Alienation of Affection

By Billie.

I'm walking to the men's room. No, wait, this isn't the airport. I'm ... in a hotel. The airport must have been a very boring dream. Yes, that's right, Di and me checked into the hotel, and I was so sleepy I just took an Ambien and ... I don't remember anything after that. I must have gone straight to sleep. And, dammit, it made me sleepwalk and I'm in this hotel hallway now. What was my room number again?

Crap, crap crap, I don't remember!

OK, OK, be calm. Just go down to the lobby and ask the night auditor what room Ted Wilder is in. It isn't as if you're ... OK, you're naked. That is a problem. I don't even sleep nude. Stupid sleepwalking and apparently sleep-undressing!

Looking around frantically ... Room 631! That's right, I was in 631! I can just duck back into the room.

And the door's locked, of course. Hotel doors lock behind you automatically.

Knock quietly. Urgent whisper: "Di! Diane! Help, I'm locked out!"

Pause, but I knew she was listening. Diane slept so shallowly.

"What's up, pervert?" She sounds mocking and (oh, crap) she's shading into her Domme Voice.

"Di! I was sleepwalking. I took Ambien.

Please

, Diane."

"People don't strip when they sleepwalk, pervert."

Yes, people do strip when they sleepwalk sometimes, but arguing is not going to make Dominant Diane more agreeable, and someone could come down the hall any moment. I don't even know what time it is!

"Diane, I beg your forgiveness." Say it as humbly as possible, Ted!

"You'll have to earn forgiveness. Not this coming weekend, but next, as my chained slave. Saturday. Total obedience." Wow, she sounds incredibly autocratic. And there goes my dick, standing up and saluting her dominance.

"Diane, I love you, and I love serving you. I will be at your service." I hope she can hear how sincerely I mean that.

After only a very short pause, the door opens, and I am rewarded with a slim woman, a few inches shorter than me, looking taller because of her posture that suggests she's towering over me, coffee-with-one-cream color skin, black hair with dyed blond streaks in an updo, a ball of coiled locks on the top of her head. She's just as naked as me. The look of command in her eyes fills me with apprehension and anticipation. Also, it makes my dick even harder.

She closes the door behind me. "Don't expect any help from me with your little friend, there, Ted. I don't reward your exhibitionism when you don't ask my permission first. And you may

not

jerk off! Don't anger me any more than you already have."

My heart is pounding. "I will obey you, Diane, but I can't promise what will happen while I'm asleep. I really was sleepwalking."

"So, you're saying it's time to get the chastity tube out of my suitcase? Very good suggestion, worm."

Oh, crap. Over a week before she'll let me come, then? Also, all this humiliation talk is just making me harder. How is she planning to stuff this solid steel rod into the chastity? Oh, that's why she's grabbing the damned ice bucket ....

-------

I heard Diane in full Mistress Mode. "On your feet, slave!"

I'm still in bed, under the covers, warm and comfy. It takes a few heartbeats to fight my way out of my drugged slumber. Wish I didn't need the damned sleeping pills. I struggle with the blankets, still barely conscious, and manage to get out onto the floor, crawling. Finally, I support myself on the bed and get to a standing position. I don't know what time it is, and looking away from Mistress when she's speaking can get me punished.

One thing I don't love about living with Di: she naturally wakes up long before I do, and she loves to wake me from deep sleep. I already have enough sleep problems. As part of a scene, though, it's super-effective.

My vision is fuzzy, as always when I wake up suddenly from a sound sleep. I can just barely make out Diane. I turn toward her and stand at something like military attention.

"I do like your crawling at my feet, slave.

Unless

I just told you to stand!"

And there's the usual feeling as my dick tries to stand up inside the chastity tube locked onto it. It's like trying to lift a truck with one hand--my penis is trying very hard, and no amount of horniness is going to let it stretch or burst that tube.

My sight is clearing up now. I do wish I could rub my eyes, but I dare not change position. Di must have been awake for a while, because her hair is perfectly styled, and she's already wearing eyeliner and lipstick. She had her nails done yesterday, too. She looks amazing. Did she kindly let me sleep in today? She is stunningly beautiful. If we weren't in scene, I could just stand there and stare at her for minutes on end. It's too bad she won't permit that any more.

"Now, pants off and bend over the bed!" Diane always enjoys starting a scene with some kind of punishment, just to get into the mood. "You must learn to obey me quickly and accurately." Unfair punishments are fine, the point is the hitting and the taking of blows.

