Tuesday, October 28, 2014


We were in bed last night, kissing, talking about how we couldn't wait for the weekend.

"I miss it," she had said.

"Him," I asked, "or it?"

"Both," she admitted. "I miss it...it's...yea," she practically blushed. "But I miss him, too, his..."

"Masculinity," I suggested.

"Hmmm," she leaned over, kissed my nose. "He's got a way about him, doesn't he?"

"Yea," I agreed, looking away for a moment.

"You're naughty," she playfully smacked me.

"What," I protested.

"I know what you're thinking, Sara, don't get ahead of yourself, these are his decisions."


"Let it take it's time, let him meet Sara." She moved her hand down my stomach to distract me, I inhaled sharply as I swelled in the cage. "Sorry," she teased, "I shouldn't do that."

"You could...help...you know," I suggested, implying she free me.

"Not...not this close to a date," she said, "we like you to...anticipate."


"Matthew, love."

"You talk about...that?"

"Yes...some." She looked away, like she was guilty of something. "You did too," she said.

"A little," I said.

"Nice choice of words," she teased.

"What's he say? What do you talk about," I asked.

"Comparing notes, love," she teased again.


"He was surprised, he'd never been involved with anyone that did this before. Chastity. He's fascinated by it."

"That's cause he wants you for himself," I said

She took my meaning different than I meant; she took it as pouting, complaining. "Sara, he has NO issues with our intimacy, you know that," she said defensively.

"Em, I know," I said, "I didn't mean to imply he does. I was just saying he's fascinated by it because he wants intercourse for himself, not you you for himself."

"Oh," she softened. "That's it, you know, he really does encourage this," she said. "I think in other situations he felt the husband's needs...selfish needs he said...interfering with his bond with the woman. Like the husband's pestering for intercourse became a competition, a distraction."

"I can see how it would," I said.

"So he thinks this," she touched the cage, "is perfect. Plus, he said it emphasizes your...place."

"Well at least he didn't ask for the key," I joked. Her eyes darted away as soon as I said that. "Emily!"

"What? We talked about it, Sara, why wouldn't we? He's...he's in charge, isn't he?"

"Yes, but...but you're my wife!"

"You're so melodramatic. That's exactly what he said. Hell, it's what I said. He's got no issues with that...we're all on the same page...unlocking it to...you know...play...that's up to me...he has his own thoughts, of course, and tells me them...but it's my decision. We're just not allowed to...you know...but he said he told you the same thing."

Now I looked away. "He did."

"And he thinks the week before he and I go out, you shouldn't...be free...and if that was a problem, he'd be happy to hold it for the week."

"Em, no!"

"Methinks thou doth protest too much," she grinned. "We're not using it anyway, don't you think it would be...interesting...to have him hold it? Just for the week, anyway?"


"Very...symbolic...I could give it to him...or you could," she said in a tone that was half serious, half teasing.

"Em, I...I don't know," I hesitated.

"I know, love," she touched my face, "it's probably a bad idea." It might be, but it was a seed planted, too.

"You know," she said after a minute, "I like what it represents now, it like...defines roles. Some things are for Matthew, some for my pretty girl."

"Did he ask for it," I asked, unwilling to let it go.

"Ask for what?"

"The...the key?"

"He didn't ask," she said, "we talked about it, but he didn't ask for it."

"He demanded it?"

"No, Sara, he wouldn't...not that...we'd talk about something like that. All of us. I'm not sure I'd like that, anyway...I mean...I like to control some things, too. After all, you're mine, love...this is mine," she touched me. "It always will be."

"He's so...I don't know," I said.

"Masculine? Dominant? Assertive?"

"Yea," I said.

"Yea," she said.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Three Way Relationship

Joyce Bruno in the comments said, "Oh MY So now HE IS IN CHARGE OF BOTH OF YOU! How are you feeling about that?"

Well, to be honest, he was in charge of both of us from go. Seriously.

