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I tried to relax and gather my thoughts as I sat in the well-appointed waiting room impatiently rehearsing my best interview responses. It had been a long day already, up before 4 am to make the 6 am flight from Des Moines to La Guardia, then a cab to the Manhattan office. I was just barely early for my 1:30 interview. Not only a long day, but it had been a long year. Unemployed after an unexpected layoff, I hadn’t had many real opportunities for good jobs.
And my wife Kelli was becoming very frustrated with me. She had been advancing in her career and she didn’t seem to understand how hard it was for me to find a job. After all, I was now over 50 and I knew my job skills were lacking. Fortunately she had found me this interview. I was grateful that she’d set it all up for me, even booked my flight. And she told me that she had spoken to Ms. Panington, the director, and given her some background on my behalf. BMI, Behaviour Modification Institute was the company. I had tried to research them on the internet, but the company website only listed contact information and displayed a notice that, due to the private nature of their mission, no other information was available.
I figured Ms. Panington would fill me in soon enough. If the office furnishings were any indication, this company was doing pretty dang well. All Kelli had told me was that the position would require extensive on-site training and that they were looking to fill it immediately. She had purchased an open-ended return ticket for me, and had packed my suitcase for me as well. She seemed to expect that I would get the position. We both knew I needed it. She had become so frustrated with me that our sex life had suffered and I hadn’t made love with her for months.
The phone rang at the reception desk. “Yes, Ms. Panington. He is here. Shall I send him in?”
“She’s sending out Ms. Jenson to get you. You can bring your suitcase in with you.”
I could feel my nerves beginning to rise. I needed this job, and I didn’t know how I’d face Kelli if I went home without it.
The door next to the reception desk opened, “Tom? I’m Ms. Jensen. Please follow me.” Very formal, I thought, no handshake, hope this isn’t a bad sign. Ms Jensen was a petite redhead with a bust line that must have made it hard for her to balance on her 4 inch pumps. I tried not to look at her well-rounded rear under her tight A-line linen skirt as I followed her down the hall. I knew that if I let myself become aroused that I would have trouble focusing in the interview.
Finally, at the end of the hall Ms. Jensen entered a door to a corner office and closed it behind her. “This is Ms. Panington, our director and chief trainer. Sit there, Tom,” and she directed me to an overstuffed easy chair a few feet from Ms. Panington, who did not get up. I sat as directed and immediately recognized that I was not at eye level with Ms. Panington. She sat in a large leather desk chair on wheels and the chair I sat in left me several inches lower. Ms. Jensen sat on the nearby desk and seemed to make a display of crossing her legs.
“So, Tom, what do you know about BMI?” Ms. Panington began.
“I know that you are Behavior Modification Institute and I assume that you sell your programs to companies looking to change the behavior of their employees?” I ventured.
“That’s a reasonable guess, Tom, but that’s not at all what we do. We actually are a one hundred percent female company and our customers are one hundred percent women. We help women change the behavior of their husbands, their boyfriends, or their sons.” I was confused and wondered what I was doing applying for a job with an all-female company. She continued, “You see Tom, there has been a bit of deception in getting you here. We do not have a job for you. Kelli has hired us to change your behavior.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding?” I manage to say, “And what behavior is it that she wants changed?”
“There appears to be plenty that is in need of changing, Tom. Kelli completed our questionnaire, which is quite extensive, and actually she was here last month for an in-person assessment,” Ms. Panington explained with notable disdain, “She is quite disgusted with you, and frankly, I don’t blame her.”
“Why? What? What did she tell you about me?” I am both curious and angry.
“I think it is best that we start with your viewing the introductory video that she taped while she was here. Then we will start our assessment,” she explained. She leans over to her laptop, taps some keys, and Kelli’s image flashes up on the 50 inch flat screen on the office wall.
The image of Kelli begins speaking. “Tom, if you are watching this you must be with Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen. I want you to do exactly as they tell you. This will make or break our marriage. As you know I have become quite successful in my career during this past year when you have been home surfing porn and masturbating. Yes, Tom, I know about your masturbating. I installed a hidden camera in our home office and one in the bedroom. I have seen you playing with your pathetic little dick every day. And I’ve seen you going through my dresser drawers and jerking off in my panties and other things. Yes, Tom, I’ve been watching you for months, and I have shown the tapes to Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen.” Ms. Panington taps a key on her laptop and the video pauses.
“Do you have a problem with masturbation, Tom?” she asks.
“Well, I, ahh, I just sometimes, you know, if I’m bored, or something,” I feel my face flushing.
Ms. Panington resumes the video, and Kelli continues, “Tom, I do think that you have many endearing qualities and I do love you. If I didn’t I would have kicked you out long ago. But, I want to tell you something that I have kept from you for years, you are a terrible lover. Your penis is very small and it has never satisfied me. You too often prematurely ejaculate, and now I find that you are a compulsive masturbator. So, here is how it will be: You can get up right now and walk out, return home, and go with me to the attorney’s office and sign paperwork for a divorce; or, you will sign an agreement with BMI to undergo their training. It will begin with a two-week intensive, then one four-day weekend per month over the next year or until I am completely satisfied.” Kelli stops talking for a couple of moments, as though for the weight of what she said to be allowed to sink in, to sink deep to my core. Then she continues, saying softly but sternly, “Things must change, Tom, or we’re done.” The TV screen goes blank.
