Wednesday, February 26, 2020


I saw Emily climb onto the bed, naked, on top of the covers, pick up a book. I went to the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I dressed in sheer pink bra over my breast forms, a sheer pink flyaway babydoll with matching sheer panties, a coordinating garter belt, nude stockings, and heels. With the cut of the babydoll and sheerness of the panties, my small pink chastity cage was obvious.

“Sara?” Emily said putting her book down.

“Emily,” I said shyly.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Doing? Nothing, Ma’am,” I said, sitting at her feet. “I just thought…maybe you’d like a foot massage.”

She frowned but held a foot out to me and I started rubbing, carefully focusing on nothing but her soft foot, or trying to, anyway.

“That feels nice,” she said, stretching, “but you know better.”

“Know…know better?”

“Sara,” she scolded me.

“I…I don’t know what you mean?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.


“You’re hoping to butter me up so I’ll get the key.”

“Emily, I’m not,” I said.

“Sara, you are,” she replied.

“Em, I…I just…”

“Can’t stop thinking about it?”

“Em,” I said again.

“Hope you can seduce me?”


“Is it tight? Is it sore?” she asked, touching my cage through the panties.

“Em, please…I…it’s been awhile…”

“It has, hasn’t it?”


“Has it?”


“I’m not unsympathetic, love,” she said rubbing me with her bare foot.

“Ohhhhh,” I moaned, feeling myself swell in the cage.

She giggled. “Is it because it’s been awhile or because someone can’t stop thinking about him.”

“It…it’s been awhile,” I said, a lie we both knew was a lie.

She sat up, lightly kissed me, reached between my legs, held me in her hand. 

“That’s not it, Sara, don’t tell me otherwise.”

“Em,” I moaned, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“I’m sympathetic, lover, I am, I really am,” she said, her tone cutting through me. 

“Em, please,” I begged softly.

“This is not a good time, you know that.”


“Right at the beginning…right after I was with him for the first time…I know you want to so badly, Sara, I do, but this is the worst time, this is the time when you absolutely shouldn’t.”

“Emily, please,” I begged.

“When you want it the worst is the worst time to say yes.”

“But…but Emily…”

“You know how you feel now, Sara, you know how you feel after, which one is better for us now?”

“It’s been so long, Emily,” I said, dodging the question. 

“Which one is better, Sara? Which feeling is better  for us now? When my sweet cuckold is aroused but frustrated or when she’s satisfied but petulant and questioning?”

“Emily, I…I won’t be.”

“You will, you know it, you always are. For a few days, you always are, don’t lie.”


“You always are, aren’t you?”

“M…maybe,” I allowed.

“Maybe,” she smiled at me. “Maybe?”


“Every time, lover, every time. You go from this, aroused, on edge, feminine, submissive, knowing your place to sulky, confused, petulant, questioning your place.”

“Emily…” I said, knowing she was right.

“It’s fine, love, we know it’s fine…but not now, not at the beginning.”


“I know, lover, I know…you want to so badly, don’t you? It’s difficult, you get so aroused when I’m with a man, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I burst out, “yes.”

“But so confused after.”

“I know, but…”

“Not at the beginning, Sara, not when we just started seeing him.”


“Do you want me to stop?”


“Seeing him? Do you want that? Was it too hard letting me be his whore?”

“Ohhhhhhh,” I moaned, eyes going back in my head.

“See, lover, that’s how you get when you’re like this, now, not after. Do you want to lose this feeling?”

“N…no,” I said softly.

She leaned over, mouth to my ear. “I loved the way he looked at me, when he realized, really realized I was his for the night, that I’d do what he wanted, whatever he wanted.”


“Not just a prim and proper, educated woman who might suck him for a minute and stop as soon as she could.”


“No, Sara, I was a married woman, prim and proper at home, but that night I was his, that night I was his whore. My body was his to do what he wanted, that night I was his whore.”

“Oh, god, Emily…”

“This feeling, Sara, you want this to go away?”

“No, no,” I said.

“You want the other one, sulky, confused?”


“Excited or disappointed? Cause you know you’ll feel bad after.”

“Excited,” I said, frustrated at my answer.

