A Long-Distance Commitment Ch. 04

Saturday. The day most of us look forward to. In my case, that would at least mean no longer being under the watchful eye of my personal assistant, trying to see if my wife has responded to her Chastity Club invite trial period or not. I can scarcely go to the bathroom without Karla checking for an extra bulge in my pants. She knows I'm never lumpy otherwise. I think the candy dish on her desk is a deliberate ploy to lure me in front of her several times a day.

Yesterday, for instance.

"Mr. Harold", as she calls me, "You haven't had your morning Snicker bar with your coffee yet." Then snickers. And peeks into my office to see if I'm coming. She knows I have to walk closely around her desk, unless, heaven forbid, I reach over her. I tried that once and she simply kept toying with the candy dish, edging it further and further, out of my reach until I nearly fell face-down on her desk. Almost in the perfect spanking position to receive a daily bad-boss reminder. These are the traps Karla sets for me in various ways. Not always with the promise of candy, but usually an implied reward of some tempting nature. Maybe even to make a case to HR -- I can't be sure of her motives. But for sure, she'll know a little hard-on when she sees one. So I avoid her whenever I can. But I swear she plays dumb whenever I assign her a project. She makes me lean over her shoulder to show her what to do on the computer screen. There have been times then she turns her chair unexpectedly, acting as if she didn't know my crotch was right there at her elbow. I should fire the vixen. But then, who would? I'd have to be crazy. She's so sexy. And I'm sure she must know she's the object of many of my hand exercises.

Now it's even worse that I know she's a member of the Hwy7 Superstore Chastity Club. I shudder anytime she's on the phone to her boyfriend, often directing him to some tasks she wants him to accomplish before picking her up from work. I hate 5 o'clock, knowing I'll have to see him in person after such pussy-whippings she doses out in range of my hearing.

"Don't be rude. Go in and say hello to Mr. Harold", she almost always says. He acts embarrassed, and I wonder if she knows how nervous it makes me, even, to see her boss a guy around. Almost taunting me, knowing she would do that to me if she ever gets an edge on me. I can only imagine. And I find myself actually looking at the man's crotch, wondering what might soon be in my future.

I snap out of it. It's Saturday, but future is now. I have Jen's cage on. And tonight she will be taking me to the Superstore to get her weekly journal signed again.

I wouldn't be doing this for anyone else, but I need to keep Jen happy; especially after my past indiscretion landed me at her feet, so to speak. She holds all the cards now and she knows it. Thankfully she still loves me. I can't imagine if she didn't.

So I'm playing along with her recent little venture to try to join the Chastity Club. So weird. She had never been into anything dominant, until she got that email invite. Dang. Karla again. But Jen is so sexy these days. What was I ever thinking before? I must have been nuts to have looked elsewhere for love.

So you see why I'm now trying to make amends. And of course, now there's also that paper I signed, to ward off divorce and public humiliation. I can't even think about that.

I go mow the yard to keep my mind busy.

***

"Harold, darling, would you do the dishes by yourself this evening? I have to go get ready. I have some extra prep to do. We can't have Mr. Owner thinking we're his standard scum trash that hang out at the Superstore, can we? The Chastity Club is our city's social elite."

"Yes dear. I mean No dear, we can't. And Yes dear, I'll do the dishes, although I still don't understand why we don't use the dishwasher anymore." I was close to talking back, but I quickly danced away from the cliff's edge: "But this is so sexy, isn't it, as I gently caress your glass, your fork and spoon with my sudsy hands."

I dare not even think about her table-knife.

"You're so sweet, Harold. And thank you for helping me try to join this club. I've never been a member of a group with social status like this. I can't wait to be seen at the New Year's Ball someday. I know you'll be like my Prince Charming. Ahhh. Ok, we need to be leaving. It's nearly midnight and we don't want to be late."

She gets into the backseat and double-checks her journal entries as I drive. 36 hours of chastity. Well beyond the minimum. And she had detailed the blow-job and, OMG, the 'wild fuck'. I still can't believe I let her do that to me. But I had been desperate to get the cage off in time to later slip into Reesa's pink pussy device. I digress. These journal entries should be a slam-dunk to get him to sign off on Jen's Week 2.

"Harold, do you ever wonder about Mr. Owner (as we refer to him)? For instance, I have to wonder what's on his mind as he asks you or the other guys to drop your pants in front of him, and one by one personally checks your cage every which way for security? Even pulls it harshly to see if the anti-escape ring does its job. That's gotta hurt. Right? Does it hurt, Harold? I can't hear you back here. Say it louder. Does it hurt, Harold?"

Damn right it hurts, I almost replied.

"Yes. It's quite uncomfortable, Jen."

"Harold, I've been thinking it could make a better impression if you would call me Miss Jennifer, in front of him. And the others, I guess, huh? Would you do that, dear. It could give me an advantage when the vote comes up on Week 5."

"Vote?"

