He was nervous. They had spent the day together, doing the things that she always bugged him about. First was out shopping down at the local nursery, hunting down the last bag of a certain peat moss, loading up stones for a new back patio, picking out seeds for the window boxes. After dropping them off in the garage, they went to the nail salon, where he waited, reading a magazine, as she got a manicure and pedicure, saying yes to anything they offered her. Lunch was at a sidewalk café, one of her favorites. They enjoyed a chick flick at the cinema, and he tried his best not to nod off during the long, drawn out plot, but the ending was good, so he wasn't too disappointed.
They had come home, changed clothes, and had worked on sorting out the things they had bought from the nursery. It mostly consisted of her pointing things out as he lugged the bags of soil around, stacked the stones to the side, and cleaned out each of the window boxes, because she didn't want to ruin her new nails.
But now the day was winding down, and night was growing outside. After returning to the house, she kicked him out of their bedroom. Handing him a garment bag, she shoved him away from the door.
"You get to use the guest shower." She added his toiletry bag, tossing it through the crack in the door as she closed it. Looking down at the bags in his hand, he frowned and looked back up at the closed door. Reluctantly, he shrugged and walked downstairs to the bathroom that led off the guest's room.
It wasn't a bad bathroom, but it was smaller then their shared one. Besides, she obviously had something special planned for dinner. She had mentioned something about dancing, but knowing her, that could mean almost anything. He also thought back to what happened on his birthday, six months ago. He smiled to himself as he hung up the garment bag on the door, put down his toiletries, and turned on the shower. What a night that had been. He thought about what had happened, and his smile grew wilder. As he washed, he began to get slightly concerned. She said the next day that her birthday was going to be fun, but he knew what she thought of as fun.
He got out, toweled him self dry, and went to the sink. Shaving close, he put on some cologne and then went to the garment bag. Opening it wide, he saw the solid black of a brand new tuxedo. Smiling as he pulled the suit out of the bag, piece-by-piece, something thunked lightly on the tile. Kneeling down, he picked up a small, hard rubber circle, smiling at it. He had seen them before, and had talked to her about them, but they had never actually used a cock ring before.
Colored green, it was in the shape of the 'Omega' symbol, with two hard balls almost touching each other at the ends. The point of the device was to tighten the base of his cock. This allowed blood to flow into it, but barely let enough out for circulation. It got him hard as hell, and didn't let him go down until it was taken off. The little balls pressed directly against his urethra, preventing him from climaxing too.
He swallowed hard. What had he gotten himself into? "Oh, well," he thought. "It'll be fun." He tried not to notice the hesitation in the voice in his head. Putting on the toy first, he found it to be tight, but not quite uncomfortable. He next found the underwear at the bottom of the bag, placed on a plastic bag containing dress shoes, and wrapped around dress socks. Unrolling them, he found that they were black bikini briefs, but not only that; Velcro attached the sides.
Smiling, he slid them on, and then looked at himself in the mirror. Flexing his arms, he had to admit that although he wouldn't win any awards, he looked pretty good. He didn't have much of a gut, and his arms went well with his broad shoulders.
Getting the rest of the stuff out of the bag, he put on the white tank top undershirt, then put on the dress shirt. Looking through the bag again, he put on the bow tie and the cuff links. It looked good. Socks, then pants, and then after touching up his hair, he sat and put on his shoes. They were comfortable and slick, with not a lot of fancy detail. Grabbing the jacket, he slung it over his forearm and went to the base of the stairs.
Standing at the base of the stairs, he leaned against the rail post, waiting patiently. Finally, after half an hour, he heard the bedroom door close. Looking up, he was stunned. His wife was stepping down the stairs like a model. Her blonde hair was up in a tight bun, black opera gloves came up almost to the tops of her arms, and her stiletto heels were at least four inches tall if not more. Instead of a seam, the back of her black stockings, he could see in glances, trailed paw prints up the back of her legs and thighs, almost reaching her short dress, which ended above mid-thigh. As she stepped down, he could see the tops of her stockings peek from underneath, showing the beginnings of the straps of a black garter belt.
And her dress! Oh god, he had never seen it before, and, as he watched her, his pants immediately became tight. He could feel the ring pressing around him, and his manhood throbbed at every heartbeat, matched by her steps as she descended. The black dress came off her shoulders, running down over her ample breasts, and 'V'ed down her flat stomach, coming to a point that highlighted her little belly button. Within the 'V', both sides were connected at a few points with silk strings, giving it the look of an old fashioned bustier. As low as it went, it was obvious that she had to shave completely to wear that dress, and not just her legs. Her small purse was on a spaghetti strap, and did nothing to hide her cleavage as it hung off her shoulder to rest by her hip.
As she came to the last step, he held out his hand to help her. Smiling, his grin was shot down cold as she gave him an evil look. Walking straight up to him, nose to nose, she glared at him. Without saying a word, her hand whipped out and slapped across his cheek. His own hand immediately reached for his aching face, his eyes staring at her in more surprise then in pain. The hit wasn't hard, but it wasn't expected either. Her eyes still drilled holes into his own, and he slowly lowered his hand back to his side.
"You know the rules," she said in a hard but quiet tone. "Tonight, you are mine. You will do what I want, when I want it, and nothing more. If I catch you
leering
..." (She stretched the word in an exaggerated way and with a completely false sense of disgust) "...at me again, then there will be consequences. Do you understand?"
He looked at her, slowly nodding as his mind caught up. As he stared into her eyes, he could see the lie behind it. She had liked his reaction to her appearance, no matter what she said. This was a matter of control, and it was her birthday, so tonight, it was all hers.
She looked down at his pants, the crotch of which was now sticking out a good distance, straining the material. Roughly, she grabbed at the bulge and pulled, disregarding his grunt of surprise, maneuvering him over to the stairs. When he was a couple of steps above her, she looked up at him.
"Do you want me to help you with this?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice. He nodded again, and obeyed her when she told him, "Well then, put your hands behind your back. Slowly, she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants, then pulled gently on his skimpy underwear. His cock stood at attention, rock hard and pointing straight. She grasped it gently with her right hand, holding onto his pants with the left.
