Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
***
2. Discovered
One night, after she left, I snuck down to my own car and followed her. I'd seen enough detective shows (mostly on those lonely nights while she was out alone) to know how to hang back far enough to not alert her to my presence. I felt pretty proud of myself when she finally parked in a lot and got out. I parked on the other side of the street and back about half a block and watched her.
She walked down the street back in my direction, but then turned into an alley. It had no signage indicating any businesses were down that way, but whichever club she was attending that night must have been there. I was about to get out of my car when I saw two more women turn into the alley. Looking up and down the street, I saw more women walking from their cars towards the alley (some alone, some in pairs or threes). In just a few minutes of watching, I saw at least a dozen more women enter the alley. Whatever club it was, it was a big one. One thing that stood out to me was that they were all women, and all white. Some I think I recognized from our town -- in fact, I was pretty sure I saw everyone who was in the Born-Again Virgin club with Brittany and who had all taken the Purity Pledge.
That's when hit me. We weren't in Florissant anymore. We had driven about 15 minutes south to Ferguson. This was a very bad neighborhood. A run-down sort of slummy area, not quite the projects, but, well... Let's just say the only white people here were out-of-towners like me and Brittany. And all those women. And some of them drove very expensive cars - Beemers, Mercedes, Porches, Caddies. These women had obviously come from the rich white neighborhoods to the southwest, like Ladue, Frontenac and Towne & Country (which is exactly as White & rich as it sounds...)
I thought about getting out to follow them and seeing where they were going, but I was too nervous about being caught. What if one of my wife's friends recognized me? How would I explain crashing their ladies' club?
While it was a bit odd for so many women to be meeting this far away, in a kind of risky place, I felt relieved that she had told me the truth. They were just a bunch of women getting together for a club. Maybe it was a gym for women, some sort of night class? Suddenly I felt bad for following her here, for not trusting her. I felt guilty for doubting her. But I still wanted to know more. So I decided to wait until they all came out to see if I could get any more clues as to what kind of club my wife was involved in.
.
.
.
I was awoken by a loud bang that startled me. My eyes shot open and I was blinded momentarily, until my vision adjusted to... Sunlight. I had fallen sleep! I jumped as something hit my windshield, again creating a loud bang that echoed around the inside of my car. I heard laughing and sat up to see several black teens pointing at me. One was dribbling a basketball that he'd been bouncing off my windshield to wake me up.
Another came up to my driver's side window and I hastily made sure my door was locked. He yelled something through the door about me being a "cracker ass" or something. I didn't stick around to converse with him. I hurriedly started the car and began to drive away as the basketball bounced off my car and the teen at my window told me to stay out of his "hood".
I cursed myself for falling asleep and looked down the alley all the women had disappeared into the night before. It was empty and featureless. Maybe there was an entrance back there, but I couldn't see it and I wasn't about to get out and look, not with those... *thugs* watching me.
.
.
.
That night, I went to bed alone, as usual. But around 2am I was woken up by a cold draft or something. To my shock, I awoke to see Brittany down by my crotch, messing with my penis! I couldn't believe it! Had she suddenly given up on her vow of abstinence? But something felt weird about what she was doing to "Little Nicky" as we called my penis affectionately.
"Britt...?" I moaned groggily, "what's going on?"
Britt looked up at me with an evil grin that really stunned me.
"Oh, nothing, go back to sleep, honey," Britt's hair and makeup was a mess, as usual after her nights out. And her breath smelled terrible. In the dark it was hard to tell, but it looked like her clothes were torn and dirty, too.
"Wait... what the heck is *that*?!" I felt something cold on my penis and looked past her head. She had put something on it!
"Oh, it's just a chastity device," my wife informed me in the most matter-of-fact manner, as if this was a totally natural thing for a wife to be putting on her husband's penis in the middle of the night.
"A... what?!" I blurted, I tried to sit up, but was still too groggy and sleepy to pull it off.
"Well, Whitney decided that if we weren't going to be having sexual relations with our husbands, then they had no use for their little guys," Brittany said as she turned a key on a small lock connected to the device she'd trapped my penis in, "and men are known to abuse themselves sinfully. So since men can't control their dicks, we're going to control them for them."
I was absolutely flabbergasted as I looked down to see my penis imprisoned in a small, pink plastic cage.
