Blair is not one for taking the initiative in sex games and has always felt her knees weaken when guys take control. I guess that was how she used to see me when I was setting up on my own all those years ago.
So her idea of femdom was to simply lay there, eyes closed whilst I did what I could with my fingers and tongue.
For a while it was a sort of messy waste of time, and she would whisper, ‘faster’ or ‘higher.’ Finally after a gruelling twenty minutes when my tongue was aching I felt her pulsate and her thighs wound around me head. She grunted words which became less easy to decipher until finally her pelvis froze and then all hell broke loose around my ears.
She held me so tight I couldn’t lick or finger her before sliding beneath the sheet and dismissing me with a flap of her wrist. I made to crawl into the bed next to her but her arm tightly held the sheet down.
“No. Your own bed. Go.”
I kissed her cheek. “Yes darling. Was that ok?”
“Yes, yes. Thank you,” she said dreamily. “I am sure you will improve with practice.”
With practice! I had just spent all that time satisfying her and all I get is an ‘it will improve with practice.’
So as you can imagine that night I returned to my bedroom feeling very upset. I was so tired I fell into bed cursing her. Once this damned chastity belt was off I would sort out the situation in this house.
In the early hours I awoke desperate craving to cum. My dick had hardened painfully inside the cage and my all at sea brain had some mad idea I could make it cum and gain satisfaction.
I humped the pillow until I felt it spurt but remained on as high a submissive, sexually frustrated plateau as before. Even worse, maybe.
This was infuriating I told myself but nothing could be done until she brought back the key. While the CB6000 was locked on my dick then my brain seemed too passive to think straight.
In the morning I tried to be helpful, seeking to remain Blair’s good side. She was sweet enough, telling me she could do everything and that I should go and watch the news as usual.
Chloe giggled when I bought her toast. “Aw dad! Look mum, daddy’s doing breakfast.”
My wife simply told her to hurry up.
It left me feeling sort of vacant and helpless. I wanted to make a contribution but didn’t know what. I was grateful when Blair told me to go upstairs to collect her bag.
On returning I found Blair hurriedly ushering Chloe into the hall calling back to me. “Make some headway into that Singapore contract dear. You said you would.”
“Yes darling,” I replied eagerly.
I saw them off and once they disappeared passed the hedgerows I raced up to my room. As I have said there are some really sexy lingerie items I bought leading up to Christmas, an early present for me. One I felt I deserved following my success in selling my company. I had a compulsion to try on this one piece body shaper stat I hadn’t even opened. I thought with shaping tights beneath it then it would give me an electric, erotic charge.
With a pair of heels, my favourite wig and light makeup I went downstairs.
I was desperate to catch up on my favourite web sites but knew that I had to find a way around ‘Keylogger for Kids.’ The last thing I wanted was for Blair to catch me out as she had done so easily yesterday. To be honest I am not exactly a wiz at computers but can usually find my way around. I knew I could get into safe mode and work from there.
So then the shocks started.
I hadn’t grasped by how much my life would change, even the previous evening when I spent all that time bringing Blair to orgasm before being dismissed like the home help.
What I saw in my downstairs office had me gawping.
On sticky note pressed on to the screen was a simple memo: “Your new user name and password.”
New user name? What the hell was she doing? I can recall being so shocked I had to sit down and re read the note. Worse, the user name was ‘littleboy’ and the password was ‘mummys_little_helper’
I could tell straight away she had learnt this idea from that odd ball friend of hers. The one who kept her husband locked up in a chastity belt but also was made him wear children’s pyjamas.
This was not my fetish!
I booted the screen to see two logons. One was marked administrator. So the first thing I did was to fill out that one. Yep you guessed it. It would not accept my old password.
So I then tried to fill in the blank one with my old username and password. Nothing. It span back to the same opening page offering the administrator and normal login.
What was she doing letting Jerry tamper with my work computer?
Feeling angry and defeated I put in the ‘littleboy’ username followed by the humbling ‘mummy’s little helper.’
Looking back I now it actually gave me a thrill. For once in my life I was actually forced into a humiliating act. There wasn’t any choice or planning here. I was following someone else’s’ strategy. So the emotions were conflicting, like atoms banging around in a shell. There was a thrill, aided by the damned chastity belt but at the same time I hated being controlled by someone else.
Then the screen flashed up and I actually gasped out loud. It was a sky blue scene with unicorns and childlike figures on it. Worse, as it launched there was a pretty little tinkle of bells.
Whereas my work display had been cluttered with every icon imaginable this screen was now totally clear. There wasn’t even the recycle bin or ‘my computer’. Nothing.
The only icon along the bottom bar was on the right near the clock it read Team Viewer in blue. As it was the only program open to me I clicked it to see a blue box labelled ‘remote control computer not on line’. I right clicked it but wasn’t offered anything. It offered me only the cross so I pressed that and it simply reduced the program to the task bar. I could launch it but not do anything with it then I could minimise it again.