And that's what makes Matthew special.

Unlike someone else (Jeff), he doesn't think he's simply fucking someone else's wife. He is, of course, but that's just part of the relationship he's in.

Yes, he gets, and always has, understood that being who he is...a single man and a dom...he's been invited into an existing marriage. He understood that from go, when we met, when he asked us what we wanted. He understood that and has worked to make sure our goals, not just his, not just Emily's, but mine also, are met.

Yes, what he wants is important...he's the dom, after all, it's only natural for him to feel like he can be assertive with his needs. But he's respective of Emily's needs and my needs.

What works is that all our wants and needs have significant areas of overlap.

But he's in charge.

And you know what, we want him in charge.

Emily and I have played with tease and denial for some time now, you all know that. But it's so powerful, so thrilling (so humiliating) to hear Matthew say it, to hear him take charge of that, to have him make sexual intercourse a monogamous activity for Matthew and Emily (or mostly so...he didn't say Emily and I can never have intercourse, just that it will be rare and at his discretion. (When and if I get to orgasm remains generally within Emily's discretion).

Of course he's in control of me. A man cannot consistently call someone else's wife 'his whore' without being firmly in control of the couple, can he?

He's been in control of Sara, too, since the beginning. He's decided the when, the how, and by taking his time, by waiting until now, he's done what he's done about everything-retained control.

The three of us set mutual round rules and boundaries, we mutually composed a musical piece.

But Matthew, as the dom, is the conductor, the maestro. He directs us, he tells us when something is more important, he gives emphasis. And rules.

He's inside both of our heads and to be honest, we trust him.

We have expectations. We expect him to be honest. We expect him to be monogamous. We expect him to treat us with respect. We expect him to remember that Emily and I are a married couple. We expect him to remember this is a threesome, not a woman cheating on her husband, so to include me. We expect him to expect us to be intimate, as a couple. We expect him to act like a masculine man, a dominant man, to take and keep control.

He has expectations, too. He expects to be the dom, he made that clear from the beginning, he will not be in a relationship where he competes with the husband. He has a busy schedule and because I certainly get much more time with Emily, he expects that she'll be available when he has time. Even on short notice. He expects Emily to be ready and in the mood when she's with him. He expects neither Emily or I will 'control from the bottom.' He expects to be treated with respect. He expects to be obeyed. He expects my wife to be his whore.

So, of course he's in control. Of all of this. Of course.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Hot and Cold

So far we've run hot and cold with Matthew, things heating up when our schedules allow, cooling down when we're busy.

I think things are hot now.

"Did you two behave last night," he texted me after lunch. I was taken back, not sure what he meant, so I wasn't sure how to answer.

"I asked you a question; if you're busy, a yes or no will do."

"I don't know," I responded. "What's the definition of behaving?"

"Emily said she wanted some intimate time with you, behaving is observing boundaries, respecting what's yours and what's mine."

Suddenly I got his meaning, blushed deeply.

"So, did you behave?"

"Yes, Sir," I typed, adding the sir reflexively. "We don't do that very often."

"You haven't since we all met, right?"


"Do you like to?"

"Yes. I don't know. That's complicated."

"I can imagine. Not from personal experience, of course, I've never had those issues. It's complicated for her, too."

"I suppose," I said.

"People build up expectations, get disappointed when they aren't met."

I felt defensive. "I guess."

"Did expectations get fulfilled last night," he asked.


"She agreed."

"You talked to her about it," I asked him.

"Of course. As you talk to her about what she and I do...though for different reasons."

"What do you mean?"

"I know my role; it's important for you and Emily to bond over the experiences she and I share. It's important for you to have a stake in this. You understand I want the two of you to be intimate, don't you? It's important to me that you believe that."

"I do."

"But not intimate like Emily and I are."

"I know...it was always rare."

"Yes, but there are two differences now," he said. "First, intercourse is no longer either rare or disappointing for her, is it?"

"I suppose not, no."

