53 Days

“So, how many days has it been, now?”

I brushed away a fine hair that had been tickling my nose and thought for a moment. “Fifty three days so far,” I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

“I, uh, have some bad news,” she said after pausing for a few seconds. “I have to go to Kansas again.”

“Oh, dammit. Don’t even tell me. . .”

“Yeah, it’s going to be late next week,” she replied, almost sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training.”

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. “You know, you promised only sixty days this time,” I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. “By the time the weekend rolls around it’s going to be sixty four days.”

“Oh, come on,” she replied, “that’s only five percent extra. After two whole months, what’s another half a week?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you not coming for two months. Let’s see how you’d react if I told you you’d have to go for four days, let alone sixty four.”

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and pad toward the bathroom. “Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week.”

I snorted, “Yeah, right. And have it get lost like that other time? No, thanks.”

The sound of water tinkled around the door. “Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody,” I called out. “Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both.”

“You son of a bitch,” she sputtered, “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. “I think you’re missing the point of having your cock locked up.”

“Yeah, somebody cute and kinky,” I mused aloud. “How about that cute blonde that works with you. You know, with the big rack. What’s her name. . . Chris?”

I didn’t hear my wife’s answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, “You bastard! I’ll get you for that!”

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.

. . .

It wasn’t until Thursday that she brought it up again.

“So, I gave it some thought,” she said between bites of salad and grilled salmon, “and I thought that maybe it was a bit unfair to ask you to wait an extra four days, especially since I’m not going to be around.”

“No, don’t be silly,” I responded, sprinkling a little more balsamic vinegar on my salad, “Not having you around might actually make it easier for me. And what the hell, it’s only four days.”

She shrugged. “Okay, whatever. I’ll tell Chris not to bother.”

The clink of my fork falling to the plate made her look up with a sly smile. “This wine is good. Have we had it before?”

“What did you say?” I asked slowly.

“The wine. Have we had this before?”

“Aauurrgghh! No, about Chris! What the hell did you do?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just asked Chris at work about holding the key. You remember Chris, right? Tall, blond hair, works out at the gym. . .”

Oh hell, I thought. I hope that she didn’t tell Chris what the key was for. She wouldn’t do that. Would she? Damn, yes she would.

“Oh my freakin’ God. You told somebody you’ve got me locked up? Are you out of your mind?”

“It was your idea, you big jerk. I told Chris that I had a key for a lock that you would be interested in opening, only for one day. You’d have to give it back the next day. Now, stop hogging that wine and pour me another glass.”

I put my head in my hands. Oh my freakin’ God, one of her friends knows. By next week, her whole freakin’ office was going to know that she keeps my cock locked away, only letting me out once in a great while.

“Oh, and by the way, I mentioned that part of the deal was that you had to be especially nice to Chris if you wanted the key.”

I looked up. “Especially nice? As in, if I weren’t nice I might not get the key?”

My wife nodded, smirking.

I groaned.

“I’ll get the dishes tonight, honey,” she said to me in mock sympathy. “Go take a shower and lay down, you look a little pale.”

. . .

“Umm. . . about Chris,” I began. It was Saturday night; we were in the bedroom and she had almost finished packing for her Sunday flight. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“Her?” she asked absent-mindedly. “Oh, Chris. Are you still worried about that?”

I nodded. “Of course I am.”

Smiling she asked “Have you been worried about that for the last few days? Gosh, and all this time I was thinking that you’d enjoy the chance to have some fun with my cute friends. After all, it was your idea.” She pushed me back onto the bed. “And since I’m not going to be around, Chris will determine whether or not you can be unlocked after I get back. Oh, and Pat, too.”

“Pat? Who the hell is Pat?” I demanded.

“Why, it’s Chris’s partner, of course,” she reminded me, “Don’t you remember them from the summer picnic?”

“Oh, sure,” I lied. For crying out loud, there’s a bazillion women working for this company, I can’t keep track of all of them. “Umm. . . so, by ‘partner,’ you mean that Chris is. . .”

“Is gay, yes.” she finished. She smiled a little too sweetly. “You don’t remember them, do you?”

“No, no, of course I remember! Blonde, tall, Chris. Big rack. The one who’s got a partner named Pat.”

She eyed me narrowly. “You don’t remember Chris or Pat, do you?”

“Sure I do. From the summer picnic, right?”

She hit me with the pillow.

