A Couple Brought Together Act 04

"I'm proud of you."

She blushed. "Thank you, Sir."

I stroked her breast and nipple. It was hard with excitement.

"How much do you want to cum?"

Her brown eyes gazed at mine, wondering if it was a trick question.

"The truth, Sir?"

"The truth."

"More than I think I've ever physically wanted anything in my life."

I laughed. "Funnily enough, that's exactly how Chris put it."

We rarely spoke about her husband. I had forbidden her to ask about him. I hardly mentioned him to her. I'd simply told her to accept that no news was good news.

"Tell me, if I were to allow one of you to have an orgasm today, who would you want me to choose? You? Or Chris?"

I could see her dilemma; her desire and frustration balanced by self-sacrifice and love, resulting in confusion. It was important to realise nothing that had happened over the past few weeks had made Jane love Chris any the less. He and I met different needs of hers; physical, biological, emotional.

She licked her lower lip, thinking.

"It's been over three weeks for him." I told her. "But then, he wanted to know what ball aching frustration felt like, didn't he? You should see his scrotum! Blue balls don't begin to describe how they look."

"Him." She whispered magnanimously. "Chris."

"You haven't heard all of the question yet. What about if I told you that after one of you has an orgasm, that neither of you can have one for another whole month?"

He eyes widened as she absorbed my words.

"So you would still have a month more to go without one. Are you really sure you could manage that? Are you really sure you'd choose him to have one now, instead of you?"

She scrunched up her face, eyes closed.

"It's up to you." I whispered. "Him? Or you?"

"I don't know."

*** *** ***

Chris stood under the shower for ten minutes.

Slowly the hot jets soaked the scum away from his body. He rubbed the soap vigorously over every inch and crevice. He carefully washed the steel cage and cleaned his penis as best he could.

Better still, he let the water cleanse his mind. He'd realised what the dreadful shock treatment had been for. Until a few weeks ago, he would have described himself as submissive. But it was a sexual thing. His submission turned him on; thoughts of dominance and slavery, people who took charge, men who whipped his ass and fucked his wife.

Now it wasn't sexual. At least, it wasn't just sexual. It went much deeper than that. It was total. He had been broken, tamed, as completely as any trained horse, or prisoner on a rack. All he wanted to do now was serve. To prove himself obedient and useful, on his Master's terms, not on his own.

He glanced down at his soapy body and the steel encasing his cock. It had always been about his cock, his balls, his next jerk-off. He'd masturbated many times more in his life than he'd made love. Even after he married Jane, it was probably a ratio of ten private wanks to one proper sex session with her. Was it any wonder that she secretly wanted a different kind of man?

He'd probably never gone more than 48 hours without cumming since he reached puberty. Maybe when he'd been really ill? Mostly he had one, often two orgasms, a day. They'd been like junk food. Meaningless. He realised that now.

Imprisonment and chastity had taught him that. Just like Prison Loaf had taught him to appreciate real food.

When he was finally allowed to cum, it would be the most incredible feeling in the world. He corrected himself. IF.

If he was finally allowed to cum.

*** *** ****

Chris scrubbed up well, after his first hot shower, shampoo and shave.

His hair had grown fast. I trimmed his strawberry blonde fringe at the front and sides into the start of a pudding bowl bob.

Then I took my barber's electric clippers and did a buzz cut up all the way up the back of his head until the hair was shaved to level with his fringe at the front. It's my favourite 'punishment haircut' style.

Finally, I took the clippers and carved him a nice round male baldness patch on the top of his head. He looked at me in shock. But I wasn't finished. I pulled on a rubber glove and spread two fingers-full of Revitol cream onto the new bald patch and just into the surrounding edges of his hair.

It was a steep price Chris had agreed to pay.

Revitol seeps into hair follicles. It break ups and softens the hair shafts. This, of course, causes the hair shafts to fall out after a few days. After a couple of months of using the cream, the shafts gradually become thinner and thinner until hair growth completely stops.

I took some photos for his own Profile.

The first cock Chris ever took in his mouth was mine. Like him, I'm not remotely gay, and I'd never had a man's lips round my shaft before. It felt disgusting. But I felt it was an important sacrifice to make. It was a statement of our relationship. My dick was still slick with Jane's juices, mingled with my own, as I'd come straight down to Chris's cell after fucking his wife.

