Feminized Male’s Life of Tease and Denial
“Cissie is routinely granted relief on the last Thursday of every month. I am always home on a Thursday to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Cissie has five minutes of ‘pleasure’ each month! Something I never take away from him. He has all month to look forward to it as his right! From a life of gratification, how and when he wanted it, he now has five minutes of regimented ‘pleasure’!
Thursday is his night for ironing. He is expected to be in the laundry, (downstairs and attached to his bedroom) prior to eight o’clock. At eight twenty-five exactly he is required to report to me in the lounge room, curtsey and ask, “Please Mistress, could you attend to my needs please?”
He also has to present me with a special timing device that we use. This is a five-minute timer kept on the lounge bureau, which I immediately place on the coffee table, before advising him, “Yes, go and prepare yourself.” I then give him the key to his chastity belt. The timer has started.
He must run downstairs to his room and remove outer clothes and chastity belt, leaving on his panties and Lady Jane shoes and hurry into the laundry toilet. I am usually there first. It is in a large space with no walls around it, he is not permitted any privacy. I am dressed casually, certainly not attired for his titillation, unless he is turned on by yellow rubber washing up gloves. The only time I wear such items for I have no use for same other than this forthcoming chore. Cissie places his hands on his head and stands before the toilet. (Time elapsed: 1 minute). I then instruct him, all part of the rigid routine, “Lid up.” He turns, raises the lid and stands with his penis over the toilet bowl.
I stand behind him and gently stroke his nipples. The poor dear is so starved for an orgasm that he is usually erect within seconds. As soon as he is erect, I cease my ministrations and pull down his panties to the tops of his thighs so his penis pops out before I advise him “Condom.”
He is required to have a condom out of the package. It is placed ib the back of the toilet before he comes upstairs to me. This he quickly, trying not to fumble in his haste and waste precious seconds, rolls on to his organ. He knows that he must minimize contact and not fondle his penis unnecessarily. Condom in place he advises, “Ready Mistress.”
(Time elapsed: 2 minutes).
I then very quickly and vigorously, almost viciously, from behind, jerk his organ with my rubber gloved hand. He is so tense that it rarely takes even a minute before he is ready to spurt. I am watching this very closely and as soon as I note a slight start of a spasm I stop, take my hands away, step back and watch amused as he spurts, in a most frustrating fashion into his condom.
I assure you there is no orgasm when this method is employed, try it yourself and see! The look of frustration, total and utter frustration, is a picture to behold. Even now after several years of this treatment, he cannot quite comprehend just how frustrating the experience is. It leaves him yearning and desiring satisfaction, dreaming of what he used to experience. He remains totally unrelieved of his sexual tensions; indeed they are multiplied ten-fold as a consequence of the frustration of being so near, yet so far from an orgasm. All that has been released is his semen, not his sexual tension. (Time elapsed: 3 minutes).
There is of course no time for him to ponder this, for the timer is still running in the lounge room, his five minutes of pleasure is ‘running out’ fast!
I quickly whisk off his condom and tie a knot in it before tossing it in the toilet. I don’t want to risk him fondling himself.
“Toilet paper” is my next command. Cissie must immediately peal off a few sheets and hand them to me before placing his hands back on his head. I quickly wipe his penis before throwing the paper into the toilet bowl too. I then pull up his knickers whilst he remains standing, still with that peculiar bemused look on his face – unable still to grasp that it is over, he feels emptied, yet totally unsatisfied and more in need of an orgasm than ever!
“Dismissed!” I advise. He turns, curtseys, politely says, “Thank you Mistress.” (Time elapsed: 3 minutes 15 seconds).
He now hurries into his adjacent bedroom to quickly replace his clothes and chastity belt (it locks without a key), before hurrying back to the toilet to flush it. And he does dash around now in panic mode! (Time elapsed: 4 minutes 15 seconds).
Then he must run upstairs and into the lounge where I will be once more. He looks with blessed relief at the timer as the last grains are falling. Once more, he curtseys, before showing his belt is on again. It is always in place!
“Get back to your ironing,” is my dry, disinterested admonition. (Time elapsed: 4 minutes 30 seconds)
“Yes, Mistress” he replies in a most sincere manner, “thank you.” He must advise this with sincerity and he must not rush his words, though he is right now very anxiously watching as the last grains of sand slowly, inextricably, too quickly for his liking, fall from the timer.
He then literally turns on the spot, rushes out, and runs downstairs, as required, to the laundry. It is not far from the lounge and once there he immediately picks up the iron ready to start and calls up in a loud clear voice, the only time I allow him to shout to me from another room, “Iron at the ready, Mistress.”
I now stop the timer, knowing he will be waiting for the next hour or so with bated breath, praying the sand had not run out before he picked up his iron once more, for that is the official end of his period of pleasure. Knowing that this rush and concern over the consequences of being late will have further deflated any possible enjoyment of the moment. It’s all over in less than five minutes, no slow, sensuous strokes of his engorged penis, no gradual winding up to a crescendo with an explosive orgasm followed by a relaxed post-coital winding down to savour the effects and tingling sensations as the orgasm lingers and slowly cruises through all the pores and nerves of his body.
No. Cissie’s time has now come and gone! Five minutes exactly each month. No more, no less. Routine strictly adhered to so Cissie knows exactly what to expect. Five minutes, not a second longer and he is back to his ironing. Though in reality it is really only a minute or so of actual manipulation of his penis.