The Wimp’s Tale

by

Kortpeel

“Really Jim, life would be a lot better for you if you were fixed,” I told him.

“But Doris, I don’t wanna be fixed.”

There is a strong masochistic streak in Jim. After ten years of marriage I understand him and, because I love him so much and because he is a good husband I indulge him.

It is unorthodox though. It was to please Jim that I let him persuade me to take a lover. I had some misgivings; I was a very vanilla wife back in those days. However Jim got turned on by me having ‘extra prick’ as he put it. He loved hearing accounts of how Anton had fucked me in his studio. Anton seemed to understand kink. It was Anton who suggested that I stopped letting Jim fuck me and give him a hand job instead.

I enjoyed Jim fucking me too so I wasn’t keen on that but Anton said that Jim would enjoy it. The first time it happened I told Jim that I was sore down there from a heavy fucking from Anton. He was only going to get a hand job. Being denied access to me was a turn on for him.

From then on, Jim only ever got a hand job. He seemed to enjoy it that he wasn’t allowed to fuck me. It was Anton’s idea to take it to the next level.

“Catch him jerking off,” Anton told me. “Pretend you are upset and angry about it and that you see it as a form of infidelity. Then you have an excuse to put him in a chastity device. You keep the key to it. He’ll love that.”

I did catch him masturbating and I actually was upset about it. I thought it degrading that a man should abuse himself that way. It is different for women: more graceful and elegant. And besides, a woman needs those intimate moments alone. So I was able convincingly to express my displeasure to Jim about his disgusting habit. He accepted the rebuke and the need for him to wear a cock lock. Anton had told me where to get one and I took Jim along to an adult shop.

“I want him fitted with a device so that he can’t masturbate,”

The assistant, a pretty young woman, maybe a year or two younger than me didn’t bat an eyelid. I guessed she had seen it all in the course of her job. I knew that Jim was having an erection, that he was enjoying the situation and that made me angry with him.

The girl produced several devices and explained them. “None of these are absolutely escape proof,” she explained. “But if he gets out of it, he can’t put it back on. So you’ll know he’s been up to mischief.

“There are escape proof ones but they need penis piercings to attach them. We can do that but it takes a while to heal up before you can fit the actual device. We recommend one of the first type to begin with and monitor the behaviour. If he keeps getting out of it, then go for the piercings.”

I found the girl’s attitude intriguing. The way she spoke made it seem perfectly reasonable for a woman to put her husband into one of these devices. Perhaps she was right. If all husbands wore them there’d be a lot less male infidelity with all the distress that brings. There’d be fewer broken homes and the world would be a safer place. It would make for happier marriages too. I felt reassured about putting Jim into the device.

I settled on the securest of the non-piercing devices. “It has to be adjusted to fit. Would you come through to the back, please.”

We went through to a small curtained off area and Jim had to drop his pants and stand on a small platform to be at the right working height. Needless to say he had a full erection. We all knew that the device would not fit over an erection. The penis had to be flaccid for it to go on. The smug look on Jim’s face was annoying.

“May I?” the girl asked.

Oh why not? I’d given him more than enough hand jobs in my time. Let someone else do it. “All right.”

The girl took up a school ruler that just happened to be lying on the platform and delivered a good sound thwack to the top of Jim’s penis with it. Jim gasped and I burst out laughing. That served him right for thinking that the girl was going to bring him off.

“Sorry, but it saves time that way,” the girl said. “The pain soon goes.” She slipped the device over Jim’s limp little willie, took a measurement or two with the same ruler. Then she cut the device to size on a cutter grinder on the bench.

The girl showed me how to fix the device. It was simple enough. A click of the tiny padlock and Jim’s chastity was assured. She gave me two keys on a chain designed to be worn around the neck. “Put the second key in a safe place,” she said.

“Get your pants up Jim,” I ordered. We went back to the shop, paid and left.

“Now wasn’t that an interesting experience,” I remarked to Jim as we walked to the car.

He grunted. I think he was still in pain.