I got him to kneel and lick me clean. He looked up humbly and put his mouth round my cock. It wasn't sexual. It was respectful. He sucked my damp pubic hair and kissed my balls. Finally, he licked the hairy entrance to my ass crack.

He'd have done it, but I couldn't bring myself to have him actually suck me off.

Fortunately, Bert had no such qualms.

By now, Bert had already visited us about seven or eight times. He was already well acquainted with Jane's mouth. He had also fucked her ass. He had basically become her Deputy Master. So it was entirely appropriate that Chris should perform his first BJ on the old widower.

"Suck that cock." He ordered in his brusque military manner, running his leathery fingers through Chris's new hairstyle. Bert had spent a career giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed.

"It's not hard." Bert continued. "Just imagine what you'd like to feel round your own dick, then do it to mine. That's it. As deep as you can, into your throat."

I had the video camera secretly running, hidden on a shelf; it was recording a silhouette of Bert's chest and belly only from the neck down. However, the side-shot of Chris's lips slurping up and down clearly revealed the younger man's face.

"Okay, you can use your fingers." Bert said. "Jerk me off into your mouth."

Chris raised his right hand and began pumping while he continued to lick Bert's helmet.

"Not bad." Bert winked at me, speaking towards the camera. "A bit more tongue action. You'll get as good at this as your missus with a little practice. Oh, boyyhhhmmm!"

Chris's forehead creased in disgust. His Adam's apple bobbed as Bert squirted his watery juice. I watched in fascination. I can't deny I felt a surge of power.

"Mmmmmm." Bert exhaled in satisfaction.

I leaned down to murmur in Chris's ear.

"Swallow it all." I could tell he was struggling to finish the job. "And don't gag."

Bert pulled out, leaving a long strand of saliva that hung from the tip of his dick to Chris's lower lip. Later, I used a freeze frame of that particular image to make a cover for my souvenir DVD.

DAY THIRTY TWO

You wait ages for one bus and then two come along in quick succession!

It was a normal Monday morning. April 30th, a date forever fixed in my mind. I fired up my PC and there, in amongst the usual messages, was one from another submissive couple.

The interesting thing was they seemed genuine. They'd attached three photos, written two concise paragraphs and provided one phone number at the end.

I dialed the 11-digit cell number. A guy murmured in reply. His name was Patrick. He sounded educated but busy. We exchanged a few words.

"Is Simone there?"

"Not now. I'm at work."

"What's her number? I don't talk to couples unless I've spoken to the woman first. Too many fakes."

He hesitantly gave me a landline number.

His wife was real alright.

Over the next few days, I reeled in Simone and Patrick like a big-game fisherman playing a marlin. They had avidly followed my blog, photos and contributions to the Sub Couples groups. Unfortunately they weren't interested in a live-in arrangement because they had two college-age kids and Patrick ran his own company. However, they did want to submit to my 24/7 control.

To be honest, I wasn't sure at first. I hadn't planned on owning two couples and I was obviously pretty occupied with Jane and Chris. And I didn't know that I could enjoy my kind of TPE control over a live-out couple, especially when they had two kids. But when I saw Simone in the flesh, I couldn't resist having a pop.

Simone was the ultimate MILF. She was 41 yrs old with grey-blonde streaked hair, vivacious green eyes and a toothpaste-ad smile. She was originally English but had grown up in the States and been an actual cheerleader at a mid-western college. She'd met Patrick during her junior year back over in Dublin and married him aged just 21.

Simone was undeniably pretty but, more than that, physically she was exactly my type; facial symmetry, angular cheekbones, full lips. She exercised, looked after herself, and had a good peachy complexion. Her stomach was almost flat except for that slight curvature that all mothers retain after two pregnancies. Her tits weren't large but they were a decent handful that still clung high to her chest. Her ass and toned legs were in better shape than Jane's had been, and Jane was 11 years younger than her.

"What do you want out of this?" I asked, when she and I met alone for the first time without Patrick present.

"I've always felt ... sexually submissive. It's just it never happened. I met Pat so young. We had our children. You know ... life." She shrugged.