I am dumbfounded. And, I am embarrassed to have these two attractive women know about my private habits. I couldn’t bear the thought that Kelli had watched me pleasure myself in front of the computer screen and with pairs of her panties, bras, slips, and stockings. And these women have seen the video tapes as well. My face is flushed with embarrassment and my head hangs in shame. Ms. Panington stands up and approaches me. For the first time I notice how striking she is. Probably 6’2 in her heeled black boots, she is wearing a knee-length red leather skirt, a white silk blouse unbuttoned to show just a hint of white lace, and her perfume is intoxicating. She hands me a clipboard with a form on it and instructs me simply, “Sign here.”
Without hesitation I sign. I knew that I couldn’t afford, in more ways than one, to lose Kelli. Plus, I am experiencing a strange arousal from the thought that these two beautiful women knew my secrets.
“Fine, then. Let’s begin. Stand up and take off all clothing down to the women’s panties that we know you are wearing. Kelli told us about that little habit as well.”
I did as I was told. I wished that I hadn’t chosen pink panties this morning, but how would I have known anyone would see them.
“Now sit back down, Tom.” Ms. Panington stated firmly, without comment about the lace-trimmed full brief panties I was wearing. Once I was seated she continued. “Since part of your problem is compulsive and secretive masturbation, I want you to rub yourself through those pink panties until you are hard. Once you are hard and as large as you can muster, tell me and we will continue.” Ms. Jensen now had a big smirk on her face and was teasingly crossing and uncrossing her legs. I was so nervous that I couldn’t get hard, and the harder I tried, the more I seemed to shrink and the more embarrassed I became. Little drops of precum had left a wet spot on my panties.
“I thought this might happen. You can’t perform in front of a woman because you are so used to jerking off in private. From now on, Tom, you will only be allowed to touch your precious little wee-wee in the presence of a woman. Is that understood?” she stopped and waited for my answer, continuing to tower over me.
“Yes, but…” I start to protest.
“You might be wondering how we will know. Show him, Ms. Jensen. Believe me, Tom, we will know. And you do not want to see what behavior modification techniques we will use if you touch yourself outside of the presence of a woman and without explicit permission to do so,” Ms. Pennington explains in a no-nonsense tone.
Ms. Jensen pulls open a drawer on the desk and pulls out a small pink contraption. “Stand up, Tom, and pull down your panties. It is best for us to do this when you are soft anyway.”
I comply. Ms. Jensen pulls on white latex gloves, lifts up my balls, and slides one side of my sack, then the other, through a round plastic ring. This ring is connected by a thick red wire to a stretchy pink Velcro band that she attaches around the base of my penis. She leans over and taps a couple of keys on the keyboard and a graph pops up on the screen. “See this, Tom?” Ms. Jensen explains, pointing to the graph. “This will monitor the blood flow and arousal 24/7, and an alert will be sent to both of our cell phones if this is removed. Ejaculation is unmistakable on this computer program. Comprende?”
I nodded in agreement. With a mind of its own, my penis betrayed me as it grew to a full erection. They noticed, laughed at my arousal, and Ms. Jensen said to Ms. Panington, “Kelli did tell us that he jerked off looking at FemDom websites. Look how our control of his little wee-wee excites him. How sweet.”
“Get the measuring tape, please,” and I was mortified to have Ms. Jensen place the end of the tape at the base of my now fully erect cock and have her convey the tale of the tape to Ms. Panington, “Three and five-eighths, just over three and a half. No wonder Kelli has been so frustrated.” My face flushed with humiliation, but my cock was throbbing and dancing on its own.
“Look how he loves the humiliation of his pathetic size being revealed to us two women,” Ms. Jensen comments, “this behavior modification is going to be a load of fun.”
Ms. Panington took on a more serious tone, “Tom, there are a few things that you must learn. First, you may only touch yourself in the presence of and with the permission of a woman. Second, you must learn not to ejaculate without permission. We will be addressing the premature ejaculation. Third, Kelli told us that she will never again allow your little wee-wee to enter her, so your only pleasure will be supervised masturbation. Oh yes, she also told us that she plans to never again touch it since it disgusts her so much. And finally, you will learn to pleasure women in other ways. Repeat to me what I just told you so that I know you understand.”
I repeated what she had told me, again with my arousal being obvious from the involuntary throbbing and jerking of my cock.
“Now I want you to stroke it for us, just as you’ve been sneaking around and doing. If you get close to losing control you may take your hand away and ask for permission to stop. We want to get a baseline for the computer program.” Ms. Panington instructed me, now with a smile, “I am going to begin your sexual history interview, and I want you stroking as we talk. Understood?”
I nodded and took my manhood in my right hand and began to slowly pump.
“And no B.S. Remember, we have considerable information from your wife, and we’ve seen videos of your masturbatory sessions.” I nodded that I understood. “So, let’s begin. Do you like to wear women’s underwear?”
“Yes, Mam, I do.” I responded as I slowly stroked.
“Tell us about the first time you put on panties. Were they your mothers?”
