Chastity Pegging Gif

Chastity Pegging Gif
Laura regularly locks up her boyfriend's penis with a variety of cages
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For the last two years her live-in boyfriend Gavin has been wearing a cage over his penis - the male equivalent of a chastity belt - that prevents him even getting an erection without pain, let alone being able to make love to another woman.
And Laura is the only one that holds the key.
But Laura's not a jealous girlfriend.
It’s all part of their dominant/submissive relationship - a dynamic made famous in the novel 50 Shades of Grey, in that case the man, successful business man Christian Grey, was in charge of his girlfriend, college student Anastasia - but in this case, Laura is firmly in charge.
In their household she makes all the decisions, from where they go on holiday, to what they eat.
Gavin drives her wherever she wants to go and does the majority of the housework.
Laura, who lives in Lincolnshire and has two children from a previous relationship, explains: “We are very happy together, I’ve got a very forceful personality and he’s very laid back.
"Our relationship has developed from there, based on love, trust and communication.
“For me the chastity ‘belt’ is nothing about jealousy and trying to keep my lover faithful to me, although it is for some women who use them on their men.
"This is just another way of Gavin submitting to me. I can choose when he is allowed to get an erection and from there when he can orgasm.
"The longest I’ve ever made him wait is two months. But it’s a turn on for both of us and we both enjoy it - if we didn’t then we wouldn’t do it.”
To read more of Laura and Gavin's story, grab a copy of Closer magazine!
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It all started a couple of weeks ago when my hubby told me about feminizing. He is a chain smoker. He is smoking for decades together. He feels his tensions eases off with one stick. Whenever I ask him to quit, he says that I don’t understand how it helps him to reduce his tension. That’s just a blind statement to me. However he wishes to quit smoking. We have been trying so many methods to make him quit. But due to stress in work and personal life, it never happens. I made him to wear brassiere 5 years ago as a punishment. The number of hours he should wear brassiere depends on the number of sticks he enjoyed the previous day. We were living in a highrise. So it was easy to make him were brassiere all day. The number of sticks reduced considerably. We couldn’t continue for some reasons.
So after almost 6 years, when he came up with this idea of wearing brassiere, I was not very much interested as we have tried this before and the results weren’t fruitful for obvious reasons. He got accustomed to the feel of wearing brassiere around the house. Since we were practising punishment model , it didn’t benefit when he got used to it. However I decided to let him try.
Discussing about the idea of wearing brassiere, I came up with thoughts of feminizing. After some research and talks we decided its feminizing we are going to try. We started to identify what are the things he can do. He was explaining how he would like this to progress, what all he wants to do. I was dumbstruck Decided how to take it, he needed brassiere to wear at home. So now it’s time for shopping. We tried few of the lingerie shops where I usually shop. Nothing worked out.
Our next stop was at a supermarket. Viola, there was lingerie sale. I went to look something for him. He was so shy choosing the design for him. He usually helps me choose brassiere for me. He remembers even the colors and design I have and helps me choose the best. But when I was searching for him, he was no were to be found. He felt so shy he went hiding. Then he came over when all the women left for other sections.
What I noticed when he wore brassiere for few hours surprised me. I saw a complete change in his attitude, temper, confidence level, etc….
He being the person who starts work but abandons in the middle, i noticed my house was sparkling, especially kitchen. He is a typical asian male. Although he does help me in kitchen unlike my cousins and friends, I will need to spend some quality time in cleaning the mess he created in the process of cooking. I observed he was very disciplined and organised.
As day passed, he was getting into a totally different person. I was having mixed feelings. I was happy to see a new person in my hubby, at the same time I saw the girl in him invading my space. For a girl like me with very little female friends it was totally different to have a girlfriend at home. Hmm..now that I have a friend, should I name her?
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How I broke my husband with one simple dress
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IT IS 7.48pm. I am just about to leave the house for a night out with friends. I have checked I have a spare pair of tights in my handbag, ensured that the working remote is actually in the oldest child's hand - no more panicked, 10pm ''WE CANT FID [sic] THE CONTROLLS!!!'' texts for me - and now, the last thing that needs to be done is to bid my husband adieu.
I walk into his ''study'', where he is listening to a reggae compilation, while contemplating his new Fotheringay mug, which is full of tea. He has a happy look on his face.
''Have a great night,'' he says, taking his headphones off, and beaming. There is a pause. I kind of … stand at him a bit. Loom, maybe.
''I'm off out, now,'' I say, again, more purposefully. ''Off into London. To see people.''
''Make sure you've got your keys!'' he says, cheerfully. ''Have a great night. Send my love to … whichever bunch of arch, chain-smoking homosexuals you're on loan to tonight.''
There is another pause. I stare at him quite intently. He stares back, confused. Pete can tell there is some manner of urgent business left unattended here - but he does not know what. I can sense his heart rate accelerating, like a panicked lab rat on sighting a speculum. The rat does not know exactly what is going to happen next - but it knows it's going to be bad. ''Do you … want a lift to Finsbury Park?'' he asks, eventually.
