Back to work

The clinic took blood and other stuff from all the places you might expect. There was some suspense but we ended up all clear. I wasn’t surprised but Carol was was obviously scared. Insisting on going to the clinic stripped away any pretence that what she’d been doing was harmless fun.

Seeing my filmed material at home was one thing but being naked in front of medical staff, having needles stuck in you— that kind of stuff is different, especially if you let it get to you, and Carol did let it get to her.

She was good until we got home and then she collapsed into a snivelling heap. My task changed right then, I had to love her back onto an even keel. I know there are plenty of folk who'd say I should rub it in but I couldn't see how that would help either of us.

The whole experience with being caught out and then me insisting on the clinic had a flattening effect on Carol. She said she was okay with everything but I knew I had some work to do if we were not to sink back into a more vanilla life. The problem was figuring where to start because this was all new to me.

We took the pictures down from the walls. Carol was in two minds about that, arguing that she needed to be punished more. I couldn't see the point in that. We needed to move forward but she kept all the pictures and insisted on getting some simple frames with quick release backs so she could put a new picture up any time. She had one on the back of her wardrobe door from then on and sometimes I'd find one on the bedroom wall.

You might think I’d be glad to have a dutiful wife back but it wasn’t that simple. We had to avoid getting back in a rut, but on top of that, she had to go back to work, to do what amounted to her job and Dean’s, with other folk curious to know what happened to Dean and Jay. Luckily, my work was flexible so I could go with her when she was away, at least for the first few times. I could do my freelance work from the hotel.

“Why not keep the belt on at work,” I said, “and let’s concentrate on your work and getting you on an even keel.”

“And being incredibly frustrated,” she said.

"I didn't say that you had to leave it on at night. I plan on coming with you for a couple of weeks."

She thought the first week would be hell for her. She knew that at every meeting the client would want to know what happened to Dean. We spent the whole time on the way to the hotel rehearsing different things she could say. In the end, we settled for one line.

"He fell out with the boss. It's all confidential, you'll have to ask headquarters."

That ought to shut off most questions. We had one fall back— "One thing I do know is that it's nothing to do with money or trade. Any orders that have been acknowledged by head office are safe, anything else, let me know." That was to maintain customer confidence as much as anything but also to give Carol a chance to pick up on anything that Dean had started but not finished.

That first night back at the hotel, she was confused and irritated.

"I don't know what Dean was doing," she said. "Now I look back on it, he hadn't let me into what was going on with any of the bigger clients. He was giving me scraps to deal with, testing me, playing me to get my knickers off."

I didn't tell her that I could have guessed that from watching ten minutes of the pair of them on video.

"He didn't leave any notes or anything to go on. Every account is a struggle."

"The first few weeks are always tough, love. Why don't you relax, tell me everything you do know about each client and we'll record what you say. While you're at work tomorrow, I'll type it up. You'll get some rest and it will give me something to do while I'm hanging around."

She looked at me for a minute or more— for so long that I was beginning to wonder what was going on in her head.

"I don't deserve help like that. I wanted the job. If I’m honest, I let Dean fuck me to get it. I ought to live up to it or quit."

"I don’t care,” I said. “That was before. Let’s do it anyway and see how it goes. I've dialled down my work for a couple of weeks. Let's play it by ear."

"I'll owe you," she said.

"Well that's good," I chuckled for a second but I couldn't help myself. "I know what you do for someone you're trying to please."

She threw a pillow at me. That seemed like a good result. I was tempted to throw one back but I had a better plan in mind.

“What did you do with Dean when you stayed here before?”

“You know because you read my diary.”

“I want more details. You came back at the end of the day— did he come to your room right then?”

“No, I had a nap for half an hour and met him to eat and then we went to his room.”

“What was his room number?”

“403.”

"Next door to this one with a connecting door?" I knew that because she'd included the number in her diary. What she didn't know was that I booked both rooms over the phone before we set off. Looking at her face, she didn't seem to have cottoned on to my plan.

