Doing It Wrong

[1]

Chapter One

 

I didn’t realize it until well after the fact, but my husband’s confession to me was the bravest act he had ever undertaken in our relationship. It was the bravest act he had ever performed in his life.

We hadn’t even been married that long. Seven years. Two kids. Two young kids. Check the statistics, that’s when married couples tended to end their relationships. A kid or two and having been in a committed, monogamous relationship for seven years.

I could sense it. My husband and I were drifting away. As a last ditch effort Wayne presented me with a ring.

It wasn’t a fancy diamond encrusted piece of jewelry designed to keep gold digging women with their successful husbands. It was a simple stainless steel ring maybe an inch and a half in diameter. It had a hinge and a locking mechanism to keep it closed.

Needless to say, I was puzzled.

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s only half of it,” he said.

“Okay…”

He then produced a dark red velvet bag and handed it over. Inside was something hard and not that heavy. Curious, I opened it up and found what appeared to be a modern art sculpture of a phallus.

This wouldn’t be all that strange from Wayne because he taught at the local university as an economics professor. Trust me, he’s not that boring. His specialty is niche markets that defy normal laws of economics. His thesis was on the modern art market. Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t. Oddly, that’s what he would say as well.

He had done a small study of pornography economics before it was quietly shut down by the university board. Uptight pricks. We still had a bunch of interesting porn, both modern and ancient, hanging around his office.

“This is the worst dildo I’ve ever seen,” was my pronouncement.

It was a curved hollow steel tube maybe three inches long. Both ends were open but there was hardware on one end that indicated it joined to something else—the ring he had already given me—and the other end was shaped to describe a vague penis shape. If it had been solid and longer than three inches it would have been a nice sex toy. I had a vibrator and a dildo that were both silicone, this would have been a nice change of pace.

Anything would have been a nice change of pace. Our marriage had suffered premature bed death. I knew Wayne jerked off on his own. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew I used my toys on the regular.

However, the small device he had given me would be useless as sex toy. Or so I thought.

“It’s not a dildo,” he told me.

“I guess I’m glad to hear that.”

We were doing this odd little presentation in our bedroom. The kids were asleep. This was the normal time for us to watch TV or read or for Wayne to read and grade papers.

It should have been our time to have sex.

I suppose I should have been glad that he wasn’t fucking random students on campus.

“It’s a chastity cage,” he explained and picked up the red velvet bag from the bed. He shook out a small pair of keys on a tiny ring.

As soon as he said the words, everything clicked for me. The curved tube attached to the hinged ring. There were flanges and things and, I noticed now, a lock to keep it together. The thing went on a man’s cock...and then what? Would it be painful if he got hard? Would he even get hard? Who the fuck would want to wear one of these things?

My husband. My husband would want to wear one of them.

Or maybe it would be forced onto a man who was a complete submissive and his partner wanted to torture him.

I could see the appeal in that.

“Okay, I get that. But...why?”

The why encapsulated everything about our relationship in that moment. Why didn’t we have more sex? Why was our marriage falling apart? Why would he want this? Why would I want to participate? Just...why.

“Things have been falling apart,” he said. That was an understatement. “I thought that maybe...maybe if you had some control over my cock...maybe you’d be more interested in it. And by wearing it...you’d know I wasn’t cheating on you.”

I latched onto that right away. “Have you been cheating on me?” I snapped at him.

“No,” he fired back just as vehemently.

He was classier than I and didn’t ask if I had been cheating on him.

I hadn’t.

Well, only with my battery operated boyfriends in my underwear drawer.

It was strange. It was also a little erotic. Right away I could see what he was getting at. If I had more responsibility for his cock, I would have more interest in it. I’m sure there was some economic principle he could explain to me, but I had no interest in hearing that.

“Well, I suppose that’s good,” I said agreeably. I didn’t want to come off like a bitch.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t admit this was a kink of mine,” he also confessed.

“That makes sense,” I said sensibly. “Wait. Do men actually have a kink to wear this sort of shit.”

“Yes.”

