Chapter II

To Whom it may Concern:

Needless to say, I was eager to get home to my wife.  For a change, I left the office right at five and headed home as quickly as possible, eager to work off the hard on I had had all day as a result of my wife fucking with my mind that morning.  I knew I must have made good time beating her there as usually she has dinner ready by the time I walk in the door.  But not on this night.  Instead, I sat and waited patiently, or at least that was my intent. 

Unfortunately, patience is not something I am gifted with, and after 15 minutes, I called her cell phone.  It went straight to voice mail.  I called her office, and no one answered.  I tried her cell phone again, you know, just in case, and again it went to voice mail.  My mind began racing. 

I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, maybe she had car trouble.  But why would she turn off the phone?  Maybe she forgot to charge it and it was actually dead.  Maybe I should drive to her office and I can rescue her along the way!  But what if that wasn’t it?  I remembered the way she was dressed this morning.  Even the look she gave me when she gave me the rings.  An odd, confident look.  What if she were out getting fucked already?  Already?  It was just a fantasy I had to remind myself!  And she is just fucking with my mind!  Yeah, I thought, that’s what it is.  She he is REALLY good at this.  I sat down again, determined to wait patiently.  A half hour later I was in my car hoping I could rescue her.

All the way to her office (and back) I kept trying to call her, to no avail.  I looked at every gas station, down every road, looking for her car.  But again, I found nothing, until eventually I gave up and headed home, certain I would find her car there.  Absolutely guaranteeing myself that it would be in the garage, and she would probably be upset that there wasn’t any dinner ready, since it was almost 8 by now.

But when the garage door raised, and I saw that the garage was empty, all sorts of emotions attacked me.  Rage, how could she, the night after I reveal a fantasy, she runs out and starts fucking around!   Fear, what if she was really is in danger?  And what about our marriage if she is with someone else?  And I didn’t want to admit it, but if she was with someone else, is she moaning, having an orgasm?  I wanted one myself.

I finally decided that best case scenario would be that she would be home soon with a reasonable explanation, though I couldn’t imagine what that would be, and I could have dinner ready for her.  I sprung into action and started putting together a chicken rotini.  It turned out that my timing couldn’t have been better as I heard the garage door raising as I was dishing the meal out with a glass of wine for each of us.

She walked in, in great spirits carrying a couple of bags.  I wanted to get mad, but seeing the bags made for the explanation I was looking for.  I smiled and grabbed a glass of wine and handed it to her and went to kiss her, but she turned her head, and I was left to kiss her cheek….and notice the smell of ....  “I’ve already eaten” she said indifferently.  I’m going to go and take a bath, I’ll be back in a bit and we’ll have a little talk.”  She started to walk out then stopped and looked at me, “and please be respectful and do not interrupt me.  Do you understand?”

I was flabbergasted, shocked, whatever adjective you would like to use.  “Yes.” I said meekly. 

I didn’t eat much of my meal.  My mind was just racing too much.  Who did she have dinner with?  Did she really go shopping? I looked for the bags she brought in, but they were gone.  I even went into the bedroom, but couldn’t find them.  Did I smell anything else besides ...?  Did I smell a man, cum?  I didn’t recall either, but I wasn’t…I wasn’t smelling for them.  If she’s fucking with my mind..she’s damn good at it!!  I started cleaning up after myself in the kitchen.

She took a very long bath, or at least she took her time coming out of the bedroom.  When she did come out, she wore some new pajamas that left everything to the imagination.  They hung loose and showed no cleavage at all. 

She sat on our couch, in the spot I typically sat and pointed to the floor.  “You can rub my feet while we talk.”

I don’t know why, I don’t have a clue, but I went to my knees and started rubbing her feet, I really wanted to start a fight…except I was worried about my marriage.

“Tell me about the men that you fantasize about me being with when your stroke your tiny little dick.” She stated rather matter of factly.

I mustered some courage which had been missing in my conversation since I had confessed myself to her.  “I want to know where you were tonight.  Who were you with?”

She slowly leaned forward getting her face inches of mine and sat there and stared.   I felt it before anything else.  Her hand land firmly on my face with a loud smack.   “It is not my cuckold’s place to know where I was, who I was with, or WHAT I was doing”.  Her teeth were clenched and more importantly, her face remained inches from mine.  We were locked in stare down.  “Get your eyes off of me” she warned. 

Reluctantly, I lowered my eyes.  She had called me her cuckold.  Was it true, was it really true?  She was acknowledging that I was a cuckold?  It was just a fantasy!

She broke my train of thought.  “Stand up.”  Everything she said anymore was an order, no please, not even any kindness.  “Take off your pants and underwear.”  I had them off before I even realized I had obeyed about standing up. 

She looked at my crotch then grinned and looked up at me.  Whispering, “it looks like someone is having fun” as she pointed at my crotch.   I was embarrassed at the fact that I was just sitting there pissed that apparently my wife had just gone out and gotten fucked by someone else, and I had a hardon!

She took my chin in her fingers and raised my eyes to hers.  “Go to the bedroom and bring the small bag on the floor to me.  Do NOT look in it.  Do you understand?”

“Yes” I mumbled as I started to walk away.  But I came to a rapid stop as she had a handful of my hair. 

“That’s ‘Yes Princess’!”

“Yes Princess” I said emphasizing it. 

Her hand released and I walked off towards the bedroom, my erection bouncing with me.

I found the bag on the floor.  I wanted to look into it, but I wasn’t sure what all was going on, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to test any waters at this point, so I resisted the urge, instead returning to the living room and handing it to her.

She took the bag from me and pointed to the floor.  I returned to my kneeling position.  She sat and placed her feet in front of chest.  I knew the expectation and obeyed her, kneading her foot in my hand.  “Now, I asked you to tell me about the men you fantasize about me being with..”

I was unsure of how much I wanted to tell her.  “You know..just guys.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes!  This could all be very simple, but you’re being a pain in the ass  Describe what you were thinking about last night when you were beating off in the bathroom!”

“There were several” I stammered.  “Sometimes a couple at a time.  Sometimes younger than me, sometimes about the same age.  Sometimes strangers, sometimes co-workers of yours.”

“Mmmmmm” she cooed.  “Lots of men.  Keep going.”

“Sometimes they fuck you hard, sometimes it more of a passionate thing in our bed.”   I was ashamed to admit I had thought of her making love to another man in our own bed, and I think it showed.

“Do they have bigger cocks than you?”

“Yes” I nodded.

“Are they ever black men, Timmy?”

I couldn’t believe I was going to admit it, but it was true.  “Yes.”

“And do these young black men with bigger cocks than you, do they make me cum Timmy?”

“Yes.”

Yes , what” she asked sternly.

“Yes Princess.”

“I want to hear you say, ‘Princess Ashley, I beat off thinking about young black men with big black cocks making you cum.”

My cock was hard as a rock.  An hour ago, she had come home hours late, without explanation, and she wanted me to say this to her…and I didn’t hesitate.  “Princess Ashley, I beat off thinking about young black men with big black cocks making you cum.”

“mmmm” she purred.  “Good boy!”  She lifted the bag and opened the top.  “For 7 years I have been in this marriage never getting an orgasm from you all the while you running off to the bathroom to beat off whenever you get the chance.  Tonight, that changes.” 

She reached into the bag and pulled out a box.  I didn’t understand until I saw the picture on the box.  It was a male chastity device.