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I’m Kev’s Frannie, a submissive husband whose wife has wisely granted me my unique destiny.

My spouse Keverly and I wed when I was thirty-eight and she twenty-six. Being naturally genuine, I found her easy to understand; from the start, it felt as though she knew me well—perhaps even better than I know myself. At that time, my body was already densely covered in a (pathetic?) array of tattooed hearts, stretching nearly head to toe. Over time, Kev helped me open up about this without making me feel ashamed or embarrassed by such an obvious trait. Later on, she admitted she sometimes questioned aspects of my sexuality during our intimacy and even wondered if I might be gay. While that isn’t the case, being able to discuss these intimate details openly with her gave me a sense of vulnerable safety unlike anything before. It felt wonderful; I was protected yet uninhibited, which drew me closer to her.

Soon enough, I began accepting my lifelong obsession—my sexual fetish for moles on human bodies: hers, mine, and others’. Kev had been born with a large mole on her left knee that captivated me. Just before our daughter arrived, she blessed me further by having Marilyn Monroe-style beauty marks tattooed onto her cheeks.

These moments of intimacy made me feel safer, more comfortable, and deeply loved by this one person who accepted my quirks (perhaps even because of them). As trust grew, we became adventurous in bed. I discovered, to my astonishment, that I had submissive fantasies and began sharing them with Kev. She participated in some role-play as we explored this new dimension online. With my encouragement, she started reading the same sites I did. Seeing how other women leveraged their husbands’ desires for advantage, she must have considered Female Domination (femdom). Initially, it seemed like just a game to please me, but over the next couple of years, she likely debated whether this lifestyle suited her.

After three years of experimentation, I approached Kev and confessed that my fantasy of fully submitting to her had taken hold. Looking back, we may not have perfectly understood each other’s needs then. She pondered my admission and asked if I still wanted her dominance in the bedroom. Excited by her calm response, she agreed—but insisted it be real for her enjoyment, not merely play. She needed fulfillment from this unconventional arrangement too.

She explained that part of her fantasy was becoming the head of our marriage, shaping me into a broader submission across all areas of life. Though slightly frightened, I figured I could guilt-trip or manipulate my way out if necessary, so I agreed. In hindsight, underestimating her resolve and commitment was a mistake.

It started beautifully. We communicated openly about everything. She delighted me by embracing my mole fetish publicly—letting me draw moles on her body and even using real tattoo needles to add small ones to mine in sexy ways (even near my cock!). Kev asked what other Dominance & Submission activities I wanted and fulfilled them, reading books like Different Loving to deepen her knowledge. Initially slow, with occasional spankings or tie-ups, we had frequent sex during these sessions.

Despite talking about expanding beyond the bedroom, she made few demands at first, so I enjoyed having my cake too. But that changed after a successful night out at a casino where Kev asked for my winnings to buy me a special gift. Weeks later, after handcuffing me to our bed and bringing me to an explosive orgasm, she surprised me with her present.

As my penis softened post-sex, she blindfolded me while I remained cuffed. She began handling my cock in unfamiliar ways that made me proud to be hers; I even dozed off briefly before waking up needing to pee. When released from the cuffs and rising, I noticed something strange below. A hard plastic cage held my cock with a locked padlock but no key.

I looked at Kev, puzzled, as she smiled and reminded me of her special gift: “It’s called a CB-2000,” she said. She wanted me to get used to wearing this chastity device. I was stunned, especially realizing I’d likely need to sit down like girls do when urinating! As I sat on the toilet to pee, Kev playfully mocked my new posture and called me “Frannie”—the embarrassing nickname from childhood that now carried a sissy connotation.

I quickly grasped the larger implication: she controlled my sexual release. It excited us both strangely enough. To keep her dominance in bed, I agreed to wear the cage despite initial discomfort. Soon, it became normal. Initially, Kev didn’t force long-term wearing; over time, however, she extended the periods—up to a week or two at a stretch.

She gradually worked me into this playful submission until finally exercising increasing control. She began referring pointedly to “Her Cock,” not mine, calling me cockless and even scolding or smacking my hands if I touched myself near it. It was thrilling yet terrifying as I saw a new side of Keverly emerge through the device.

