Loving Authority Ch 03

Chapter 3 - Secured Affection

The next morning, Emily seemed to have forgotten the tension that had briefly infiltrated their bedroom. She kissed Mark with a familiar warmth, snuggling down under the covers and wrapping her arms around him. There was no mention of the final gift. Mark wondered if Emily felt a hint of sympathy and was trying to ease any lingering embarrassment he might feel, and felt a combination of gratitude for her actions and frustration that the topic was now closed.

Mark made a cafetiere of coffee, and both drank up before getting ready for the day ahead. Emily left for the hospital, and Mark settled into his chair in the home office. He felt deflated, but made an effort to reset his mind and focus on his work to make up for the wasted day before. The more he tried to immerse himself in his work, the more his mind would wander back to the events of last night. Sighing, he rose from the chair and instead of working on his case he spent the first thirty minutes of his day in a futile search, combing through drawers and spaces where he thought Emily might have stashed the chastity cage away. Its absence from any of the drawers or wardrobes in their bedroom fuelled his assumption that Emily had chosen to dispose of it. It didn't seem to be in their kitchen or wheelie bin, so presumably she'd chucked it away on her way to work.

Days passed by in a semblance of routine, the uncomfortable memory of Mark's poorly chosen gift gradually fading into the background. The topic remained untouched, an unspoken agreement between them not to rock the boat. Their lovemaking reverted to the familiar rhythms of vanilla intimacy -- pleasant, but lacking the spark Mark had hoped to ignite. Though content in the surface-level warmth of their routine, Mark found his mind drifting to thoughts of submission and control, and spent his evenings looking for stories of female dominance to entertain him. After Emily retired to bed, he would spend a happy hour trawling his favourite FLR sites, imagining Emily taking control of their relationship, guiding their intimacy with a firm hand.

Mark's 32nd birthday arrived a few weeks later. It was hardly a milestone, but Emily was thoughtful and considerate as always. She suggested they celebrate with a quiet evening at a new restaurant that had opened on the High Street, and Mark was quick to agree, having wanted to try this place ever since he'd first seen it. Emily took charge of making the booking, and when she returned home from work that evening they followed their usual routine of collapsing on the sofa before getting changed for the evening out. Emily was first to rise, but seemed a little distracted, even flustered, when she said she was going upstairs to get dressed. Mark, sensing something was afoot, followed her out of the lounge and up the stairs.

Entering the bedroom, Mark froze at the sight that greeted him. There, on

his

side of the bed, was the familiar box that had vanished a month ago. Emily, right behind him, burst into laughter. "Is this what you wanted?" she said, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Don't pretend this present was for me; it's your fantasy, and since it's your birthday, you can wear it tonight!"

Mark felt his heart quicken at the unexpected turn of events. "Hang on a bit!" he stammered, trying to process the situation. "This was for

your

birthday -- the idea was to focus on your satisfaction on your day. I'm not sure I want to wear it now -- what about focusing on my pleasure tonight?!"

Emily, still smiling, responded, "I think this

is

your idea of pleasure. Well, it's up to you, take it or leave it." With that, she kissed him, turned on her heel, and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Unaware of the symmetry of her actions, Emily leant back against the locked door and let out a quiet sigh, just as she had the first time she'd seen the chastity cage. She had been wound up with anxiety for days planning this moment, and she had no idea how Mark would respond. Shortly after her birthday, she had begun her research on male chastity, desperate for some clue as to why Mark would think this was a good idea. It had sounded so bizarre to her, so

weird

, that she just couldn't understand why Mark -- why

anyone

-- would want to do that to themselves. But the more she had read, the more intriguing it had begun to sound. Of course, there was a lot of nonsense out there, and she'd found pages and pages of crap on the net about couples who claimed to live in an almost slave and master-like relationship. But once the drivel was stripped away, Emily began to warm to the idea of having a little more control over their day-to-day choices. Why

wouldn't

she want Mark to pay more attention to her, and why

wouldn't

she want to be the boss?! Fitting a chastity cage didn't actually seem to be necessary to achieve this -- this type of experiment just needed a willing man who would submit to his partner. But if Mark felt being locked up would help, then who was she to stand in his way?

Emily moved to the sink and ran the tap, making some noise to let Mark know she was busy getting ready rather than simply using the bathroom as a place to hide. Fortunately, she'd planned ahead and had already hung up her dress on a bathroom hook so she was able to change for the night ahead.

Mark stood in the bedroom, torn between the allure of the familiar box and the unexpected change it would make to his plans for the night. Although it was his own birthday, he'd thoughtfully worked out a route for a romantic walk along the Thames after their meal, sketching their path on the little map in the back of his diary. He'd even got rose petals to sprinkle on their bed when they got home. His evening now held the promise of a different kind of birthday celebration - and he was keen to see what might happen...

