Andover came in and his wife was smiling. Kassie twirled her curly strawberry blonde hair and was looking at him quizzically.
“How were things today, Andover?” She came up and kissed him tenderly. “I know it’s not been easy, what with the belt and all.”
It’s tough to have a beautiful, young trophy wife, but even more difficult when said wife has locked up your cock.
“It-it’s…Well, I felt kind of cramped between my thighs. And Mrs. Ostrynski’s daughter came in to help out with typing.”
“Of course…you have the hots for that underaged little twat, don’t you?”
“She’s not underaged. She’s twenty-two.”
Kassie lightly kicked Andover in the nuts. Lightly, you understand.
Andover, drama queen that is, buckled.
But Kassie rallied and pulled him up to look at her, her breasts jutting at him.
She pushed his face into her soft, cented cleavage.
“You are such a degenerate. I remember when your first wife said that when I was a co-respondent in that court thing.”
“It was my second wife.” Andover commented in a muffled fashion.
Kassie pulled back slightly. “Do you like my little top?”
Andover looked hungrily at Kassie’s tits in the little mesh um, blouse.
“Oh, God, yes.” He tried to touch her boobs, and was roundly slapped.
“You know I didn’t say ‘Simon Says’ now Did I? Why don’t you take off your clothes, honey?”
Andover disrobed rapidly, and endured Kassie’s cuffed his wrists behind his back.
She dropped to one knee and removed his chatity belt, murmuring sympathetically as his cramped penis came out, trying to elongate.
It had been forty-seven days since the last time he’d been allowed an “accident” and God, was he horny for her!
Certainly he had been the one to propose chatity and had been visiting professional dominatrixes, perhaps longer than Kassie had been alive.
And she, after all, had once been his nineteen-year-old temporary typist.
At that time, Andover had been a real estate speculator, and he and Kassie had often toured various properties, and she’d beaten and teased him in all sorts of domiciles.
Now she rubbed his cock to the point that he felt as if he were a fire hose about to blow.
WHACK!
“Ooow!” Andover looked down in horror, and Kassie was brandishing a short quirt that she’d bought when they had been visiting an Indian reservation.
It was a deadly thing, and the leather lash was decorated with porcupine needs.
Kassie took aim again and swatted Andover’s cock, and he screamed.
“You just keep trying to prove you’re a heteroro normal alpha, and we know that’s not true, baby.” Kassie giggled.
That was indeed the case, just the night before, she’d had her delicious little hand in a scientific glove and shoved her little fist up Andover’ ass.
“I bet you tried to touch your wee-wee today, didn’t you, Andover?”
“Y-yes, I guess so.”
“It must be hell being in a cock cage, and rubbing your inflating penis in the little bars. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have a penis at all.”
Andover breathed inwardly and stared at her full lips, and then down at her manicured fingers, stroking and tickling his burgeoning member.
“And you look at all the cute little secretaries at the brokerage, and they kiss up to you constantly, giggling…”
Kassie stroked Andover’s penis a little faster.
“They’re all, ‘Morning Mister Duthmar, how are you?’ And I know more than one brushes up next to you as she passes in the hallway, holding her files.”
Andover thought about Ms. Crabtree, his actuary. More than once, he’d sneaked into the loo and tried to jack his cock in the cage, stopping when some asshole came into the lavatory, whistling and taking their time combining their hair.
Once he’d had to keep his hand off his caged penis for ten interminable minutes while two DICKHEADS had discussed the Buccaneers game.
And he’d toy with his imprisoned penis, but even then, his fans were submissive.
Miss Crabtree, whipping Andover’s butt with a frying pan…making him kiss her feet.
Often he didn’t even fantasize about her possible nudity, just about how she could torture him if he was nude and she clothed in whatever he’d seen her in that morning!
But it could only go on so long until his penis was Almost black with the straining constipation of the cruel cage, and he’d have to use water from the toilet to calm it down enough so he could get out of the stall and go back to work, walking oddly.
Late at night he would confess these activities to Kassie, as she had him spread-eagled on the bed.
Usually Kassie would be wearing a white lacy body stocking or perhaps a scarlet Merry Widow.
She’d sit on Andover’s face as he lay there trapped, and let him clean out her twat, sometimes licking the semen of others.
And then she’d lie next to him, his Kassie, and strokehis penis lightly as he told her about his Ms. Crabtree fansies.
“But don’t you know,” Kassie often told him, “Ms. Crabtree is just kidding you for a good performance review. She thinks you’re not very masculine, I remember her telling me this when I started at your firm. You’re a Nancy Boy.”
And then, of course poor Andover would burst into tears.
Now she lashed his stiff penis four or five more times, and he kept backing up, but his wrists were manacled, and it made him some clumsy.
“I am having company tonight, baby. I want you to assist us in bed.”
“Really? One of your hot friends?” He thought of Bubbles or Santiva.
“Aw, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Making it with Tiva. No, it’s my friend Ponch.”
“What? I can’t get involved with a guy. Why can’t you stay faithful?”
Kassie slammed the little quirt against Andover’s cock again and laughed merrily.
“You’ve cheated on every woman you’ve ever been with and you ask me that?”
Later in the evening, as Andover sucked Ponch’s balls as the younger man drove his penis into the quim of his pretty wife, he realized that he was in Paradise, if a peculiar one.
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