The longer I remained denied orgasm, the more obedient and aroused by her will I became. Often feeling blessed beyond measure to be with such beauty despite not fully deserving it,

I could hardly contain my urge to worship her body constantly! Kev started having me pleasure Her orally, with sessions that grew longer and more frequent. Yet I remained locked in the cursed CB-2000 as I tongued and licked Her pussy for hours. My Wife is a stunning Beauty, featuring long hair, lovely eyes, and a firm, muscular yet increasingly voluptuous body. She has pretty breasts, an amazing rear end, and wonderful hard biceps that drive me crazy. Kev had always been sexy and sensual, but she was becoming even more alluring to me as her dominance over me grew. And I became so frustrated that I started begging Her for sexual release. I have always loved our intercourse, and I used to masturbate occasionally using my moles fetish as a stimulus; She knew (to my shame). But now actual sex between us was becoming rarer, and often when She wanted me to fuck Her, she forbade me from cumming. She began talking about how the locked-up cock existed solely for Her pleasure, that it had become Her prerogative, Her property, right from our wedding day. I loved this idea in theory, but in reality I was horny as hell and could no longer even jack off at all. I found myself preoccupied with fantasies of rushing to whack off the moment She would release me from the chastity cage. By then Kev allowed me to climax only about once every two weeks. But she seemed to know what I was imagining, becoming very strict about ensuring my mischievous hands were always tied down or handcuffed to a collar around my neck, or to a bedpost or door handle whenever She wanted to remove the cage from what now actually appeared to be Her cock — and no longer mine. This had become serious business! Denied my orgasm, I began dreaming and daydreaming about Kev and her body; and remembering the feeling of the cock inside Her wet, warm, beautiful hugging pussy. I started having trouble concentrating at work as She was on my mind almost constantly. I noticed that I was becoming more submissive toward Her as well. For example, sometimes I no longer felt worthy of sitting next to Her unless specifically invited; it felt increasingly comfortable for me to sit at Her feet and snuggle up to one of Her Beautiful legs (especially the left one, with the special mole I knew God had placed there just for me). And Kev seemed to be blossoming into someone even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. She was making more decisions in our household and marriage with confidence, energy, and determination. I found myself agreeing with most of Her choices, questioning my own judgment if I disagreed, and increasingly recognizing the folly of my contrary views. Frankly, about all I wanted to do now was lick Her pussy; dare I admit it? be teased by Her, feel that awful straining within the frustrating chastity cage, crave some assurance that my base and selfish yearning for an orgasm (even just an erection) would almost certainly be denied. On those increasingly rare occasions when She allowed me that privilege, the release felt so incredible, powerful, cleansing, complete—there could be nothing else like it! That only Kev had the power to grant me this explosive relief made me more and more submissive to Her, I know. Whenever She did allow me an orgasm, it was always with my naughty hands safely away from Her cock, paired with reminders about how better to enjoy it because it might be a long time before I felt that again. She soon made it contingent on my pleasing Her in some significant way. Nothing in my life became more motivating than even the slight chance that I might feel my orgasm just one more time! Kev would tell me how much She loved the power of knowing that only She could grant or deny me such an explosive feeling of pleasure. Meanwhile, it seemed I couldn’t get enough of orally pleasuring Her, and she couldn’t get enough of receiving such pleasure. I would grow so hard I’d fill up the damned CB-2000 cage until my balls ached. I’d go to bed fantasizing about Kev, and the only relief I might get was a rare wet dream. When I had to confess those to Her, the evidence couldn’t easily be hidden; She would punish me by administering a whipping on my pink backside. Earlier in our experimentation, Kev hadn’t particularly enjoyed whipping me because she wasn’t too interested in physical D&S areas that might make her feel or appear mean. But now she was enjoying the psychological power exchange—that’s why forcing me into chastity excited Her. Now She began to punish me physically whenever I disobeyed (or should have known better), these rare wet dreams being just one violation of Her growing list of rules. Kev would require me to bend over the bed or over Her beautiful left knee; tie me to our bed; and then whip me quite hard with a riding crop She had purchased. Kev was increasingly assigning me chores around the house, also limiting and directing my TV and Internet time. South Park, The Simpsons, football games all began to disappear. She gave me a bedtime and enforced it. Before long, she started shaving my body, making me increasingly hairless. My cock and balls were already shaved clean, pretty much a requirement for wearing the CB-2000. But now Kev would bargain with me: freeing my cock—its yearning to stretch out a bit, feel any human touch—in exchange for agreeing to little steps that had the effective result of feminizing me one by one. She shaved off the rest of my pubic hair except a thin little patch as she started referring to my twat, my pussy, my cunt. Before long she was shaving underarms and sparse chest hairs, even legs—virtually my entire body! Evidently wanting me smooth and hairless for Her, experimented more with feminizing me: dressing me in dainty lingerie, applying lipstick, having me wear a little bra (commenting on perky little boobies), clothing me in a mau-mau She bought at a thrift store. She drew obvious beauty marks on face and neck threatening to make them permanent. (One can now see that over time she has generously lived up to those threats!) Thus decorated, She would then have me do chores around the house while kids were at school. She began openly bragging to Her Mom and friends about being in charge of our marriage. And started having me orally service Her only when dressed all feminine. All this while I became more submissive toward Her. I craved more and more the combined privilege and duty of licking Her to multiple orgasms. She taught me how to use a dildo and vibrator to sexually satisfy Her. Sex was becoming totally about Her orgasms, satisfaction—with barely thought for mine except occasional special gifts like an orgasm on Christmas or birthday (never both) anniversary. Other than rare exceptions my only orgasms were either accidental when She wanted me fuck with Her cock (‘Don’t cum!’) unable resist sexual power over me such incidents punished severely; supervised masturbation session when wanting overtly humiliate kept extending times between orgasams; Kev seemed empowered feminizing missing few opportunities catch peeing sitting down as if liked controlling better insisting looking acting like sissy. (Now understand calls frannie?) Already far this unique road ours, Kev decided take relationship edge.