“Yes. I was about 12 years old. I was home alone and I went into her bedroom and opened her dresser. I looked through her things and a strong urge came over me to try on a pair of her panties,” I continued to stroke as I explained, “They were white, nylon with lace…” Without warning, my cock begins to erupt. I quickly move my hand away, and say, “May I stop stroking?” But it is too late. I have spattered all over my stomach, the chair, even onto the carpet.
The two women shout in unison, “You naughty little panty boy. You will be punished for that.”
I had just lost my load in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen. They had been quite clear that I was not to squirt without express permission. I could not bear to look at them and I hung my head in shame as my cock shrank in front of their disapproving gaze. My hand, my panties, and my belly had cum dripping everywhere and I could see that I had messed the chair and the carpet as well. I sat motionless, unsure what would happen next.
Ms. Panington picked up the phone, “Ms. Sweeney, would you come in here please. I want you to see this. Our new trainee has made quite a mess.” Within seconds the young, attractive receptionist walked in, gave the scene a once-over, and burst into a giggle, “Oh my, when his wife was here she told me that he had a problem with staying power. Would you like me to get some baby wipes?”
“Yes, but just clean up the carpet and the chair. I think it is best that we let him sit in the mess he’s made,” Ms. Panington tells her.
Ms. Sweeney grabs a container of wipes from the cupboard and begins cleaning the mess. “What was it that set him off?” she asks.
“We had just started our interview and I had simply asked him about the first time he wore his mother’s panties, and he lost all control. Appears Kelli does need our help with this one,” Ms. Panington explained. She then turned to me, “Head up, Tom. Look at me. Since we cannot now continue with our interview and premature ejaculation remediation, we will proceed with preparing you for your stay. And, you will experience your first punishment. Do you understand why you must be punished, Tom?”
“Yes, Ms. Panington, I do. I must be punished because I ejaculated without your permission. I am sorry, Ms. Panington,” I said meekly.
“Well, it is important that you recognize what you have done, and I will accept your apology. I want you to apologize also to Ms. Jensen who had to witness your selfishness, and Ms. Sweeney who cleaned up your mess,” Ms. Panington instructed.
“I am truly sorry that you had to see such a thing, Ms. Jensen,” I paused and turned to Ms. Sweeney, “And I am sorry Ms. Sweeney, that I made such a mess.”
Without responding, they gave each other a knowing look and laughed. “Shall I escort him for his bath and medical exam?” Ms. Jensen asked.
“Yes. I would like you to do that. Thank you,” Ms. Panington turned to me, “Look up, Tom, and I don’t want to have to tell you this again. Look at me when I am talking to you. I see the shame in your face, and you have plenty of reason to be ashamed. I want you to follow Ms. Jensen.”
I get up and start to pull up my panties. Ms. Panington stops me, “No, Tom. Leave your panties down in front just as they are tucked under your little balls. You have no privacy here and I want anyone who might care to see to be able to see your shriveled wee-wee and the cum on your stomach. All of the women here will know that this is evidence of lack of control as we require men to ejaculate in a much daintier manner.”
“Dainty?” I thought, as I got up and followed Ms. Jensen from the office, down the long hall to the elevator, where she pressed the down button. I stood, hands behind my back, pink panties covering my behind, but my now flaccid cock fully exposed and cum now drying on my belly. The elevator door opened and a woman dressed in a tight black leather corset, black leather skirt, and matching knee-length riding boots stepped out holding a leash attached to a naked burly man on all fours. He was wearing a pig nose strapped around his head and a pig-like tail protruding from his rear. “Oh hi, Susie,” Ms. Jensen greets her, “Wasn’t that a fun time at the club last night?” Both women totally ignore us as they carry on a conversation for several minutes. The pig-man and I wait patiently.
Finally, Ms. Jensen says, “I’m bringing this new one for his bath and medical. He had a little accident after just talking to Ms. Panington and me for a few minutes,” and they both laugh as her friend notes the drying mess on me.
After these dreadful moments, we get in the elevator, Ms. Jenson pushes a button and the door closes. “That pig’s wife found him screwing his secretary in his office,” she explains. “We are teaching him that women are superior to men, but you already know that, don’t you Tom?”
“Oh yes, Ms. Jensen, I most certainly do,” I responded, not wanting to dig the hole I was already in any deeper. After all, I was standing next to this beautiful clothed woman wearing, myself, only pink panties pulled down in the most embarrassing position. And, she had just witnessed my loss of control at the mention of my adolescent foray into my mother’s panty drawer. We continued the rest of the short elevator ride in silence. When the door opened, I followed her.
At the end of a long hall, Ms. Jensen pushed open a set of double doors and motioned for me to follow. A tall redhead wearing the skimpiest of nursing uniforms stepped out from one of the rooms and greeted Ms. Jensen. She ignored me other than asking, “Is this the wanker?”
Ms. Jensen laughed, and said, “Well, as you can see from the cum drying on his belly, masturbation is only one of his problems. He also has quite poor control, and he is, shall we say size-challenged as well.” She turned to me, “Tom, this is Nurse Pyre, she’ll be bathing and shaving you and completing your exam,” Mx. Jensen explained, then turned to Nurse Pyre, “Nurse Pyre, this is Tom. Ms. Panington wants him fully prepped and shaved. And, if you could please also take care of punishing him. He is to be punished for ejaculating without permission. Ms. Panington will be sending a punishment parcel down soon. Thank you.”