Of course they did. Men made up kinks about dragons fucking cars and cars fucking dragons among other more exotic shit. Putting a cage on a cock to play chastity games was hardly beyond the pale in the postmodern world we now lived in.

“This is all a little much,” I said, putting my hand to my head. I wished one of my migraines would hit me now. Having such an affliction never worked to my favor.

“Sorry to dump this on you, but I had to do something.”

“Something?” I asked.

“If you haven’t noticed, things aren’t going well for us.”

“I’ve noticed. Most people would suggest a marriage counselor.”

“We’re not most people.”

That was true. He was an economics professor and I was a clinical social worker. I knew what our problems were. I knew we could try counseling. It would probably work.

Probably. If I didn’t try to sabotage the process.

Or...we could try his chastity game.

That would be more fun and cheaper.

Probably.

“Fine,” I relented. “What do I have to do?”

 

We hadn’t planned on having sex that night. We hadn’t planned on having sex any night for the past year. Instead Wayne instructed me in how to put the cage on his cock.

He could have done it himself but that wasn’t the point. The point was this was supposed to be something the couple did as a team to help bring them closer together.

Like I said, I’m a clinical social worker. I knew how these things worked. Or didn’t work.

As he talked me through the process he confessed to me that he had purchased the chastity device a month previous and had been experimenting with it ever since.

It made me wonder what the hell else I was missing in our relationship.

What else was going on in my house that I had no clue about?

As it turned out, putting it on was fairly easy. The hinged ring went behind his balls, next to his body. Wayne’s cock slipped into the curved metal shaft which connected to the retaining ring. The lock on the shaft joined the two and that was that.

The hardest part (ha!) of getting the thing on my husband’s thing was actually putting his penis through the curved shaft. With all the manipulation I was doing, it started to make him hard. We tried a bag of frozen peas. That worked to keep him soft, but the condensation from the frozen bag made his skin stick to the metal making it next to impossible to get it all the way through.

This was solved by what Wayne called the stocking trick.

He took one of my nylon stockings, the boring sort I wore under pants when I didn’t want bare feet inside my shoes, and slipped it over his soft cock. The end he threaded through the tube. From there he simply lined everything up and pulled the stocking off his cock and through the cage. Easy peasy.

To see his cock inside the metal cage was disquieting. And hot. It was fucking erotic. I had to admit it. I felt something special when he handed the pair of keys over to me. It was such a feeling that I couldn’t describe it correctly. I felt like I had just conquered the universe and I felt like I had suddenly been burdened with such a responsibility that I wanted to run away to Tahiti and change my name.

“Okay, so now what?” I said. Wayne was standing in front of me while I sat on the edge of the bed. He was naked from the waist down. Well, naked except for his steel cage.

“Now I just wear it until you want to have sex.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You have the keys. If you want to, you just come to me, unlock me, and we have sex.”

All the responsibility was on me now. If our marriage failed, it was my fault.

Don’t try to say that it wouldn’t be my fault. I had willingly taken on the responsibility of sex in our marriage. Anyone who says that sex isn’t that important to a marriage, or any intimate relationship, is fooling themselves. Partners who had a sexual relationship and then let it fall to the wayside either wind up divorced or with new partners. Yes, there are companionate marriages, but those are a special exception.

In that moment, to be completely honest, I wanted to rip my husband’s cock cage off and fuck him right then and there. But I realized this was a game and our power dynamics were rapidly changing.

“So...I just put this thing on you,” I stated flatly. “You don’t want to have sex right now, do you?”

He looked at me with that blank professorial expression he was so good at. I hated it. “Of course not. Generally you would have sex after removing it,” he said, making me feel like I was insignificant.

But he was right.

“Good. How about we leave it on all night then?” I asked.

Now Wayne’s eyes went wide. “Uh…”

I was glad that I had stunned him to some degree.

“What’s wrong with wearing it all night?” I asked. I wasn’t trying to be obnoxious. I truly wanted to know if there was a problem.

“Night time erections,” he said.

“You won’t get them if you’re wearing that,” I pointed out.

“Uh...it’ll be painful.”

“I bet,” I agreed.

