The Well-Tempered Husband - Part 3

Synopsis

Sally, my wife, had tricked me into our bedroom and handcuffed me to the bed. Within minutes I had been trapped in a steel chastity belt. There were three keys - one deposited in a Swiss bank vault, another attached to some papers that Sally had sent to her solicitor, and a third that she had given to Jason, her new lover. Jason's planning to visit Sally tonight.

A loud 'click', followed by a metallic, slithering rattle, woke me up. The timer box on the floor had released the short length of chain that held me captive in the central heating cupboard. It must be nine o'clock, I realised.

For a couple of minutes I remained on my uncomfortable, rag-strewn bed, idly playing with my chastity belt, lightly brushing my fingers over my sparse pubic hair, caressing the balls that protruded each side of the belt's front shield. God, I thought, it wasn't a dream. It was all true.I was trapped, not only in this chastity belt, but in an entirely new way of life.

Suddenly I leapt up. I had to serve coffee to Sally by twenty past!

No, I remembered, She's not Sally any more. She's Mistress.

Gathering up my chain I hurried to the kitchen and started making the coffee.

I put four slices of bread in the toaster and prepared a small tray with a coffee mug and a plate.

On impulse I dashed to the sitting-room, to grab a red tulip from the bowl by the tv. I trimmed the stalk to about four inches, stuck it into a tiny, narrow-necked vase, and arranged it prettily on the tray.

The coffee machine hissed and spluttered noisily over the last few drops of water, then fell silent as the hot, golden toast slammed into view above the toaster. Seconds later I had Mistress's breakfast ready. I looked at the kitchen clock as I moved towards the door. It was twenty-two minutes past nine. Close enough, I thought.

I knocked on the bedroom door.

"Yeah, come in!" ordered Sally's sleepy voice. I went in.

Sal - I mean Mistress - was lying naked on top of the plain blue duvet. There was an enormous dildo on the pillow beside her head.Dark, glistening patches of moisture on the duvet, at quim level, betrayed the fact that she'd been making heavy use of this toy.

I stood nervously at her bedside. Why, I wondered, did I feel nervous? This time yesterday we were a fairly normal married couple. Mistress had been denying me sex, sure, but apart from that I'd felt I was in charge. But this fucking chastity belt had made all the difference. Now I was in her thrall, hoping anxiously to be released from my imprisonment at some unspecified time in the future. Her languid, bare body was lying there, teasing me, daring me to try and take advantage. Inevitably my cock tried to erect itself, but the tight confines of the belt just reminded me of the impossibility of obtaining any satisfaction whatsoever.

"You're six minutes late" she commented, looking at the bedside alarm.

"Your clock's a few minutes fast" I commented nervously. "But yes, sorry Mistress. I'm a bit late, I know."

"Just don't let it happen again. I'll only award you three strokes - I'm feeling generous. Jason can give them to you this evening. You know Jason's coming here tonight, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She writhed suggestively on the duvet, knowing full well that I was suffering all sorts of agonies as my cock responded to the visual stimulation.

"Put the tray on the bedside table and lick me dry" she commanded. "I've had a wonderful night without you hereto bother me, but I hate feeling wet and sticky. It's time for you to have your first lesson."

Ah, God, the agony I felt in my groin as my entrapped prick reacted to Sally's first ever invitation to lick her out! Eagerly I set the traydown and moved towards her.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. "I don't want your vile hands on me. I don't even want an orgasm now! Just use your tongue, and clean me!

I spread my hands wide, being careful not to touch her body, and descended until my mouth came into contact with her proffered cunt. I groaned as my constricted prick throbbed in its prison, but I nonetheless revelled in the delight of placing my lips, my tongue, against that sweet, plump mound. Her hairs, shorn perhaps fifteen hours previously, had grown to create a soft, sandpapery effect that only heightened my arousal. I sucked and licked, savouring the sweet, slightly saline taste. My tongue roamed over her intimate flesh, my mouth sucked and swallowed every vestige of her slippery love juices until she felt clean and almost dry to my tongue. Then it reached deep in between her labia to relieve her of juices that were still flowing, still telling me of the pleasure she had been having with that huge dildo. I continued with my task until Mistress at last grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me from her.

"OK, Rick, that's enough. This was for my benefit, not yours!"

Reluctantly I let her pull me away, and stood up.

"That wasn't bad for a first attempt" she said. "Next time, though, you should remember that the moisture often spreads down to my arse. I like to feel clean there, too. I won't punish you this time - you've got a learning curve to negotiate!"