Her dominant posture seemed to boost her self-assurance in a way that felt both refreshing and invigorating. She decided she wanted ultimate control over me, loving being the boss and knowing now she would never want to go back.

Kev found a website by Mistress Lori who sold chastity devices. On her site, Lori discussed turning your husband into your full-time slave. It excited Kev to see an expert describing how our relationship had practically become already. Consistent with what She was reading there, I was already permitted to make love to My Voluptuous Wife using only my tongue or Her toys, as She had cut my orgasms back to longer and longer terms of denial. But now Ms. Loris site inspired My Wife to take another big step.

My Wife Kev began to fuck me! She used Her toys to invade your cute little pink frannie asshole. She started warning me (or simply predicting) that soon your tight little asshole will readily open wide for Me. She would cuff my hands so I was restrained with my back to Her, and then (sometimes leaving Her Cock caged, but often releasing it so that She could tug on it, grab and pull Her balls) approach me while wearing a strap-on, lubricate my pink asshole, push Herself against me, whisper into my ear how much I craved to be fucked, and then thrust Herself into me. (What a revelation it is for a man to be on the receiving end of a fucking!) At first I was ashamed of myself for having fallen to this new depth, but when I realized over time this was becoming one my primary sexual outlets, my own submission reached a new level, and I came to accept, and then welcome, and eventually even to crave and beg for My own Wife to fuck me in the ass. Kev warned that soon I would cum explosively when She fucked me like this, and I ignorantly let go and waited to see if it was possible, feeling so close to an orgasm but unsure about it, yearning so strongly for that relief. I knew if I did cum it would mark my irreversible surrender to Her, something my mind could not control: the cock doesnt lie!

Kev came to me one day and said that we needed to have an important discussion. She said she had gained so much control over me, but also knew this lifestyle had to be mutual respect and consent. Kev told me that she was going to give me a choice. She liked our current arrangement but really wanted total power and control over me. Although I had become a pretty good subhubby, she still felt that I challenged her authority at times; and she didnt like it when I sometimes questioned her about her comings and goings. Kev told me that in her judgment, what was holding her back from exerting total power over me was the fact that I still viewed myself as her husband, causing me to try to have an equal footing with her. She said that while maybe other couples can balance between the two, she could not.

She was honest and told me that she loved dominating and controlling a man the way she was doing it with me. Kev explained she wanted to transform me from being her submissive husband into essentially my 24/7 slave. She showed me pictures printed off of a website showing permanent chastity devices, scaring me when she flat-out said she wanted to place that kind of device on me. She made clear the choice would be mine: I could be her husband or I could be her slave, but not both. If I chose to remain her husband, all our D&S activities would stop, and we would put those desires aside. If I chose the other option, she said she would take me as deep into submission as a man and woman can go. I would cease being her husband and exist only to tend to her needs and desires, with no right to ever question her. She gave me a week to decide. If I decided to be her slave, Kev said that would be the last decision she would ever allow me to make.