I slide my pajama pants down over my ankles and bend over the bed, my hands stretched out in front of me on the mattress, butt pointing toward my Mistress. The whistle in the air warns me before the paddle lands on my left cheek. The "Smack!" sound is much louder than my quiet grunt. The sound seems much more important to me than the flash of pain. Diane demands, "Count!"

"One!" Smack! "Two!" Smack! "Three!" Smack! "Four!" Smack! "F-five!"I'm sure there are bright red stripes across my pale ass. Di once said to me that she liked my white skin because it was so easy to mark.

I count up to "Ten!" and the blows stop. It would seem weird to most people, but I have a very macho feeling of pride in being able to take anything, accomplish any degrading task, to prove my devotion to my beloved wife. Enduring pain for my lady is very masculine to me. Di can't see it because my face is pressed into the mattress, but I'm smiling as she pounds my ass.

"On your feet! Faster this--" I actually get on my feet and facing her by the time she says "--time!"

"Better, slave. You may relieve and clean yourself now."

-------

I finish showering and shaving. The shower is good. It lets me run water over my frustrated penis inside the chastity tube, cleaning it after I piss. It's a tube only slightly larger than my soft penis, which locks onto a hard ring that rests behind my balls, held closed by a padlock. The last thing I want is to have a stinky dick when Diane finally allows it out again. It's hard to get soft--um, it's difficult to get soft enough to let much water in, actually, after a week of blue balls. I have to run the water ice-cold to shrink it, so there's room for any water in the chastity. Otherwise, though, the shower feels good.

It's only as I towel off that I realize she used the paddle with a BITCH stencil cutout to spank me. It's hard to read because the five marks on each cheek overlap, but I'm sure she enjoyed the look. In fact, I'm sure she'll keep enjoying it for hours, until the marks fade.

Mistress is waiting, dressed for casual weekend stuff, as I step out of the bathroom. "Kneel and present your hands."

I get on my knees and hold out my hands in front of me, and Di cuffs them. Those are the police cuffs, double-locking, not one of the padded cuff sets. She likes the looks of those, for times when I'm not going to be struggling. My dick is completely filling every atom of space inside the damned tube again, or at least it feels that way. Get into the headspace, Ted. "Thank you, mistress."

"Ding-Dong!"

The doorbell! Diane smiles and goes to answer the door! I'm naked and handcuffed and wearing a male chastity device, and I don't have permission to change any of that! Diane left the door to the bedroom open!

Maybe whoever it is will just go away?

"Good morning, Edith! Good to see you again. Come on in, come on in. You're the first, Shelly and Ji-Woo haven't come yet. Just put your coat on my bed, and I'll get you a drink. Tea with lemon, right?"

Put the coat on the bed? OK, I can't be here when she walks those 10 feet. Luckily, running in bare feet is quiet. Duck into the bathroom and close the door, then try to breathe quietly! Hell, I'm trying to make my heart beat quietly.

Edith calls out, "Is Ted here? I was looking forward to talking to him, I haven't seen him in weeks." That's true. Di really doesn't set things up for me to socialize with her friends any more. In fact, I don't seem to be included in any of her social plans.

I'm listening so intently I actually hear Edith's coat as she puts it on the bed.

"Ted isn't here, no. Some kind of airport thing. He's a senior manager, which means he has to cover weekend shifts sometimes if someone has vacation or sick leave or something." That's true, which makes it a good cover story.

Wait a second. We don't have a functional guest bathroom right now. The plumber is coming next week. That means the girls will have to use the very bathroom I'm in just now. I have to hide somewhere else. Since I can't leave this room without parading in front of Edith, that means the closet. I need to pick a time when nobody will be looking at the open door to the bedroom, like ...

"Ding-Dong!"

... like when Shelly arrives, and Di and Edith are looking at the door. I make my move, quick but quiet, carefully opening the left door because the right one creaks. I'm only visible for about two seconds, and I don't hear shocked gasps or anything, so I think I pulled it off. I close the closet door behind me. We have a reach-in type closet, with double louver doors, the kind with horizontal slats. It isn't totally dark inside, but it's dim and all I can see through the louvers is part of the bedroom. I can't even see the window.

Di's clever. She set things up for me to have a puzzle to solve or get embarrassed. I passed that test. Doing that to me without warning, though ... if I didn't connect the dots instantly, I'd have been caught. We'd have been caught. She's skating really close to the edge now. Is she

trying

to cause a disaster?