I watch Ms. Jensen exit through the double doors. Now it is just me and Nurse Pyre. This is another opportunity to run…but I do not want to lose Kelli. And I have no idea where my clothes and wallet might now be. Plus, I am finding myself extremely attracted to Nurse Pyre. She is wearing a traditional nurse’s dress, but the hem is just below her buttocks and makes no secret of her wearing a white lace garter belt which holds up her white nylon stockings. I note no evidence of panties and I begin to lust for a flash of her pussy. The front of her uniform looks ready to burst the seams as her breasts are enormous. She notices me ogling them and turns to me, “Are you aroused by big tits, Tom? You don’t have to answer that. I see you staring. These are natural triple D’s, Tom. You can look but you can’t touch. Now follow me for your cleaning.”
I follow her to a door marked “Shower,” and she motions me to step inside. “Panties off, Tom, and off with your Wee-wee monitor. The device can tolerate dampness, but it’s best not to get it soaking wet. Now stand over the drain,” Ms. Pyre instructed me. She nodded towards the soap dish and removed a black hose with a garden-style nozzle attachment from the wall and turned on the water. “Scrub,” is all she said as she expertly aimed the hose while I lathered from head to toe. Eventually she turned off the water and tossed me a towel. “Meet me through that door when you are dry,” pointing to another door opposite the one we had come in, and she stepped out.
I was taken aback when I opened the door and stepped into the next room as it was a well-equipped medical exam room with a prominent exam table with gynecological stirrups. I stood, naked and shivering, waiting for Ms. Pyre to enter. As soon as she did she snapped her fingers, pointed at me, and patted the exam table. I got up and lay on my back on a fresh sheet of wrinkly white paper. She took first one leg, then the other, and fastened me into the stirrups with locking straps. She fastened a 3 inch wide leather belt around my waist and secured it to the table. Then she reattached the arousal monitor to my still shriveled penis. “Stroke!” she commanded, “Stop when you are fully erect.”
I lay, legs in the air, knees bent, my most private areas fully exposed to this buxom redhead that I had met only minutes earlier. As I began stroking Nurse Pyre began unbuttoning her dress, eventually letting it drop to the floor displaying the full-cut white lace bra that projected her triple D’s to within inches of my face. The lace of the white garter belt straps framed the neatly trimmed triangle of her mound, and I longed to have her turn around. My cock sprang to attention within seconds. “I thought that might help. Now take your hand away so I can get a measurement,” Nurse Pyre instructed me.
As I moved my hand away she soon had both cuffed to the side of the table. She measured in a perfunctorily manner and made a notation on her clipboard. “It’s just not fair, is it?” is all she said. Then she took a can of scented shaving cream and lathered my chest and began a series of even sweeps with a straight razor. Soon she had moved below my navel, and before a half hour had transpired, she had completely shaved me from chest to ankles.
Finally she turned away from me and I got my first glimpse of her glorious ass. She opened a cabinet and took out an orange rubber bag with a long tube attached with a nozzle-like device on one end. She proceeded to fill the bag and hung it on a hook above the table. Without a word she inserted the business end of the nozzle into my exposed anus and she opened a valve at the bottom of the bag and I began to fill.
Just then there was a knock at the door and Ms. Sweeney walked in carrying a package. She gave me a quick glance and handed the package to Nurse Pyre. “Cleaning this one inside and out, huh?” she snickered, “Ms. Panington wants him to have the sustained arousal punishment. Here are the things you’ll need,” Ms. Sweeney turned to leave, then stopped, “Oh yes, she said to tell you that she will resume his sexual history interview in the morning.”
As soon as they were again alone, Nurse Pyre opened the package, peered inside, and let out a low moan. “Perfect!” she said to herself. She reached in and withdrew a pair of full-cut white nylon panties with lace on the waist and legs. Tom saw immediately that they were exact replicas of the first panties he had even worn. Nurse Pyre dangled them in front of Tom’s eyes. “Should I allow you to wear your Mommy’s silky, sexy panties again, my little panty boy?”
I had often looked for panties just like the ones I had found as a teenager in mother’s dresser drawer. But nothing just like them seemed to be made these days. I had even looked at vintage panty sites on eBay without any luck. So to see this pair, so similar, so alike, so silky, sooo…of course I wanted to put them on. I was in a bit of a quandary at the moment, however. My ankles were locked into gynecological stirrups, I had an enema tube filling my bowels, my hands were bound to the side of the table, and I knew that my fate was entirely in Nurse Pyre’s hands, at least for now.
“We’re just about done with your cleaning and exam, Tom,” Nurse Pyre told him, “Then apparently it will be up to me to administer your punishment. Remind me, Tom, why are you to be punished?”
“I must be punished for ejaculating without permission, Nurse Pyre.” I said quietly.
“That’s right, Tom, and I believe it was something about your first time wearing these very panties that cost you that control, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It was.”
“Well, Tom, I am going to unbuckle your wrists and your ankles, and I am going to remove the enema nozzle. I want you to lay silently as long as you can endure the rumbling in your bowels, then you may hop off the table and empty yourself in the toilet through that door. Once that’s done come back in here and I will begin your punishment.”
