The Weight Bench
My wife is in incredible shape – the quintessence of feminine pulchritude. At six feet and one hundred and sixty pounds she’s tall and statuesque, perfectly proportioned, tight and toned and marvelously muscular everywhere. Even her beautifully bountiful breasts are amazingly firm. She works out daily on the specially modified weight bench that dominates our bedroom. She also works me over daily on that same bench, at the same time. Tonight is no exception.
“On the bench!” she snaps. Wearing only a simple body harness of black leather straps, she is an amazingly intimidating sight. I gulp weakly, timidly, and strip down until I’m naked but for the tiny metal c**k cage she keeps me trapped in.
Mistress gloatingly locked this onto me on our wedding night, and there it’s