I pressed the START and all that appeared was ‘Word’, ‘Excel,’ ‘Internet Explorer’ and ‘Jordan’s Documents’.
How could I reach the hidden folders with my favourite stories and pictures? I had spent years collecting and hiding them.
I opened Jordan’s Documents to see two folders, ‘work’ and ‘home’. In ‘work’ all my work files resided but nothing else. There was nothing at all in the home folder.
I right clicked everywhere but nothing came up.
Standing up to stamp around the room I just simply just over. I had forgotten I was wearing five inch stiletto heels.
You can probably imagine by then how much my head was spinning. Had she shown Jerry all this? She was stupid enough to. She loved playing the bimbo even though she was in fact pretty smart.
This was all going too far.
I went upstairs to try and play with myself on the bed. I felt, quite rightly as I was to learn later, that if I could cum properly then I could clear my head. But even dressed as I was I couldn’t achieve anything.
I knelt on the floor before the mirror in my new lingerie and wig cursing my lunatic wife for this mess. Even though I was saying to myself there would be an unholy row when she came home I guess deep down I knew I was still going to have to behave when she returned in order to win her over.
So by eleven o’clock, rather than being at the height of some bondage game or playing online whilst dressed I had actually showered and redressed in my guy clothes.
My hand was shaking when I took a long draught of cool water in the kitchen.
Then the idea hit me. I knew enough about computers and Windows to know that all I had to do was use control-alt delete to reboot the computer to Safe Mode. Maybe from Safe Mode I could sort things out.
It felt like a complete reprieve. An escape hatch for a trapped rabbit.
I was actually smiling as I sat before the computer ready to push the required buttons. For the first time in days I was about to get one over my foolish wife and start getting my life back.
I pressed the famous three buttons all at once and …. nothing. I pressed them again. Nothing.
When I say nothing I just heard a single bell tolling as if indicating I was doing something wrong. I was going to get used to those infantile sounds over the coming weeks but right then it all seemed temporary. A mistake.
Finally I started Internet Explorer. I could use that to download Chrome or Firefox and create secret browsers. But first I was aching to get onto my various online sites like Deborah Ford’s the Hotel see what was new.
I think you have guessed it. For some reason I hadn’t predicated it.
A sky blue and white screen flashed up with the logo: ‘Cyber Mummy Safety.’ Below it read: ‘this site is considered too mature for your current age. If you think there has been an error please contact an adult to rectify your problem.’
It came up with the same kiddy sounding bell.
Infuriating. Just as a test I entered the words ‘sexy girl short skirts’ into the search browser and was offered a series of hits with most washed out. Over the washed out ones were a similar warning restriction to the Cyber Mummy Safety logo above. I wouldn’t be able to access them until someone reset my age restriction.
Then the phone rang.
I lifted the receiver in a daze. “Yeh?”
“Naughty boy.”
“Eh? Oh! Blair. Look, love, this is crazy. I cannot access anything on my computer…”
“You can do all you need to do right now. If you need any more then let me know. I can add programs from here.”
“First I need to get online and … what do you mean you can add programs from there?”
“Well Jerry is no woman’s idea of a good time but he knows all the geeky stuff. I told him how we were having young kids staying with us so all the computers had to be made out of bounds to kids. Unless of course they have the right password. Say, like me and Chloe.”
Chloe! My own daughter can access the internet and I cannot? I sounded a friendly laugh. “Very funny darling. Yes. So if you could just, you know, just sort this out.”
“Apparently what Jerry has done is unbreakable without the passcodes. Clever huh? If you cannot logon as,” she giggled, “an adult then you stay in toy town with the other children.”
My head was bowed and my brain screaming. I had to maintain a grip so could I explain to her, as patiently as I could: “Look Blair, I know what you are doing. But fetishes are different for different people. Different strokes for different folks. This friend of yours and her husband may live in a sort of B.D.S.M. world but dressing as a kid doesn’t do anything for me.”
I can recall the silence that followed as if it were yesterday. Even then I had started to fear her. She seemed to have all the cards and the best I could hope for was to be a recipient of her good will.
“Let us both understand something very clearly young man.” She had lowered her voice, sounding very irritated with me. “This is not one of your pervy games. Yuk to that. This is me knowing that you are both working and not lying to me. No deceit, remember? So you sit there like a good boy and sort out your contract. Because I am sick of your excuses for not finishing it.”
“Blair love, I get it, I really do but we need to talk this through.” I felt tears sting my eyes. “Please Blair come home lunch time. I hate this. It is terrible.”
I actually heard her swallow so I know she was affected by my misery. Then she cleared her throat. “Jordan you do as you are told and we will see tonight. Ok?”
“Yes Blair.”