"Thank you, Mistress" I responded. It seemed the right thing to say.

She sat up, rearranging the bedding so that the duvet covered her, and I put the breakfast tray on her lap.

"You're looking very pretty this morning, Mistress" I commented, hoping a bit of flattery would work to my benefit.

"Hmm" she muttered, obviously discounting my words. "I was dreaming about Jason. This dildo's an adequate substitute, but the real thing's infinitely better."

She took a sip of her coffee.

"You've got a busy day today" she announced. "Go downstairs and have your breakfast, then tidy the kitchen and sweep through the house. Make my bed too. When you've finished, you can clean yourself up and get dressed, then there's a shopping trip for you."

"Shopping?" I enquired. Sally usually does the supermarket trip for our fortnightly provisions.

"Yes, shopping!" she replied tartly. There's a list tucked under one of the fridge magnets for you. Now go. I want to enjoy my breakfast. Oh, and thank you for the tulip; it was a sweet touch. A tiny, slender thing with a red blossom at the end."

Her eyes bored into me.

"It reminds me of your willie!"

I managed to get all the chores done by half past ten. Then it was time to wash, shave and dress, and I had my first experience of pissing and shitting while wearing a chastity belt. Hell, I couldn't pee standing up! This was going to be really embarrassing if Sally was still refusing to let me out of the CB when I resumed work on Monday.

Shitting wasn't too bad. The chains holding the front shield pulled easily aside, and didn't obstruct anything. I fingered my little puckered hole tentatively, and realised for the first time that there was a curious, erotic pleasure to be had there. I got dressed, knotting the chain that hung from my CB so that it didn't hang down and drag on the floor. Then I looked at the shopping list.

It was a weird list.

A very big dog bed, complete with a mattress filled with those peculiar soft polystyrene peanuts. Ten leather dog collars, as wide as possible. Ten small padlocks. Dope. A dozen large eye bolts. And "Astroglide".

"What's Astroglide?" I asked Sally. "And why the doggie stuff? We don't have pets."

"Twenty-two days" she responded. "You forgot to address me as Mistress. No, twenty-four, because yesterday you told Jason a lie."

I looked at Sa - Mistress, baffled.

"You told him you had earned a lock-up period of seventeen days. In fact it was eighteen. At that time."

Bugger, I muttered under my breath. This was getting out of hand. Iwas earning extra days faster than the calendar progressed. At this rate I'd never qualify for release.

"But what's Astroglide, Mistress?" I repeated.

"A lubricant. They've got it in the sexshop." She smiled at me. "And I do have a pet, now. It's you!"

I'd never visited a sex shop before. I knew which one she meant though - a little shop, with its windows all blanked out, two doorsdown from her hairdressers.

"And dope, Mistress?"

"Jason's a West Indian. It's part of his culture. We sometimes smoke a joint before we fuck. It's time I repaid a bit of his hospitality. Go to the Crown in Garrison Road, and ask the barman if Tad is in. If he asks who wants him, just say Jaz sent you."

Wow! We're really on the downward path now, I thought.

But what the hell.

"Don't bother looking for your wallet" Sally added, handing me a small, feminine purse. "I've decided to take control of our finances. I'll give you whatever cash I think you need. Later I'll set up a credit card that we can use for any equipment we need for keeping you under proper control."

I took the Daihatsu and went to the shopping centre. The doggie bed was easy - the biggest one they had was plenty big enough for me to curl up in if I had to. I found some inch-wide dog collars, and bought ten, arousing the evident curiosity of the sales girl.

A dozen eye bolts, and ten padlocks, from the DIY store. That left the dope. I got back in the Daihatsu and drove into town.

Garrison Road was on the dirty side of town, where the tattoo parlours and the betting shops had taken over from the useful little corner shops of yesteryear. The Crown was a pub that used to cater for the military, but now served as a meeting point for the various ethnic communities that had settled in the town. I parked a couple of hundred yards away and walked down.

I eyed the range of draft beers on offer. Some of them were quite good.

"A half of Rev James, please" I ordered. "And is Tad about today?"

The barman looked at me quizzically.

"I've got a message from Jaz for him."

The barman took my money, and disappeared. A couple of minutes later a West Indian guy came and stood beside me at the bar.

"You Rick?" he asked quietly. I nodded.

"The guy with the chastity belt?" Oh my gawd, I groaned. Jason must be telling all his pals. I nodded again. "And you're Tad?"