He smiled and chuckled. “Okay. Yeah. You’re jumping in with both feet.”

“I am?” I asked sweetly, innocently.

“Generally there are practice sessions leading up to an overnight wearing.”

“You said you already practiced on your own,” I pointed out. “No time like the present, right? We weren’t going to have sex tonight anyway.” I turned away from him and then remembered the keys in my hand. “What should I do with these?”

“Tradition says you keep one on a necklace that you wear all the time. The other one is hidden in the house so if there’s an emergency, I can unlock myself.”

I furrowed my brow at him. “What type of emergency could there possibly be?”

Wayne didn’t have an answer for me. It wasn’t like he was bringing home coeds to fuck in our bed.

I think.

“I’ll just put them in my purse for now,” I said, heading for the door. “I’ll find a necklace in the morning. It’s a little too early for bed anyway. I’m going to do a little reading.”

Wayne nodded and pulled his pants back up. There was no obvious way to tell he had a chastity device on under his clothing. That was good. And hot. “I have some grading to do,” he said, heading for the spare bedroom we had turned into office space for the two of us.

I wasn’t lying, exactly, when I said I was going to do some reading.

Research is reading.

 

Chapter Two

 

I was floored by the amount of material I found online about male chastity. Most of it was wanking material, but there was a decent amount of semi-scholarly research. There were also many websites that were set up for those in the chastity lifestyle to brag about how long they had been locked up (most of them were lying), or to ask advice on every aspect of male chastity.

It didn’t take me long to figure out maybe half the men playing this fun and dangerous game were gay.

I liked that.

Speaking as a social worker I knew that gay men were more likely to experiment with all sorts of cutting edge things, from sex to fashion to jobs to literally everything. Maybe Wayne was more open to new things than I gave him credit for.

Or maybe this was just a kink of his that he and I would have to live with.

And maybe enjoy.

 

Wayne made it through that first night alive. He said it was the worst night’s sleep he had ever had…and that was after having two kids. He said he kept getting woken up by his cock getting hard. That was fair enough and totally expected.

The first thing he asked was for me to take the cage off so he could pee.

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

I pointed at his cock and cage. His head, while not fully exposed, was mostly visible through the bars at the end of the tube. “It’s obviously designed to be peed through. Try it out. Besides, how are you going to get through the day if you can’t pee with it on.”

He looked at me a moment, processing what I had said.

“You’re going to make me wear this all day?”

I glared at him. “Isn’t that the idea?”

Maybe he hadn’t expected to plunge in with both feet so deeply, but I was going to push him because I wanted to. Because I could.

“Fine,” he relented, his bladder getting the best of him.

He went into the bathroom. I didn’t accompany him but everything worked out fine because he came out a minute later after flushing the toilet.

“You need to take this off,” he complained again.

“We already discussed that.”

“I need to take a shower. I don’t want to ruin the lock and I don’t want my dick smelling gross. The lock’s not waterproof.”

Those were all legitimate and valid arguments.

I had done my reading the night before. Removal of the cage was allowable for hygiene.

“Fine,” I relented. “But I’m going to monitor your shower.”

We had been sleeping in the same bed; that hadn’t changed in our marriage yet. Full pajamas for the both of us. I realized that until last night, I hadn’t really seen my husband’s cock in weeks, if not months.

As he stripped, I went to my purse and found the keys. Back in the bathroom I went through the process of unlocking his cock. It was an intimate moment that we shared, releasing him. We hadn’t had many intimate moments over the past year. Of course, it was very odd at the same time since I was sitting on the toilet lid doing it.

When I slipped off the metal tube, the retaining ring fell free with a loud metallic clunk on the tiled floor. Almost immediately Wayne’s cock started getting hard.

As he started to rise, Wayne’s hand drifted too close to his cock for my comfort. I was becoming a controlling bitch when it came to his cock. I liked that feeling. It made me feel important. Before he could grab himself, I slapped his hand away.

“None of that,” I warned him.

“Fuck! You’re taking this really seriously, aren’t you?” he commented as he turned on the water in the shower.