I could not get over how Dominant My Wife had become. She was so hot and desirable like this! I felt weak in the knees because I knew how hard it would be to resist choosing to be her slave. If she had given the same choice a couple of years prior, I might have chosen otherwise; but after experiencing Her Dominance and Control and Self-Confidence, I knew that I could not be satisfied with anything less. I did have one concern: I asked if I decided to be her slave, would I still get to be intimate with her (e.g., by orally servicing her beautiful pussy)? Kev told me she loved me beyond measure, enjoyed my being her cockless little frannie, and had no plans to end that part of our relationship. However, once I was her slave, then she alone had the right to change things. As long as I pleased her, she would more than likely allow me access to worship some areas of her body e.g., her knee, breasts, pussy but it would be a reward and a privilege — not a right. She also told me this devastating detail: that she would have the right to take as a lover a real man, with his own cock, who knew how to fuck her good. She promised no one was in mind at this time, but wanted me clear that if I chose to be her slave, it would be no business of mine what she did or with whom.

I hesitated, but her matter-of-fact and confident way of telling me all of this excited me. I managed to use the entire week thinking about it long and hard. At the end of the week, I came humbly back to My Beautiful Kev and told her that I loved her, and could not deny our relationship was best with her in charge: therefore, nervously, I said I was choosing to become her full-time slave. Kev smiled knowingly her approval, making me kneel before her for a long, meaningful minute. Then she got up, left the room, returned with a dog collar (already inscribed My forever frannie), which she placed around my neck and ordered me to kiss her lovely toes one by one, ending with the cute little mole on her cutest little toe as I felt an all-too-predictable stiffening inside the CB-2000 cage.

My days in that cage were numbered. Without even waiting for my decision, it turned out Kev had ordered one of Ms. Lori’s undefeatable chastity devices. Within a week she drove me to see a woman she met who does body piercings. I didnt immediately know what she had in mind we both understood my body was now My Wifes to decorate at her whim but once we got to the womans place and I was instructed to drop your panties, frannie! I figured it out. I hesitated slightly in protest, but Kev stood right up over me and demanded firmly that I do as I was told, right in front of the other woman. I backed down. I had become so pussy-whipped by My Wife that I pulled todays frilly pink panties, exposed the caged cock held out my wrists for familiar cuffs allowed the woman to pierce my penis with a double frenum piercing — after which they immediately installed Mistress Lori’s permanent chastity device on me. Kev kept my hands bound and away from Her Cock for long weeks while my body accepted the healing around the secure chastity device. (I did not realize during this time that my fate was still not physically irreversible.) She monitored me over next few months to assure I could do all functions like urinate and shower, as device is so restrictive I cannot experience full erection. Kev would often express pity about Her poor Cocks plight in a mocking tone making feel pitiful; and gave monthly prostate milking allowing release of cum but no pleasure. It was frustrating for me but further excited Kev. Good news: more she got excited, more I got to orally pleasure her. Kev bought attachment device latex sheath fits over like hu

wear a condom so She can have sex while I feel no pleasurable sensation—this was even more frustrating! Kev would mount and ride me; I could sense nothing but distant memories. Yet I loved watching Her breasts bounce up and down, feeling Her body atop mine, despite being wholly unable to feel Her pussy though I was inside her.

Once Kev determined that I could function in my permanent chastity device, She had even more surprises for me. She clearly basked in her power and control over me, wanting to ensure Her Control was complete, official, and irreversible. She arranged legal documents transferring all our assets to Her. Furthermore, she required my paycheck be direct deposited into Her account. Kev found a feminist lawyer who came to our house one morning (while I was dressed in a dainty maid’s uniform). She ordered me to sign the papers granting Her power of attorney over all my affairs and legal control over our assets. One document stated that I fully agreed to our form of alternative lifestyle and would never hold it against My Wife legally. That document included my confession that it had been my idea and choice to wear a chastity device, because I wanted My Wife to deny me sexual release no matter what. Another section said I consented to My Wife having sexual relations with another person if She chose, because while my choice rendered me incapable of it myself, satisfying sexual intercourse was Kev’s right in our marriage. I will never forget how deliciously submissive and humiliated I felt as Kev handed me the pen to sign these documents. I was very sexually excited but could not get erect due to the chastity device. I felt awash in submission as I willingly signed, then Kev and the attorney added their signatures. It was now official—I was under My Wife’s total control. She achieved Her goal.

But that wasn’t the end for me that day. After the lawyer left, Kev drove me back to Her friend’s place where I had gotten pierced and fitted with my chastity device. By then I lived secretly longing for any hint of even a minute’s release from the chastity cage, though I believed it already impossible. Indeed, that afternoon Kev and Her piercing friend first cuffed my naughty hands, then shocked me by removing the device for the first time in over six months! My heart leaped at this miracle! See? She insisted I look down at the long-estranged penis, now standing suddenly at full, stiff attention; with the distinct, darkly tattooed mole on its head that had been tantalizingly visible yet trapped away from me for so long. Now say Goodbye to it, frannie, she singsonged; and a real tear came to my eye as my heart quickly sank again. My Wife and Her piercing friend quickly reinstalled the cage—a see-through prison for a still virile symbol of my inherent masculinity that was finally ready to begin its life sentence. I had not realized that the screws affixing this prison to my body were devilishly designed to be breakable. Kev said something like: since I am officially no longer a real husband, but instead Her pathetic frannie, then there is no need for even the pretense of me having a cock of my own. She stated firmly that my chastity would now be permanent. And once the device was back on in place, without delay or emotion she determinedly broke off the ends of the screws. Just as efficiently, Her friend filed those screw ends smooth. There was no way out.