''HOW DO YOU THINK I LOOK?'' I shout.
Pete is immediately contrite - ''Sorry!'' - but also back in charted territory again.
Twelve years ago, shortly before our wedding, I told him - with the kind of fearless honesty that lovers can afford - that I would only ever impose two rules on our marriage. First, that he must never, ever throw me a surprise birthday party in our front room again. And second, that every time I appear in front of him in a new outfit, he must say, without hesitation:
''You look so thin in that!'' Pete says - delighted to be back on firm ground. He puts his headphones back on. He clearly thinks all the business has been concluded.
''Phew. Have a great night out,'' he says - going back to staring at his Fotheringay mug, which depicts the whole band as 15th-century minstrels. ''I'll see you in the morning.''
Unfortunately for Pete, ''You look so thin in that'' is not the droids I am looking for in this particular conversation. The dress I am in is a bit of a new development, in terms of my ''fashion range''. It's a 1950s tea dress in shape - but in pattern, it's got an African-textile theme going on. I'm wearing it with zebra-skin sandals, and a snakeskin clutch-bag. Basically, I need to know if I look like Lady Ace Ventura: Pet Detective in it. I don't know if this ''lysergic safari'' thing is working.
Were I with any of my female friends or relations, they would have understood this instantly. My sister Weena, for instance, would have greeted me with, ''You're perverting the assumed prejudices of postwar chicks, with some kind of 'demented gay Ghanaian disco' vibe. It's Mad Men versus Brixton Market. You're essentially saying you're a liberal - but with big tits. Nice. Catch that bus with confidence.''
This is what women do - tell each other what story their outfits are projecting, by way of confirming that the wearer has got it right. The women who love you recite back to you the aspiration and impact of your ''look'' - hence a group of eight of us being able to greet our friend Hughes with, ''Post-divorce slutty secretary - but with unexpected neon rave-stilettos! You're a sexy lady who will not cling to one man tonight, but seek the communal ecstatic uprising of a room full of party-goers instead. In this Pizza Express we are having dinner in.''
Women speak the language of clothes. Everything we wear is a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter - or, sometimes, just an exclamation mark.
Unfortunately, however, Pete does not speak the language of clothes. My dress and zebra-sandals are essentially shouting at him in French. Unable to make out a word they are saying, he panics.
''It's a top-notch item,'' he says, staring at it. ''Unusual. It's, ah, amazing that 'they' keep coming up with innovative things - even in 2012. That's … got to be good news for the fashion industry!''
There is a small pause - then he starts laughing so hysterically at the desperation of what he has just said that he slides off his chair, headphones still in hand, and kneels on the floor, red-faced, and weeping.
He's still there when I leave. Which is a bit annoying, because I did actually want a lift to Finsbury Park. My zebra-skin sandals are chafing.
From Moranthology by Caitlin Moran. © Caitlin Moran 2012. Reprinted by permission of Random House Australia. All Rights Reserved. RRP: $29.95
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Being raped by a woman isn’t cool and you aren’t “lucky”.
When I was 21 I was raped by the girl who was my girlfriend at the time. … The worst day of my life was when she decided to tie me up. She told me all the dirty things she was going to do to me while she kissed my neck and whispered into my ear as she tied my arms and legs down to the bed. Everything she said she was going to do was normal to me (suck me, ride me) so I let her tie me up. After I was tied up she asked me to try to break free and offered a reward to me if I could. She said she would be back and if I wasn’t free then I would miss out on the reward.
She came back and stood at the door and stared at me. She then told me how I wasn’t going to be rewarded because I couldn’t get out. She then told me she was going to punish me. Long story short, she ended up sodomizing me with her vibrator. I must have said no a thousand times. I was crying and begging her to stop which in hindsight probably made it worse. I was anally fucked, then she tried to ride me but I couldn’t even get up. I was so broken emotionally and in pain physically. She then got very mad that I couldn’t get it up which was never a problem. I was beaten for a while. Then the vibrator again while being hit. It lasted about 6 or 7 hours but felt like it was a dozen. For a while she just left it in me while she went in the other room to watch TV.
It was mid day when she tied me up and had been dark for a few hours after it was over. I ended up falling asleep tied up. I think I just passed out more from exhaustion of trying to break free/get her to stop. I woke up and I was untied in bed by myself. …
I ended up calling the police, which was the best decision I had ever made. The second I called them she calmed down and started to behave. They got there pretty quickly. Of course once they were there she played the damsel in distress and claimed that I was beating her up and choking her, etc. I told the cop everything that happened, which was embarrassing but worth it. They arrested her and she was jailed. … I had the option to press charges but ended up choosing not to after consulting with my lawyer.
Being raped has ruined my life for the time being.
I’m a man. I was raped as a child. She was my cousin. About 15 or so, while I was four. I don’t remember a lot, either because I was so small or because I mentally blocked it, but I remember that she performed oral sex on me. Made me do the same to her. Stuck various things up my butt.
My mom called the police when I told her a few weeks later. They didn’t even investigate. They said since it was a girl doing it to a guy, it was just “experimentation.” Said it was okay.
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