"Yeah" he confirmed, a broad, white grin spreading across his face. He turned round. "Hey, it's the man with the chastity belt!" he shouted. I wished the ground would open and swallow me up.

"I just got to have a look!" he declared. "Come through to the back room."

I didn't want this. I said so to him as I followed him to the back of the pub, into a storeroom. He ignored me, and to my consternation about eight or nine men, not all of them West Indian, came in with us. They arranged themselves around the small room, leaning against cupboards or sitting on crates, barrels, whatever was handy. I was left standing in the middle of the room while they all stared expectantly at me.

"Well, you gonna show us?" asked Tad. I hesitated.

"No show, no grass!" he murmured.

There was no way out of this. Mistress was expecting me to come home with a supply of cannabis. Reluctantly I lowered my pants and underpants half way down my thighs and held them there, ready to pull them up quickly if anyone looked remotely like touching me.

"Aw, come on, man!" one man said. We want a show, not a quick flash! Take off your fucking clothes."

I pulled my pants back up and began to do up the zip. "Look, fellas, a joke's a joke, but don't you think -"

Tad stood and came across to me. He put his arm gently around my shoulders. I couldn't make up my mind whether this gesture was intended to be reassuring or menacing.

"All we want, little white chastity boy, is a look at you. No-one's going to hurt you. Jaz wouldn't like it if we hurt you. Now take off your clothes and let us see!"

Petrified, I allowed my pants to slip to the floor and tried to step out of them, but my trainers got caught in the fabric. I had to take them off first. Tad indicated for me to pass each item of clothing to one or other of the silently watching men. All too soon I was standing stark naked but for my chastity belt, with absolutely no means of protecting myself.

Slowly, the circle of men tightened around me. I felt a finger being eased under one of the chains that ran down from the belt, across my arse cheeks. I held my breath as the finger slid gently downwards, coming to rest on my tight, nervous sphincter. Oh, God, they're going to gang-rape me, I thought.

"How long you been wearing this thing?" one of them asked. The finger remained at my hole, making little circular motions.

"Since last night" I replied. There was a tremor in my voice.

"It's pretty!" commented another. "Look at the shine on that steel! Looks like armour plating!"

That's exactly what it is, I mused. I certainly hadn't been able to get my own fingers past it. The men continued to explore me, trying to insert fingers where I'd already failed myself. They discovered the neoprene linings that kept the steel belt from digging uncomfortably into my waist. They muttered little comments to each other, some in a strangely accented patois that was almost a foreign language to me. Gradually I realised the men weren't intent on ravishing me - they were genuinely curious.

And as my fears subsided, something else was trying to rise. I could feel my cock struggling to escape from its tube. I felt ashamed that this awful situation was making me feel horny, and in a way the chastity belt was a blessing. At least my tormentors couldn't see the arousing effect they were having on me.

"What does it feel like?" asked someone.

"Not too bad. It's beginning to feel a bit sore where my balls stick out at the sides, but it's OK otherwise."

The finger at my arsehole was slithering smoothly now. I guessed what had happened - precum was leaking from my down turned prick, and the finger had gathered this up for lubrication. Suddenly the finger went deep into my arse, making me stagger forward. Strong hands grasped me and held me in place while the finger probed and explored within me. I closed my eyes. If I couldn't see these guys it wasn't happening, was it?

A second finger slid in. I supposed it was the same man, though it could have been another. Hooked inside my arse the two fingers pulled indifferent directions, stretching me. I cried out with the pain, though the sensation was intensely, inexplicably pleasurable. The stretching stopped, but the two fingers were still pressed deep into me. Suddenly they were removed, and something soft, small, slippery was pressed into my arse.

"OK, little chastity boy" said Tad, "we've seen enough. Put your clothes on."

The men drew back, and my gear was thrown at my feet. Gratefully I pulled them on. Respectably dressed again, I was led back to the bar-room.

They wanted me to sit with them to finish my beer, and we chatted for awhile.

They were pleasant guys in fact - not threatening at all now. One in particular interested me - a tall Jamaican, slim, with long, slender fingers. In the back room he'd just caressed my tits and my chin while the others had been obsessed with my chastity belt. The others called him Tom. I'd have liked to get into conversation with him, but I knew I had to hurry home with my purchases.

"Er, Tad" I said, "there was a reason for my coming here. I was looking for some -"

"Don't say it!" muttered at least three voices, stopping me in my tracks.

Tad smiled at me.

"You've already got it!" he told me. I looked blankly at him.