"Second, the decision to limit your intercourse with his her is no longer hers, it's mine." I swallowed, wasn't sure how to respond.

"You know, it amuses me."

"What amuses you," asked.

"Nothing...the irony. I'm looking forward to next week."

"Your slutty whore?"

"Yes, my slutty whore. I'm curious what you picked, but not just that. I'm looking forward to meeting Sara, too."

I know Emily has told him how important that is, so I was fairly confident he wouldn't tease me about that, wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. But that didn't change how nervous I was. Or how much I was looking forward to it.

Turn Ons

When I got home last night, Emily wasn't in the kitchen of living room, so I called out her name.

"In here," she said, her voice coming from our bedroom. I walked there, found her sitting on the bed smiling devilishly, her skirt having ridden well up her legs, giving a peak of her stocking tops.

"What's wrong," I asked, wondering what I'd done.

"I talked to Matthew this afternoon," she stood, walked slowly towards me. "Apparently someone did some shopping today."

"What...what did he say," I asked, worried he ruined the surprise I wanted. "He promised."

"Promised what, love?"

"He promised not to tell you," I pouted.

"He didn't, love."

"What did he say, then," I asked.

She leaned over, whispered in my ear. "He said you've been such a good little boy."

"He didn't," I closed my eyes.

"He did, love...I swear...and I think I got wet the second he said it."


"Such a good little boy...god...to hear my lover say that..."

"Em..." I touched her arm, felt the spark, the tension.

"I want you," she said.

"Emily, fuck..."

"No, no," she said, "that's for him...I want my pretty girl..."

"Does it make you hot, too, listening to him, obeying him, submitting to him?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"I want to make love to my pretty girl."

We did, we cuddled, we kissed, we licked, we touched.

"It turns me on every time you see him," she said.

"It turns me on seeing you so timid with him."

"It turns me on thinking about him meeting Sara."

"It turns me when you watch him touch me."

And after she came again and again, I did, too, milked, her favorite dildo inside me, probing me, while I leaked, dripped.

"Such a good girl," she said, "such a good little girl."

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


Matthew had ordered me to tell him when I picked a costume, so I did this afternoon after I ordered everything. "I picked and ordered things for a costume for Em :)"

Unusual for him, he responded immediately. "What's she going as?"

"It's a surprise," I told him.

"Perhaps for her..."

"Don't you want to be surprised, too?"

"Just to exactly what she's wearing, yes, as to the theme, no...I need to plan what I'm wearing, too."

"Oh. I just thought I'd surprise both of you."

"I want to coordinate," he responded. "Slutty nurse...doctor. Slutty school girl...teacher, etc."

I thought of the things I'd ordered to go with things we already had. What was so exciting was now so...humiliating. I considered lying, switching. I could do slutty nurse in ten minutes.

"She's..." I typed, didn't finish, didn't hit send.

"Slutty what," he typed, his words somehow demanding.

"She's going as a whore," I finished. "As your whore," I added.

"My slutty whore...well...why leave any question in anyone's mind. Hers, mine, or yours."

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

I picked a costume today.

It's going to be a surprise for both Emily and Matthew.

Peace of Mind

Sure, a man would revolt at this, but sissies understand the comfort, the peace of mind, that comes from being safely locked away. They know their little clits have no place inside a woman.

Monday, October 20, 2014


Matthew and I had an, er...interesting text message exchange early this afternoon (technically it was an iMessage exchange, since we both use iPhones and Macs and were both on our respective Macs at work, but I digress with nerdy stuff).

So, he texted me to first congratulate Emily and me on our race and to congratulate me on a PR (Emily did not PR as her time is faster than mine and she so lovingly paced me the second half of the course.

He is, of course, totally in favor of Emily and me doing things together as a couple (except that one thing, that's his thing only now). He's healthy himself and encouraging about diet and exercise. Some, perhaps, is for selfish reasons-Emily's very attractive, in-shape body of the type he likes. Some, though, for encouraging Emily and I to do things as a couple. And running, in particular (according to Emily last week), because he thinks it's a good activity for a guy like me (as opposed to lifting anything more than moderate weights). "Keeps him trim," or something like that.