“Of course, lover, of course,” she said. “Of course.”

Half an hour later, I was calmer, excited, but calmer and she asked me and reassured me and nothing changed.

“Are you sure about this, love?” she asked several times.

“Yes,” I answered each time. “Yes. Yes.”

Sunday, February 23, 2020


She was naked but for heels and a collar, pressed against the wall, nervous, knowing he was standing behind her, watching her, judging her.

"What happens to unfaithful wives?" he demanded.

"I...but I..." she started to speak, heard his footsteps, sensed him approach her.

"I asked you what happens to unfaithful wives?"

"They're punished," she blurted out, knowing she had to answer before she said anything else. "But...but I'm not your wife," she said. She wasn't, he was her lover, the man she was unfaithful with.

"You're someone's wife," he said putting a hand between her shoulder blades, "and while he may not be man enough to discipline you, I am."

"But...but're the're the one I was unfaithful with," she begged.

"Yes," he agreed, softly rubbing the crop on her ass, "someone has to take charge of discipline you."

"But...but that means...that means every time we're together..."

"You're going to need to be disciplined," he said, smacking her ass with the crop.

"Oh god," she yelped, the stinging pain making her tingle, making her pussy wet. He chuckled. "What?" she asked.

"A vicious cycle. Being unfaithful gets you disciplined which gets your wet which makes you unfaithful, which gets you disciplined, which gets you wet...over and over and over."

This is the way

The longer a sissy is kept in chastity, the longer she goes without squirting, the more distant the memory she has of putting her sissy clit inside a woman, the better lesbian lover she becomes.

Trust me, I know.

And the better lesbian lover she becomes, the more her wife comes to appreciate this state as the natural order of things, the way things should be, will be, must be.

Thursday, February 20, 2020

Coffee Shop

Emily wore a very pretty dress that morning, a faux top/skirt that was really a wrap dress—it had a white satin plunge top and a black just above the knee bottom.

“Jeez, Em,” I swallowed.

“I thought I’d meet someone special for coffee this afternoon,” she said giving me a smile. 

“You…you mean me?”

“Of course you, silly,” she said. “I know I’m being kind of a tease, but I like teasing.”

“I think I’m clear this afternoon,” I said, “that place down by…” I mentioned a coffee shop we sometimes went to.

“I mean, if it’s not too much to have coffee with a  a pretty woman you don’t have a chance with…”

“Em, you’re a bitch,” I said.

“I know…seriously, though…”

“What time?”

“Say three,” she said.


I got to the coffee shop early, it was lucky, it was crowded, but I got a table towards the back where it was kind of quite and I could sit and watch for her.

At about ten to three, I was glad I was early, as there were no seats left. I was sitting there reading a book I’d heard about on a podcast. Several people looked at the table, obviously wanting to share a seat, but I gave the ‘I’m meeting someone’ look.

At five till, another guy walked back carrying a cup of coffee. “Hey, I just heard the author of that book interviewed on Historytalk,” he said.

I laughed. “Me too, that’s why I picked it up.”

“I hate to be forward, but may I?” he pointed to one of the empty chairs.

“I’m actually waiting for my wife,” I said, looked down at my phone which just beeped, and laughed. “Apparently she’s running a few minutes late, so go ahead.”

“I appreciate you sharing,” he said, sat down. He was my age, in a suit but no tie, asked where I was in the book. 

We talked for a few minutes, I kept looking up, looking for Emily.

I wasn’t normally one to talk to strangers, but he’d read much of the book, listened to the podcast, so it was something to pass the fifteen minutes until Emily got there. 

Fifteen minutes late, but on time from her adjusted time, I saw Emily walk in, head to the counter to get a cup of coffee. He saw the reaction on my face, turned, saw the woman I saw paying for her drink. “Your wife, I assume,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, proud of her, proud of how pretty she looked, proud she was mine. 

“Well I appreciate you sharing, John,” he said, scooting his chair back to leave.

“Emily,” I called to her, looked back at him for an instant. “No problem, glad I could,” I said, eyes focused on her.

She saw me, flashed me that smile, the one I fell in love with all those years ago. 