Thinking some more: there will be four women once Ji-Woo comes in. I'm guessing they're going to play bridge. I'm trying to remember, how many play Mah-Jongg? Ji-Woo was going to teach them that. I think four. Either way, though, they're probably going to be hanging around my house for hours, meaning I'll be in this closet for hours. I'd better make myself comfortable.

I'd also better not make myself

too

comfortable. I can't risk falling asleep in this closet while the girls are outside, and Di woke me up before I really had enough sleep. One snore, even one weird noise if I slump over, and ... damn it, this is Diane grandstanding. She's risking my reputation and possibly career with this stunt. And her own. She's never gone close to this far before.

Carefully sit down among the hanging trousers. (This is my side of the closet.) Cross legs. I can't do a perfect meditation position with the handcuffs on--can't put my hands on my knees.

Listen to the ladies, that's all the entertainment I'm going to have.

Unfortunately, a lot of it is just bridge. "One club", "Four no trump" and so forth. I am an OK bridge player, but without seeing any of the cards, it's hard to really pay attention.

Luckily, some chatter broke out. I'm not actually that interested in whether Shelly's daughter's homeroom teacher is dressing too slutty, but that stuff is at least more interesting than not being able to follow bridge. Actually, the slutty fifth-grade teacher makes for interesting fantasies. Diane and I used to read erotic stories about sexy teachers, back when we were first getting together. Thinking about that, there's the far too familiar sensation of my penis trying to escape its prison. Why, when, did we stop the sexy talk and mutual fantasies? That had been so much fun.

I'm not wearing a watch, and I can't see a clock through the closet door. After a few hands of bridge, Shelly comes in to use the bathroom, and I have to hold perfectly still and breathe quietly. I get to hear her pee tinkle into the toilet, and a flush. I'm glad to hear that Shelly washes her hands, and surprised that she doesn't use our bidet. It's so much better than just toilet paper.

So it goes. After a while, they switch to Ji-Woo teaching the others Mah-Jongg. After another while (I still have no idea what time it is), I'm relieved to hear the girls getting ready to leave. My legs are cramping from sitting almost motionless for however long it was. Hours, surely.

Wait, did they just agree to meet at a spa? OK, I can see Di coming into the bedroom through the closet louvers. I start stretching (as best I can without standing up, inside a closet), because I expect--

"Get out here, slave."

--that she'll demand I show myself. At least she isn't shouting angrily for no reason. "Yes, mistress." I use the back wall of the closet to lever myself up, then open the closet door and step out.

"You hid yourself well. I'm sure you are thirsty and hungry and need to pee. Bathroom first, and clean it after."

Biological needs, check. Makes sense, in a way. Diane is a mechanical engineer and project manager. The last thing she's going to forget is logistics. "Thank you, mistress."

---------

Leaving the extremely clean bathroom, I find Diane waiting in the living room. Her face is oddly expressionless.

"Slave, prepare lunch for me. I will have a club sandwich on wholegrain bread, with a glass of white wine." As I immediately started walking to the kitchen, she added, "Your lunch is already prepared." Oh, goodie, it's the doggy bowl of cereal and milk again. Good thing I drank some water in the bathroom after I cleaned it. Since when do I have to prepare myself for miserable thirst inflicted on me by my wife? Our games never used to be "gotcha" things. They were

games

, they were fun. Now she actually seems malicious, when she doesn't seem bored. At least the slap on the ass I got as I passed her seemed playful. Am I really treasuring any hint of joy from Di now?

I noisily sucked and licked up the cereal after preparing Diane's sandwich and pouring her wine. Now I'm kneeling silently beside her while she eats. Two years ago, she would have made that fun, calling me puppy and hand-feeding me or something. Now it's just dull. "Slave, I have an appointment at the spa with the girls. Edith got a gift card for her anniversary and we're making a party of it. You will be a slave until midnight, and I do not choose to release you from that obligation."

Wait, she's going to leave me here alone? That's her idea of ending the scene, just not even being here? I remain stonefaced with an effort. I strongly want to shout those words at her, but ... I promised.

Diane is drinking wine with lunch, but I poured that from an almost empty bottle that was full yesterday. How much alcohol has she had? Is it safe for her to drive?

"Mistress, perhaps this servant could act as your chauffeur today?"

