Saturday, December 5, 2015
A Man's Chastity XIII
“So you were obedient to Miss Madeleine?”
My wife drives. I sit most uncomfortably with wrist bands clipped together behind me. I am freed of the cock cage, my wife deeming it too awkward to replace in the building parking lot. Still, she feels it is necessary that I feel a woman’s control and with the double ‘D’ clamp such is quick and easy to implement. For some reason, I suppose the novelty of being driven about in bondage, there come those twinges. I slowly harden, hopefully my slacks veiling my priapic reaction.
“Good. Having your penis free to harden is not good for you, Henry. It’s nice of Miss Madeleine to assist.”
With that, in pausing at a traffic light, my wife looks my way and notices the bulge at my zipper. Nothing similar to that which she lustfully views while visiting the marriage counselor Zeke Bronski... or talks about late into the night after one of her so termed tutoring sessions. But there is a bulge, rarely permitted.
“Henry, I let you have a few moments out of the cock cage and you harden... without permission!”
I am chagrined. My release and masturbation date is in a little over a week and I fear extension.
“I’m... I’m... sorry. I can’t help it.”
“Well, now you know why the cage is also spiked, Henry. You need to learn control. Hard on’s are not good for beta males.”
The traffic light turns green. My wife accelerates, a MacDonald’s in view.
“Male pride... no, no, no. Not for beta males... and therefore not for you, Henry. Get you some ice.”
Into the drive through, my wife orders one of those huge sugary drinks, extra ice. While waiting she reaches over and unzips me, assuring that my stiff four inches pops into view. I am helpless to stop her and dare not protest. My forthcoming supervised orgasm is at risk. Though surely to be ruined, it remains most desired. How much longer can I wait... must I wait?
Can the little MacDonald’s girl see me... my inadequate four inches?
“Spread your thighs Henry,” the command coming as change is handed over along with a large drink, extra ice, sealed top firmly in place.
Before departing the drive through, my wife affords more attention. Leaning from the driver’s seat, her hand assures that along with my penis, my scrotal sac is pulled through the zipper. It is then that the freezing cold drink is wedged in place, nestling against my genitals, the pending numbness to return me to flaccidity.
“I’ll need to give thought to your next release date, Henry. Only when I or the woman in charge releases you are you to stiffen. You know that. You’ll become erect only under the tutelage of a woman.”
Gratefully, my wife’s attention returns to driving and she pulls out of the parking lot. I remain silent for the remainder of the ride home. It is best.