"I stuck it up your arse just before you got dressed "he told me. "Wrapped in a knotted condom. You gotta keep it there until Jaz tells you he wants it. Got that?"

I nodded uncertainly.

"And I took a twenty from your little purse, so we're all square. OK, man, you'd better cut now. I got other friends to meet."

He offered me a high five, and I think I made a passable effort at responding. The other guys came up with a similar salute, and I slapped hands all round the table before departing. Tom, though, interlocked his fingers with mine, and he looked intently into my eyes, waiting several seconds before releasing me.

As I walked to the 4x4 I actually found myself hoping I hadn't seen the last of these people. Especially Tom.

Five minutes later I was back at the Daihatsu, checking that all the hubcaps were still in place. I didn't doubt that there was a stash of grass, or something else, nestling safely in my bum. I checked Sally's purse, and yes, he'd taken exactly twenty quid. I smiled. Nice guys!

As I drove off I suddenly remembered. Astroglide. There was a sex shop in Garrison Road, I knew, so I stopped the car and walked in.

They didn't stock it. They had KY, and a whole load of expensive gels that were supposed to give you all sorts of sexual highs, but Mistress had specified Astroglide. I shook my head, walked out and drove back to our usual shopping centre. When I repeated my request in the little shop down the road from the hairdressers, I got exactly what I asked for. A little purple box. "Astroglide - second only to nature."

Back home, Mistress ordered me to strip and resume my subservient role. She supervised me as I drilled holes in the floorboards and in the walls to install the eye bolts in various strategic - but discreet - places. The doggie bed was placed in a corner of our bedroom alongside one of the eye-bolts. The dog leads were trimmed to lengths that would fit comfortably around my wrists and ankles, and holes punched in them so that the small padlocks would prevent me from taking them off.

"You've got the grass" she enquired. It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes, Mistress" I replied. She held out her hand.

"Er, it was given to me in a place where the sun doesn't shine" I told her diffidently. Sally broke into a peal of laughter and turned away from me.

"Sorry, Rick!" she said when she had recovered her composure. "I forgot! Jason did tell me you'd probably carry it home in an unusual shopping bag, but I didn't know what that meant! Are you telling me Tad stuck the stash up your bum?"

I nodded, embarrassment showing clearly on my reddened face. I told her Tad had warned me against releasing it before Jason had given permission.

"OK" she said, "I suppose your bum is as good a place to hide it as any other. Now get into the kitchen and prepare lunch. I've written out your instructions - they're stuck under your willie."

My willie. Ages ago I'd bought Sally a fridge magnet in the form of a rampant, inch-long dick and a couple of balls in a small, sagging scrotum. I'd seen it as a humorous attempt to introduce a bit of erotica into our lives, but she had been furious. I thought she'd probably chucked it into the trash bin but no, she'd obviously saved it for later use. It wasn't hard to see what was in her mind. An inch-long cock. My willie. Oh, well.

There it was, on the fridge, holding a scrap of paper with my orders. I served lunch for Mistress. Spaghetti bolognaise. I was proud of my spag bog - I'd developed my recipe over the years, to the point where I felt it was now well nigh perfect.

I was permitted to eat my share in the central heating cupboard where I'd slept the night before. As I ate I contemplated the way my life had changed.

Hell, I was a successful man, with a pretty wife, a good job and a very comfortable lifestyle. People in my position don't turn overnight into subservient, unquestioning slaves, do they? But that was exactly what had happened to me. And I was feeling curiously content. Liberated from the need to be dominant.

The door to my cupboard opened. Mistress was standing there, a glass of wine in her hand.

"That meal was appalling! When will you learn that I don't like onion? My breath will be vile when Jason comes this evening! I'm awarding you thirty more strokes of my little horse whip for your arrogant lack of consideration!"

Of course I apologised profusely, and swore that I'd alter my recipe for her future meals. Inwardly I groaned - the onion wasn't all that excessive, and it was an essential element in thesauce. If I cut it out, it would throw all the other tastes out of balance. Maybe I could substitute leeks.

"You're due thirty-three strokes now! Jason's really going to enjoy giving them to you!"

Aargh. This was too much of an unknown hazard for me. "Wouldn't you prefer to give them to me yourself, Mistress? "I enquired, assuming the most deferent attitude I could summon up.

"No. I want to watch Jason teaching you a lesson. But."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I'll remit one of Jason's strokes for every ten that you accept from me before he gets here."

