The Cage 12

I was sitting in a kitchen chair in the middle of the floor facing the laundry room when she came out of the garage. She saw me sitting there when she got to the laundry room door. I had taken a small table out of the living room and had a few items sitting on it, stage props. I had a show coming up.

"Thomas?" There was a question in her voice. "What are you doing? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," I said. "I just thought you might want to help me out with the fitting."

"What? Fitting? What the hell are you talking about?" she asked.

I picked one of my items up off the table. "This!" I displayed it proudly. "I hear they need to be fitted."

"What is it?" she asked. "What's going on, Thomas. Is this a joke? You're pulling some sort of prank, aren't you?"

While I do enjoy a good prank, every now and again, I was not pulling a prank. Well, sort of a prank, but it was going to get very serious. "No, it's no prank," I said. "It's a cock cage. You know, a chastity device."

Her eyes bugged out as if they were on stalks. I thought they had a remarkable resemblance to snail eyes; the little stalks were all that were missing. "What the hell? Are you going nuts? What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I've been doing some research," I told her. "Us cuckold husbands are supposed to wear cock cages. Really, it's all the thing. You wear the key on a chain around your neck. Then, after the bull gets done fucking you, you're supposed to let me out so I can get sloppy seconds if you decide to let me."

"Thomas, what is wrong with you?" She looked at me as if I had grown a third eye. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Have you lost your mind?"

"No, I'm quite sane," I said. "I just wanted to find out how these things worked so I could play my role. So, I got you a nice little chain." I held it up so she could see the key dangling from it. "You can wear this and when you're ready for me to eat the cream pies and have sloppy seconds, you can let me out. Do you like this one?" I held up the cage. "I should have asked you. They had several styles. When do you think you might like to bring the bull over? I'd like to meet him as soon as possible."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" her voice rose to a near shout. "What the hell is a 'bull' and what are you doing with that disgusting thing?"

Apparently, she didn't care for my choice in cages. Damn, well, maybe I could get a refund. As long as it hadn't actually touched my genitals, it should be okay. I wondered if it had been returned, previously. I shivered at the thought. It would need a thorough washing before use.

"A bull is the guy your wife is fucking," I said. "You know, the Alpha male. The cuck watches and does cleanup after the bull is done fucking his wife."

She swelled with indignation. "Thomas, are you accusing me of... of... having sex with someone?"

"No, I don't like to think of it that way at all," I said. "I'm not accusing. That implies that I would be condemning you. 'Accusing' is such a harsh term. You're fucking Greg Johnson, but 'accusing,' no. I'm just hoping to get my part right. Now, if you'll help me get this on..."

I held it out to her. She took two steps forward, snatched it out of my hand and threw it furiously into the laundry room. It was a terrific shot, right into the dryer.

"Stop it," she screamed.

I looked hurt. "Shit, Ronni, you probably bent it. If you didn't like it, you should have just said so. We could have returned it for one you liked. Now I'm going to have a hell of a time getting it straightened out so we can exchange it for the one you want."

"Fuck the damn thing," she snarled. "How did you... when... how long have you known?"

I thought for a minute. "Well, today is March 15," I said. "The first time was February 11, at 7: 44. It's 5:40, now. Do you want the minutes, or will just the hours do? Hey, it's the ides of March! How fitting. That's the day they assassinated Julius Caesar," I confided.

Her mouth was hanging open, now. She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. She looked sort of like a carp, stranded on dry land. It wasn't a good look.

"Why didn't you say something?" she gasped, breathlessly.

"What was there to say?" I asked.

"Well, how about 'Veronica, you're a cheating slut'. How about, 'why are you having an affair'?"

"Is that what you want me to say?" I asked.

"Don't you want to know why?" she asked.

"I know why," I said. "I don't need to ask."

She looked puzzled. "How do you know why?"

"I know why cheaters cheat," I explained. "You're a sociopath."

She gasped and her big blue eyes filled with tears. "How can you say that? I thought you loved me."

"Well, what does that have to do with anything?" I asked. "I do love you. Well, I did before I found out that you are a cheating slut sociopath. Now that I know, of course, I realize that loving you is stupid. I just need to figure out how to adapt to our new roles. You have a nice pussy and I like fucking you, so I was trying to figure out what I need to do to have a steady supply of ass until I can find someone else."