"Cunning, wasn't it?" she said. "You're making me own up to all my wickedness."

"Did you book the rooms?"

"No, Dean did."

“So his cunning led to your wickedness.” I chuckled and made sure to catch her eye to see I was joking... She'd guessed. Wicked isn't a word I ever use about her.

"Have a nap and take a shower," I said. "It's been a tough day and then we'll eat. I'm going to check some things with reception, I told them to catch any messages for me." I stopped for a second, waiting to see if she'd say anything.

"I think that belt ought to come off," I said, handing her the key. "I bet you didn't wear knickers when you met Dean for dinner?"

"How did you guess?"

"It must be this room, maybe the walls remember."

She handed me the key to my device. "Fair's fair," she said, "I'll see you in the restaurant in forty minutes."

I waited until she was in the shower before I took off the cage. I skipped next door to change and prepare. As far as I knew, everything was exactly as it had been when Dean was there— close enough anyway. When we’d been at his barbecue, I’d seen the brand of aftershave and deodorant in his bathroom, I guess then I was thinking it might help me get her back but with luck, he was a creature of habit.

I sprayed some of the stuff around in room 403. I didn’t use any myself because I didn’t want to give the game away. I wished I’d known what kind of clothes Dean had worn but I had no idea. When I packed I assumed there would be a flashy element to it so in my bag I had surreptitiously included an expensive looking casual jacket and a silk shirt and cravat.

I looked tastelessly flash. Probably an insult to Dean and certainly to men’s fashion in general, but definitely not in a rut.

I waited at the restaurant door for Carol, took her arm and led her to our table. I laid on the charm by the bucketload, trying to behave as though I was absolutely sure that I was the most attractive guy in town with the best looking woman on my arm— well it was half true..

The one thing going for me was that Carol had never seen me behaving anything like that.

We had one of those nouvelle cuisine starters that amount to nothing at all, followed by a very good sea bass. That had twiddly potatoes along with broccoli and peas. We drank a wine with it that was supposed to look like champagne. A flunkey with the bottle wrapped in a white cloth poured it so you couldn’t see that it was some sort cheap fizz.

Flashy was my theme for the evening. I aimed at a sort of showing off meal, tasty but tasteless, if you get what I mean. We ended off with tiramisu, coffee and liqueurs.

It was fun, a game to play and a little kinky because I knew that Carol had no underwear on. I could make suggestive remarks and enjoy her flirting back, while trying to forget the fact that I was talking to a woman who’d had no sex for almost a week after having all she could get the week before.

Why didn't we fuck like rabbits after the clinic? Partly because Carol was sad but mostly because I was determined to exert some control. I wanted to set an example to demonstrate that I could control myself. Crazy I know, but I think it sort of worked. Carol stayed locked up.

We set off back to our room. I gave nothing away, taking out my key to 403 as we got out of the elevator. We strolled arm in arm down the corridor and came to 403 before 401. I stuck the key card in the lock and heard a sharp intake of breath from Carol.

I stepped into the room and kept hold of her arm, pulling her behind me. I didn't put the light on.

"What have you done?" she said.

"How do you mean?"

"This room— it's not our room. It smells like Dean— you haven't..."

"Is it making you wet?"

"God, yes... Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It sounds as if I don't want you."

"It was my plan, kiddo. I love it when a plan comes together. What did you do with him?"

"He sat on the bed and lifted my dress."

"And you had a shaved pussy with no panties, right?" I said as I sat on the bed and lifted her skirt. "And then?"

"He told me how good it looked."

"It sure does and I guess you were dripping like you are now?" I said as I ran a finger along her slit.

"Oh yes," she said.

"Then?"

"He made me kneel and he pulled off my dress," she said as she sank to her knees.

"Then?"

"He said 'Get to work bitch'". She grabbed my zip and pulled it down.

"Did he help?"

