the following vignette is shared by r. e. resom
Taming a husband

She opened a briefcase she carried, took out a tape measure and notebook and began a series of measurements. I lay inert, watching her.

She measured every part of my body -- in detail. It took her over an hour to do it. She made sketches, she poked and prodded with her hands `to get the feel' as she said.

Nothing escaped her attention, including my penis and testicles, my anus into which she pushed a plastic rod as a probe, and my mouth.

One problem arose -- my penis was almost half-mast -- not entirely collapsed, soft but still engorged. She left the room and returned with Angela. She pointed to my organ.

"You see my problem, Mrs. Beverley. I must have the exact measurements of his penis when it is at its hardest and most erect, and also when it is entirely collapsed."

"OK. I can take care of that."

"Then I'll just remove this appliance."

She grinned,
"One of mine, I see?"
Mrs. Dexter took what was obviously a master key from her key ring and unfastened the padlock. Then she said,
"I think I'll cut the rubber off later -- we can't release him at this stage."
At least part of me was free and despite everything else, it was a wonderful feeling. My penis stood up long and hard. But that wasn't good enough for Angela. She commented,
"He can do better than that, when he's aroused."


Mrs. Dexter looked surprised.
"I have never seen a more remarkable organ. A pity in a way to lock it away -- but there, duty is duty!"
Angela was a little nonplused. She haughtily insisted,
"I'm not going to let him fuck me!"
Her voice was brutal. I noticed that even Mrs. Dexter winced a little at her tone of voice. She quietly commented,
"No, that wouldn't be the best way. You see, I want to take my measurements just at the top of the wheel, as it were. If you would kindly masturbate him, that will be fine. -- Stop at once when I tell you to. Then, when I'm finished, continue the action until he ejaculates. I'm sorry to put you to this necessity, but there is no alternative."
Angela casually sneered,
"I don't care .... It's all in a good cause!"

"Yes indeed. The last time. Quite an historic occasion!"

I felt the cold, thin fingers of Mrs. Dexter and the touch of the tape measure as she measured girth and length. She exclaimed,
"My goodness ... eight and a half inches long, and exactly six inches in circumference! I've never seen anything to match it. What a pity to hide it away."
On her lap she held what looked like a piece of medieval armor.
"The whole basis of an operation like this, Mr. Beverley -- the foundation, as it were, is the trunk of the body. Get that under control, and all else follows."
I stood patiently, while Mrs. Dexter clamped her armor around me. It was a kind of corset, made of stainless steel about a millimeter thick. It fitted at the bottom to about two inches below my hip bones, and at the point there were clever panels each side that expanded to give just enough play to make it possible for me to sit down and bend from the hips. It curved in madly to my waist, and although I was slender, it was obvious that she had made a miscalculation there. -- She'd never get it closed.

At the top it came up almost to my arm pits, completely covering my chest, and here it seemed to fit fairly well. In the front were two circular panels each with a small keyhole underneath it. Mrs. Dexter put a key in each hole in turn and removed the panels, exposing my pecs. I put my hand on the waist and said,

"It won't fit here ...."
I was getting quite interested, in an academic way. Mrs. Dexter smiled,
"Oh, yes. There's an adjustment at the back. You'll see."
She moved behind me and with a thing like a clock-key she began to turn a number of threaded rods, and as she did so, the steel corset began to draw my waist in, inexorably. She said softly,
"We must make sure we don't pinch any skin. Don't want it to be uncomfortable, do we?"
She had to be joking! It's not comfortable to wear about twenty pounds of steel anyway, but as she continued to draw in the gap, compressing my waist, it rapidly became unbearable. Suddenly I shouted -- it just erupted out my mouth,
"Stop! It's too tight."

"Oh no, it's not. There's another three inches to come in yet. Stand still please."

When the corset was quite close, I felt as though I should break in two. I demanded,
"What does my waist measure now?"

"Just exactly twenty-five inches!"

The way she said it, I think she was very proud of it.
"There's no other way of getting such a reduction. You were thirty-two inches before."
I was conscious that my penis was standing out, stiff and strong, and for a moment I put my hand on it. It was rather embarrassing since she had noted its unusual size, but she was quite emotionless and uninterested. She added,
"I'd normally leave it at that, but since this is to be a permanent arrangement, if you would please lie down on your right side, I'll just rivet it in position."
I lay down gloomily. She had reminded me, in the nicest way, of what I was trying to forget. I felt the tap of her hammer at the back of the steel armor, and knew something of what an African must have felt when he was being sold into slavery. When she was finished, she gave the corset a pat and snortled,
"There, now I'll just do the padding."
It seemed an odd thing to try to pad it after it had been riveted on, but I was content of watch. Frankly, I was short of breath because the thing pressed hard on my chest and I should have to get used to shallow breathing from now on. One thing was for sure -- if ever I escaped I wouldn't be able to run far -- I'd be out of breath in twenty yards flat.