By now I was quite exhausted. After all, my day had started quite early, and I hadn’t had anything to eat since grabbing a quick breakfast sandwich at the airport. I wanted to be done with this embarrassing medical exam and cleaning and endure whatever punishment was to be dealt me. And, I couldn’t get the Mommy panties out of my mind.
After vacating my bowels on a long stint on the porcelain throne, and a symphony of embarrassing sounds that I was sure Nurse Pyre could hear, I finally sheepishly made my way back to the exam room, red-faced but relieved. There I found Nurse Pyre sitting on a stool fiddling with a laptop. She remained sans her nurse uniform dress, and my eyes were immediately drawn to her amply filled bra cups. She was still wearing the garter belt, hose, and white pumps; but she had made one addition to her wardrobe. She now was wearing the Mommy panties, or at least what turned out to be one of multiple duplicate pairs. She patted a stool next to her and I sat next to her, naked other than the arousal monitor that remained around my balls and flaccid penis. She reached over and adjusted it slightly, “Okay, now I am getting a good reading,” and I could see a graph on the laptop screen.
“Are you familiar with what some call tease and denial, Tom,” Nurse Pyre asked me as she placed one hand on her crotch and the other on her chest, giving both areas a delicate rub.
“Yes, Nurse Pyre, I have read about it on the internet,” I replied.
“Well Tom, Ms. Panington is going to try to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. She wants to continue to increase your staying power, and she wants you to be punished for ejaculating so selfishly. So, what she has asked me to do is what we call the “prolonged arousal” punishment. She wants you aroused for four hours, and there will be no release during or after that four hours. I will be stimulating you and Ms. Panington will be able to access the monitoring program from her office at any time.” She stopped talking and reached for a syringe that lay on the counter next to her. Without a word, she injected me on my inner thigh. “This will keep you erect, Tom. Ever hear those ads about an erection lasting longer than four hours?’ Well, you’re going to have one,” she explained with more than a hint of sarcasm, “Too bad it still will be tiny, and so useless.”
Within seconds my penis began to engorge, and Nurse Pyre instructed me to stand up. “Let me take a look at you. All clean inside and out. All shaved. And look at how your little wee-wee is standing at attention. Does your wee-wee like my tits?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It does.” And she took me in her hand and rubbed my cock against the lace of her bra while she kept an eye on the laptop screen. “Whoa. Very nice response. I must be careful if you are to last for four hours. I wonder what would happen if your little wee-wee touched my tits with no bra to hide them. Would you like to see them, Tom?” she laughed.
I was twitching uncontrollably. “Yes, Nurse Pyre, I would be honored to have you take off your bra.”
“First back up on the table, Tom,” she instructed me. Then before she elevated my legs back to the stirrups she produced another pair of the white nylon lace-edged panties and slowly slipped them over my legs and up over my buttocks and my twitching penis.
“Oh, Nurse Pyre, Ooohhhh. I am about to cum. These panties feel so wonderful.” I yelled as the fabric of the panties first touched my erect cock.
Without hesitation, she slapped me soundly across the face, “Do not cum, pantyboy, or you will long regret it,” Nurse Pyre barked in a no-nonsense tone that startled me out of my panty-crazed delirium. “This is just the beginning, and ejaculation is not an option, not today.”
She brusquely grabbed first one leg, then the other, and secured them back in the stirrups. Then my wrists were shackled to the side of the exam table. “You will control that pathetic selfish wee-wee,” she demanded. With that, she took off her bra revealing her large and firm breasts. She stood over me with her nipples just inches from my face. “You may look if they arouse you so, but a man such as you would never be allowed to touch,” she laughed.
Nurse Pyre left the exam room for a moment and returned wheeling a large machine that she plugged into a wall outlet. She then connected the laptop, and entered some keystrokes. Next she uncoiled a long tube from the device. Attached to the tube was a stainless steel cylinder, open on one end with what appeared to be black latex inside of it. I thought it looked strangely alike a milking device that might be used on a dairy farm, and it began to dawn on me that this would be used for my sustained arousal. Nurse Pyre took a tube of some sort of lube which she injected liberally into the tube, then she leaned over the table, breasts swinging freely just inches from my face, pulled down my panties, and placed the contraption over my erect three-plus inch penis.
Without a word, she flipped a switch on the machine, and I felt an unbelievable pulsing and sucking sensation on my cock. “Ooooh. Nurse Pyre. Ooooh. Thank you. Ooooh.” As suddenly as it had started, the sensation stopped. “Please don’t let it stop, please,” I pleaded.
“Now, Tom, I know that you are very used to wanking to your heart’s content; to just jerking off as fast and furious as you might want, but Tom, you are not in control of your precious little wee-wee, and you will never be again. This is a punishment, Tom,” she paused as though to let this sink in, then continued, “We have a good baseline from the arousal meter. The software will detect when you are about to ejaculate and will cease stimulation instantaneously; when the arousal meter indicates that your arousal has subsided sufficiently, it will begin stimulation once again. Simple, huh?”
I didn’t think she really wanted me to answer, so I didn’t say anything. The stimulation started again, and I found myself involuntarily thrusting my hips as though I was fucking. Nurse Pyre found this quite humorous and roared in laughter. “Look at you, Tom, trying to fuck the machine. How pathetic. You know, Tom, Kelli has decided that your penis will never again feel the inside of her pussy. She has no interest in it, Tom.”
