Giantess Stories - My Life as a Little Husband

Parte 14 - Sexuality

The polishing of Onda's shoes marked the beginning of what's been my main function at home ever since: to serve. 

There is hardly anything in the house I don't have to take care of. My size makes every simple task quite -sometimes very- difficult, but almost never impossible. A number of devices (either provided by Molly or mysteriously brought home by Onda) enable me to reach almost everywhere. These consist mainly of a set of ladders of different lengths, rather light to carry, with rungs proportional to my body, and rubber ends to prevent them from sliding. I also use long rods with an interchangeable system of small devices attached to the ends, with which I can get to the remotest spots and corners. Cleaning, cooking, ironing, grooming, watering, fixing. You name it. The bulk of my day is devoted to maintaining the house spotless. What used to take me a few hours when I was my normal size (on the rare occasions I volunteered to help my wife) now engages me for most of the week. 

I must say I'm quite proud of our home nowadays. Every shelf is dusted; every piece of metal shines; every room smells good. The whole household is kept to perfection in order to honor my queen. All this cleaning and maintenance is done when no one is at home. By the time Onda comes back from work I've pretty much finished with my chores and gotten dressed nicely for my wife. For from the minute she enters the apartment my task is to serve her. 

Depending on her wishes, I help take her shoes and some clothes off and change into something more comfortable. I massage her feet, neck, back, shoulders, legs, arms, or whatever she tells me to. I warm her hands if they are cold; I scratch her head and brush her beautiful hair. I lie down at her feet for her to rest on or play with me. I help her wash off her light make-up; I manicure and pedicure her. I serve her dinner, coffee, a drink. Whatever she needs. Bath or shower time is the best. I soap her body and shampoo her hair. I clean off every bit of skin; I deal with any infrequent zit or pimple right away. If Onda is in the mood and I've behaved myself, she may also wash me in the process. The pleasures of such occasions could fill up chapters and chapters of a book. And the sexual intercourse sensations that usually await us are just impossible to express with words. 

All this is nowadays, three years after my shrinking and a number of months after Onda decided I had achieved the stage to deserve it. The beginning, though, was quite different and hard. I had to learn everything from scratch and not without resistance and consequent punishment. 

As I told you last time, my first task ever was to polish Onda's shoes. That same night she ended up squeezing my penis badly when I tried to masturbate in front of her. I spent most of the next day in my cage, my penis still in pain, until she came back from work. Once home, my wife ordered me out of my cage and took me to the kitchen to eat. Then she gave me a small pail with soapy water and pieces of cloth, brushes and scrubs, and told me to start cleaning the wall skirting around the house. While she read the paper, watched some TV, and made a few phone calls, I industriously worked at my job. Of course I couldn't finish it all, but I managed to do quite well. 

As in the previous day, I ended up under the sink faucet again. My desire for Onda hadn't diminished in the least and my penis grew rock-hard throughout the shower. I had to fight my impulse to fondle myself for I didn't want to get punished again. 

Masturbation had happened before, but only occasionally. Although I had felt sexual arousal from the very first time my wife exercised her power over me, it had taken me very long to understand and, finally, accept it. I had also spent many months dealing with the healing from her terrible retaliations at my escape attempts, so my sexuality went into a second plane. But little by little, I had started to fantasize about her dominating me, and the situation multiplied itself when I was allowed out of my cage and the psychological interaction shifted from a captor-prisoner to a master-slave one. The first physical contact, as when I had to massage her feet, marked the beginning of my mad desire. 

Obviously Onda was aware of this process, but her plans didn't seem to include any sort of sexual manifestations, which made everything only harder. Her official banning of masturbation came at the worst possible time and I just couldn't obey it. During the following days, when my wife wasn't home and I was in my cage, I masturbated frantically, cumming seven -sometimes more- times a day. It got a little better after a while, but I was still extremely horny when one evening, while massaging Onda's feet, she said, 

"Pril, I told you clearly a while ago that you're not allowed to masturbate. Do you remember that?" 