I have been trapped in this prison ever since. I am milked occasionally for release but will never again get a full erection. Since that day, Kev has only stepped up Her Dominance over me. I do all the household work now and am permitted to orally service Her if I deserve a reward. Kev makes me work hard for the right to tongue Her and lick Her pussy. I am in total submission to my Wife, my mistress. Though She was stern, harsh, and forceful when needed to shape me this way, now She seems confidently at peace, usually kind, sympathetic, compassionate, caring, and attentive toward me. Still, I get whipped once a week simply to maintain discipline, and also whenever my behavior warrants it. All our money, assets, and accounts are in Her name. I sexually desire her all the time and feel jubilant when She permits intimacy. Of course adjusting has been a real challenge, but overall I confess that I am happy. I love Kev and feel very attached to Her. We have connected in ways I never would have dreamed possible. I would be content for things to remain just like this—but—

Kev always had a wonderful, robust, exciting sexual appetite. Somehow (I guess at school) She met a younger man (twenty-four) whom She decided she wanted to fuck. He too is a submissive man, and Kev trained him to be a good stud. Though She loves riding the sheath-covered cock I carry for Her, She now has sex with him whenever She wants. Sometimes I dislike that She has trained a stud to fuck Her where I once was, but I know this is selfish, petty emotion. And I dare not discuss it with Her: She would just remind me it is none of my business, and I fear She might get upset and cut me off from worshipping Her body altogether. I could never bear that. Kev says it is good for me she has a stud fucker because it rids her frannie of unseemly male jealousy. I am learning humility. She told me I know I need to place Her needs ahead of my own, and that She knows I am happy when She is happy with Her young stud lover.

This is where we are as of now—our real life story. I realize Kev will get the pleasure she deserves, with or without me. I live for times when She allows me to touch, admire, and orally please Her; I don’t want to jeopardize that. I consented to allow Her to cum and go as She pleases, so I abide by my commitment to accept that She does what She wants. Kev requires me to work hard for Her: servicing her orally, presenting myself so she can ride her sheath-covered cock—those are the rewards for hard labor. Whippings and longer denial of access to Her Beautiful Body are my due consequences for disobedience or insubordination. (I wish I could say that I am always a perfect slave to Her, but I know I have bad moments, and She rightly deals with me accordingly to help me learn for my own good.) She enjoys fucking me in my ever more pliant pink ass—my frannie’s cute little cunt, she calls it.

I love Kev and am happy with our lives. I love the comfort that comes from Her exerting such Power and Control over me. I am 52 now, still a relatively young and healthy man. To be permanently denied and enslaved by my Wife is understandably hard at times, especially when She spends time with her young stud fucker. But of course I have no recourse because I willingly consented to Her Liberation. I am happy most of the time with my fate—it feels right for me: the submissive and protected feelings flooding my mind as I serve Her; the openness I feel toward Her when She fucks me; the ever more distinctively moley appearance she lovingly inflicts on me, her “funny-face frannie,” when it presents itself to me in the mirror (or to the public). Yes, I count my blessings! Certainly I suffer many moments when I deeply want to know Kev intimately again through intercourse I can actually feel. But by now I am so used to my chastity that I truly don’t know where my flesh ends and the cage begins. I get erect all the time just in my mind.

I love that My Darling Keverly is so strong, that in a sense I helped make Her this way; she now cannot resist me? No, She resists! Her forcefulness and selfishness make Her all the more attractive to me.

out my dignity, as in Her pretty eyes this is how She wants me to be. Deep down i know i had wanted this for a long, long time, too. If She could free me tomorrow i would refuse it. i fought this urge to be submissive for so many years, and Kev freed me from my torment. i couldnt have know that if i opened up my eyes about myself, and shared it with My Wife, then it was destined She would enslave me eventually. i yielded to the inevitable, and now there is no escape for me. i am Kevs frannie, permanently Hers, chastened and branded so. Am i to be pitied — or envied?