"You never submitted to him?"

"We role played a bit. That's all. I guess it was about ten years ago. Trying to, you know, put a bit of oomph into our lives. But it never really worked. It was too halfhearted. Pat's just not cut out to take charge in the bedroom."

"Did you ever try dominating him?"

Her cheeks blushed red. "Not really. Well, once. I tied him up. It was ... fun. But we never repeated it."

"Why not?"

"I think it felt like," she searched for the right words, "... well, sort of right, but wrong too. In a way, if I'd pushed him, we might have gotten into that more. You know, occasionally. But I didn't. And we didn't."

Her eyes were sensational; like emeralds, with flecks of light in her iris, extending from her pupils like a sunburst. They were the opposite of a poker player's eyes. I could read every single dirty thought in Simone's middle class, middle aged mind.

"So how would you describe your sex life now?"

"Okay. I mean, it's been twenty years. One man. You know, it gets pretty routine. But I don't think we're any worse than average."

I already knew she'd only had one partner before Patrick. An American boy she dated for three years. He'd taken her virginity at 17. And that was it. Just two.

Interestingly, Patrick was far from your cliché wimp. He was an entrepreneur who owned a chain of clothing stores. He employed 500 staff and in a good year made 6-figures. By all accounts, he was an alpha in the boardroom. The mistake people make who criticize cuckolds, or stories involving cuckolding, is that they don't understand the complex personalities and dynamics.

"How many times have you and Patrick fucked?"

She raised her eyebrows then did a quick calculation in her head.

"Maybe a couple of thousand?"

"Humans need security but they also need adventure. After a while, that's a hard combination to get out of one relationship. Security and adventure."

I wanted her to understand that I wasn't condemning her relationship or her husband. She couldn't be blamed for wanting marriage but needing a little excitement as well. Nor, in his own way, could Patrick.

"So, as I said, what do you ... want out of this?"

I stressed the word 'you'.

She looked down and jiggled her empty wine glass.

"Pat and I started discussing this two years ago. Fantasies. Making them reality. Then he saw your blog. We decided to, you know, before it's too late."

I reached across and touched her hand. "It's never too late."

She looked up. "I'm frightened."

"It was him who saw my blog first and told you about it. He wants you to do this, doesn't he?

I gave her my most winning smile.

"But you ... need to do this."

She dry-swallowed.

"I ... I know."

*** *** ***

When I got home that night, Bert was babysitting Jane and Chris.

He was sat on the sofa with a much younger man watching Monday Night Football on TV. I'd never seen the other guy before. He looked military; sharp-featured, narrow-eyed, firm jaw. His head and body were tanned, lean and rectangular. His hair was crew-cut.

He jumped up and held out his hand. I saw he was tall, over six feet.

"My grand-nephew." Bert said proudly. "Jim. Back from Afghanistan."

The young man's grip was like steel. I gestured for him to sit back down. I guessed he was early-twenties. Bert had never talked much about his family.

The place was immaculate. Apparently, Jane had served the two men beers, burgers and fries, and ice cream, on trays. She'd refilled their glasses, cleared the trays and rubbish, washed up and dried. Now they were smoking cigarettes, watching the soccer.

Behind the sofa they were both sat on, Chris was stood at the ironing board. He was wearing a new, bright pink, latex tracksuit. Bert had turned up earlier with a plastic bin liner full of dirty laundry. He gave them to Chris to hand-wash and iron during the evening. There were now neat piles of Bert's freshly ironed underpants, wife-beaters and socks on the table.

I raised an eyebrow at Chris, chucking my car keys down.

"Beer."

He scuttled off to the kitchen to fetch me a cold lager.

"Score?"

"One each. Ten minutes left." Bert replied, stubbing out his Marlboro. He was meant to have given up but there were already several cigarette butts in the ashtray.

"Jane?"

Bert jerked his chin over his shoulder at the doorway.

"I sent her to pretty herself up."

I sat down in an armchair and started watching the match. Chris returned with an open beer bottle and placed it carefully on the shelf beside me. I bought his pink tracksuit online. It's a skin-tight one-piece, with a zip all the way up the back. One of those you put on the pants first then shuck yourself into the top half. Every detail of his chastity tube was visible under the taut latex.