“She’s a beautiful woman,” he said standing. 

“Thank you,” I said, also standing, still focused on Emily as she weaved through the coffee shop, realizing I may have to have to say something to her, who he was, why he was there.

He looked back towards me. “Thanks again for sharing. By the way, she looks so professional, you’d never guess.”

“Guess?” I asked, my higher brain slow, but the lizard part of it tingling.

He leaned towards me, spoke softly. “You’d never guess what a whore she can be.”

My eyes snapped towards him; I instinctively looked down at his hands, at the white disposable cup he held, half filled with black coffee, saw for the first time the name written on the side. 

“You…” Emily had stopped a dozen paces from the table, waiting.

“Don’t be mad at her,” he said, “this was my idea, my decision.”

“But…but I…I mean…” My brain was racing a million miles an hour, I’d thought about meeting him of course, as I’d met Matthew, but not like this, not surprised. He was actually a nice guy, as my wife had described him, smart, well read, fifteen minutes, pleasant enough to talk to. 

But for fifteen minutes, he had the advantage, he’d sat there, of the two of us, only he knowing he’d fucked my wife.

“Come on,” he motioned her over, effortlessly picking up where I’d left off, effortlessly taking charge, picking up the mantel of control. 

“Hey sweetie,” she said when she got to the table, giving me that guilty look.

“Sit next to him,” Emily, he said much to my relief and she slid in next to me, facing out. “I assume one or both of you may know someone here.”

“We…we might,” I said softly; he understood, I felt a sigh of relief, he understood, in that moment showed he got it, at least part of it. Emily sensed my mood, took my hand, squeezed it reassuringly. 

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at us, in a sense, in that silence, somehow showing what we all knew.

“I wanted to get a measure of you,” he said addressing me, “unguarded.”

“Did you?” Emily asked, a hint of concern in her voice. I knew what she was thinking, she liked him, not how she liked me, but liked the situation, liked what he could offer and knew now this depended on him. 

“I did,” he said without elaborating, leaving Emily to ask the follow up question.


“Look at me,” he said. I knew he was talking to me but in that moment I was shy and guarded. “Look at me,” he said again.

I finally did, head still down, raised my eyes, felt his boring in on me. “Y…yes?”

“That story you wrote, I understand it’s fiction, but how much of it explains you?”

“I…I don’t know,” I lied, saw his eyes narrow. “Much of it, I guess. Most of it.”

“Fascinating,” he said, still not revealing his thoughts.

“Brian,” Emily said, but he shook his head.

“You love your wife very much, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said, “she…she’s everything to me.”

“I understand you were involved with someone before, what happened?”

“She…she didn’t tell you?” I asked.

“I want you to tell me,” he said.

“I don’t know, he…he got too close,” I said.

“Forgot his role?”

“In a way,” I said. 

“I won’t forget my role,” he said. “I want you to understand that. Some of this is learning, but I won’t forget my role.”

“It’s just…she and I come first. I mean…maybe not…you know…but…but at the core…”

“You two are married. You have a child. Of course you two come first. Was that his worst quality?”

“I suppose it was. I don’t think he meant it, though, it kind of happened.”

“Well that’s something I’ll make sure doesn’t happen then,” he promised.

“Will you?” I asked, eyes flashing.

“Actually, yes. It seems a fair trade. What was his best quality?”

“He was…strong…”

“I share that with him, then,” he smiled. “I read the story, I did my research, this isn’t just about sex, is it? It’s about power, it’s about psychological things.”

“In a way, yes,” I said.

He laughed.

“What’s funny?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know if it’s humor or irony,” he said, looking at me again. “You’re married to a woman who gets off being dominated by a man, who gets off submitting to a man, who gets off being a man’s whore. And yet…you get none of that.”

“I…I don’t…”

“Want that? Is that what you tell yourself? Maybe,” he said. “But I think, to hear Emily tell it, that’s just not you.”

“I…” I started to say, but he was right of course. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re a follower, not a leader. That was my impression, by the way. But I’m sure you know that, I’m sure you’ve always been like that, deep inside.”

“I suppose.”

“I think we’re all going to have some fun, then,” he said smiling. 

