I never get tired of seeing it – my formerly macho, big, strong husband, on his knees, with a cock in his mouth. I know he hates it; he loathes what he’s become. But he can’t wiggle free. He’s trapped by his own lies. And I love watching him squirm. I used to love him. Maybe there’s a part of me that still does, but it’s buried deep inside of me. I only wanted him to be faithful. Is that so wrong? How many women did he sleep with? Dozens, certainly – most of whom worked for him. So when he was finally accused of sexual harassment, he came to me for help. I’d known what he was doing for a while, but I didn’t know what to do. Sure, he denied it, and I let him think I believed him. But I knew… If they won the lawsuit, he’d lose everything – he was so desperate. He would do anything… Who would believe that a sissy could sexually harass any woman? Convincing him wasn’t even that difficult. He was so scared. In the end, he agreed to do whatever I said. That was six months ago. Tomorrow, he takes the stand. I can’t imagine that they’ll take it seriously after they see him (especially in the outfit I’ve picked otu for him). But if they do, I’ve already ar- ranged for the pictures to make their way out into the public. No, I think his money’s safe, now. His masculinity, how- ever, is another story altogether.