Having Nurse Pyre laugh at me and hearing her talk about my wife’s pussy was almost too much and I again thought I was about to squirt, but the device stopped once again. I breathed deeply, impatient for the sensation to resume.
“I am going to place a FaceTime call to Kelli, Tom,” Nurse Pyre says as the stimulation begins again, “She asked that she be allowed to witness any punishments that you received while in our care.”
“No, please, Nurse Pyre, I don’t want her to see me like this,” I begged.
“Of course she must see you, Tom. After all, you agreed to submit to our training. Remember, Tom, it is Kelli who is paying the bill here,” and she hit speed-dial.
“Oh, hi, Kelli. This is Nurse Pyre at the Institute. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to speak to Tom and participate, if you’d like to do so, in his first punishment. We call it sustained arousal.”
“He’s being punished? So soon, on his very first day?” Kelli asked.
“Yes, it will all be in Ms. Panington’s report. He ejaculated without permission right in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen. Made quite a mess, too. I’m going to let you speak to him,” and she turned the phone towards me and held it up in front of my face. Just then, the machine began to hum and the stimulation was unbelievable.
“Ooooh. Aargh. K-K-K-Kelli. Ooooh. I, I, I, I love you, Kelli.” I managed to say.
“I love you, too, sweetie. You seem to be having a bit of a hard time talking. I am so disappointed to hear that you ejaculated in front of those two women; how embarrassing,” Kelli said teasingly.
I was about to cum again, and the machine stopped again just in time. “Kelli, I am sorry that I disappointed you, I am. I don’t want to lose you. I will do my best to learn everything they have to teach me. I do have one question, though, may I ask?” I said.
“Sure, honey. You can ask,” Kelli responded and just then the sucking sensation started again.
“Ooooh, Kelli, Ooooh.”
“Yes, dear, what is it Tom?” Kelli asked.
“They, um, they told me that my penis will never again be allowed…Ooooh, Aargh, Ooooh…into your pussy again. Is that true?” I managed to get out of my mouth.
“Yes, that is true Tom. You see I have always found your small penis disgusting. I only accommodated you because I thought I had to do so. Then when I realized that you masturbated all of the time anyway, I decided that I was done with your little thing forever. Ms. Panington has assured me that you will be taught new methods that will more than compensate for all the years I’ve gone without. Things will never be the same, Tom, Ms. Panington has assured me that you will become the best pussy sucker a woman could ever hope for, and they will be teaching you how to use toys to enhance the female orgasm. I understand that your little thing will miss my pussy, but you will be getting plenty of pussy, just in other ways. Won’t that be fun, Tom?” Kelli gave me the answer I didn’t want to hear. The device stopped stimulation again just short of my edge. “Nurse Pyre, could you hold the phone so that I can see the device on his little prick? I am done talking to him.”
“Sure. Here it is. I am sending you a link to the computer program so that you can log in and check his arousal monitor at any time,” and the two women talked for a while like old friends about me, the benefits of tease and denial, and my condition.
By the time they are done talking I am in an altered state of consciousness with minutes or sometimes only seconds of stimulation, then a sudden stop for what seemed to be randon intervals. Eventually, I hear Kelli say, “Good-bye Nurse Pyre. Thank you. Good-bye, Tom.”
“I have one more surprise for you, Tom. Kelli overnighted these to us just yesterday,” and she reached into the punishment package that Ms. Jensen had brought down and took out several ziplock bags. “Kelli has been wearing her panties for two days in a row the last couple weeks, and she has sent them to help us with your training. Let’s see, I think we will start with these pretty pink bikinis,” and she opened the bag containing the pink pair. She held them out in front of my face, and then pulled them over my head with the crotch resting just over my nose. Taking some medical tape from a drawer, she placed a couple of strips of tape on the leg openings to ensure that the panties stayed in place.
Kelli’s strong scent enveloped me and I felt the device shut down immediately. The exciting aroma of Kelli’s pussy surrounded me, calming me with its familiarity while exciting me with what I was coming to understand I would never again be allowed to fuck—only suck.
Nurse Pyre, got up, patted me gently on the forehead, turned out the light, and closed the door behind her after saying, “Three and a half hours more to go, Tom.” And the continual stimulation device clicked on once again.
I lost all concept of time as I fell into a rhythm of incredible stimulation to my penis during which my mind would flood with images of Kelli’s fragrant pussy as, with every breath, it was as though my face was buried between her legs. The crotch of her panties covered my nose and I inhaled her womanhood as though in a trance. I imagined myself thrusting into her, ready to explode, then the stimulation would suddenly stop and I would remember that I would never again enter her in such a way. Or, sometimes, my mind would picture Nurse Pyre’s beautiful, round, firm, and large breasts and just as I would imagine rubbing my cock between them and exploding over her nipples the machine would stop. My mind even went to the image of my sitting in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen with my cock in my hand and the embarrassment of my accident. The machine abruptly stopped all stimulation when I thought of that scene. This reinforced that being sexually humiliated by women brought me to the edge of orgasm.
The room had been totally silent for the longest time. Suddenly I began to hear a faint voice. I thought at first that it was my mind playing tricks on me, but the voice became gradually louder until I could determine that it was the voice of Ms. Panington. It seemed to be coming from multiple speakers in the room. As the voice became louder I began to be able to understand what was being said.
