~ Good Example ~
Part 1 of a short piece inspired by the work of Barbara O’Toole or “Barb”
The yard work left him sweaty, grimy, and aching, so the hot massage of a shower brought welcome relief. A short time later, Greg was settling in to read a novel when his phone vibrated. Grumbling, he tilted the screen, then bit his lip as he read the text from his wife.
“On the way home with Pat and a friend. Dress accordingly.”
That terse message spoke volumes. Lydia would be returning from church, a fifteen-minute drive. Rising to enter the kitchen, Greg glanced at the text a second time and nervous tension settled in to gnaw at him.
When Lydia had guests over, she expected refreshments to be available. But it wasn’t drinks and snacks that made him nervous – it was what she might have planned for amusement.
Even after eleven years of marriage, Greg was forever unsure as to what Lydia might subject him to. This was partly because it was a wife-led marriage, which had always involved corporal punishment for errors. But the more pressing reason was the same one that caused Lydia to pounce on him after a few dates.
Once she discovered he was naturally submissive to women, masochistic, and tended to embarrass all-too easily, she was quick to press him for marriage. After they tied the knot, Lydia’s used beatings, humiliation, and her sweet but domineering nature to keep Greg’s attention where she wanted it – on her. Reflecting on this history, Greg realized his growing anxiety regarding the text was actually well-informed. Of course, this knowledge only made him more nervous.
Anxious, curious, and somewhat turned on – that awkward combination he never grew accustomed to occupied his mind and worried his nerves as he shuffled around the kitchen working to prepare for the arrival of his wife and her friends. Finished arranging cheese and crackers around some mixed fruit, he went to fill the ice bucket.
Cool air from the freezer washing down his bare chest and genitals was a not-so-subtle reminder Greg was completely naked. That was how Lydia expected him to be whenever he was alone with her or in the company of others who lived in similar arrangements. Males were to be naked in the home wearing nothing more than the occasional collar and a chastity cage. Not all the women in their circle of friends incorporated BDSM into their wife-led marriage, but there was a consensus when it came to male chastity.
Scooping ice into the bucket, Greg gritted his teeth at some of the temporary frustrations of chastity as remembering Lydia’s promise to allow him a supervised masturbation session sent his cock surging against the cage. But as they were to have company, the cage was certainly a blessing as it made embarrassingly evident excitement more difficult to observe.
“Dress accordingly” was a code they’d worked out ago to indicate he wasn’t to be dressed at all. Lydia and Patricia had been friends since college and determined to only engage in female-led relationships, but Lydia hadn’t named the ‘friend’ which meant it was someone new. Of course, Greg had plenty of experience of how Patricia and Lydia could become downright competitive when it came to sadism, so the fact there was someone new to make an impression on was good reason to go from nervousness to worry.
Hearing his wife’s car pull up, Greg swallowed hard and put the finishing touches on the refreshments where he’s arranged them on the coffee table. A few moments later, he heard a second vehicle arrive, followed by car doors shutting and the friendly banter of female voices. After a quick scan of the room, Greg retreated to the kitchen as it was often safer to be out of sight and mind until a drink or task required his presence.
He heard the door open, and then his wife and the other’s entering amid a swirl of laughter before Lydia raised her voice to be heard.
“Yes, Chastity’s important. But it’s most effective when combined with beatings. Punishment and maintenance beatings make for an obedient man. All you need for those is a good wooden hairbrush or belt, rules you stick to, and some practice. Speaking of practice, where did that boy of mine scurry off to?”
Hearing his wife’s prescriptions, Greg bit his lip and slumped into a kitchen chair before leaning over the table to bury his flushed face in his hands.
From the sound of things, it was going to be a long afternoon.
(To be Continued…)
If you enjoyed this and want more, the next installment is published here.
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