Preface
This story is loosely based around the life of my wife and I, but the events of the story are only fantasy. We're both around the age of 30, give or take a few years. At the time this story takes place our relationship has a female led D/S dynamic that includes chastity, orgasm denial, and heavy humiliation. Approximately 1 year has gone by since the events of chapters 1-3. There has been concern voiced that certain situations throughout this series may have appeared to have lacked my consent, but as mentioned in the previous chapter, a previously established safe word was available for use that would have brought all activities to a halt.
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My heart sunk as my wife Anne placed her 2 carry-on bins onto the airport security conveyor belt. The first contained her clutch-style handbag. She had intentionally packed it light so that my chastity cage was 1 of only of 2 items it carried. As soon as the bag reached the scanner it would be clearly visible to the TSA agent, an older but still quite attractive blonde woman. If that wasn't enough, the contents of the second bin would certainly verify any suspicions. It held my wife's personal effects, which consisted of only her wedding ring and the necklace that held the key to my cage's padlock.
My wife walked through the detector first, just as the bins were pulled under the scanner. As soon as she was cleared, she walked towards the conveyor belt and looked directly at the blonde TSA agent. It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at, but as she did the look on her face turned from concentration to a mixture of shock and amusement. She turned her head from the monitor and met the gaze of my wife, who confidently wore a knowing smile. The agent's grin grew and she quickly shifted her curiosity towards the detector. My face must have been as red as a tomato as I walked through with my eyes locked towards the floor.
"Enjoy your trip, ma'am. Please remember to 'properly secure' your belongings before your departure," said the TSA agent in a way that clearly indicated that she knew what the stainless steel device was used for.
"Oh, I absolutely will! Thank you," my wife said as she removed her necklace from the bin and slid it over her head.
It felt like hours before the agent finished scanning my bin of carry-on items. She must have found my embarrassment entertaining, because it really seemed like she was taking her time on purpose just to prolong my awkward suffering. Once the bin slid out I did everything I could to empty it and be on my way as quickly as possible.
"Have a safe trip, sir!" giggled the agent, no longer able to hold back her laughter as we headed towards the terminal.
"I don't know why you get so embarrassed. You should be thanking me for even unlocking you at all. It's not as if there is anything illegal about wearing a chastity device through an airport," explained my wife as we walked. "It's probably nothing they haven't seen a hundred times before. I mean sure, they'd have to take you back to a private room for a closer look. There they'd have to insist that you 'drop trou', but then they would see that it was just a piece of body jewelry. After that I'm sure that they would let you through. Once they managed to stop laughing, that is."
Just as we had almost made it to our departure gate, my wife pulled me aside near the men's restroom and opened her handbag. She first removed the padlock, which she used her key to unlock before handing it to me. Then she pulled out the little red bag holding my cage and literally tossed it to me.
"Catch!" she said as I barely managed to avoid fumbling it. I could only imagine the loud noise it would have made had the steel device hit the ground. She then issued an order that hastily dispatched me inside, "You know what to do, you've got 3 minutes."
We hadn't even boarded the plane yet and it was already becoming clear that this was going to be one hell of a weekend. My wife was obviously ready to let loose now that she had recovered from having her tubes tied 6 weeks ago. At the time we had scheduled the procedure, she insisted that I also book us this weekend trip to Las Vegas so that she could celebrate the new freedom that the procedure would afford her. When I appeared confused by her request, her blunt explanation made no attempt to spare my feelings.
Reminding me of the early morning post-coital discussion that we had nearly a year ago, she explained that this procedure would remove the last remaining obstacle that prevented her from seeking out the sexual pleasure which I had proven unable to give her. Without the concern of an accidental pregnancy, she saw no more reason to delay the inevitable. In no uncertain terms, she informed me that this Vegas trip would be my official initiation into my new life as her cuckold.
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We arrived in the room fairly late after an uneventful flight and cab ride. The room was sizable. It had a kitchenette, a living area, and 2 queen beds which my wife had specifically instructed me to request. The tinted sliding doors in the living area opened to a balcony that provided a northwest facing view of the Vegas strip which was only partially blocked by the hotel's sister towers. The balcony doors' reflection remained entirely mirror-like when peering inwards, allowing for complete privacy. The bathroom had a two person whirlpool tub next to a glass enclosed multi-head shower, as well as dual sinks that rose above the long counter-top adjacent from the door to the private toilet.
Not wanting to waste any more of the night, we quickly unpacked, showered, and left the room around 10pm in search of some adult beverages. Well, that was what *I* was searching for. Anne clearly had something else in mind, however. We stopped at the first place that we came across, a cozy little pub-style bar in the tower next to ours. The hotel we were staying in was connected to the backside of a major casino, yet was tucked far enough away from it to allow us the choice of avoiding the extra noise and excitement.
The bar wasn't crowded, but it certainly wasn't empty either. Looking around, we found an open high-top table tucked away in the back corner and sat down. A waitress greeted us and took our drink orders, serving them to us surprisingly quick only a few minutes later. For the next hour or so we sat there sipping our drinks and maintaining random small talk about nothing significant. My wife was clearly distracted.
The waitress came back around and asked us if we'd like another round of drinks. I was about to reply when my wife answered for me, "Just one for myself, thank you. My husband won't be staying much longer."
"I won't be?" I responded quizzically once the waitress had left our table.
"No. Your presence would only complicate my plans for the evening," Anne stated flatly.
"Plans? What plans would those be?" I asked her.
"Oh don't worry, babe. You'll find out soon enough," she replied with an evil, yet sexy smirk on her face.
We sat in silence for the next few minutes and waited for the waitress to return with my wife's drink. Meanwhile, I was running all sorts of scenarios through my head trying to imagine what her plan might entail. I had honestly expected to have an uneventful night due to our late arrival time. As soon as her drink had been served, my wife refocused her full attention on me for what seemed like the first time since the airplane had landed.