“Yes. And make this shower quick too, the kids will be waking up soon. Keep the water cold. I don’t want you getting any ideas in there.”

As it turned out, our bathroom was perfect for this sort of monitoring of forbidden activity in the shower. We had purchased the house right before baby number one was born. The master bath had been overly planned by the contractor. We had a separate shower and bathtub with water jets. Huge double sinks on the long counter. All the unnecessary bells and whistles.

The upshot being that the shower area was a triangular space separated from the rest of the bathroom by a glass door.

I kept an eye on Wayne as he showered. I think he liked me watching him. Wayne isn’t a professional athlete or anything like that, but he did break the mold of the purely cerebral professor. He was active in the university’s faculty and staff racquetball league (which he called a holdover from the 1970s) as well as being the sort of man who went running three times a week.

So, no athlete, but still in great shape for a man who had already passed forty years.

Sometimes I felt bad that I wasn’t nearly as active and exercise-centered as he was, but he didn’t complain about my body so I was letting it go.

The average woman can’t have two kids and just bounce back to the body she had at eighteen.

Besides, I got plenty of attention from other men. It was my ass. It wasn’t that big, but it was big enough to attract the right sort of attention.

Because I insisted on cool water for his shower, Wayne was in and out in record time which only added to my suspicions that he was surreptitiously jerking off in the shower when I wasn’t there.

It looks like I had put a stop to that.

Once he was showered and dried we went back to the bedroom where we repeated the stocking trick on his cock again, getting it back into his cage, nice and safe. On top of everything else, the next step of strangeness was Wayne putting on an athletic supporter. He only did that at the gym when he was playing racquetball.

“Why?” I asked.

“You can’t feel the weight of it,” he explained calmly. “Boxer briefs aren’t going to be enough for me to keep the cage in position.”

I accepted that as a valid reason.

I had read lots of threads on the discussion board I had perused the previous night. Besides the practical discussions, the one that had fascinated me the most was the very frank conversations of penis size. In contrast to just about everywhere else on the internet, most of the men were bragging about how small they were. Or how it was their goal to get down to a one inch cock. Or how over the course of their chastity they had gotten smaller.

In my experience men bragged—and lied outright—about the size of their equipment. Usually adding several unrealistic inches. As if it mattered.

And not that it mattered, but Wayne was a little bigger than the average man. I’m not saying I was a slut back in college, but I was more than familiar with the ceilings of many of the dorm rooms on campus. I was a fan of missionary. What I’m saying is that I knew what was small, average, and large.

The biggest guy I was ever with just wanted me to go down on my knees and worship his cock. He liked blowjobs. When I asked him why, he said having a big cock made him feel like a god. He was big. I liked giving blowjobs. When he was fully erect, I could wrap both of my, admittedly smallish, hands around his length.

The problem was when he finally fucked me, it fucking hurt, even with lots of warming up. Obviously we didn’t stay together and I didn’t tell him the reason, but I didn’t want to be fucked by the monster cock for the rest of my life.

Wayne was well within the average range. More than big enough for me. He could stretch me when I wanted it and having his average cock was perfect.

I’ve also had a few boyfriends with small cocks. One was completely obsessed with how he compared to other men. I told him he was just average. That was the reason we broke up. I’ve had a nine incher that was thick, I preferred six and adequate. He was, at best, three and a half inches and in my hornier moments I’d contemplated using magic markers that were thicker than he was. I wasn’t trying to shame him, but he needed to be realistic.

Oddly, a lot of the men on the chastity message boards would have been thrilled to have Gary’s less than stellar measurements.

Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe after a few months in chastity, Wayne would find his above average cock shrinking. That intrigued me.

Some of the men I had been reading liked being shamed about how inadequate their small cocks were. Obvious humiliation kink. I wondered if Wayne was into that.

Other than putting a piece of equipment on my husband’s equipment that first day in our new adventure in marriage was much the same as any other. Wake. Shower. Dress. Get the kids up. Breakfast. Deliver the kids to school. Go to work.

I was sitting at my desk contemplating my first client of the day when I suddenly remembered that I had caged my husband’s cock that morning.

