Aqua Sulis Pt. 2
A story of erotica from the past to the present day
Den awoke early on Monday morning as the warm Summer breeze softly drifted through the open windows and brushed his face with an urge to waken, he stretched and rolled towards his wife who was still sleeping.
When her alarm sounded minutes later he had his arm out of the covers and was playing with the dog who slept between them.
He greeted his wife with a "good Morning," she smiled and just blew him a kiss, and then she rubbed the tube of his belt causing him to moan slightly.
"Is my property getting hard," she asked him, "That's why it's locked up in here; so it can only be used by me, a Chaste husband is a happy husband."
Mary liked keeping him locked in his chastity belt, she also kept a Stainless Collar around his neck with a Bronze property tag on it and his name, Cuckold Dennis, Property of Mary, a pendant had a single two words on it in a rather artistic font; the words were:
CHASTE CUCKOLD
She arose and went into the bathroom to shower, the next thing he did was quickly rise and make them coffee in the kitchen. Den worked at home so in the summer months he did not dress around the house; instead, he was clad in his Stainless Steel Chastity belt.
He kept shorts hanging by the door if had to let someone in. Den being a bit of an exhibitionist never bothered with the shorts, Mary just wanted them there for when she was home and he answered the door.
He asked her one time, "If I have the collar on; that everyone can see, what good do the shorts do, besides I have a rather buff body that I like to show off."
"Because I said so." was Mary's only reply.
Den started some coffee and enjoyed the feeling of his turgid manhood contained by the steel tube of the belt, he could not touch his cock or even pull it out. A ring through his cock known as a Prince Albert piercing kept him trapped in the tube; a feeling he enjoyed a lot; she liked it too.
Mary came down, grabbed some coffee, kissed him and before she left reminded him to find a house nearer the University where she worked,
"I am getting tired of the drive," she said, "I don't work at home like you."
Den blew her a kiss as she left the house then went to his computer and after a few hours his job was done for the day.
Den pondered his current status, when he met Mary she wasn't a very sexual person, they dated for a year then he asked for her hand in marriage.
She accepted but only if he agreed to wear a chastity device so she could be virgin on their nuptial night, he agreed even when it included the Prince Albert piercing, he was locked up when he was healed.
After the wedding he was released from his cock cage and the marriage was consummated, afterwards he was locked from then to the present day. As strange as this all seemed, he loved her so much it seemed normal to him giving him strong musings of déjà vu.
He pulled up his favorite sex sites dealing with Cuckoldry and Chastity for males, his cock got hard again and began leaking pre cum out of his tube. He read stories on his favorite blog about Chaste slave males and dominant women, who marry and cuckold them.
His Blog buddy, Rose posted an article for him about the town of Bath England, the old Roman town of Aquae Sulis, dedicated to the Female Goddess Minerva, Den read on.
This is Aqua Sulis. It should be the English town of Bath, but in this alternate Earth, both the Roman Empire and real chattel slavery flourish. The spa town is dedicated to Minerva, the virgin goddess; so that long ago it was decreed no penis should blight its streets.
When it became illegal to castrate a slave – in these days of universal Pax Romana, such men are no longer prisoners of war, but self-bonded for a fixed term of years – the city authorities instead "gelded" their much-needed male workers with Gold cages to contain their penis'.
Cunning tavern keepers quickly learned they could earn extra money by renting out chaste young men to visiting ladies who were less than chaste.
Then, a decade ago, the road connected Londinium with Aqua Sulis, and the Virgin Goddess's city became the fleshpot for debauched young women freed of parental control thanks to the Empire's belated industrial revolution.
Now, divorcees come in carriage-loads to wash away the stain of the one arranged marriage owed to their parents. More accurately, they have the marriage licked away by the tongues of slaves, willing or unwilling – they need not care which. And, if their failed alliance has left them loaded with anger, where better to shed it, but on the back and buttocks of an amusingly helpless male, who no doubt would be just the same as the despised ex-husband... were he not writhing under the lash.
Angry women, though, are the minority. For most, the attraction is more innocent. This is the place where families send their wayward daughters to take the waters so they can also take their pleasure and still return virtue technically intact, and the place where single girls and women come - in all sense of the word- because they can.
In this walled city, a Roman Citizen of the gentler sex can drink wine until the world spins, and weave a giggling path by torch light back to her inn, with no thought of danger from stray males. Better yet, if she has a denarius or two, she can satisfy her every desire, with no risk of disease or pregnancy.
If this is not what nature intended for women, then it is surely what they deserve.
Den's cock was ragging hard in his tube as he read the story, he could not imagine a better place to spend a lifetime.
The male slave narration continues,
Evening in Aquae Sulis
The cymbals clash. Electric stringed instruments I still don't recognize twang, drums rumble, setting up a vibration in my chastity tube.
The Roman girls throw overhead claps and dance. Long gowns flounce around many-hued legs, some long, some short and curvy, all smooth as marble.
It's like being at a toga party, but the gowns are richer and wilder – shimmering silks and printed cottons - and the girls all chatter as they crowd around the bar where half naked male slaves scurry to fill their drinking cups.
If you watch carefully, you'll catch a flash of gold beneath the men's short-hemmed tunics. Riveted gold neuters their groins, just as it does mine.
The music stops and this week's mistress sways towards me, red hair wild from the dancing, every swing of her hip a dripping with new sensuality. Without a word, she strides past and I follow her out into the warm summer night.