"No. He leant back on the bed so I could pull everything off. He made me work for it. He knew I was juicy and horny."

"Like now."

"God, yes," she said, dragging my clothes off and setting to work with her mouth.

"You know," she said, "I think this is making you grow, or maybe it's the dim light...” For a second she looked up at me. “Fuck,” she said. “You haven’t grown have you, you’ve always been plenty big enough... my bad.”

She sat back on her heels for a moment. “How did you fake this?"

"I spied out his bathroom when we went to the barbecue and bought the same fragrances."

"I'm married to a genius."

"Stick with what Dean did."

"Must I?"

I said nothing, waiting, needing to know how it went.

"He made me beg."

"So beg."

"Please fuck me," she said.

I pulled her to her feet and shoved her onto the bed, nudging her legs apart.

"What did you say?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me now."

I knelt on the bed and kissed her mound.

"No, no," she said. "I want it in me. In me hard and deep. Fuck me."

By then I was finding it difficult to resist but I was betting Dean played it for all he was worth.

"Anything I can get you?" I said. "A drink maybe?"

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

"If you insist."

I know I'm not the kind of performer that Dean was, but right then I was fired up and Carol was certainly ready. I tried to imagine myself as Dean; as someone who could go all night. The only way to get close to that was to make sure Carol came first.  That was one thing I ought to be able to do. I knew the woman better than anyone and with all the waiting and teasing I knew she was halfway there.

I used everything I knew; rhythm, fingers, smothering kisses and as much energy as I could deliver. The one thing to do was to think about Carol and not me. I felt her orgasm coming underneath me and relaxed enough to make sure I didn't get there and I let her come.

I clutched her tight and rolled over bringing her on top, holding the penetration. I let her get her breath back, my hands roaming over her back, kissing her between breaths.

"Now," she said between gasps, "you have to turn me over and fuck me doggy. But this time I don't beg, you order me around."

I did just that, she pretending to be exhausted, not really ready, me playing at being in need of servicing. I worked in a traditional way, using my fingers as well as everything else and I made her cum again. Before she could get her breath back I decided squirt plenty of lube and do what I hadn't seen Dean do.

Carol was surprised but that didn't last long. I kept working with my fingers and felt her starting to come again almost in sync with me. When I finished pulsating I collapsed onto the bed, wondering if Carol would be mad at me. I hadn't asked for her arse— I had no idea if Dean had ever taken her that way but I never had. I was suddenly desperate to know if it hurt, if I'd done any harm.

I felt her stir alongside me. She kissed the side of my head.

"I'm going to put the light on," she said.

I wondered what that might mean.

There was a switch at the side of the bed and I heard her fumbling for it. A second later one of the dim bedside lights came on.

“How did you know?” she said.

“Know what?”

“Dean tried that on but I stopped him. I was scared about his size.”

Now seemed as good a time as any to apologise. “I know I should have asked. Sorry, I couldn't resist... is that what I'm supposed to say?”

"Stop play acting— was it good for you?"

"Yeah, no question, it felt like reclaiming."

“Don’t be sorry, really don’t be. I might have said no and then regretted it. I needed to be taken. I needed you to take me. I needed to do something with you as a first.” She was crying by the time she’d finished but they were tears of relief, of letting go, washing the past away.

We showered, hugged, toasted ourselves with more fizzy wine and fell asleep in room 403.

I woke before Carol and lay thinking until she stirred. Watching her come out of sleep was a delight. I worried that Dean’s aftershave everywhere might make her wake thinking of him. I needn’t have been concerned. Maybe she woke very fast or maybe last night did enough but it was my name she murmured as she woke up and kissed me.

We had room service breakfast and I made her tell me everything she knew about yesterday’s clients. I recorded it all and promised to type it up during the day.

“One question,” I said when we’d done eating. “What will you do if the next client needs the flirting treatment?”

“I’ll say no.”