“Are we?” Emily asked him.

“I think we are,” he said taking a sip of coffee. “Listen, I started flirting with you because you were pretty. After that first dinner I thought I wanted to fuck you because you were hot. At our second dinner, I wanted to fuck you because you were, well, you know how you were. But this is more than sex.”

“It is,” Emily said.

“Well then,” he said. 

“Well then?” I asked.

“I think we’re all going to have some fun.”

“Brian, I just…we just…I love my husband.”

“I get that, Emily, I do.”

“So…so now what?” I asked.

“Now what? I guess we learn about each other. I understand there were ground rules before.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Emily told me,” he said. 

She squeezed my hand; of course she did.

“I like some of them, the make sense. Monogamy, for instance, I think that’s appropriate.”

“I know that’s ironic,” I said.

“Not at all. We discussed a couple of others.”

“Can I ask like what?” I asked.

“We talked about special days,” Emily said, “our days.”

“Which I think is a good idea,” he said, “but we’ll get to all that in good time.”

Monday, February 10, 2020

Returning Home

Kind of a synopsis. 

I heard the alarm ding and get turned off; I was dozing, opened my eyes, glanced at the clock in the candle lit bedroom. 


I heard her heels on the wood floor, heard her walk to the bedroom, heard the door open softly. “Sara?” she said in a loud whisper, the whisper she had when she was tipsy. My eyes were adjusted to the light, I saw her dress, the hem high, almost to the tops of her stockings, her breasts spilling from the top. 

“Em,” I said.

I watched her, watched her eyes adjust, saw her see me, saw her smile. I was wearing as feminine of lingerie I had—a sheer white bullet bra that showed off my breast forms, a white garter belt holding up sheer white stockings, white panties, a double layer sheer pink peignoir set (nightie and short robe), and white heels. It was purposeful as I wanted to look my most feminine.

“Well look at you,” she said leaning against the wall, smiling, running a finger over her lips.

“Well?” I asked, seeing her thinking.

“Just thinking, love…should I come over there and put that pretty face between my legs and let you guess…or should I be mean and wait and tell you all about it first.”

“Em…please,” I said sitting up.

“Please may I lick you and find out? Or please tell me about it?”


“You have to pick, love.”

“Please…please tell me about it,” I said.

“My little sissy is so predictable,” she said with a smile walking to the edge of the bed, sitting, letter her dress ride up her legs, exposing her stocking tops, her garter straps, the skin of her thighs.

“Is your cage secure?” she asked, knowing it was.

I nodded, wishing in that moment it wasn’t, wishing I could grow.

“This might hurt,” she said. “He was waiting outside when my car got there…”


“Jesus, Emily,” he said when I got out of the car. I’m afraid I may have given him a bit of a show.

“Brian,” I kissed him lightly on the mouth. No tongue, just a peck. “You like?”

“God you look great,” he said.

“I look more than great, Brian,” I told him, “in fact, I know just what I look like, and that’s on purpose.”

“On purpose, huh?” he asked.

“I’m a married woman meeting a man for dinner,” I said, “may as well embrace it.”

“I thought we were going to see how it goes?” he asked.

“You can decide how it goes, Brian, I decided what I want.”

“You trying to get me to skip out on our dinner reservations?”

“If that’s what you want?” I said.

“Two years?” he asked.

“Almost,” I said.

“Well in that case, I’m making you wait at least two more hours.”


“We had a drink in the bar,” she said putting a hand on my stocking covered leg, “I put a hand on his leg like this. I have to admit I was trying to seduce him and he knew and and stopped it. Almost like turning the tables on me.”


“I thought a girl like you knew how to behave,” he said.

“I…I thought…”

“Drinks first, Emily, drinks, dinner, maybe a final glass of wine.”

“We could skip all that,” I said.

“We could, but we won’t.”


“The waiter eye fucked me hard,” she said, “kind of like you are now. But he had no more chance than you. Every time he was by us, Brian took the chance to touch me under the table. Not like that, just little, light, teasing touches. All through the drink, dinner, after.”

“You were excited?” I asked, knowing she was.

“God, more than I thought I could be,” she said.


