Lou and I were both actors when we met, but, after we were married, she decided to leave the profession and go to college. We were quite close in early times, but I soon returned to my infidelity compulsion, which had caused the collapse of my first marriage. By this time mobile phones were in current use, and I quickly realised the usefulness of a secret second phone which remained hidden from Lou. My fortunes stabilised as castings increased with experience. Theatre took me out of town from time to time, and so did travel to TV locations. A tidy set of numbers were added to the hidden phone. To me, the infidelities were no threat to my marriage to Lou. Almost always they were brief.
Predictably, the moment came when Lou discovered the phone by accident. What followed was an incandescent wife confronting me with the evidence. Cold, hurt and furious, she finally decided she wanted a divorce. But I still loved her. We had shared so many things together in the past. I suggested a “peace conference” where we could try to come to terms. The biggest problem was that she did not now trust me anymore when my work took me away days or weeks. Struggling with some embarrassment, I suggested that I might agree to wear a chastity device. After a little initial scorn, she became interested in the idea. A little research on the Internet increased her interest – and mine, too. If they actually worked, my erotic imagination rose. In short, one of the more expensive cage-type was ordered. We giggled a bit when it arrived as we struggled to get it on. It was obvious my pubic hair had to be shaved, and a bit of lubricant was useful. It was actually not uncomfortable at all unless I was having an erection. Once everything was sorted, the moment came when she closed the lock and hid the keys. That was the beginning of a really new experience I’d never before dreamed of having.
It was her idea to keep a notebook with weekly entries – gold star for sex, blue star for masturbation and a black star. The black star meant I was allowed neither, and the period of punitive abstinence varied with time and experimentation. Lou was delighted to find the regulation increased her control of me, and I found this control exciting and maddening and even more addictive than my former infidelities were. I found myself begging for sex, begging even to touch her. It was not long before she decided a certain amount of discipline was required, and we bought a leather-stitched cane and leather paddle.
As time passed, our games became more elaborate. We pushed things a little further, and one development followed another. A month became two months, then six, then a year. It may sound ridiculous, but we now had quite a “happy” household. There are no arguments, even though we both have occasional mood swings that influence the intensity.
It all began with the chastity cage. Then punishment for sloppy housekeeping, tardiness, talking back, argumentiveness. I never, ever thought I could be comprehensively dominated by anyone or any woman. But I honestly admit that I don’t think I could live without it now. I enjoy it, and Lou knows it. She tells me she has finally found a solid relationship and a man who will give her no trouble. She is finishing college this year. When I’m not working, I take her to classes and pick her up. If she has friends, I deliver them home as well. She goes and comes without telling me when she’ll be back. Our bank account is in her name only. I do most of the shopping, she gives me the money or card, and I bring back the receipt. Anything I want must have her approval.
At first my reward for good behaviour would be a session of penetrative sex. I can still recall my childlike excitement at the first time. But she was upset when I became passive for a while after full sex, something very difficult for me to control. Hence we discovered a very well-made, snug-fitting strap-on. When I wore it, the cage was pushed back between my legs. And, since I was never allowed to touch myself (except when washing), she would hand-job me – unlock the cage, put on her stockings and sheer underwear if I had been very gold-star good and caress me with her hands and body until I – very quickly – came. There was a lesser reward if I had only earned a blue star. She knew I loved porn, and she hated this. Thus the computer was parent-controlled by her. But we had taken a number of sexy pictures of her which were put in a folder on the computer. She said that was my porn. Nude and lewd pictures of her. Poses of her sitting with stockings and legs wide open, close-ups of her pussy, videos of her pleasuring herself to orgasm, etc. While I watched she would masturbate me with her hand. I could also watch my “porn” with the cage on, but only with her permission. It has become the best porn I’ve ever seen. I crave it.
Lou, on the other hand, now never asks me if she wants sex. Indeed, she still loves cuddling, kissing, being stroked body-to-body. Then either my head will be pushed down between her legs to give a very well-practised cunnilingus to orgasm, or I will be told to fetch my strap-on. She is very sweet and loving at times. At others, she can be brusque, even violent. I remember one incident when she walked up behind me, grabbed my hair and pulled me backwards, forcing me onto my back on the floor. Pulling up her skirt, she sat on my face, smothering me at first. Then she leaned forward and used my whole face to rub herself back and forward till she came – got up, adjusted her skirt and walked away without a word.
It is surprising what punishment will do to you psychologically. In the beginning, after experimenting with degrees of pain, I would swing my bottom back and forth and beg her to stop, promising never to do whatever again and even crying out. Now? If she has the whip or paddle in hand when she calls me into the sitting room, I simply lower my trousers, bend over and take it without a whimper (though still clenching my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut). The thing is – it’s difficult to describe – I remember it and seldom repeat the offense. Next time I’m going to be late, I call her immediately. If I forget something she has asked me to do, I don’t forget it again. A hard whipping does teach a serious lesson. When she has that degree of control, I don’t resent punishment. I don’t crave it, either. It’s true. I feel like I deserve it, and it’s my duty to see whatever displeased her does not happen again.
As I indicated, this broadening of the play took place over time. We both learned from experiment. For instance, Lou didn’t like the idea of “feminisation.” She said she wanted a man, not a woman. Bondage was used only for practical matters. If she was going out for an evening with friends and didn’t need a driver, I was “hobbled.” An 18-inch length of chain was attached to ankle cuffs – I could move around the house fine, but I could not go out. There was enough play in the chain to enable me to do my list of chores, sometimes with permission to watch my “porn” while she was out.
No, both our interests were chastity, punishments and control. I can still remember the first time I went away – eight weeks for a play in Sheffield. It was only about a month or so after I began wearing the cage, and the usual thing happened. I began flirting with one of the actresses, just innocent stuff at the beginning, but we would find ourselves having a drink together after rehearsals, then after performances. One night both of us drank a bit too much and there was a bit of kissing and cuddling. Both of us knew it was heading in one direction, and I became more and more flustered and anxious. We actually got to her bedroom before I had to confess that I was married and had promised to be faithful. Of course she urged me on anyway, but I literally had to lie my way out of it. She was so gorgeous. My hands had been up her dress, and I had caressed her breasts. She was so angry she wouldn’t even let me go down on her. I heard her door slam behind me as I walked back to my room with my loins throbbing. I wanted her so much! I barely slept that night.
Lou would come up on the train at the weekends after we opened. I would be at the station, excited as a kid at Christmas, embrace her passionately when she arrived, carry her bag to the car and drive to my digs. The very first thing she did was check the cage and lock. Laughing in delight, she raised the front of her dress and swished her hips. Stockings, my favourite fetish. And no panties. We fell onto the bed with my hips humping in spasm as I hoarsely whispered her name and told her how much I loved her. My hands were all over her as we kissed feverishly. I was demented with desire. I could barely remember my own name.
“Glad to see me, are you?” she whispered in my ear.
I’ll never forget that episode, not ever. She finally unlocked me, and we had full penetrative sex – not once but twice, the second time long enough to ensure her own orgasms. I was hooked. I was delirious. We were close again. For her whole visit. And now, too, as I write these words. I love to obey her, and I have had no other woman since that cage went on. It’s the most successful relationship I’ve ever had. And there were no infidelities.