“You have been a naughty, naughty boy, Tom. You have demonstrated quite clearly that you are not man enough to manage the responsibility of a penis. It no longer belongs to you, Tom. It belongs to Kelli. Your little wee-wee belongs to your wife, Tom. No more touching without supervision, Tom, no more wanking. We will be training you to serve all women, Tom.”
Soon I realized that this taped message was being repeated each time the stimulation machine stopped. Part of me knew that it was some sort of mind control and I thought that I should somehow resist. There was another, stronger, deeper part of me that wanted to submit, that wanted my penis to be controlled by women. After all, I had often jerked off while reading stories of female domination and forced chastity.
I was so confused. I so much wanted to ejaculate—each time the device brought me to the edge I hoped that the software would fail and I willed myself to cum, but to no avail. I felt humiliated to be confined as I was and as I reviewed the events of this very long day; but then I found myself strangely excited and thankful that I was having this powerful sexual experience. I felt scared about what my future might hold; yet I was heartened by the thought that Kelli seemed so interested in me and helping me improve as her husband. I felt embarrassed to have the women at this Institute know so much about me and see me in such demeaning circumstances; yet I felt a freedom that my masturbation and my fetishes were no longer secret—and I found it arousing that these women knew my secrets.
So I was well into the rhythm of these thoughts and sensations when the door to the exam room opened. Without a word Nurse Pyre entered allowing the light from the hallway to illuminate her task. Without a word, the first thing she did was to remove Kelli’s panties from my head. Then she unbuckled my wrists from the side of the table and my ankles from the stirrups. She gently massaged my thighs and calves as she forced my legs to lay straight on the table. She flipped a switch on the stimulation machine, and with a notable sucking noise, pulled the milking tube from my swollen cock. She put on a pair of rubber gloves and put some ointment in her palm and began to coat my shaft with an oily substance. I started to speak, but she silenced me with a “Ssshhh!” then told me “This is a numbing cream. It will help you sleep.”
“Sit up, Tom,” she instructed, “You may feel a bit dizzy for a few minutes. Once you are up to it, hop off the table and go and pee. Then we’ll prepare you for bed.” I did as I was told, relieved to empty my bladder and looking forward to being able to sleep. “Did you learn your lesson, Tom? No more unauthorized ejaculations.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” is all I said.
I was still wearing the white nylon and lace Mommy panties, but Nurse Pyre was again back in her nurse’s dress. She opened a drawer and took out a long-leg high-waisted panty girdle that looked to be a couple of sizes too small for me. She handed it to me, saying only, “Wriggle into this. It will help you resist temptation.” While putting it on I noticed that it was belted with a small padlock hanging from the back. Once I was securely in the girdle, Nurse Pyre secured the belt with the lock. It would be impossible to get it off, and my penis was scrunched tight against my belly. Once satisfied that all was secure, she motioned for me to follow her out of the exam room. Back to the elevator where we took a silent ride up several floors, then down a short hallway to a room she unlocked with a key. She pushed the door open, motioned for me to enter, then pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside. I heard her heels clicking down the tile hallway as I fumbled to find a light switch.
The room was small and square, probably about 12 X 12 with no windows. There was no bathroom, but a door revealed a large walk-in closet. There was a nightstand and a bureau and one twin bed. The room was appointed in an overtly feminine style with a floral-patterned comforter covering sheets and pillowcases of a deep peach color. There would be time enough in the morning to take more of a look around. All I could think of now was sleep and I crawled between the soft sheets with awareness that all I was wearing was a pair of the nylon panties I had craved for so long, a restrictive panty girdle, and of course my arousal monitor.
Sleep came almost instantly. The next thing I knew I heard a key turning in the lock and the door opened and the light snapped on. It was Ms. Jensen. “Good morning, Tom. Sleep good? I brought you some coffee. I will be showing you to the bathroom where you may shower, shave, everything mind you, and take care of your toileting needs. I got out of bed forgetting for a moment that I was wearing a women’s high-waisted panty girdle, then startled by Ms. Jensen’s laugh, “Oh look at what Nurse Pyre put you in. She is so funny. I’m sure she made you wear a panty girdle just to embarrass you, Tom, because of course your monitor would have told us if you played with yourself, wouldn’t it have, Tom?” I could feel my face flush and I pulled the bedsheet around my middle. “Don’t be silly, Tom. Remember, you have no privacy here. Come here. I’ll unlock you. Nurse Pyre left the key on a hook outside the door.”
After I was unlocked I peeled the girdle down. “Panties, too, Tom. I’m sure they’re in need of cleaning by now.” Soon I stood naked in front of Ms. Jensen who herself was dressed in a charcoal gray business suit with the skirt just above her knees and accented with a deep lavender silk blouse, black opaque tights, and over-the-calf black leather boots with three-inch stilettos. “Follow me, Tom.” Just a couple of doors down was a large bathroom with a toilet, glass-enclosed shower, a twin vanity, and a pair of ornate wrought iron stools with round pink cushions. Ms. Jensen sat on one of the stools, opened her laptop that she placed on the vanity, and said, “Get going, Tom. We will be joining Ms. Panington for breakfast and she is expecting us in a half hour.”