He picked up the box and began toying with the device in his hands. A few minutes later, the click of the bathroom door unlocking broke his trance, and he found himself captivated by Emily's stunning appearance as she emerged. The red strapless midi dress accentuated her curves, and her loose hair framed her make-up free face. Her piercing green eyes looked straight ahead as she entered the room, and a surge of desire and uncertainty mingled within him.

"So, what's your decision, darling husband?" Emily smiled, her gaze fixing on Mark. "I've been reading online about these things, and apparently it's best to shave before putting it on to prevent hair pulling. We've only got half an hour before we need to go, so you better get a move on."

Mark -- nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs -- made his decision. Cage in hand, he turned and headed to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he was just about to slide the bolt when Emily called out. "Don't lock the door -- I might need to inspect your progress."

In the bathroom, Mark filled the sink with warm water and settled himself on the edge of the bathtub. Trousers down, he took a deep breath and started to carefully shave. Five minutes later he was done, the unfamiliar sensation of smooth skin feeling unexpectedly good. He washed off the last of the foam as Emily walked in. "Great timing!" she giggled. She leant closer to inspect his work.

"Here," she said pointing. "You've missed a bit." She held out her hand for the razor, and taking it from Mark she carefully removed the last of his hair. "There," she said with a smile as she finished up, "all done."

Her satisfaction turned to a frown of concern as she saw a tiny trickle of blood running down Mark's abdomen from her handiwork. "Oh honey, I'm sorry!" she laughed a little anxiously. "That was careless of me, I didn't mean to cut you."

"I've had worse, Em," Mark said kindly.

Taking the device from the shelf where Mark had left it, Emily started the process of incarceration. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, but Emily quickly brought him back to reality with a sharp remark and a playful smack on his leg. "It won't fit on if you get excited, so don't spoil it!"

Mark did his best to divert his thoughts, to think of anything other than the intimacy of the moment. In the blink of an eye, Emily expertly guided the device onto him, slotting both testicles through the metal ring and sliding it towards his body so that it sat comfortably against his freshly-shaved skin. She quickly slipped the cage over his mostly-soft penis, clipped the two parts of the device together, and secured them with a small padlock. Mark marvelled at her proficiency, guessing she must have studied how to assemble the device before tonight.

Stepping back to admire her work, Emily smiled in satisfaction. She'd watched several videos on how to fit a chastity cage in preparation for this moment, and this had gone better than she could have hoped. She looked up to Mark and asked how it felt.

"Fairly comfy, actually!" he laughed. "I reckon I could get used to this."

Emily stepped forward again, and turned her face up to kiss him. Resting her hands on his waist, she leaned in for a long moment and pulled him closer as they touched tongues. Mark slid his hands down her back to rest them on her hips, and the couple lost themselves to the kiss. A full minute of kissing followed, their hot breath on one another's face and their saliva mixing. Emily broke the kiss, and pulled sharply away. Like a scientist assessing the results of an experiment, she immediately looked down at the cage, and was satisfied to see a huge bulge of skin pushing out from within the cage as blood had rushed to Mark's groin.

"Blimey!" she giggled. "How does it feel now?!"

Mark felt his penis now straining against the restriction, unsuccessfully attempting to rise within the tube like a helium balloon caught on a string. A sensation of fullness built within him, and he too looked down to assess the situation.

"I dunno... OK I guess... Sort of like I want to hump anything right now, but can't, and that makes me even hornier." He gently thrust his pelvis forwards as he tried out the fit. "It certainly focuses the mind..."

With the padlock key in hand, Emily held it in front of Mark's face, an impish glint in her eyes. "You're mine!" she laughed, then casually popped the key into her purse. "Go get dressed, lover; we need to leave."

Mark, still processing the rapid turn of events, walked slightly awkwardly out of the bathroom to fetch his clothes. He felt acutely vulnerable as he changed into his shirt and trousers, but he trusted Emily completely, and couldn't wait to kiss her again... Once dressed, he couldn't help but be aware of the chastity device beneath his clothes as he descended the stairs. It was surprisingly comfortable once the attempted erection had subsided, and fortunately was extremely discreet; no one except Emily would know he was wearing it. Arriving at the foot of the stairs, Emily looked him up and down and nodded in approval at his smart appearance. "That will do nicely!" she declared, putting her arm through his as they made their way out the front door.

They strolled arm-in arm down the High Street, the restaurant being only a short walk away. It was a new French place, trying to establish a reputation for classic cooking and an impressive cocktail menu. Upon arrival, a waiter greeted them at the door and offered to take their coats. "Oh mademoiselle," he gasped, using the French term for 'miss' to refer to Emily rather than the married 'madam'. "You look stunning this evening, really wonderful." The waiter's gaze lingered on Emily, seemingly blind to Mark's presence.

Emily, radiant in her sleek dress, exuded a newfound confidence. Over the past few weeks, her investigation into the world of female-led relationships and male chastity had blossomed into genuine interest. What had initially been a journey of curiosity had led to increasing captivation by the idea of taking a more dominant role in their relationship, and the power dynamic it entailed.

