposed with my padlocked cock cage on view, a constant reminder and a constant source of incredible humiliation. As I am forced to show myself in this degrading condition to the very person who put me there, my tormentor keeps me constantly excited with her belittling of me. The arousal in this condition is self perpetuating, the more humiliated I feel caged like this, then the more excited I become but the very thing that gives me the arousal, is the very thing that the blocks the arousal!! It is an insane experience.

Just lately I have begun to have a crazy fantasy. Amy has a few girlfriends around one evening and I am made to either serve them or to be called in to the room, so that Amy can show the girls what she has been telling them about, as they don't believe her. I stand in the room with my tiny caged cock on full view to all these women. The ridicule, derision and laughter is unbearable and when they all take turns inspecting the cage, touching it, holding me in the palm of their hands like I am a nothing, talking about how they must get one for their husband etc, I want to crawl away somewhere.

Amy concludes

I had found what I thought was perfection but I soon discovered one last perversion to complete my happiness.

One day I waited for my voyeur neighbour to come into the garden, today was different, today was special and I was actually waiting for him. I went out into the garden and initiated the usual conversation with him. I approached the fence as I had done on so many occasions before, dressed also as I had so many times before. I had fresh love bites on my breasts, I had used the breast pump up until the last possible moment and now my huge swollen and almost purple nipples literally ran with my milk, however this time as I made the deliberate movement that I knew would expose my vulva to him, I was shaking like a leaf, the anticipation and nervous excitement intense.

My neighbour waited until I deliberately looked away, as I always did to give him the freedom to look at me. He then dropped something on the floor and bent to take his customary look at my pussy. I was electrified as I realised that at that moment, he had seen my chastity belt for the first time.

I have bared myself regularly over the last years, yet never had I felt so humiliated and turned-on by the fact that this man could see me dressed in a chastity belt. This erotic sight, a vision so unexpected, made my neighbour audibly gasp and draw in breath, it was one of those moments in life that happen to very few, his erection was instantaneous.

What did he think of me? Was I such a whore that my husband had to lock away my cunt? Was I such a cheap slut that I had to be restrained from giving my pussy up to men by a physical barrier? Was I such a dirty slut that I loved being used and mistreated?

Whatever assumption he made was irrelevant, it mattered only to me that this hugely intimate moment, which covered every facet of humiliation and shame that I needed, was encapsulated into that one ultimate appearance.