"What a day!" I mumbled to myself, pulling my house key out of my purse. The smallest key on my keychain caught against the doorjamb again. I grunted in frustration, untangling it from the others. Little things like that made me want to throw it away completely. I smiled quietly at how my husband would react. Yes, I should share that idea with him. Every bit of motivation helps.
I pushed the door open. My husband was kneeling in the front entryway as instructed, naked but for his pink collar and matching calfskin leather ankle and wrist cuffs. The sunlight through the doorway briefly glinted off his cock cage, matching just as well with the rhinestones in his collar. They spelled "PET", both literally and figuratively. The ankle and wrist cuffs had been a new discovery: soft leather, with little leather bows on them. It was the detail that made the most fun. That, and the locks that ensured they stayed on all day.
I lifted first one foot and then the other, allowing him to remove my work heels and put them away. He gently kissed the top of each stockinged foot as he laid it back down. "Hello dear, I'm so happy you're home!" He greeted me, also as instructed. "How was your day?" He rose to take my coat. He smelled nice - he had remembered to wear the cologne I had selected.
"Don't ask," I replied, "it was another long one. You can go ahead, I don't feel like talking yet."
Without another word he hurried off to the kitchen. I put my purse away, being sure to keep my keys in my suit jacket pocket. I walked into the living room, where he was already waiting with a glass of chilled white wine. I took a sip and plopped myself down onto the couch, remote in hand. He went off to the kitchen again, grabbing a pink apron along the way. I took a moment to admire his lithe figure as he moved, then turned on my show and let my mind wander. Quickly the smell of sauteeing garlic permeated the room. I checked the time on my phone. Still 15 minutes left before dinner time. Just enough time to finish this episode.
I reached over to the side table without looking, and found the little silver bell I kept there. I gave it a short ring and counted off the time in my head until my husband appeared beside me, obedient to its call. "Yes, dear?" He asked. 8 seconds, I noted with approval. He his broad shoulders and frame looked ridiculous in the pink, frilly apron, but it had the desired effect: he was improving at following my instructions.
I lifted my empty glass in his direction without taking my eyes off the screen. "Another glass, please." He took it quickly from my hand, leaving the room the long way so he wouldn't block the TV on his way out.
He returned shortly with my refill, and then went back to his cooking. He really was doing well tonight, I reflected. It was less than a year since he had revealed his chastity fantasy to me, and even less than that since I agreed to try playing along. How long had it been since I had the idea of designing my perfect after work ritual? Only weeks, surely.
It had been trickier than I expected; a regular process like this worked best when it balanced his effort with motivation: both humiliation, and the fear of what I might do if he failed. I had pulled out harder punishments than I expected. But all that care had paid off.
Gone were the days when I needed to punish him to improve his speed, or his memory for the details of the evening tasks. I was surprised to find myself a little wistful for those evenings, for the fun I had devising his reminders and consequences for the inevitable lapses. Still, it was just lovely to know I would come home to a perfectly relaxing atmosphere, tailored just for my desires. Perhaps I should start building another ritual for weekend mornings, I reflected.
My show concluded on a cliffhanger as it always did, and I switched it off. It was exactly six o'clock, and my husband was arriving on time with my meal. I gestured his permission to bring it to me. The smell certainly had my interest!
He approached and handed me the loaded plate and utensils, then dropped to all fours in front of me. I placed the plate gently on his back, and started to cut my food. Italian chicken salad, the chicken breast perfectly moist and tender. He had even learned my favorite recipes!
I enjoyed my meal in silence, quietly browsing on my phone. I swear I could *feel* the energy returning to my body. This was just what I needed. Of course, I felt this way every night lately. Yes, this routine had turned out wonderfully.
Finished with my meal, I placed the plate and silverware on the floor in front of him. He rose to his knees and dug into my leftovers. Finally I felt ready to be present with him.
I asked him about his day, and we chatted easily while he ate. We both had demanding jobs; these rituals and this structure at home were a part of our release at the end of a hard day. He truly enjoyed pampering me, striving for perfection in every detail of the evening. And for my part, it really *was* much easier for me to relax like this. This whole routine was working wonders for both of our stress levels.
When he finished the plate he rose without instruction and cleared the dishes. He had done really flawlessly tonight, I had to admit. This was the kind of good behavior I wanted to reinforce. But did I really have the energy left to reward him, I wondered?
Not really, I decided. I'd just have to make it something where he did all the work. After all, serving me should be its own reward. I chuckled quietly to myself at the thought, as the sound of dishes being loaded into the dishwasher emanated from the kitchen.
I rose and quietly walked to the bedroom to prepare what I needed. I slipped off my business clothes and briefly considered my options. I was already wearing a matching pink bra and panty set. That would have to be good enough, I decided. I grabbed the small velvet bag of toys I used for such occasions, adjusted my stay-up stockings, and quietly slipped back to the living room.