We drove around to Anton’s studio. I got Jim to strip to show off his willie lock to Anton. Anton approved: “It’s a good idea. Married men shouldn’t jerk off by themselves.” Anton of course was single and had every intention of staying that way. In Anton’s book single men were allowed to do whatever they wanted and could get away with. He proved it by saying “Get your clothes off Doris. We’ve got time for a nibble now you’re here. I stripped off for him. Anton got Jim to clean his artist’s brushes while he fucked me, in his studio so that Jim could watch.

That was a first for Jim and I saw that his willie was straining against its confinement. I marvelled at how Jim could enjoy such humiliation and wondered what he was thinking. Even so I knew I loved him. Anton was a good stud but I wouldn’t want him for a husband.

Afterwards we dressed while Jim made coffee. “Gee, your missus is a damn good fuck,” Anton remarked to him while we were drinking it. “I really appreciate you letting me have her.” He paused and added: “Not that you have any say in it, of course.”

Jim merely nodded his reply.

Over the next twelve months I would let Jim out of his cock lock, give him a hand job and then put it back on him straight away. To begin with I did that every day. Later it slipped to once a week or less. I was getting fed up with wanking Jim. It certainly wasn’t any fun for me, just a chore. The longest he went without was a month. It would have been longer but Jim complained of blue balls.

When I remarked to Anton that I was getting tired of having to keep giving Jim his hand jobs, Anton suggested I should start persuading Jim to have his balls removed. Without them he wouldn’t need hand jobs, or even to wear his cock lock any more. I wasn’t too sure about that. There was a horrible finality and irreversibility about it. It was a solution though.

I started to work on Jim. The first time I was massaging his scrotum when I suggested it: “You know Jim, if we were to take these out, you wouldn’t keep on wanting me to give you hand jobs. You know I don’t like doing them.” He didn’t reply but his willie got harder. That wasn’t a bad sign so I kept on working on him.

It was during the course of this period that I told him it would be a lot better for him if were fixed. He replied that he didn’t want to be fixed.

“Then you wouldn’t have to wear that silly cock lock. You would stop enjoying all that sick humiliation that you get. It really is degrading for you. I still love you but how can I respect you any more?”

I carried on with this mixture of suggestion and persuasion for two or three months. I needed him to agree to it. I certainly wouldn’t let him be done against his will, even though Anton was getting impatient. With his circle of bohemian friends, Anton knew someone who knew a dyke who did this kind of thing for free, just for the fun of it. Apparently she was good at it too. She was a trained and qualified professional nurse. “She’d be happy to put on a scene for him. We can have people watching and everything. Jim will love it.” Anton said.

“I don’t want a scene. I want it done in private. Nobody else there. Not even you.” Jim seemed kind of resigned to his castration, even though his willie was up when he said it. And if he wanted it done in private then it meant that he wanted it done. The breakthrough was made.

I told Anton who was ridiculously enthusiastic about Jim being castrated. “That wimp’s gonna love it,” he said. I was only then beginning to realise that Anton had a sadistic streak: my husband’s castration was a turn on for him. Had he planned this all along? Hadn’t he put me up to each stage of Jim’s degradation?

I got nervous and tried to get Jim to change his mind about it. He wouldn’t. “It is for the best, Doris. All this humiliation, I’m beginning to despise myself. I’m addicted to it. I enjoy being turned on by it but it is sick.”

The cutter insisted on a preliminary interview with Jim in private. I didn’t get to hear what was said but I was surprised by the cutter herself. The way Anton had spoken of ‘some dyke’ I expected an old hag who hated men. Jessica, a brunette, turned out to be about my age. She looked lovely in the red, shift dress she was wearing too. She had a warm nature and a friendly personality. The aim of the interview, Jessica explained, was to be quite sure that Jim knew what he was in for. That it was a life changing procedure and that it was permanent. She’d got some background already from Anton but she also wanted to be quite sure that I was happy about it too.