She did the carp thing again. "The lips aren't exactly right," I told her. "They should point down more."

"What the fuck is wrong with you," she was practically screaming now. "Why are you talking about my lips?"

"Well, carp sort of have their lips kind of pointing down so they can suck things up off the bottom," I said. "Your impression is pretty good, but you need to work on the lips." She probably didn't know that I had made an extensive study of carp.

She ignored my critique of her impersonation. "What did you mean about 'finding someone else'?" she asked. "Are you divorcing me?"

"Well, yes, but it takes a while," I told her. "I was thinking in the meanwhile, we'll still be living together, so I could wear the cage, if you'd throw me a bone in between fucking Johnson."

"I didn't mean... it's over, Thomas. I won't see him anymore. I don't want a divorce."

"Well, that's surprising," I said. "Usually, when a wife starts fucking men besides her husband, it means she wants a divorce. Well, that may not be what she wants, but that's the usual course of events."

"I didn't mean for you to find out," she said. "It was just going to be a short fling, Thomas. It's over and I swear I'll spend the rest of my life being the best wife you could ever imagine."

"Well, that does sound very attractive," I said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass."

"Thomas, please don't do this." She was pleading, now. "You know I love you. This was nothing, just something that happened. I'm telling you, it's over."

"Well, seeing as how you never told me it began, I just don't know how I'll ever be able to believe that," I said. "How were you planning to convince me?"

She stepped forward, pressing that lush body up against me. She was hot, no doubt about that. "Let me show you, baby," she said. She slid down until she was kneeling between my legs.

She unzipped my pants and fished my cock out, stroking it a few times and then engulfing it in the inferno of her mouth.

"Do you do that for Johnson?" I asked.

She hesitated for a second, shook her head and went back to work.

"Maybe he has the "Big Johnson," I suggested, "Is that why you're fucking him?"

She stopped and looked up at me. "No, Thomas, he's actually a bit smaller than you are. It was just the wicked feeling I got, the taboo thrill. It's over now. I promise."

Well, we both knew how much her promises were worth. She did know how to give a good blowjob. Well, any blowjob is a good blowjob. I never remembered getting a bad one. Veronica was extra good. She used a lot of suction and her tongue went wild. It had been a few days.

She'd been after me, but I'd been using a variety of excuses not to dip my wick. Now that her pussy had become community property, I was a bit afraid of what nasty critters might be in there. I wasn't going to last long. She worked another minute or two and I blew up. She sucked it all down greedily, cleaning me well before patting the little guy and putting him back in my pants.

"Feel better now?" she asked.

"That was sweet," I said. "When we get the new cock cage, will you still give me head? I could tell you didn't like the old one."

She jumped up. "I don't' want to hear any more about fucking cock cages," she snarled. "Forget the fucking cock cage! I told you, it's over. What the hell is wrong with you, Thomas? I love you and I'm not going to be doing any of that shit. Stop talking about it; it's disgusting!"

"Sorry," I said. "Say, Ronnie, did you happen to use condoms with big dick Johnson?"

Her face flushed. "Stop calling him that," she said. "God, you can be so crude, Thomas. I told you, he wasn't that big, and yes, I did make him use a condom."

"Well, were you planning on us having sex anytime soon?" I asked.

"Any time you want, baby," she cooed. "Have I ever turned you down?"

"Well, not that I remember," I said. "I think you should get tested for STD's anyway. No sense in both of us risking our health."

"If you were going to get anything, you'd alread..." her voice trailed off. "You haven't made love to me since I... I... started, have you?" she asked. "Jesus, Thomas, I never noticed. That's why you've been sick or tired lately, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," I admitted. "I never liked the thought of pus running out the end of my Johnson."

She winced at the use of the name. "I'll get checked tomorrow," she said. "What's going to happen, Thomas?"

"Nothing, for a while," I told her. "Divorces take time, you know that."

She gave a little wail. "I told you, I don't want a divorce."

"I know," I said. "I remember. It was only a few minutes ago. My concentration did slip a bit when you were blowing me, but I can remember things."

"We don't need to get a divorce," she pleaded. "I told you, it's over. I'm going to be completely faithful from now on."

"Yes, I remember that, too," I said. "I didn't believe you. I've already heard this one. 'I promise to forsake all others,' do you remember?"

