2006
I wait on my knees, with the steel chastity tube locked between my legs, for Bootsie's return.
How will she come back? Freshly fucked or with semen residue on her glossed lips? Have I made a mistake by relinquishing all control of my marriage?
2003
"Oh Silas, honey. That's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Bootsie's enthusiasm was bubbly as she locked the cage of the chastity belt on me for the first time. "I didn't know that they had such things."
But, then again, she'd not been interested in domming me until I'd brought it up back in 1998, and so the new little gimmicks I kept coming up with were creating a beautiful monster in my otherwise reserved wife.
When Bootsie locked the belt and saw my inability to even get an erection, she giggled. "Now, Silas, just because you can't have an orgasm doesn't mean I can't. Get on the bed, and pleasure me, you little nincompoop."
As I licked Bootsie's juices from her clit, I noticed that I just couldn't get any sort of erectionβthe bars were too confining! When
Bootsie had cum about three times, I looked at her questioningly.
"Why, what is it, Silas?" She looked so innocently puzzled. "Well, can't we remove the chastity belt so I can fuck you now, honey?"
Bootsie smiled, and wrinkled her nose. "I-I don't think so, baby. It's not about your satisfaction. How can you satisfy Bootsie over the next few weeks?"
The next few weeks? I spent the next month cleaning the house, doing the laundry and the yardwork, and doing much of the cooking, bad as I was at it.
Bootsie didn't help, as she began wearing more of her "trollop clothes." I had always tried to get Bootsie, a granola type, to display her great body in sexy, white-trash-girl outfits, and she'd been much more into the overall thing.
But suddenly, Bootsie was wandering around the house in hot pink tube tops, watching me scrub the floor as her long legs tapped high heels waiting for me.
Bootsie also became very exacting, and somewhat cruel. "Now let me show you what you did wrong in cleaning the toilet, Silas." Bootsie said one day as I looked up at her with my brush.
Bootsie used a small hand mirror to show me the inside of the toilet and the little bits of crud that I'd missed.
Suddenly, Bootsie cuffed my hands behind my back, and unlocked my chastity device, running her fingers up and down my cock until it was quite hard.
"You see, Silas, you're much too focused on your own orgasms." Bootsie said. "I mean to cure you of this." Bootsie took me out to the back yard, stark naked, and I watched, shivering in the November air as she cut a switch from a spruce tree.
As Bootsie trimmed the small twigs off the switch, she lectured me about my lack of focus.
"I see this in men everywhere, in my workplace, in my family of origin, everywhere." Bootsie cut the last of the little pieces off, and folded her knife up. "You all are much too interested in your own self-centeredness."
Bootsie walked up and lifted the switch. WHACK! A thin line of fire landed across my hard cock and I screamed. It was fortunate that the yard was fenced.
"Look at you, Silas. You partied your way out of Julliard Music school, and have been working as a used-car salesman for the past eighteen years."