My story and originally published elsewhere. All characters are of legal age/18+.
This story is about dominance, cuckolding, chastity, being a houseboy, and consensual romantic inequality. If that's not what you're into, move on to another story -- there's no need to kink shame, moralise, or express your disapproval of these dynamics and fantasies.
This is a bit of a transitional chapter with a bit less action and more setting the scene for the rest. It's still full of Ds dynamics, though.
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After an amazing orgasm, hands down (or, should that be: hands behind my back) the best orgasm I ever had, he left me unlocked for the night and for the trip back. It already felt wrong and I had to fight the urge to either touch myself or beg him to lock me back up. The first few weeks back home, he didn't keep me permanently locked but I was under strict orders not to touch myself. In the end, I locked myself and asked him to keep the key, confessing that without that level of security I was just finding it very difficult to fight the temptation. Every time I thought of him or our honeymoon, I just had to fight the urge to touch myself, but I knew I would not forgive myself if I did.
It was odd to have to return to the daily grind of work, social obligations, etc. The first few times we met up with friend was especially difficult. I couldn't help but wonder whether people knew I was not so much Oliver's husband as his houseboy and slave. Could they sense something had changed? I made sure to be submissive and obedient but tried to do so without it being too obvious. I let him order for me, I made sure never to interrupt master. One of the nights in a bar with friends, I was locked and I couldn't stop feeling like somehow they knew. When I needed to use the washroom, I made sure to go when there was no one else and used a stall. Master Oliver assured me that no one noticed anything: "How would they know you're locked, and your slightly-but-not-openly submissive behaviour is really not all that different from who you always were."
I realized he was right. The submissive streak had always been there. It was only more evidence that I was always made for this role, I thought. Part of me was even wishing now that our friends would know. When I was sitting with them, I felt that it would be humiliating and degrading if they knew. Walking home with Master, however, I felt like it wouldn't so much be a humiliation as a liberation a chance to be who I really am openly. Of course, over the years many of our closest friends came to know about the real me. No one was surprised, and I never felt judged. It was a liberation.
Of course, those first weeks back were a matter of finding the right balance between living a life of kink and living regular lives. I did most of the household chores and all the cooking, which wasn't really a big departure from before, but since I had a job to hold on to it was hard to do all of it without working myself ragged. So, Master Oliver continued to help as needed. Eventually, I would go to part-time and even later quit my job to be able to focus on being His (later Their) houseboy, but we weren't there yet. I did enjoy doing the housework, also in a non-sexual, non-kinky way. It just felt good to know I was doing my part in making him happy and making our household work. And, when in doubt, I always wanted to err on the side of doing more. The role of the 1950s housewife just wanting to make her husband happy and comfortable really did suit me quite well.
My submissive tendencies were also increasingly brought out by not cumming. I just wanted to wear my cage more and more, and whenever He gave me a chance to cum I was tempted to decline. I loved staying horny and chaste for him, regularly being teased and edged. Especially wearing my cage to the office made me drip precum like crazy. All I could do locked in the office was think of him and how I could be a better boiwife for him. The first day I wore my cage to work, I could barely concentrate on work. Luckily, it eventually became more routine as we could not afford me getting fired at that time.
That is what was happening from my perspective. As for Master Oliver, well I cannot speak for him, of course, but I could tell that he enjoyed having his submissive husband fully embrace his role of houseboy. He'd come up behind me as I worked in the kitchen, play with my always-sensitive nipples or grope my ass; he'd have me welcome him home after work with a drink and worshipping his feet, sweaty from a long day at work; he'd order me around and inspect my work cleaning the house. He'd find reasons to punish me, but usually playfully rather than brutally. In the end, Master Oliver is more dominant than he is sadistic, though he's certainly not averse to making me suffer and cry when appropriate -- he also knows I get a rush out of pain even if I'm not very masochistic.
Of course, the multiple-daily crazy fuck sessions we had on our honeymoon could not be the norm. We were back in the daily grind and unfortunately that meant that we couldn't spend half of our day having sex. I did make sure to always be available to him and I usually woke him up with a blowjob and coffee. Regularly, however, he did not have the time to allow me to finish. He'd push me away and say he needed to get ready. I'd have his breakfast ready and would lay out his clothes while he showered. My commute was shorter than his, so I was able to take care of his needs before he left and could then get ready myself and still be on time. Similarly, I could get dinner started and do some chores before he came home, so that I was ready to welcome him properly with a drink and a snack in a clean house. It became a comfortable routine quite quickly. I enjoyed being his submissive boiwife; he enjoyed having his chaste houseboy take care of his needs and be desperate to please -- so desperate!
After work, he more often had time to use my body for his pleasure than in the mornings. However, that did mean that he used me for sex much less than I know he needed to fuck. I wondered whether he had already started dating other boys. He hadn't yet told me anything, and of course he didn't need to. Dating whoever he wanted was his prerogative and none of my business if he didn't want it to be. Yet, he also had no reason to hide anything. I wondered but it was not my place to ask.