My husband returned to find me on the couch as before. I enjoyed the moment of realization in his eyes when he saw my bare form, understood what it might mean for him. He suddenly took extra care with every detail: he removed his apron and hung it in the right place, adjusted his cage and cuffs, and stood upright, legs slightly apart, his arms behind his back. I could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes, ensuring he had remembered everything. I was sure he had.
I leaned back slightly, crossing my stockinged legs slowly, and locked his eyes with mine. "Your performance tonight has been..." I hesitated, just to enjoy his suspense. "Exceptional." His shoulders relaxed visibly. He struggled to contain a smile. "I've had a thoroughly relaxing evening, so thank you." He licked his lips, either nervously or in anticipation. I decided either one was fine.
"I have decided to reward you, but I'm still tired from my work day. So... you get to entertain me. Step back against the table."
He obediently stepped back until his thighs were against the dining table behind him. I approached slowly, savoring his nervousness. I drew a small gold chain out of my velvet bag, and, looping it around the table legs, attached it to his ankle cuffs so his legs were fixed to the table. I plucked at the bows to straighten them. I rose slowly in place, running my hands up his muscular body as I went, until my lips were only inches from his. I could taste his breath, increasing in pace. "Now," I whispered, our lips practically touching, "you are going to masturbate for me." I paused to hear his breathing change in anticipation. "Without touching your cock."
With that I withdrew and returned to my position on the couch. He looked confused, so I offered him a lead: "start with your hair, your ears, your mouth. And make it good; I don't want to get bored."
He awkwardly raised his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Closing his eyes, his hand gently brushed his ear, his cheek, and finally his lips. His fingers hovered there for a moment. His mouth opened slightly and his index finger traced them gently before his tongue reached out to caress it. He pulled his finger slowly into his mouth, now biting gently, now teasing it more with his tongue. At last his lips closed around it and he sensually sucked on the digit, his posture relaxing. I watched his cock start to fill its metal cage, and smiled. This was too easy.
As his hand left his mouth and traced the side of his neck, I found myself also lazily touching myself, the fingertips of one hand idly circling my left breast and areola. His hand and mine found their targets at the same time. He gasped as his nipple felt the touch of his finger, still moist with saliva. My lips parted at the same time at the sensation of my fingertips through the gauzy fabric of my bra. My nipples hardened against the soft material, watching him cirlce his own sensitive areola. He pinched, hard, and his cock pressed against its confines, flesh protruding from the bars. His hips bucked a little into the air, the cage protruding uselessly from his body.
I granted myself the permission I had denied to him, my other hand grazing up my thigh towards my sex. I hadn't *planned* on doing anything, but it was my decision, after all! I could feel the building heat as my fingertips traced the vulva through my panties. He was now twisting and tweaking in earnest. One hand had found his ass and was gripping a muscular cheek rhythmically. His eyes remained closed, his brow furrowed in frustrated pleasure. He was lost in the inner world of his own sensation. I pulled my panties to the side and a finger found my wet slit. I moaned aloud, and watched him bite his lip, gasping softly into the room.
I couldn't resist any longer. I stood and slipped my panties off. He heard my approaching footsteps and froze in place a moment before daring to open his eyes. I swayed over to him, my dampened thong still dangling from my fingertips, and I revealed the second toy from my black bag: the key his cage. I silently tapped it against my pursed lips, and considered my options. He clearly wanted me - that was practically his resting state these days, anyway. How best to drag him further into my power?
I allowed my breasts to touch his body, the electric heat of our arousal mingling in the air. I raised my lips to his, and my tongue flicked over his mouth. His whole body tensed. "Don't stop," I whispered, "and maybe you'll be lucky." I placed the key on the table beside him.
His hands resumed their work on his ass and nipples, and he moaned into my open mouth. I bit his lower lip and kissed him. He locked to my lips like a parched mouth to water, his tongue greedily probing. His entire universe was focused on the kiss; I pulled my teasing lips back to gasp for air, a smile on my face. God, the intensity of this man! I guided one of his hands to my pussy and felt him push inside me, first one, then two fingers. His thumb circled my clit as the other two digits explored me. My mouth found his again and we were moaning into each other, bodies thrusting, pressing together.
He withdrew from me a moment and I opened my eyes at the sensation. I wanted - *needed* - more. We locked eyes and he tasted my juices on his digits, moistening the other two before moving them back into position and teasing the entrance to my eager body. This would not stand. Crumpling my panties into a ball in my hand, I pressed them against his nose and mouth. He was overwhelmed at the scent and sensation. His eyes practically rolled back in his head. His fingers obediently pushed inside me, four of them now. My pussy welcomed them.
I lifted one leg onto the table to give him a better angle and the sensation of fullness took me. His free hand left his body and gripped mine, fingers digging into my back, my hips, and my ass as he fought for purchase against the sensations washing over his world. His body and mine writhed together and I looked down to see his cock straining in its confinement. I bit his neck and we moaned together again, his fingers still working in my pussy.