“What would you have said two weeks ago?”

“Said yes... I think.”

“I think you should say yes, if you think it would seal the deal.”

“Couldn’t I wear the belt? That makes me safe from temptation.”

“Or—“

“Or you have some devious idea?”

“What if you wore the belt? You could tell them straight that you were locked up, so there was no way you could do anything— unless he could pick the lock.”

“That would be so erotic.”

I could see her pupils dilate as she said it.

“What about a combination.”

“I know the kind," she said, "but they have four wheels— that's ten thousand chances.”

“Not if we superglued two of the rings in the open position.”

“You’re wicked.”

“I think that would work," I said. "It would leave ninety-nine possibilities. It might take five or ten minutes depending on how deft he was. With you lying there, him working on the lock with his face between your legs, such temptation right in his eyes but out of reach; it has all the makings of a night to remember. It works both ways too, it would work just as well if it was a woman."

Carol was reduced to a fit of giggles. Luckily we had a small combination padlock. I used to use on my suitcase and it had never been taken out. It took me ten minutes messing with it and applying tiny drops of superglue to turn it into what amounted to a two-wheel combination lock.

"Try to open it," I said, handing it to her. She had it open in four minutes. After that she showered and then insisted that I use my tongue to good effect, stopping before she came, leaving her a little frustrated before I put the belt on. I adjusted the lock to a new combination and secured the belt.

"It makes me feel secure," she said. "After a weekend playing in the thing, I actually like it. In a weird way, it's liberating."

"You mean you can flirt without any risk."

"Something like that. Can I put yours on please."

"Carol, there is no way that I’m going to be buzzing around town seducing women and besides we've only got one combination lock."

"I have the key, I’d like to wear it on my ankle all day."

“You can wear the key without locking me up.”

I knew as soon as I said it how dumb it sounded. She gave me a pained look.

“Every time I felt it on my ankle I’d think of your cock. That would be such fun.”

“The ankle isn’t going to work.”

“How so?”

“You’re going to tell this man that your dominating husband keeps you in chastity and meanwhile you’re wearing a key to his cage on your ankle?”

“Damn, yeah. Okay, around my neck then?”

“And you need to remember to take to off before he gets the chance to see it.”

“Have you ever thought about going into films? Directing, continuity, all that stuff.”

“I’m a designer... You’re forcing me to design my own prison," I said. "You could take that lock off in five minutes any time you want, whereas I won't be able to change mine." I watched her face, waiting to see what happened. A tiny frown clouded her pretty face. "I do want to trust you," I said.

“Which is nice but I don’t deserve it yet. I haven’t earned it, have I? Hang on, I have an idea.”

She ran to the bathroom and returned with a short piece of dark cotton thread. "I pulled this from a towel," she said. "Thread it through where the lock is and remember what it looks like."

I understood immediately. To anyone who didn't know it could have been a thread pulled from her panties, but I would know if the lock had been opened. Mine was done with a key. The spare key was three hours drive away, at home.

“Okay, deal.”

She didn’t crow or gloat, but treated the whole thing like a serious pledge. I did have second thoughts about allowing her to cage me, second thoughts after she'd gone out. I convinced myself it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn't planning any erotic adventures and something in my head kept telling me that if she kept her part of the bargain, then we’d be closer together. There was more chance we could make progress in the right direction.

I couldn't see how it could make anything worse. If it turned out I couldn't trust Carol then at least I'd given it a good shot and if all else failed, I could drive home and get the spare key.

I opened all the windows after she'd gone and sprayed a little of my own cologne and Carol's around the place. I'd played the trick and now I needed to be rid of Dean completely. I thought about sending the package to his wife. I was within my rights— I'd told him not to contact us and he had emailed Carol. On the other hand, she did tell me and she wrote her reply and showed it to me.

I called down to reception and asked if they had a fan. Ten minutes later I was blowing the last vestiges of Dean out of the window in 403. That would do for now.