"Y- Yes", I responded a bit hesitantly. 

"Have you been doing it?” she asked. 

"N- No, Onda, I haven't", I lied, already starting to regret it. 

"You also know you're not allowed to lie, don't you?” she added a little more firmly. 

"Of course, Onda", I added quickly, trying to sound matter-of-fact, knowing I was getting into deep trouble. 

"So you aren't lying to me when you say that you aren't masturbating", she said slowly. 

"No, my queen. I'm not lying", I finished quietly, starting to pray. 

And with this, she reached out for her bag and pulled out a little transparent plastic container, not unlike camera films, which had inside a few drops of a clear substance. 

"This container", Onda explained, "has in it some very interesting stuff that won't do any harm if you are telling the truth. If you are lying, though, it will make your pee turn blue, as a consequence of the sperm residue around your genital organs. And I really hope you aren't lying Prilly, because if your pee-pee turns blue, it will still be a light tone compared to the color of your penis when I've done with you." 

Then she opened the container, placed it on the floor next to me and said, 

"Pee in it" 

My heart sank. My legs began to shake. A cold sweat bathed me in a second. 

"Onda", I said, "I." 

"Pee in it!” Onda said, raising her voice a little. 

I slowly pulled my thing out of my toga. It looked very little and it was extremely crumpled. There were also a few drops of pee that had involuntarily come out, consequence of my fear. A ridiculous jet of pee went right into the container. It turned deep blue immediately. 

Onda slowly took up the container, rose to her feet, and started to walk to the kitchen. I meekly trotted after her, my fear growing, as I still didn't know what she would do to me. 

"Onda", I called. There was no answer. 

"Onda, please", my voice betrayed my panic. "Please, Onda, I couldn't help it. My queen, I dream of you." 

Without even looking at me she threw the container into the garbage can and walked back to the living room. I was still following her, sobbing at her feet, trying to get her attention. She sat on the sofa, crossed her legs, and easily took me up from the floor and placed me on her lap. With an indifferent look and never answering my pleadings, she removed my toga and passed a finger across my arms, fixing them tight behind my back. With the other fingers of the same hand she grabbed my legs and bent them firmly back, thus holding all my extremities behind me and exposing my body for her to operate. She was very calm, fully in control. 

"When I give you an order, what do you have to do?” came the inevitable question. 

"Obey, my, queen. Please, I beg from you." I started to cry, desperate with terror. 

Onda took my penis with her fingers, right at the joint with my testicles, and squeezed it until I felt it was being pulverized. The pain was excruciating, I cried in agony. Then she slowly worked her way down to my tip, very slowly, bit by bit. She continued to pinch and squeeze hard every section of my thing, with different fingers, in different positions. I was burning with ache; I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to break free from her grip with the little strength I had left, but it was in vain. She held me tight with her hand; there was nothing I could do. As my frustration grew, my fear got hold once more of my whole self and I started to beg disconsolately for mercy. It fell on deaf ears. 

Once she finished with her fingers she started to use her nails, which she's always kept rather long. My agony became even more intense; I seriously started to be concerned about the future of my penis. I cried like mad, my sight got blurred behind my tears, and I bit badly my own lips. 

"What do you have to do when I give you an order?” her voice hadn't lost even a little of composure. 

"Obey! Obey!" I shouted at the top of my voice. 

"Are you going to lie again?" she asked, still calmly. 

"No, my queen. No, please, no." 

Then the worst came. She took my testicles between her fingers and started to apply her punishment to them. The first squeeze sent the pain up to my throat. A jet of vomit came out of my mouth and I became immediately dizzy. From then on my recollections of the rest of it are very confused. I know she worked at her "correction" for quite a long time. I also remember she asked me once more about the obedience and about masturbating. If I answered, I don't remember what I said, but I have no doubt that I got the message. The message I've been getting from the beginning of things. The message that rules my life.