Mrs. Dexter unscrewed a small bolt in the center front of the corset and another at the back, and into each one she fitted a small metal funnel. She opened two jars of liquid, poured them together and shook them vigorously. Then she poured the liquid into each funnel until no more would go in. Quickly she removed the funnels and screwed back the bolts. I felt the liquid running all over my back and belly, cold at first but growing warmer by the minute.

"It'll get rather hot, Mr. Beverley, but not enough to hurt your skin."
I was watching the jar, fascinated. The mixed liquid that remained was steaming gently and slowly changing into a foaming mass of rubber that swelled until it climbed out of the jar and ran down the sides and onto the square of plastic it stood on.

At the same moment, I realized that something similar was happening inside the corset. Every little crack between it and my body was filled with foam rubber and, where it was confined, the rubber expanded at my expense.

This was specially true in front, where it pressed with incredible intensity against the soft flesh of my belly, further multiplying the pressure. I could actually feel the ghastly stuff entering my navel and swelling there!. A lot oozed out of the top and bottom of the corset, and around the edges of the holes that exposed my pecs. After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Dexter trimmed off the excess with scissors. She murmured,

"Good ...."
She turned me round then smiled.
"Excellent! Which just goes to show that it all depends where you're standing!"
She replaced the breastplates and pocketed the key.
"I'd like to attend to the neck next, if that suits you?"

"Sure, be my guest."

As if I had any real say in the matter. She was going to do what she wanted. If I resisted.... I didn't.... The collar was also of stainless steel, but already lined with foam. It was shaped to look very uncomfortable, and I can say with authority that it lived up to its reputation.

Mrs. Dexter sat the collar around my throat and closed it. It was tight, but only just tight -- a perfect fit. It sat down on my shoulder-blades and a bed of foam, and curved down at the front and back to match the contours exactly. At the top edge, it came just along under my cheek-bones, rising in front and back to a high point that was just not sharp. It held my head dead level. I could look straight ahead, but I could not lift my head because of the point at back, nor lower it because of the point at front. I could just turn my head slightly from side to side.

Mrs. Dexter asked me to lie down again, and with her hammer and miniature anvil, she riveted the collar closed at the back. Each stroke sounded like the stroke of doom.

The reality of my situation was slowly beginning to dawn on me. It would take an expert mechanic with a machine-shop several hours to release me -- even at this early stage.

I stood up again, and Mrs. Dexter fitted a bent steel strip to the back of the corset and the back of the collar, fixing my head rigidly for good. Mrs. Dexter brought another steel item asking me to stay on my feet. It was shaped like the back and front of a pair of briefs, without the sides. The front, about ten inches wide, was attached to the lower edge of the corset, where it was ingeniously hinged to allow for movement. It tapered to two inches between the legs and then gradually widened again to the back of the corset, where it was perhaps four inches wide.

It fitted perfectly, and I was driven to the conclusion that in her warped way this woman was a genius. In front was a circular hole through which, with an apologetic glance, she pulled my penis. A second hole, lower down, allowed my testicles to protrude. So they, at least, were not going to be closed up in steel! Mrs. Dexter riveted this part of the 'armor' on and then poured in the foaming plastic, after carefully inserting a plug an inch and a half in diameter into my anus through a matching hole in the back of the appliance.

This time she used much more material. I could feel it flowing into the cleft in my buttocks, forcing them apart, and pressing hard against the soft flesh that covered my bladder. Then she quickly trimmed the surplus.

Then came the moment of horror -- to which everything else had been leading up. Before I realized what she was doing, she had slipped a suitably shaped steel sheath over my penis and pushed it over a collar around the hole.

It was a prisoner! I put my hands down to pull it away, but Mrs. Dexter restrained me with a butterfly light touch on my wrist.

"Better let me fit it, Mr. Beverley. Remember what Mr. Kesten said about these?!"
Her fingers rested on my hard balls just for a second, and I withdrew my hands, with a deep sigh of resignation.
"This sheath is not riveted on. It can be removed by using a key like this."
She removed it, and then deftly replaced it. The thing hung like a lump of lead, dead, inert, at my loins. Inside it, my penis was small, cold, broken, a puny captive in a steel cell. I felt something cold against my testicles, as a steel dome clicked into place over them. This was the end!

So we continued with the fitting.