Later, he asked about my progress on picking a costume for Emily. And that's when things got a bit warm and tight. Like I was blushing and my once again caged penis was swelling.

When asked on my progress, I told him I'd looked at some things, considered a few things, but hadn't come to a decision yet.

"It's coming up, make a decision by Friday," he said, in that way he commands.

"I will," I promised. "What's the party like, I'm not sure how sexy to go."

"Sexy? Your instruction was slutty," he responded immediately.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "sexy, slutty; I appreciate how you want her dressed."

"I don't think you do. Sexy is beautiful, slutty is hot. Sexy is one item of revealing clothing, slutty is an entire outfit."

"Sexy is a peak of lingerie, slutty is an entire lingerie set."

"Sexy says I want to meet a nice guy, slutty says I want to get fucked. There's a difference between Sexy Halloween and Slutty Halloween..."

And then I got the bubble response, the long text coming response.

"Sexy Halloween is for women who want to be risqué. Sexy Halloween is for women who want to be safely adventurous. Sexy Halloween sends the message, to the other people at a party, that a woman feels frisky and may light a few candles for her husband before switching things up and being on top. Sexy Halloween is for good girls who just want to pretend to be bad. That's Sexy Halloween. Sexy Halloween is what a good, beta provider husband looks forward to. It's his wife climbing on top of him, thrust, thrust, thrust, ugggghhhhhh and asking her in that soft, nervous voice, 'wwwwwas it good for you when he knows it wasn't.' Sexy Halloween is a woman hoping the sexy costume and the candles make a difference and she doesn't have another night of unsatisfying sex. Sexy Halloween is for good girls. That's NOT what I instructed, is it?"

I swallowed, felt myself tighten in the cage. "No."

"Sexy Halloween is what I'd allow you to have if I was otherwise engaged that night. Minus the thrusting, of course."

More typing.

"But I told you Slutty Halloween. Slutty Halloween is a woman who needs a man's attention. Slutty Halloween is for women who want to be taken to places they're afraid to admit exist. Slutty Halloween sends the message, to other people at a party, that a woman wants a man to fuck the ever loving shit out of her, to make her cum like she never has before. Slutty Halloween is a woman who want a man to take control. Slutty Halloween if for a woman who wants a man to do things she'd never dream of asking her husband to do. Slutty Halloween is for bad girls. Girls who fuck, girls who beg a man for his cock. Girls who swallow That's what I instructed you. Slutty Halloween."

I responded the only way I could. "Fuck."

"That's right, that's what you're looking for, slutty, NOT sexy. I want to fuck, not I want to make love. I'm his whore, not I'm his wife."

"But it's a party. And other people."

"It's an adult party...not that kind, before you ask...but she won't be the only one there dressed like that, sending the message that she's someone's whore that night. I expect her dressed so every single person knows what she's doing that night, so every single person assumes, when she excuses herself to go to the bathroom, that's she's not going to pee, but to get on her hands and knees and suck cock!

I wasn't sure what to say, just sat, let my mind run.

"Things getting 'tight'? Tell the truth."


"Sexy is wondering if a woman's husband is going get 'get luck' later that night (hint, not usually), slutty is wondering if a woman's boyfriend is going to fuck her in the club's bathroom, in the alley, or in the car."


"Tighter still? Tell the truth."

"Yes, but..." I paused, he didn't.

"Here, let me give you a visual. This is Sexy Halloween..." He texted me a picture:

...sexy, right?"

"Yes, very," I typed.

"The kind of thing a beta husband would die for, right?"


"He's spend all night hoping against hope she'd do that special thing he begs for, you know, take him in her mouth just for a few seconds, cause that's all he gets (no you can't in my mouth, dear, that's gross). That's Sexy Halloween. Get it?"