Mark, feeling a twinge of possessiveness at the waiter's attention to his wife, put his arm around Emily's waist to signal their connection. It wasn't a subtle move. The waiter, finally acknowledging Mark, forced a smile at both of them. "Welcome to 'Matisse', please let me show you to your table."

As they were led to their table, Mark couldn't shake the sense of discomfort from the waiter's initial oversight. Emily drew attention effortlessly wherever she went and he'd never worried about it before, yet somehow tonight it bothered him. Mark found solace in the fact that she was his, and he was determined to enjoy the evening in her company.

They sat across a small table from each other, other couples on either side of them. Menus in hand, they chose their meal and drinks, and settled into easy conversation about their day and plans for weekend ahead. Mark's gaze often fell to Emily, noting the playful glint in her eyes. Emily, in turn, enjoyed the signs of Mark's nervous excitement, the slight shifts in his posture as he wriggled in the chair, the fleeting looks of desire. She raised a foot and gently rubbed his ankle, feeling like a silly schoolgirl playing footsie under the table.

The waiter brought a series of expensive but exquisite courses to their table, each dish more tantalizing and wallet-draining than the last. The conversation flowed effortlessly, but beneath the surface there was an acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

Emily enjoyed the unmistakable power she held over the night. She would occasionally lean in, her voice dropping to a whisper, her words laced with double meanings. Mark responded in kind, and a dance of words played out between them that only they understood.

"Comfy, darling?" Emily would enquire in mock politeness.

"Perfectly cosy, thank you," Mark would reply, moving his hand to rest on his lap.

"Everything to your liking?" she would ask, flicking her hair out of her eyes and dipping her head.

"Very satisfactory. I'm actually feeling extremely full, looking forward to a good stretch out later."

The couples at the tables around them continued their own conversations, ignorant of the obvious innuendo. As Mark sat across from Emily, the weight of the chastity cage was a constant presence, a physical reminder of their evening entertainment. It was an unusual physical and psychological sensation; the cool metal held him firmly in place, while his mind was locked in a stupor of submission to the fantasies that he had harboured for so long.

When the waiter came to ask about desert, Emily chose for Mark without even looking up from the menu; the waiter looked at him and simply raised an eyebrow, before murmuring "very good choice, mademoiselle" and departing. There was an undeniable eroticism stemming from his surrender to Emily's control, a thrill that coursed through him each time he felt the cage's presence. He was at her mercy, and his 'alpha male' pride was being challenged; he'd never imagined that humiliation could be arousing, but suddenly he wanted to find out.

The waiter returned with the deserts -- a tarte tatin, and a chocolate fondant with a sprig of mint and a blob of ice cream on the side. Mark looked at him through narrowed eyes -- he was starting to hate this attentive young man. He almost seemed to know what was going on -- but surely that was impossible... Every time he attended the table, he'd subtly flirt with Emily -- the smiles and fleeting touches and his pathetic jokes grating on Mark's nerves. Emily seemed oblivious, but each time the waiter spoke to her it was like a spark, igniting a sense of stimulation in Mark that he couldn't quite suppress.

"Delicious choice," the waiter burbled as he delivered the food, his voice as smooth as the fondant. His eyes lingered a moment too long on Emily's low-cut dress as he topped up her wine. "If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to call for me."

Emily could tell that Mark didn't like the waiter. She had clocked the flirtation, but it was a situation so unremarkable to her that she had barely registered it happening. As usual, she saw no reason to close the door to any advantage that it might bring her, and chatted politely to the waiter as he spoke to them -- it was rarely a drawback for someone to find you attractive. The flirtation was innocent enough, but to Mark it represented something more. It was a public display of Emily's appeal, her power over people around her. The fact that he was locked in the chastity cage, unable to act on the arousal he felt, only added to the frustration.

"Thanks, we don't need anything more right now," came Mark's sharp reply.

As the evening progressed, Emily's playful dominance became more pronounced. "Want to try some of my ice cream?" she asked, as she held up a forkful of her desert to feed him. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark was

sure

he could see the waiter smirking. She asked him to recount his favourite memory of their wedding, to say what he most admired about her, to describe his ideal woman (her, of course). With each request, Mark complied. The atmosphere between them was electric, a mix of familiar affection and a thrilling new sense of control and submission.

"What's your biggest fantasy?" Emily asked, full of Dutch courage and with her own loins stirring now. Mark raised his eyes as he thought.

"I guess this might be it..." he replied. "Being here for you. Doing whatever you want. Being your guy -- if you want it..."

Emily's eyes lit up, and she was unable to stop herself smiling at his answer. She found the power she held over him intoxicating. Yet, it was more than just a game of dominance; it was a deepening of their connection. This would be a good thing for their marriage! An undercurrent of their desire hummed between them. They declined the offer of coffee from the waiter, both suddenly eager to get home. They paid the bill -- Emily insisting that Mark still tip the waiter even though he didn't like him -- and they walked quickly home, hand-in-hand through the quiet streets