I stood at the toilet for the longest time. I had to pee really badly, but the flow wouldn’t begin with the knowledge that this attractive and fully clothed woman was watching my every move. Finally! I hurriedly showered after Ms. Jensen removed the monitor to prevent the electronics from getting wet. Then I stood patiently in front of her as she secured it again, doing so in a most cursory manner, but with the tiniest hint of a smirk. Once I completed shaving, she walked me back to my room, and then said, “I am going to leave you to get dressed, Tom. I will be back in ten minutes. Everything you will need is in the bureau and the closet. Have fun.”
I walked to the bureau and opened the top drawer. Arranged in neat rows were dozens of panties. They were all of the same nylon and lace style as the pair that had gotten me in trouble in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen, but in addition to white there were stacks of various pastel colors and patterns. My cock began to grow at the sight of them and I thought about stroking it and relieving all of my pent-up frustration right then and there, but I knew that the monitor would alert them and I did not want to endure another punishment, not so soon anyway. “Dang it,” I thought, “They will be able to tell that I got hard just by opening the bureau drawer.” I opened the second drawer and was surprised to find rows of neatly arranged bras on one side and, on the other side, 4 rows of various size silicone breast forms. I had never actually touched one of these forms before, and my cock throbbed as I picked up a large form and placed it, just for fun mind you, over my man-breast. I found myself giggling like a school girl at the thought of having my very own boobs. The next drawer contained multiple packages of brand new pantyhose, thigh highs, and stockings with several styles of garter belts. And the bottom drawer contained all manner of shapewear from waist cinchers, open-bottomed girdles, padded panties, everything.
I figured that I was expected to choose something from these drawers, but what? I decided to look in the closet before deciding on underwear. When I flipped on the closet light I saw all manner of feminine footwear lined up against 3 walls, all I could readily see were in my size. Hanging on racks on both sides of the closet were uniforms of various styles and types. They ranged from skimpy cocktail waitress uniforms, to ultra-sissy French maid uniforms with petticoats, to basic hotel maid uniforms, to flight attendant outfits. None was the kind of clothes that Kelli wore or that I had seen Ms. Panington or Ms. Jensen in, all seemed to be representative of women either in servile roles.
Was I to wear…was I to be allowed…was I to be required…to wear such things? This was the epitome of my masturbation fantasies. Kelli had video-taped me jerking off while wearing her underwear, and she must have tracked my internet history and saw that I spent considerable time on sissy and forced feminization sites. My entire body tingled and my cock throbbed with the realization that Kelli knew that I was a sissy; and not only she knew it, but obviously Ms. Panington and the staff of the Institute as well. I wanted to sit down amongst all those sissy feminine clothes and jerk off, but I knew that my penis was being monitored. I would not be able to deny my arousal at seeing the clothing in the bureau and this closet. As I realized this I felt a flooding of humiliation. Not only was I a sissy, but my wife knew about it, had told others, and seemed to be about to take advantage of my true nature.
I began to tremble, this time not with excitement, but with absolute humiliation. I was not really a man and I was of course not a woman. I was a sissy. Was Kelli prepared to accept this about me? Would I be able to accept this about myself? I heard a key in the lock and Ms. Jensen walked in to find me trembling in the closet, still naked and trembling like a leaf. “What’s wrong, Tom? I told you that you had ten minutes to dress for your meeting with Ms. Panington,” Ms. Jensen said with a concerned tone.
I could not find words to express how I felt and I stood speechless in front of her, my penis now flaccid and attempting to retreat inside of me. “Let me guess, Tom. You are struggling with the realization that you are about to enter an entirely new world, and you are afraid to give up your feeble efforts at being a man. Just seeing the clothing that will be your future is a little frightening, eh?”
“Yes, Ms. Jensen,” I began, “I am so confused. I have been trying to be manly my whole life, but there is something so appealing about the clothing I see here.”
“We know, Tom. And Kelli knows too. She has known for a long time. She first came here seeking counsel to see if we could help her retrain you to become more of a man. At first we thought it was possible, but when she showed us some of the videos of your masturbating while wearing women’s clothes, the websites you frequented, the images you jerked off to, and when we saw the size of your penis…well, Tom, we told her it was best to embrace that her husband was a sissy and she agreed to have us train you in the service of women.” She stopped for a minute. My cock was now standing at attention. “Look at yourself, Tom. I talk to you about serving women and your masturbation fantasies, and your arousal betrays you. Accept that you are a sissy, Tom. Accept that your life will change forever and you that your place in life will be to serve your wife. Of course you will never again serve her with your penis, but we will be training you in other methods. Accept yourself, Tom, and then we can get on with getting you dressed for your day.”
I stood for a moment and I struggled to look Ms. Jensen in the eye. She smiled warmly and took my engorged penis in her hand. “It’s okay, Tom. Say it. Kelli has accepted it. Here at the Institute we know that there are men like you, not quite men, but not women either. We call people like you sissies, Tom. Say it. ‘I am a sissy.’ It will help you to say it,” and she gave me a quick stroke, then took her hand away.
“I am a sissy,” I said tentatively.
“Say it again with a little more enthusiasm, and then I will help you get dressed,” Ms. Jensen said with a smile.
“I am a sissy. I am a sissy. I am a sissy.” I felt so relieved.