I wanted to see it.

Luckily, we lived in technologically advanced times and I could if I wanted.

He was at the university campus. I wasn’t sure of his teaching schedule, but it didn’t take up his entire day. He had free time.

Just thinking about what I was doing to him made my panties wet. I should have worn something more absorbent, but that couldn’t be helped in the moment.

Glazing at the clock, I realized I had time. I sent Wayne a text message.

Send me a pic of your cock

I couldn’t remember the last time I had sexted my husband.

Had I ever sexted my husband?

While I waited for a response, I brought up one of the chastity sites that I had found the most useful the night before. The nice thing about being independently employed is I can bring up any website at work.

I’m not saying I perused porn sites in my free time, but I had that opportunity. More importantly, I didn’t have any firewalls to deal with.

The Key and Cage site was my favorite. I had started scrolling through bragging pictures of caged cocks when Wayne finally replied to me.

What? Why?

I grinned and sent back an immediate response.

Because I need to make sure you’re still caged

Pullout is a real danger

I’m just being a good keyholder

That was the label for me. I wasn’t just Wayne’s wife. I was his keyholder. I was in charge of his cock and his sex life.

My panties got wetter.

I didn’t like his reply.

Don’t be ridiculous

Frowning, I sent my reply.

How long do you want to wear that cage before you get to cum again?

I didn’t tell or imply to him that he would get to have sex, but that he could cum. I was being a controlling bitch.

I liked it.

I waited a few minutes. I was getting anxious now. I wanted to see his caged cock before my first client of the day showed up.

I didn’t cajole or harass or threaten. I was a good wife and keyholder. I was sorely disappointed when Ayden, my troubled teenager with too many anxiety issues showed up in the shared waiting room of my office. As I was ushering him in, my phone buzzed with a message alert.

I ignored it.

“So, Ayden, tell me how you’re been this past week.” I smiled as Ayden collapsed on the battered couch all my teenaged clients wanted to sit on because they could disappear into it. Ayden glared sullenly at me a minute while I waited.

Being a social worker you learn to be patient or you find a new job.

My phone buzzed with a second message alert.

Since Ayden wasn’t being cooperative, I checked my message. We were facing each other, Ayden and I, so I knew he couldn’t see my screen.

Wayne had sent me two pictures of his cock. One straight down his pants and the other in a bathroom mirror. I recognized the shade of Wayne’s pubic hair and the cage that I had become familiar with over the past twenty four hours.

I smiled.

“Am I too unimportant for you?” Ayden all but growled at me.

I put my phone away and looked at him. “Of course not. I was just getting a message from my husband. He only texts me when there’s something important going on, but we’re in session now, so let me turn off my phone.”

And I did. I put it in my drawer and talked with Ayden for an hour.

I’m sure the wait killed Wayne.

Once I got Ayden talking, I couldn’t shut him up. He talked the entire hour nonstop. That’s good, but also a pain in the ass, which meant he was like most kids. He just had more troubles than most.

I had to cut him off at the hour mark otherwise he’d get too worked up. Once I got Ayden out the door, I checked my phone. Wayne had sent me several more messages.

Well?

Come on, hon. Don’t make me wait. Please…

Are you with a client?

How long?

It was a head trip to feel this sort of power, but I tried not to let it get out of control. I sent him a simple message.

Busy at work. You’ll wear it all day. Maybe I’ll take it off tonight.

I then put my phone down and concentrated at work.

It was really for the best.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

I don’t want to tell people never to have kids, but no matter what people think, kids are a hundred times more work than anticipated. And for the people out there who are already messed up in the head, having a child isn’t going to make either party better off.

That being said, getting our two kids to bed at a reasonable hour had always been difficult. Tonight, however, Wayne was much more attentive to the kids’ needs. Everything went smoothly.

More or less.

I knew it was because he was wearing the cage around his cock. We didn’t discuss it outright, but we both knew. That was the wonderful part of it. I wasn’t controlling him as much as he was working to please me for our mutual benefit.

Once the kids were in their rooms, we went to ours and locked the door.