Her face flushed. "Yes, I remember. I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't set out to have an affair, Thomas. We were just together all the time at work. He kept hitting on me and I just got stupid, okay? I'm very sorry. I know that doesn't mean much. I... I thought you'd be more upset."

"Oh, I was," I told her. "I was very upset for weeks. I thought about killing you, at first. I got out the old pistol. I even went to the firing range to practice up. Then I decided to kill Big Dick." She winced. "I even had a plan to kill both of you. Macy talked me out of it."

She gasped. "Macy knows? You told our daughter? Why would you do that? Do you hate me that much?"

"No, I didn't tell her," I said. "She told me."

She looked like someone had punched her in the stomach. The carp look went on steroids. "How... when... She knew? How did she find out? Is that the reason... Oh, my God. She hasn't called me since... she always tells me she's busy when I try... Oh, my God!"

"I'm not sure he's listening," I said. "Isn't 'Thou shalt not fuck other people besides your husband one of his biggies?"

She just sat there, unmoved by my hilarious comment, tears running down her cheeks. Finally, she shook herself out of her reverie. "Thomas, what am I going to do?" she asked in a forlorn voice.

"I really have no idea, Ronnie," I said. "Is there some book you can read? Maybe a 'How to explain to your daughter why you're a slut' website?"

She looked at me with dull eyes. "You don't need to beat me up," she said. "If it makes you feel better, I guess you have the right. Do you enjoy hurting me now, Thomas?"

"Well, yes, I guess I do, a little bit," I said. "I didn't used to be cruel. You made me like that."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Can you help me now?"

"I have no idea," I said. "What did you envision happening when I found out?"

"I didn't think you would," she said. "I didn't think; I just did it."

"Well, now that you know, what are your ideas?" I asked.

She thought for a minute. "What do you think about open marriages?" she asked.

"I think they're divorces that haven't happened yet," I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I read about them in magazines and see people on TV."

"Yes, I'm sure," I said. "I read about things, myself. I was in the grocery store last week, standing in line. You'll never guess what I saw. Some woman was talking about being Bigfoot's love slave."

Her mouth opened and closed. Maybe it was a blowfish, not a carp. "No self-respecting man or woman would ever consider it," I said. "Think about how degrading to you that would be. Those women aren't wives; they're just cum dumps. 'Open' just means 'open your legs and become a slut'. Then think about how I'd feel about that."

"How would you feel?" she asked.

"Like you'd cut off my balls," I said. "Pretty much the same way I feel now."

"I didn't mean... what can I do, Thomas?"

"Well, I did enjoy the blow job," I said. "I'm hoping for lots of those, at least until you can get the STD test done. Of course, that's assuming you can fit me in around Big Johnson."

"Stop saying that!" she screamed. "I told you, it's over. I'm not going to be seeing him again."

"Yes, I remember," I said. "Do you think I have Alzheimer's, Veronica?"

She just glared at me. "I remember you said that you didn't believe me," she said.

"See, you must not have it either," I congratulated her. "So how are you feeling about the blow job thing?"

"I've always given you blow jobs," she said.

"Yes, I know. That's one of the things I always liked best about you," I told her. "By the way, would you rather be served with the divorce papers here, or at work?"

"I don't want a divorce," she was shaking now. "I'm not giving you a divorce, Thomas."

"I'm pretty sure that's not up to you," I told her. "I file, there is a wait, I think sixty days if you don't contest it, then the judge grants the divorce."

"I'm going to contest it," she said.

"Why?" I asked. "You obviously don't want to be married, at least not to me. Why would you contest it?"

"I do want to be married, and to you," she said.

"Well, what about Big Dick?" I asked. "That seems a bit counterproductive to staying married to me. I'll wear the cock cage, but only until the divorce comes through." I went into the laundry room and retrieved it. "I don't think I'll be wearing this one though," I said. "It looks a little bent and I think it would be painful to the scrotum." I held it up for her to examine the bend in the wire.

She snatched it away from me and hurled it back into the laundry room. She missed the dryer, this time, but made a perfect basket in the hamper.

"Leave that disgusting thing alone!" she yelled. "You're just being hateful."

"No, that's what us cuckold husbands are supposed to do. I researched it carefully," I explained.

"You aren't a cuckold husband or whatever you said," She seemed perturbed.

