At The Hands Of My Wife

It was a Saturday evening. My wife Sabrina was in front of the mirror in our huge master bedroom, getting ready for a girls’ night out. She was wearing a thin chiffon sari, the material transparent enough so one could see the milky white skin of her perfectly toned stomach, and the little diamond stud piercing she had on her navel. The sari wrapped tightly around her curvaceous body, leaving nothing to the imagination. She smiled at her reflection and puckered her lips, thinking of the right shade of lipstick to apply.

And there was I. Legs spread apart, bent over double on a high chair, with the cushion of the padded back of the chair pressing into my tummy, my hands tied to the bottom of the legs of the chair, my face pressed onto the seat of the chair, and my buttocks up in the air, ready to be paddled. With my legs spread as they were, my penis and balls hung out over the back of the chair. Occasionally, as my wife brushed her hair, she would wrap her hands around my shaft and gently rub me. Right now, I was left alone to my thoughts as she applied her make up.

“Amit!” My wife suddenly addressed me.

“Yes, dear.” Obediently I answered, remembering never to take her name, and keeping my tone deferential.

Sabrina had turned to look at my submissive position and made a face.

“My gosh,” She exclaimed. “Do you look like a pathetic fuck!”

“Yes, dear.”

“Look at that dirty big ass, hanging up in the air.” She laughed. Smacking my bum once or twice, she turned back to the mirror and picked out a mascara.

“I like having you like this on the chair,” She said, as she started to apply her mascara. “Like the inadequate loser that you are.”

I remained silent. Sabrina put down the mascara, turned around and grabbed my dick in her hand.

“Want me to stroke that pathetic little wiener, do you?” She taunted, gently tugging at it to and fro. “Hmm?”

“Yes, dear.” I croaked.

“Well,” Sabrina turned around so she held my penis in one hand while I remained in my humble position. With her other hand she picked out an eye shadow.

“I am going out with some of my girl friends tonight,” She told me as she gently stroked my manhood, while simultaneously continuing to apply her make up with her other hand. “I will be having a fun time. Searching for real men, of course.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Unlike you. Why, look at you!” Sabrina turned once more so that she was now facing me. “Are you having a nice time with your tushy up in the air?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good.” Sabrina continued to stroke me as she looked me over. “I am going to rub your fucking little cock but you better not fucking cum, do you understand me?”

“Yes, dear.”

“And if you do, you are going to get a proper beating like a naughty school boy, do you understand, you disgusting piece of shit?”

“Yes, dear.”

Sabrina rubbed her thumb against the tip of my penis for some time, and then thankfully let go of me. She continued with her make up.

I was now quite hard. The whole situation as I, an older member of the board of a respected multinational Indian company, submitted myself so thoroughly and humiliatingly to my diminutive, petite young wife, as she rubbed me and stroked me while taunting me about her night out was having its effect on me.

“What a miserable wimp you are!” Sabrina told me, as she applied a lipstick on her puckered lips.

“Certainly, dear.”

Sabrina tapped a finger against the side of my rock hard penis as she hunted around her make up box for something.

“When I am with my friends, I am going to tell them about you, you know.” Sabrina taunted me. “How do you like the idea of women you don’t even know laughing at what a pathetic wimp you are?”

Sabrina turned around and placed one hand on her hip, and the other hand wrapping themselves around my balls.

“These look quite full dear.” She told me. “You better not cum.”

“No, dear.”

“Look at how tiny that cock of yours is.” She laughed. “I should take a picture to show my girl friends.”

“Yes, dear.”

“It would be good comparison when I am out with a real guy later in the night.”

“Yes, dear.”

“When we look at your dick, we will know exactly what we don’t want.”

“Yes, dear.”

“My, my.” Sabrina leaned in for a closer look at my exposed genitals. “You are already starting to drip some of that pathetic disgusting filth out of your cock. You are such a wuss!”

“Sorry, dear.” I apologized, aware that I was leaking some precum.

“Look at yourself.” Sabrina grabbed my balls and gave me a little shake. “My what a pitiable man you are!”

She continued to alternately jiggle my balls and rub a finger across my dick.

“I hope you are not thinking about cumming, are you?” She asked me.

“No, dear.”

“Hmm, did I give you permission to cum?” She started to rub me again vigorously.

“No, dear.”

It was torture. I tried to desperately think of anything other than my present predicament to avoid cumming. I tried to think about last night’s cricket game. I tried to picture my grandmother. I tried to think about the food I had eaten for lunch. Anything to stop thinking of how her dainty little fingers were gently gliding across my turgid hardness.

“Just think of three women laughing,” Sabrina continued, stroking me hard. “Laughing hysterically at the picture of your tiny little cock, and that pathetic little asshole, up in the air, for all to see, ready to be whipped. Are you embarrassed?”

“Yes, dear.”

“You know what’s funny?” My wife laughed. “Maybe I will run into one of your friends at a bar, and show him your fucking little picture, huh?”

Sabrina now grabbed my balls with one hand, and rubbed her saliva onto my dick with the other, and started to press her thumb across the hardness of my manhood, gently at first, and then furiously.

“Almost close to cumming, eh?” She taunted me.

“Yes, dear.”

“Did I give you permission to cum?”

“No, dear.”

“Do you want to get a spanking all night, Amit?”

“No, dear.”

“Then you better not cum, darling.”

“Yes, dear.” I groaned. I was now moaning. My body started to convulse. I would not be able to hold out for long, and my wife knew it.

“Now what shade of lipstick should I wear, darling?” Sabrina asked me, expecting no reply. “I have to attract a real man – you know – not another loser like you.”

“Yes, dear. Aahh..” I was so close!

My wife lessened the pace of her strokes as she concentrated now on her lipstick.

“You shouldn’t even be considering the thought of cumming.” She told me. “I hope it’s hard for you – it’s difficult for you – all that filthy disgusting sperm of yours building up in your small little balls.”

“Yes, dear. Oh, fuck.”

“Now, now, no cursing dear.” My wife continued to milk me. “You sound like a bitch. Is it difficult, dear? No cumming!”

Sabrina placed the tip of her forefinger on the bulbous head of my penis. I was now about to cum.

“Do you want to stay in this position all night, Amit?”

“No, dear.”

“Then you better not cum, you piece of fuck. Are you having a hard time, you fucking loser?”

“Yes, dear.”

My wife now had wrapped her fingers around my penis and was slowly tugging me to and fro, bringing me close to my edge. I moaned.

“No cumming, slave boy.” My wife warned me.

“Ooh, ooh.”

“What a little bitch you are, my husband, with your ass hanging up and letting your wife milk you like that!”

That did it. It all built up to that moment as my wife called me a little bitch, and her slave, and it put me over the edge. I lost my control at that point and my body started to contort.

“What. The. Fuck.” Sabrina exclaimed as I started to ejaculate.

“Ahhh… sorry, dear … ahhhh.”

“You. Fucking. Loser.”

“I am so sorry, dear. Ahhhh….”

“Look at that big, disgusting load.”

I continued to cum as Sabrina held my gradually softening manhood in a tight grip. When I was done, Sabrina walked over and rubbed her hands on a towel.

“You are a real loser, Amit.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Now you are going to get punished for cumming.”

“Yes, dear.”

As the last drop of my cum trickled down to the floor, I sighed and got myself ready. The night was just beginning.

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