“I seem to recall I warned you about calling me by first name. Do you remember Jordan?”
Suddenly I was no longer on the verge of crumbling into tears. I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I guess it was inevitable least that’s how I view it now. But I wish I could have controlled myself. If only we can go back.
So suddenly I was shouting down the phone like a mad man.
“Blair! You have taken leave of your senses. I am not into this at all. It is all mad. I think you are growing crazy. I am just not into this. You cannot just keep me locked up like this and,” I swallowed, despising myself for admitting what she had done, “taking away my computer access.”
I was about to threaten her with the police, but knew before the words emerged that I wouldn’t dare involve them. How belittling that would be, to admit I had been locked
up in a chastity belt and denied access to adult services by my wife.
My head was thumping like an engine when I finished.
The line was dead for a long moment before she spoke quietly. “You in front of your computer right now?”
“Erm, yes.”
“Ok don’t touch the mouse thingee or the keyboard.”
“Ok.” Was she about to reset it so that I could use it again?
The TeamViewer box down on the taskbar jumped into life and announced: connected to remote control computer.
My heart leaped into my mouth as the mouse arrow danced around my screen. It hit START and then SWITCH USER.
At that moment watching someone else control my computer was one of the sexiest, most submissive things I have seen. Like being spoon fed but not having any say in it.
My computer was controlled by another person who was not even in the same town.
The screen reverted to the front end log on screen with the administrator box.
“What you doing darling?” I was careful not to use her Christian name.
“Watch and learn little boy. Remember no touching!” She giggled at that line making me feel even more helpless.
“Yes, yes, all right darling.”
She filled in the user name with ‘Miss Sterling.’ That was her maiden name which made me feel aggrieved.
In the password box I watched a string of asterisk appear.
The screen flashed, turned the familiar deep blue of Windows 7 rather than the child like sky blue of my screen and the customary windows opening theme sounded. Far more reassuring than my jingling bells opening.
This time the screen was flush with the expected Microsoft icons. It looked like a Desktop display of a fairly new computer with just a few icons.
She launched the internet browser and went straight out to Amazon. There she used my user name of Jordan Connelly with my password to enter the site. I had long ago shared my passwords with her. Hence my computer was now hers. I vowed not to make that mistake in the future. And true to my vow I haven’t, because since that time I have never been allowed to have my own passwords.
She entered into the Amazon search window: ‘children’s pyjamas for adults.’
I was mesmerised as a host of various items came into view. Mostly with young kids wearing animal Onsies and the like. She then added ‘bunny’ to the display and a fresh set of pictures revealed bunny rabbit outfits for kid’s bed times.
“No,” I said into the phone. “Please, darling. This isn’t my fetish. I am more into girly stuff.”
“Be quiet little boy, you are putting me off. Ah this one.”
I saw her tap on a pink Onsie bunny outfit and panicked. “No please. Stop. This isn’t my thing at all. I …”
I had automatically grabbed the mouse and was desperately rolling it around looking to hit the cross in the top right hand corner of the window. My hand was shaking too much. Suddenly I could no longer move the mouse. Had I pulled its lead out?
A small box flashed along the top of the screen. “Teamviewer keyboard and mouse input disabled.”
I knocked my chair over as I st
ood up, still with the phone gripped hard in my hand.
Once again I watched her using my screen but this time I was totally helplessly as the mouse wavered over the order button. It chose size: height 170 cm and was added to the basket. Being short was always an advantage in buying girls clothes but right now it meant she could have bought me virtually any large size in children’s wear.
“Darling?” I was so dry throated my voice was hoarse. I tried to speak more clearly: “Darling.”
“Busy, honey kins. Just give me a moment.”
Pink adult bunny slippers appeared in the place of the bunny Onsie pyjamas. They were heated! I slumped into my chair as they were added to the basket just before express delivery was selected and the order sent.
“Honey? Honey? Little boy?”
“I er, I , I …”
“My friend said it would be like this at the beginning. Apparently I have to be firm with you else you will think it is just a game. Worse she warned you will think it is your game. Your little game to be played by your rules. So have you learnt anything my little bunchkins?”
“I, darling, I just ….”
“I know. You are speechless. So why not get that contract sorted so I can look at it when I get home. Yes?”
Before I could answer I saw my computer screen flashing and in seconds it was back to the logon screen.
“You know what to enter don’t you sweetcheeks?”
“We need to talk really. I just cannot get my mind around this at all.”
“Don’t you worry your little head about anything. Just think about what happened last night and how you intend to improve upon your performance. Ok?”
“Yes darling, of course.”
Then she was gone and I was left staring at the twin logons, one for Blair as administrator and one for me as a user. I recall staring at the screen for a long time before logging back in with the ‘littleboy’ username followed by the excruciating ‘mummy’s little helper.’
The bells tinkled and fresh infantile screen flashed up win primary colours.