“I want to play a game,” he said while we were waiting for dessert.

“What kind of game?” I asked.

“Kind of like twenty questions.”

“Who is asking the questions?”

“Me…you when I say you can.”

“Okay,” I said, swallowing.

“Are you happily married?”


“Go ahead, you get one,” he said.

“Why a married woman?”

“Commitment issues, seems safer. Do you ever sleep with your…spouse to be gender neutral.”

“Spouse is fine. Sometimes he’s my husband, sometimes she’s my wife. We make love, we don’t have sex like…like husband and wife.”

“If you were to create an original sex movie, what would you name it?”

“Good one,” I said, “you thought of these ahead of time.”

“Yes I did.”

“Taken,” I said.


“Taken?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Taken,” she said. You could see his mind racing.

“That’s a good one,” I said.

“It’s true,” she said.

Taken. Taken.


“Let’s see, that’s three questions,” he said. “Go head, one for you…two…”

“Have you done this before?”

“Slept with a married woman? No, but I’m a quick learner. And that story helped. Good jumping off place for research. This isn’t a question, just clarification. Your spouse…like the character in the story?”

“Very much.”

“And you?”

“She’s his creation, though there are some similarities. She’s more aggressive with her husband than I am.”

“You told me you like strong men, what about…”

“Is that a question?”


“He prefers me to date strong men, too. Reinforces, I don’t know…everyone’s role.”

“That’s four…so five…in the story…you know it well enough? Okay, in the story, the couple goes to a club…”


“God, he really read it.”

“Wait,” she said.


“…the couple goes to a club and she’s with a guy in front of him…has he seen that?”

“With Matthew, yes, but that’s a man’s call, not my spouse’s call.”

“Follow up…six…back in the van…”


“I blushed…he didn’t even finish the question, I answered without answering.”

“Emily,” I croaked.


“Jesus, let me change the question then…still on six…does he always do that?”

“Does…does that bother you?”

“I didn’t say you get a question. Does he always do that?”



“Jesus, Emily,” I yelped, “what did he say?”


“Can I ask a question?”

“No,” he said. 

“A statement then?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“It…I hope…I hope you don’t mind…it’s important to us.”

He took a sip of his drink, looked contemplative. “Looking around the internet, seems that’s a common fantasy and common practice.”


“Doesn’t it humiliate him?”

“Is that question eight?”

“I don’t care about the number, Emily.”

“Very much.”

“You said you don’t have sex like…I don’t remember your words…like a married couple…”

“Like a man and a woman.”

“But when you go home, he’ll do that?”


“And you like that?”

“More than you can imagine.”


I looked at her legs, tried to will her to separate them.

“Emily,” I begged.”

“Don’t you want to know the rest?” she asked, touching my leg again.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“In the story the husband can’t…how do I put this…”

“The chastity cage?”

“It’s not something I’d heard of before.”

“It started gradually, almost a game, it’s turned into something much more.”


“You told him?” I asked her.

“He asked,” she said, “I’m not going to lie.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“That I must be very special to you if you give up something like that.”

“He doesn’t get it,” I said.

“Sweetie, you know no real man gets it…they have one basic, primal desire—to fuck pretty women. No real man would lock up the essence of his manhood.”


“What, my pretty little girl?”


“I lost track of the question.”

“Something distracting you?”

“You’re playing with fire, Emily.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Maybe, you might regret it.”

“What if I know what you’re thinking, Brian?”

“Do you now?”

“I might not be married to a man, but I know how men think. I know what they want. And you can have it.”



“You know what he wanted, too, don’t you? A married woman, on a date with him, dressed like this…you know what he wanted.”


“You know what I wanted, too. I wanted to be his whore.”

“God, Emily,” I said, shaking dizzy.

“Is it time, my pretty?” she asked, standing, moving to undo her dress.


“Do you want to hear all about it now? Or should I show you instead of telling you? Should I show you how I was his whore? ”

I saw her panties, damp and crusty at the same time, damp from her excitement, a mess from earlier. “I can tell you later, love, but for now, I want to show you.”

“Emily, please…”

“That’s it, love, beg for it…beg for it…”