I didn’t say a word. I fished the key out from my cleavage. Not that I have a huge amount, but the only decent necklace I could find in my collection that was sturdy enough to hold Wayne’s key was rather long. That worked out to our benefit because I could hide the key inside my shirt and between my breasts and no one would know.

Seeing me pull out the key, Wayne’s eyes lit up and he yanked off his shirt. A second later his pants were down around his ankles along with his underwear and the athletic supporter. His steel-encased cock was dangling in the usual location, but I had to admit that it looked a hundred times sexier than ever before.

I sort of didn’t want to release it. And at the same time, I wanted it more than ever.

Oh the irony.

He had done all that before I could take two steps across the bedroom.

“Eager, are you?” I asked.

“It’s killing me!”

“Not literally,” I said, bending forward to visually inspect his cock. He wasn’t hard, but he was swelling, filling up the tube. We both knew where this was going and I wanted to savor the anticipation.

I looked up at him from my bent over position wishing I had bigger tits so that he could look down and admire my cleavage.

“Are you going to take it off me?” he asked desperately.

“Yeah...probably.” I reached out and ran my finger down the top of the tube, following the downward curve. The metal was warm. I could sense him twitching under the steel.

We had barely said or done anything and my pussy was sopping wet. I could feel my own heat and I wanted to fuck my husband for the first time in so long that I couldn’t remember if I had ever wanted to fuck him this badly.

“Probably?!” he burst out in a panicked tone.

I laughed at him, teasing. “Probably yes. I’ve just never done this before.”

“Please take it off. I’ll do whatever you want!”

The sound of his begging was half exactly what I wanted to hear and half pathetic.

“Whatever I want?” I clarified, standing up, the key still in my hand, but I broke off all contact with his caged cock.

We locked eyes. I had him in the palm of my hand and we were both worried for that.

He hesitated and then gave in. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

It was a stupid thing to give in to me, but I wasn’t a cruel wife. I mean, I could have been, but I wanted to fuck as desperately as he wanted.

I didn’t know what to do with the power that he had given me...other than I wanted his cock to fill me up and fuck me silly.

“Okay,” I happily relented. “But you have to do exactly what I say.”

He nodded eagerly.

I reached out and gripped the curved tube to keep control over him while I opened the lock. I squeezed as hard as I could. I wasn’t hurting him. I was too weak to affect the metal, but it made me feel powerful.

Looking closely I saw that his cock was turning purple. He was obviously eager to get out of the trap he had placed himself in. I turned the lock and removed it.

Getting the tube off his cock was a bit of a struggle. He was trying to get hard and that made the process a bit painful for him, but it couldn’t have been any more painful than keeping the cage on. Eventually I just had to pull and he suffered through the process.The inside of the cage was smooth so it couldn’t have been that bad. Or maybe it was. I don’t know, but eventually I slid the tube off him and he quickly moved to open the hinge of the retaining ring.

We both watched for the few seconds it took his cock to fully engorge. I’d be lying if I said I had never seen him so big before. Like I said, Wayne was just slightly above average when it came to cock size, but when I went down on my knees in front of him, it looked like he was a monster among men.

I held onto the base and licked him from balls to tip. He was already leaking precum and the slippery fluid seemed to coat my mouth.

I know what some people might think, if I was in charge, why was I giving him head? A perfectly reasonable question. Simply said, I like to give head. It excites me, not that I needed much excitement at that moment. I knew that Wayne would appreciate it, me showing attention to his previously trapped cock. The most important part was that, even though I was on my knees in front of my husband performing an intimate sexual act on him, I was the one still in charge. His cock was in my hands. It would be easy to abuse his balls and make him drop the ground. I could have bitten or otherwise attacked his cock, his most vulnerable bit of anatomy. He wasn’t in charge. I was.

“Oh...fuck,” he moaned.

I backed off immediately. I was well-familiar with my husband and I didn’t want him cumming too soon.

“You aren’t going to cum, are you?” I demanded of him.

He violently shook his head. “No. No! Of course not! It just feels good. You haven’t done that in a long time.”