"Well, no, not technically," I admitted. "I guess I'm a wittol. I don't actually support the bull's children, unless Macy isn't mine."

She gaped at me. "Don't even think such a thing," she sputtered. "Of course she's yours."

I mused for a minute. "Do you think I should get a DNA test done?"

She looked at me as if I were some creature from Mars. In fact, I already had the DNA test and knew Macy was mine. I was just pulling her chain. "There's no need for that," she said. "Macy is your child. I was never unfaithful to you, Thomas."

"You mean before Big Johnson," I pointed out.

"Yes, I mean... stop calling him that! I told you, he wasn't that big! He's nothing, Thomas. Believe me, you're plenty big enough for any woman."

"Have you asked any?" I wondered.

She blushed. I was amazed that she had the ability. "Girls talk about stuff like that," she said.

"Really, how big is Sam?" I asked. He was always bragging about having the big package; he always did it when Sandy wasn't around, of course.

"I have no idea," she said. "Guys that go around bragging always have tiny little dicks."

"Humph, well, I always suspected. Thanks, Ronnie, you learn something every day."

"Are we through talking about divorces and cock cages and wit... whatever that was?"

"Well, I guess, but the divorce thing is bound to come up," I said. "For one thing, you never told me where you wanted to be served. I imagine there will be hearings, or something, too."

"We're not getting a divorce," she said, emphatically.

With that, she stomped off upstairs and I heard the shower running. I went and got the cage out of the dirty clothes. It had some good workmanship, but the wires were a bit flimsy. I bent it back into shape, as best I could, put it in its box and placed it carefully on the fireplace mantel, next to our wedding picture. It looked good there. "Priority Mail" was printed on the box in attractive red letters.

I went and got me a very good steak at the Angus Grill. My phone rang in the middle of dinner. I answered. It was Ronnie. "Where did you go?" she asked.

"I'm eating," I told her. "This is a very good sirloin. Usually they're tough, but this one is very tender and you know I've always liked the flavor of a good sirloin."

I heard choking sounds on the phone. "Why didn't you ask me if I wanted to go?"

"I thought you might want to call Big Johnson and tell him it was over," I said. "I didn't want you to be inhibited by my presence, in case it wasn't really over and you wanted to arrange a tryst. I like that word, don't you? "A lover's tryst," it has a certain panache."

Now it sounded like a turkey gobbling on the phone. Maybe I should take up turkey hunting and hire her to call them. "I was going to tell him tomorrow," she said. "When are you coming home?"

"There's a dart's tournament over at Bud's tonight," I said. "I thought I'd swing round and give it a go, have a couple of beers and be home around nine. Well, unless Alicia is there. If she's there, I might hang out and see what she's up to."

She sputtered. "Why would you do that?"

"You know I've always had a thing for her," I said. "As long as I was married to you, I never would have thought much about it."

"You're still married to me," she growled. "I'll come over there and scratch that bitch's eyes out if you aren't home by nine." I didn't doubt her for a minute. She'd never cared much for Alicia.

She was in the kitchen when I got home, banging some pots and pans around. I went upstairs, showered and got in bed. I get up at five thirty for work. She came in after a bit, stripped and crawled in bed, naked. She did that sometimes, usually signifying that she was horny. The rest of the time, she wore panties.

She slid that lush sexy body over against me and I felt her hand slide down to my cock. The feeling of her tits against my chest and the magic her hand worked had me fully erect in about a minute. She started to slide on and I stopped her.

"Um, I hate to spoil the moment, but you were supposed to get that test done."

She sighed. "You're being ridiculous, Thomas. I don't have an STD. Greg is married. He wouldn't risk bringing any nasty surprises home to his wife. Besides, I told you, I always made him use a condom, I promise."

"Is that promise anything like the 'Forsaking all others' promise?" I asked. "Just saying."

She huffed around for a minute. "How am I supposed to show you I'm serious about this if you won't make love to me?" she asked.

"Well, there is that blow job thing," I suggested. "Do you really think you're the only ass Big Dick is tapping? I'll bet a guy with a whanger like that on him has a whole stable of fillies he's mounting."

"God, Thomas, why are you being so crude?" she said. She whined around for a bit, but I did get my blowjob. I got another one in the morning before work. Damn, she was good! I could get used to this. I went around with a smile on my face all day. Some of the guys kidded me about it.