"Why is it *pink*?!" was the first thing I could come up with, oddly. For some reason, I felt like if my wife was going to make me wear something on my dick, it should at least be a *manly* color...
"Oh, that's just what they were handing out," Brittany giggled, "I think it's cute."
I just stared at it. Was this really happening or was it a bad nightmare?
"Looks like I was right about the size," Brittany said as she flicked it with her finger, "I asked for a small."
"B-but..." was the best I could muster.
"Go back to sleep, Nicholas," Britt patted me on the head as she put the key-on-a-chain around her neck and went into the bathroom, leaving me locked, shocked and totally confused.
.
.
.
The next morning, at breakfast before Fox and Friends, it was like nothing had happened. We sat there in silence and ate and watched, got dressed for church and did our usual routine.
Except I did it wearing a pink cock cage on my penis the whole day! It was privately humiliating, but somehow it felt like everyone knew. Certainly the other women in Whitney's cursed club were looking at me like they knew.
And when I looked at their husbands, they avoided my gaze and looked as uncomfortable as me, shifting in their seats and pulling on their crotches...
By mid-week I had actually kind of gotten used to the cock cage, even going to the bathroom wasn't a problem once I realized I had to sit down to pee, like a woman. Most of the time, I forgot it was there, after a first day of extreme self-consciousness wearing it at work.
And Brittany and I never spoke of it again afterwards. It was just a matter of fact in our relationship now, not up for discussion or debate. It was just the new reality.
.
.
.
It was a week or so before I built up the courage to follow Brittany again. She was coming home later and later and sleeping in more and more. She was looking more and more beat in the morning and almost never spoke to me or even made eye contact with me. I could feel I was losing her. I just had to know WHY.
So this time I dressed for stealth and brought binoculars. This time I would see what was going on and, if I had to, I'd follow her the whole way see what she was up to.
When she left, I wasn't sure which group or club she was going to this night, but as luck would have it, she went to the same one I followed her to last time, in the run-down black neighborhood.
This time I parked in a spot to get a good view of the alley. I watched Brittany park in the same lot as before. This time I saw her meet up with someone else before heading in. I took out my binoculars to see who it was. Not surprisingly, it was Whitney. They embraced each other warmly and shared a kiss. It struck me that the kiss seemed a little too long, to intimate to be a friendly "hello" kiss between girlfriends, but women were more affectionate then men, so I dismissed it as innocent.
The two walked down the alley together, then turned a corner. I couldn't see where they went, but somewhere off to the left. I hadn't realized the alley had a turn at the end. Even with the binoculars, I wasn't going to be able to see much more than before.
Except, this time I could see all the women who showed up. I watched them all come, more of them streamed in fairly regularly over the next couple of hours. I lost count after 35 or so, but I recognized a lot of them from my community. There was the Sunday school teacher, Miss Applebottom, our Church organist, the librarian, my brother's wife, their babysitter, even several of the high school cheerleading squad, etc, etc.
I couldn't make sense of it all. What would draw so many of the women from our town from all different age ranges and walks of life together, to this bizarre spot, so far from their well-to-do, safe communities? Sure, Ferguson was centrally located between all the places these women were coming from, but... I had to know. Steeling my nerves, I mentally prepared myself to sneak down the alley and see for myself.
The sudden rapping on my window made me jump in my seat and drop my binoculars. I looked up, not knowing what to expect (those thugs again? My wife, angry at me for following her?). I didn't expect to see a policeman, banging his nightstick on my window. He was shining his flashlight in my face and motioned for me to roll down my window, which I did.
"Officer, is there something-" I started, feigning innocence.
"Get the fuck out of the car!" I heard a female voice command. It was a woman cop!
I complied, opening my car door and slowly stepping out.
"Hands where we can see them," she ordered.
I raised my hands and stepped away from the car. I looked behind my car and saw her police prowler behind me. Another cop was approaching me, their flashlight also shining in my face.
I could see the female cop well now- she was white and rather striking, a bit taller than me, blonde and with a shapely but tight figure. She shone her light in my car, looking for whatever cops look for in suspects' cars, "what are you doing out in this neighborhood so late?"
The other cop, a tall, imposing black man, grabbed me by the arm and motioned me to the front of the car while the female cop searched my car.