Bert's grand-nephew Jim was watching us. I caught his eye.

"I assume Bert's told you all about Chris and Jane."

Jim nodded, stubbing out his cigarette.

We made small talk for a while, half watching the game. Chris was finishing up Bert's ironing and preparing the piles neatly for inspection.

"You married?" I asked Jim.

"No."

"How long you home for?"

"Seventy two hours leave." He replied. "Then I've got to fly somewhere."

At that moment, a vision in white appeared in the doorway. When they saw my grin, Bert and Jim turned their heads too.

Jane was dressed in an outfit I'd purchased from a fancy dress website; tagged a 'sexy wedding passion night bridal costume'.

It was cheap, tacky stuff, made in China. But she looked great. She had a white veil on her head, a frilly one-piece white babydoll, white stockings and garters, and cream high heels. I glanced over at Chris who was gawping at his wife.

"Fuck me." Bert whistled.

Jane blushed under her veil. But she was posed, hands on hips, provocatively.

"Leave the fucking ironing and go to her, Chris." I barked.

He propped the iron in its stand and walked over to Jane.

"Bring her here and introduce her."

Chris took the tips of Jane's fingers and guided her round the sofa to us. She walked perilously in the high stilettos. He presented her to Bert first.

"Now to Jim." I said.

"S ... Sir." Chris stammered. "May I present my wife Jane?"

Jim didn't smile or even nod. He simply stood ramrod straight. Jane curtseyed.

"Jim has been serving his country, risking his life. He deserves recognition, doesn't he?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Civilians like you should offer your women to soldiers like Jim, shouldn't they?"

Chris's throat made a rasping noise. "Y ... yes, Sir." He lowered his head and looked at Jim's chest as he spoke. "Please, Sir. I should like to offer you use of my wife, Sir. If she pleases you?"

Bert beamed in approval. Jim still barely moved a muscle.

"Are you staying with Bert?" I asked.

"No. I have my own one-bed place not far away. Not much but it's mine."

"Then it could probably use a woman's touch?"

Jim's hard eyes glinted, getting my drift. Chris blanched.

"In that case, you need a proper wife for three days while you're here on leave. Somebody to cook, clean, as well as look after your sexual needs. Isn't that right, Chris?"

"Yes, Sir."

I reached behind Jane and pushed her towards Jim.

"You're dressed very appropriately, aren't you my slut? Ready to go. I can cope without you for 72 hours. Besides, I've just been meeting a new submissive who's a whole lot sexier than you are."

Jane flashed me a look before Jim jerked her roughly into him.

Bert winked. "Just a reminder, Jim lad. No cunt action. No orgasms for her. But you can do what you like otherwise. Treat her like those Asian hookers you are so partial to."

We watched Jim wrap Jane in his iron grip. He reached under her veil and tugged her head back by her hair. Her mouth opened in a gasp and he kissed her.

I grinned at Chris.

"Hold on a sec. I have a suggestion."

Jim broke away from Jane's mouth. They all looked at me.

"Chris should at least have a chance to save his wife's honor, right? He should be able to fight Jim and beat him up for assaulting her."

After a second's silence, Bert and Jim laughed.

"Of course, it may turn out that Jim beats Chris up instead?"

I stared at Chris, waiting for his decision. Jane's veil had fallen off. She was wiping her lips on the back of her hand. Her nails were freshly varnished bright red.

"Come on Chris, show the bastard!" I teased.

The two men sized each other up. One, a 32 yr old, 5' 10" civilian. The other, a decade younger, highly trained 6' 2" professional soldier.

I could see the battle in Chris's eyes.

"Don't Chris." Jane whispered.

"If you're not going to fight him, then kneel down and apologize to him."

Chris grimaced, shut his eyes and clenched his fists. Then he bent his leg and dropped onto one knee in front of Jim. I glanced at Jane. There was a battle raging in her eyes too. I realized that Jim's macho power secretly excited her.

"I'm sorry Sir." Chris mumbled.

I twisted the bayonet.

"And my wife is yours."

"And m ... my wife ... is y ... yours."

COMING SOON

ACT FIVE: CATHARSIS