Actually I wasn’t. I thought it was going too far and I tried to stop Jim from going ahead. He’d been depressed lately and I realised he wasn’t happy within himself. “I’ll be okay once it’s over and done with,” Jim had told me. “If I don’t have a libido I won’t want all this humiliation.”

Even so, I could have stopped it but Anton was so keen that I wasn’t sure that I should..

The actual procedure took place a week later. It was on the stage of an old disused theatre that Jessica had inherited from her grandfather. She’d just kept it.

Anton was enthusiastic. He drove us there. “So Jim the wimp, this is your big moment, hey? No more balls after tonight. You’ll never get to fuck Doris again. Not that you would in any case.”

Jim didn’t say anything.

Jessica didn’t want us there. “Jim said he didn’t want a scene and didn’t want anyone else present either. Not even you, Doris.” Jessica told us before she started. Jim was backstage at the time, presumably prepping himself with the safety razor that Jessica had said to bring with us.

“Didn’t he say he wanted you to knock him out for the procedure?” Anton asked. “He won’t know if anyone is there or not.”

“Well, sit at the back of the auditorium then. He won’t know you’re there.”

We sat ourselves right at the back. The only light was from the stage. I found I was shaking. My God! How come I was a party to this? I was wondering if I could stop it when Anton fiddled around in a bag and brought out a video camera.

“What’s that for?”

“To film the wimp having his balls out, of course. This is a moment too good to miss.” He got up and went off with the camera before I could stop him. Not that I would have been able to stop him.

I felt terrible. I cast my mind back over our marriage and realised this was all my fault. When Jim wanted me to have sex with another man I should have refused. But I knew in my heart that I’d fancied Anton who was teaching the evening art class that I’d enrolled for. Secretly I was happy for Jim to persuade me. In consequence I’d caused a good man to be subjected to such degradation that he even despised himself.

Perhaps I could stop it. I was about to stand up when Jessica was beside me. “I need the key to his cock lock. I can’t do him while he’s wearing it.”

I was so taken aback that in my stupidity I gave it to her. I collapsed into my seat and silently cried for myself and Jim and what we had both become. Lost in my own self pity I ignored the events on the stage. I didn’t want to see. I was aware of Jim, completely covered in surgical sheets apart from the part that Jessica was working on and Anton dressed up in a surgical gown with cap and mask, filming the process

“It’s over,” Jessica said. “He’s done.” All I could do was look away and nod. “I’ll keep him here under observation tonight and you can come and collect him tomorrow.”

I got up and left. Anton was nowhere to be seen. I took a taxi home.

Next day I had to pluck up the courage to face my husband. How would he feel about me now that he had been castrated? Would he hate me for persuading him to agree to it? Well, he wouldn’t hate me as much as I hated myself.

Driving to the theatre, nervous of facing Jim, was in itself a kind of penance. Initially I was relieved when I found the place locked and deserted. Then I started to worry. I walked around to the back. Nothing. All locked up and there wasn’t even an open window. I toyed briefly with the idea of breaking in but knew that I didn’t have the first idea of how to do that.

I hung around for a while, wondering what, if anything, had gone wrong and hoping someone, Jessica perhaps, would appear. After an hour I gave up and drove around to Anton’s studio. I desperately needed some company and reassurance, someone I could talk to. There was no-one there either.

What else could I do? I drove home. I was so pleased to see Jim in our kitchen drinking coffee that I rushed and hugged him, causing him to spill some.

“Jim, don’t be too angry with me. I am so sorry for what I did to you.”

“You did nothing to me, sweetheart, that I didn’t bring on myself.” Jim said, putting a comforting arm around me. It felt so good.

I realised he was leading me toward the bedroom. “Where are you taking me?”

“To get fucked, Doris. It must be all of four years since I had any.”

We undressed. Could Jim still perform without his- After what happened? But he looked perfectly normal down there! I didn’t understand. I’d seen Jessica hold up Jim’s balls in a glass jar.

Jim smiled. “I swapped places with Anton. I thought that bastard deserved it more than me.”

“But what-? How did you-?”

“Oh shut up woman. Enjoy your fucking.”

Gee! But I loved this man