"Ted" (breaking character there, calling me by name), "you don't need to worry about me. We're taking rideshares tonight, because we plan to go out for drinks and dinner, then clubbing after. I will sleep over at Ji-Woo's tonight, she has a spare bed. Do not worry." Then back into Mistress.

"While your Mistress is away, you will remain in bondage to me. I order you not to remove those cuffs, or the chastity, until midnight. The keys are in the usual place. I forbid you to turn on your phone or computer, or the television, or read. Spend your time contemplating your Mistress and proper obedience. Perhaps you will learn not to wander naked in hotels."

She has managed to turn dominance and submission games into ... boredom. She's going out of her way to bore me?

A honk from the driveway. Diane drew the blinds down, since I'm naked, so we didn't see the car pull up. "That's my lift, slave. Remember, contemplate me while I am not here." Then she's leaving the house, and I suddenly realize this was always her plan. That's why she had the special hairstyle and makeup this morning--not for me, for her expedition with her girl-pack. I feel my heart turn over in my chest.

And then she's gone.

I kneel there, dejected, for a few seconds, then stand up carefully because balance can be an issue with bound hands. I walk right over to the landline and dial one of three phone numbers I can remember without using my address book. "Molly? Listen, I'm alone at home right now. Di is having a girls' day and night out. Won't be back until tomorrow. Yes, as a matter of fact, I would appreciate some company quite a lot. Great! See you soon." Technically, still OK. I didn't turn on my phone, I just used the house phone. Practically ... not sure I care if Diane is disappointed in me, assuming she ever finds out.

While I wait, I actually do clean. Namely, I wash the lunch dishes, somewhat tricky in the cuffs. Then, I guess from a sense of obligation, I do contemplate Diane for a while. I remember when we were dating, when we first got married, I could smile for hours just thinking about her. Right now, thinking about Diane is not making me smile.

Finally, I hear Molly's car pull up. I position myself behind the door, so I won't be visible from outside, and unlock it. Molly just walks in, saying "Knock, knock!" as usual. After she closes the door, she realizes where I'm standing and turns to face me.

She's a big Black woman, taller than Di, almost as tall as me, and very, very wide. Molly once told me she weighs 240 pounds. I only weigh 190. Lighter than Di, skin the color of a latte, face very round and belly very round. The round ass is extra-special to me. I can see her expression freeze for a second, at nude Ted in handcuffs, with a plastic tube on my dick and a very visible padlock holding the retaining ring in place.

Molly steps forward, close enough to touch me. "Ted, how long have you been in that infernal thing?"

"She cuffed me this morning."

"No, the infernal thing on your dick, idiot!" She grinned.

I grinned back. "I know, I was teasing you. She put it on me last Friday, eight days ago."

"Where is the damned key?"

"Night table drawer, Diane's side, along with the handcuff key."

"You sit down on the couch, Ted, while I grab the keys."

I hear the drawer beside our bed open as I sit on the couch. I think I know what's coming, and it's going to be fun. A thought in the back of my brain says I shouldn't be sitting on the upholstery naked, and I tell it, "Just following orders."

There's a brief delay, maybe two minutes. When Molly comes back out, she's wearing only her girdle and bra. I can feel my whole face light up just at how beautiful she is. She is exquisite. Even as desperately horny and desirous as I am, it isn't just a sexual attraction. She's so overwhelmingly

there

, so abundant, so soft and resilient and accepting. And she's smiling at me, not maliciously, not sarcastically, but with real appreciation and affection. My mood just did a 180 degree swing and my heart is pounding even before she kneels in front of me (slowly and carefully, because of her size), pushes my knees apart to get close to my dick, carefully examines the chastity (I don't think she's ever seen one before), and then. And then stops? And bends over farther so she can gently lick my balls! Now my heart is

really

pounding.

After tormenting me with her tongue on my testicles for what feels like forever (and is probably 30 seconds), she pulls her head back, and finally, finally unlocks the padlock that has been in place for far, far too long, and carefully takes off the ring behind my balls. I beg, "Please be careful removing that, Molly. That tube has been on for a while, it might be sticking to my penis."

"Can't have anything hurting my joystick, can we?" She is extremely gentle as she carefully, I'd even say lovingly, eases me out of the tube. It's hard, pun intended, because my dick is harder than some diamonds. Molly is deliberately teasing me, fondling my balls and the base of my dick as the tube comes off. It feels

amazing

.