Hmm, I thought. All I have to do is be “especially” nice to a couple of her cute friends from work? And if they work out at the gym, they must be at least in halfway decent shape. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

. . .

Knowing that we would be apart for the rest of the week, my wife finished up her packing first thing in the morning so that we’d get to spend some quality time before she had to leave for the airport. She teased me by being as vague as possible about the things that I’d have to do for Chris, telling me only that it was entirely up to me as to whether or not I’d be allowed to come – and how. I told her that I still felt a little disappointed; after having been denied for two months, I’d much rather have an orgasm with her – it’s generally much more fun.

“Generally?” she sneered, “You’re just digging yourself deeper and deeper, aren’t you?”

That probably explains how I ended up naked and tied down to the bed. My wife kneeled over me, the key to my chastity device hanging tantalizingly from a chain around her neck.

“So, before you go, are you going to tell me what the deal is with Chris?”

She looked down at me, grinning evilly and lightly scratching me with her nails. “Why, does it really matter?”

“Uhh. . . doesn’t it matter to you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The other day I told Chris that you would be very anxious to get this key. But after thinking about it for a few days, I decided that this might be a good test to see how badly you really want to come.”

Frowning up at her, I asked “Are you serious? What about your promise to let me out in sixty days?”

She shrugged again. “I changed my mind. I was thinking that this would take us into a new level. ‘Push the boundaries’, isn’t that what you always say?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What are you saying? How long are you going to keep me locked up?”

She tweaked my nipple, making me gasp. “That will depend upon you.” She put her finger over my lips and continued, “See, that’s the ‘pushing the boundary’ part. If Chris tells me that you’ve been. . .” she paused to consider a moment, “. . . cooperative, then I’ll be more inclined to allow you to come after I get back. If you’re not cooperative, then you’ll continue to be locked up.”

“But. . . for how much longer?”

“Until you’re . . . more cooperative, I guess,” she finished.

This wasn’t too bad, I thought. It sounded like my wife was expecting me to be very accommodating to one of her friends. Chris sounded like a hot number. Hmmm.

“Okay, what’s the catch?” I demanded, suspiciously.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked sweetly.

“It sounds like you’ve given Chris carte blanche with me for the rest of the week.”

She nodded. “That might be a good way to put it,” she replied.

“But, what if she wants something intimate? Like, you know, sex or something?”

She smiled. “You’re locked up, silly, remember?”

“Well, what if she wants oral sex?”

“She? You mean Chris?”

I nodded, not liking the grin fixed on her face for the last few minutes.

“Oh, no problem. Chris loves oral.”

This sounded too good to be true.

“Uh, that means that I might have to, er , you know. . . ” I looked up at her, hoping that she’d catch my drift.

“Are you asking for my permission?”

I nodded again.

“Chris is my friend, so I’d expect you to be as . . . accommodating as possible. Of course, if you want to continue to be locked up long after I get back . . .”

I relaxed and tried to repress my smile.

She leaned over to give me a long, passionate kiss, her warm breasts pressed against my chest. I moaned with desire, my cock stirring in the plastic cage. After a moment she pulled away and cupped her hands around my swollen balls. She flicked a finger against the device, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’ve got to get ready to leave,” she said simply, and quickly put on her blouse and skirt. I watched as she slipped into her shoes and walked toward the bathroom.

“Hey,” I called after her, “what about me?”

I started as the doorbell suddenly rang. She reappeared from the bathroom and walked toward the door. “What about you?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Are you going to just leave me here?” I whispered

Apparently so. I heard her walk down the hallway and open the door. I heard some low voices, and then footsteps coming back up the hall. Oh shit, I thought, she can’t be bringing somebody in here now, could she? I tested my restraints, but they held fast.

My wife walked back into the room. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and grabbed her bags, and wheeled them back down the hall. A pause, then the low voices again and more footsteps back up the hall.

She popped back into the room, shrugging into her jacket. “Honey, I’ve got to go.” She grabbed the CB-3000, my arousal making it stick out from my body. “But since you’re already tied down and excited, I thought it would be a shame to let all this testosterone go to waste.” She walked back to the door and motioned.

A moment later, her two friends came in.

Both obviously had spent some time working out at the gym. One was a tall blond. With a big. . .

Shaking my head, I started pulling against the chains that held me down.

“Honey, you remember my friends Christopher and Patrick, don’t you?,” she asked sweetly. “You know, from the summer picnic?”

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More of my ridiculous attempts at erotica can be found on my Stories page.