"Ten!" I expostulated. "You can't be serious! Fuck me, that would mean well over three hundred strokes to wipe out the whole punishment!"

Mistress sighed. "You don't learn, do you? I'm adding another seven strokes for that outburst. And now it'll cost you twelve from me for every one I cut from Jason's total!"

The calculations were too much for me to take in. "No, leave it all to Jason" I said resignedly. I could see I was destined to receive all sorts of attention from Jason this evening, and the prospect of a few dozen thwacks with a riding switch was the least of my worries.

The afternoon went slowly. Mistress sent me out to cut the lawn - still unclothed, of course. I was glad we'd planted those quick-growing conifers all round our boundary a few years earlier. As evening approached she threw out a few cardboard boxes and reminded me there was a heap of shrub cuttings that needed to be burnt. I usually enjoy tending a bonfire, but doing it stark naked was a new and hazardous experience. By the time she called me in it was dark. I was stinking of wood smoke, and nursing a few minor burns where airborne sparks had landed on me.

I was sent to the bathroom for a shower. Normally this would have been a fun event, but with my cock hidden away in its tight sheath my desire to enjoy a slow, slippery masturbation was completely frustrated. But I took my time - I thought I might as well enjoy it while I could.

I heard the doorbell ring while I was drying myself off. Mistress had been in the bedroom, tarting herself up to receive her guest, and I got a brief glimpse of her as she darted past the open bathroom door to let him in. She was wearing the same Lycra costume - the one with the split crotch - she'd worn last night, when she'd set her evil trap and locked me in this dreadful chastity belt.

I heard Mistress greet Jason with a long, slow, lingering kiss before she ushered him in and closed the front door. I heard murmured exchanges between them as I fussed and fumbled nervously with the towel on my chastity belt and my chain. Partly I was wanting to get as dry as possible, but mainly I was doing my best to arrange the towel to cover my shame.

I wanted to run, to hide. But I had nowhere to go, and Mistress had ordered me to keep the bathroom door wide open. All too soon I heard Mistress leading her guest upstairs. In my panic I dropped the towel!

Suddenly there they were!

At first I thought Jason's hand was just cradling Mistress's bum, but when I looked closer I could see that his forefinger was actually in her vagina. I thought his thumb was probably in her arse too, but I couldn't be sure.

They both stood looking at me. Jason was wearing a smart, black suit with a crisp, white shirt and a bootlace tie. The outline of a long, thick penis was evident, stretching out to the right, slightly above horizontal. Mistress, clad in her dark red Lycra one-piece, leaned lovingly against him.

"Jason, darling" said Mistress, "this is Rick. My helper. My chaste slave." I stepped backwards, trying to shrink into the shower - I wanted to turn on the water, to melt and disappear with it down the plug hole. But Mistress grabbed my chain and pulled me towards her.

Her face just three inches from mine, her eyes drilled into me. I felt something slip out of my arse onto the floor. Oh, God, I've shit myself, I thought, then I realised it was the condom-wrapped stash that had fallen out through my nervously twitching sphincter.

"Rick" she said, through a smile that was as steely as the metal that encased my prick, "I'd like you to meet Jason. He's here to help you. He's going to train you for me. Won't that be fun?"

She turned to Jason. "He's not been very good yet. I've already given him twelve strokes, but he's due forty more. He wants you to give them to him. Don't you, Rick?"

I said nothing. This was all too much for me.

"Don't you, Rick?" she repeated, louder, through gritted teeth. There was no escape. I nodded resignedly.

"Forty-two strokes. Rick, you MUST learn to reply properly. And call me Mistress!"

"Yes, Mistress" I responded obsequiously.

Jason held out one of his big, dark, strong hands towards Mistress, and she handed him my chain. The symbolism of that handover wasn't lost on me; suddenly I felt weak at the knees. Now it was Jason who had command of me.

"Follow me," he said, turning towards the main bedroom. That deep, sensuous voice! I realised I didn't fear him. I was actually ready for him.

"And bring the stash with you."

"Call him Sir!" whispered Mistress as I bent to retrieve the condom that had fallen from my arse.

"Yes, Sir," I responded. It was time for my first lesson.

Thanks for all the suggestions you've put forward. Some of them were already in my plans for poor Rick; some of them were, well, interesting, but they'd have taken the story in a different direction from where I wanted to go.

A few of the ideas were very good and original, and in due course I'll be incorporating them in the tale!

Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated by the author.

© Peter Pain 2001

Peter Pain - velveteel@yahoo.co.uk

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