Mrs. Dexter put steel rods down both my legs, attaching them to the lower edge of the corset and riveting them at intervals to wide steel bands that passed around my thighs, knees and ankles. There was a metal joint to match each of my own joints, so that I could just walk about, with the greatest difficulty. Sort of fearing the truth of what I said, I half joked,

"If I fall over, I shall break something!"
Matter-of-factly, Mrs. Dexter said,
"Naturally I have a pair of crutches for you. Of course, you won't often be able to bend your legs. One has merely to turn these knobs...."
She rapidly moved small knobs at each joint.
"And you're fixed quite rigid. How often you will be allowed to bend your limbs will depend entirely on your good wife. Now your arms...."
She fixed my arms in the same way.
"I think we'll stop now. I have a lot of preparation to do after I'm finished with you, you know. I shan't see you tomorrow because the surgeon's coming, but the next day...."


Suddenly I was cold with fear.
"What for?"

"I need just six little perforations made, Mr. Beverley."

"Perforations? Holes? Where?'

Mrs. Dexter patted my arm.
"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Beverley. He's just going to perforate your earlobes, as though for earrings. Nothing to worry about."

"That's two, where are the others?""

"Well, they're just a bit more tricky. That's why I insisted on a good surgeon. He'll bore two small holes through your gums, one upper and one lower so we can fasten your jaws together when you are in company, you know."

"My God! And what about the other two?"

"Well I agree these could be just a trifle more painful."

"Where are they?"

*This operation is called infibulation. It is a common operation in many parts of the world, particularly in Africa and Northern Europe. It is used to prevent erections in slaves. And it is used to prevent erections in non-married adolescents, to assure male virginity
"Well, actually, in your foreskin, Mr. Beverley.* One each side. But it will heal in a couple of days and you won't notice it after that."

"You know," Grets interrupted, thoughtfully, "... while that surgeon's here there's a couple of other things we can have done. Might as well give him a good day's work while he's here."

Angela asked,

"What did you have in mind?'

"Well, she can pierce Bob's nipples for one thing, and put gold rings in. That might be useful later on. And then I'd like her to make a hole in his nose. The hole can be made right inside, in the cartilage between the nostrils. It won't show, but if we want to lead him by the nose, it will be easy to put a ring through it."

About noon I awoke. All I was conscious of was a just bearable series of little pains -- except for the place where two tiny holes had been bored through my gums. That did hurt!

Everything healed in a week, and to prevent a regrowth filling the holes, gold rings were fitted. There was a small one in my nose, out of sight but terribly trying until I eventually got used to it. There were two rings at my chest, one through the flesh of each nipple. There were rings through my earlobes. But the ones that caused me most trouble were those through my foreskin. I could feel them all the time, inside the steel sheath, and whenever my penis came erect, they were there, pressing on the tip of it, reminding me -- threatening me.

I could see clearly that when they were healed and the two rings replaced by one through both holes, I should either have to control the erection of my organ by an immense effort of will, or suffer untold agony as it pressed hard against the restriction, stretching the thin skin to the limit.

To add insult to injury, Mrs. Dexter suggested that I should have my sexual desires amplified.

"It would make his deprivation so much more unpleasant for him!"
She grinned menacingly,
"It is simply a matter of injecting male hormones. No problem at all."
The result of this may be imagined. With no prospect of relief of any kind, I would be put in a condition where my sex drives were stronger than ever before. Sleep would be denied me, I would rarely know a moment when my penis was not erect and throbbing with desire.

Mrs. Dexter drew out of the box what looked like a man's head, in bright polished stainless steel. It broke open into two halves, front and back, and was fastened at the sides and on top with small locks, set in flesh with the surface. At the nose was a tube that turned upward and ran to the top of the forehead.

She settled the front of the mask on my face, and I could not even twist my head to avoid it. Then she fitted the back to it, and with a light `click', it fell into place as the locks closed. Inside it was filled with foam rubber, which pressed weirdly against my cheeks.

When I spoke, my voice sounded hollow, as though it came from the grave. Mrs. Dexter told Angela,

"It fits into the collar like this. It's not locked on, because there's no need. Since it's locked at the sides and top, he can't get it off, even if his hands were free -- and they will never be again, so we don't have to worry.
Xxxx"There are two flaps here, above the eye-holes, which you can close, leaving him completely in darkness. I would recommend that you keep these closed all the time when you don't actually want to use him. That way, he will be deprived of the sense of sight so he will be even more cooperative when you let him see.
Xxxx"I have also made several closures for the mouth-piece. Of course you will need it open for feeding. But through the night, you can fit one of these gags. This one, for instance ...."
She pushed a metal object through the mouth-hole, and as it pressed hard and painfully against my lips and sore gums, I opened my mouth to receive it.

Mrs. Dexter put her hand to the front of the mask, and began to turn a key, and as she did so, metal arms in the mouth began to separate, forcing it wider and wider open, and pressing against my cheeks. I thought my jaws would break. But she stopped before my cheeks were pierced.

I could hear her explain,

"I've fixed the screw so that you can't wind it too tight by accident."
There were giggles, then she added,
"There are also these two other gags, but I expect you will want to use this one most often -- it is more punitive!"