Castration of the cuckold husband

castration of the cuckold husband


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Brutal Wife Cuckolds, Castrates Slave Husband Female Led.

castration of the cuckold husbandcastration of the cuckold husband

During our first few months of marriage, Justin and I were annoyingly conventional. I saw myself slipping into the nightmare of trite middle-class life that had so thoroughly repulsed me during college. My life was becoming a sleeping museum of contemporary American culture — a living death. I quit my job, you see, and was lazy about finding a new one. My husband went to work, supported us, while I lazed around the house, cooking, taking care of the nothingness surrounding me, ordering it more nicely, disguising it into something meaningful and emotionally fulfilling. I was becoming a zombie: a television person: a housewife.

My husband began to really enjoy this. I was becoming more and more dependant upon him, hence he was in control. He liked this. He patronizeed me, issued orders only thinly veiled with politeness.

My husband began spending more time away from home with his friends and colleagues from work. When he came home he was often exhausted, and our sex life suffered. Finally, I went to a sex shop and purchased various sex toys — two vibrators, and two large dildos. I was embarrassed buying them so I rushed. It was only when I returned home that I discovered that one of the dildos I had bought was actually a strap-on. An eleven-inch-long strap-on. Stiff and black, with little life-like veins and things.

Justin lifted his hand and pointed his index finger very close to my face. “Don’t you back-talk me, Uma. Pick this up off the table, and put it back in the goddam oven.”

The next few seconds seemed to consume hours. I was aware of three things: his finger aimed like a gun at my face; the echo of his bullyish voice reverberating in my mind; and the pounding of my heart in my chest.

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