"Yes," I responded. 

"Well this is Slutty Halloween...the kind of thing a real man demands..." He texted a second picture:

...that's what your going for. Slutty, so there's no question in anyone's mind...Emily's, your's, everyone at the party, there's no question that she's my whore. And that the only thing she wants that night is my cock."

"Fuck," I responded again, the only response.

"Oh I will, trust me, I will. Several times. So keep shopping and make a decision. Find Slutty Halloween."

Ten minutes later, one last text. "And don't forget, because I won't, Emily's maid is on duty that night."

"I...I won't."

"All night. To help her get ready, to meet her boyfriend, and...I love this part, it's so naughty, so beta...to clean up later."

Tight. It was tight the rest of the afternoon.

Our Interests as a Couple

Consider it mundane, but in the spending time together vein (very important for our kind of relationship), Emily and I were out of town this weekend as we ran a half marathon yesterday.

She paced me to a PR (yay Emily and yay Sara).

She's the best.


For inquiring minds, no, I don't run in a chastity cage. I do wear this cute Freya Active sports bra and short set, though, under my rights and running shirt.

See, aren't girl's clothes so much better?

Monday, October 13, 2014


Someone mentioned, and it's true, I don't update everything that happens with Emily, myself, Matthew, etc. That would be repetitive. And boring. I don't even update on all the exciting things, either (like when Matthew texted that he's pleased I wear a chastity cage and that conversation).

They did go out on Saturday, which was nice, it had been several weeks, and it was great watching her get dressed, great seeing the way he touched her, controlled her and us. Great pampering her afterwards.

And great what he said before they left.

"Halloween's in a few weeks, I'm taking Emily to a costume party on that Saturday. I want you to get her a costume...I know it's a cliche...the whole 'slutty this and slutty that' for Halloween, but that's what I want."

"Of course," I said watching the man who had both hands on my wife's body.

"And one other thing your wife and I talked about..."

I looked at Em, she smiled, looked down.


"It seems appropriate, Halloween and all; I expect her maid Sara to be on duty that night." My eyes went wide, he grinned. "Enough pretending, don't you think."

Thursday, October 2, 2014

The Word

My phone buzzed. Matthew. He texted both of us the other day, during the day, something he does, for obvious reasons.

"Emily is my _____."

I swallowed, immediately felt myself swell in the cage, picked up my phone, typed, fingers shaking. "Whore."

I watched my phone for half an hour, unable to focus, waited for him to respond. He knew I was on edge, her too. Wanted it. Planned it. The text was about roles, asserting his dominance, his control. And, I think, about sexualizing Emily. Not in a bad way, I mean, it was kinky, dirty, sexy, erotic, and the entire thing was about sex, but a subtle reminder their relationship was based on sex, not love. It wasn't that he didn't respect Emily (or me), it's that he set the tone. And in a way reminded both of us he understood his role in, mine.

Finally, it buzzed. "Very good. Emily, how does a whore greet a man?"

"On her knees," Emily responded immediately, "waiting..."

"For," he asked.

I saw the text bubbles from Emily. Typing. Then nothing. Bubbles again. Nothing.

"Emily." Just the word, on the screen, was a rebuke. I knew...she must have too.

"Waiting for his cock." If a phone could show a blush, I'd have seen her blush.

We both waited now, for his response, my wife an I in separate buildings, sitting at our respective desks, waiting for him to respond. He knew what that wait did, of course he knew.

Finally...finally, he answered. "Such a good girl. So how do you greet me, Emily?"

I knew what was coming. "On my knees...waiting for your cock."

"She ever greet you like that," he typed, directed at me.

"No," I typed, fingers shaking. "No, Sir."

"Why," he asked, no waiting this time.

I swallowed, dared to type it...after all, he invited it. "Because I'm not a man?"

"Exactly. Something we need to talk about...soon."

Oh, I do...every day...every single day.

I love the taste of them