"Of course, dear. You don't think they'll let in all these candidates, do you? And we're at somewhat a disadvantage, what, with your 'average' sized penis. Did you SEE how large most of those cages were last week? I can only imagine! So please, remember: You're in it to win it." And I could hear her chuckle, even from my driver's seat.

"So, Harold, what do you think? A guy who owns an Adult Superstore has probably seen it all and experienced it all... yet wants to see a line of naked men with chastity cages on. And feel each one. And admire each wife or girlfriend as he checks our activity journals for quantity and quality. Surely his head is somewhere you and I have never been. Tell me your idea of what is in his head. But pay attention to the road, Harold."

"I don't think he even thinks much about it. It's probably just a cash cow for him. You know, to sell cages. That's all."

"For your sake I hope you're right, Harold. I don't want some pervert handling my man's junk."

We pull up and park. Some beautiful women getting out of these other cars. And Mr. Owner greeting each of us politely, almost like a valet or doorman. Dang, look at that brunette getting out of a rented limo. What is she trying to impress him? I can see the competition for membership is getting a bit more serious this week.

"Why, thank you Mr. Owner. That's what Harold and I call you. Is that ok?"

"For now."

And we follow the others, moving into the large conference room. And wives & girlfriends start undressing their studs. Well, their 'stubbeds'. Their 'stunteds'. Their 'subs'. Each is quick to try to get their naked guy to the front of the line.

"Right FACE!" Mr. Owner's demeanor changed instantly, now sounding like an ex-drill-sergeant. Then he speaks to us all, with our wives & girlfriends behind us, journals in hand. Jen sneaks a feel of my butt, and my caged turtle tries to break out of his shell. You bitch. I feel like I'm in a dogshow and my handler is posing me.

"Eyes forward, Gentlemen. Don't be looking at other guys' cocks. Or in some cases, dicks. I will be the only man looking at cocks & dicks tonight. Got that?

Ok, you're too spread out. Left FACE! Now tighten up the line. Make your buddy smile. Your cage better be touching the ass in front of you, Gentlemen. Ok, Right FACE! That's better. Prepare to be inspected!"

Our wives and girlfriends are now also shoulder to shoulder behind us. And they ARE looking around, eyeing their competition. And at times goosing us to get a smile on our faces. Almost doing the 'wave' sort of thing, down the line. There's some chuckling heard behind us.

"Candidates, as I come down the line to your boy, I want you to move him forward to me chin to chin. And have your journals ready for my inspection and hopefully, my signature. If you fail tonight, you will fall-out quickly and move to the exit foyer. And I don't care what you do to your boy after that. That's his problem. Just don't do it in here. I don't want a bunch of babies crying in my conference room. I have a business to run. Got that, Ladies?"

"Yes Mr. Owner."

Where did that come from? How did the other wives and girlfriends know to call him that? I thought Jen made that title up.

"You'd better be good tonight", Jen whispered into my ear. "Or I promise you I won't be happy out in the foyer. And you won't be either!"

He started down the line. One by one. Ladies pushing us forward, sometimes with a strong, well-placed finger. Mr. Owner stands chin to chin with each man, coming my way, grabbing privates. Kneading balls. Rattling cages. Sometimes with a grunt of displeasure. Sometimes a snarky remark. He even kissed one girlfriend after reading her journal entries. Then punched her guy's balls as a bit of a reward for her.

And then he came to the guy next to me. The guy howled in pain as his balls were in the strong grasp of Mr. Owner. His wife worried about this sign of displeasure. I had to peek. I couldn't help wanting to know what the problem was. And I saw. He had on the tiniest of cages, smaller than mine even, almost a flat steel coin on the front of his base-ring. Almost no dick at all could be seen. No wonder.

He released the guy momentarily, enough to knee him in the nuts and yell "Fall-out, Dinky! You're out." His girlfriend lurched forward and threw her arms around Mr. Owner, pleading, but to no avail. He simply shoved her roughly to the ground.

"I hope none of you other ladies brought a sissy tonight, thinking you'd ever make it into our social circle. In fact, if you did, you can fall-out right now and save your guy some pain. Any takers?"

I wanted Jen to raise her hand and let me go quietly. Else I could be next. But she stood stoically, taking her chances (with my balls).

"Next!" Jen shoved me roughly forward for effect, and offered her journal like someone from the Gestapo. He first grabbed my balls, rolling them in his hand like Captain Queeg or something. He rattled my small cage. "That's a pretty dinky little tinker-bell you've got there. Sounds like an English mistress ringing politely for her servant. Is that what you are, a servant boy? How do you expect for her to compete with all these others? Did you not see what happened to your buddy a moment ago? And didn't you hear my offer to save you some pain? Huh boy? Answer me!"

"I heard, Sir. But my wife, that is, Miss Jennifer, has a proper journal of activity that may compensate, Sir. I would be honored if you would consider it before dismissing me."

"For a kiss, I will. One of you has to kiss me passionately. Are you a fag, boy? Or a cuckold? So which. will it be, boy? You choose."

I can't believe this.

"My wife, please. I am not a good kisser of men, Sir."

"We may see about that later. But fair enough. I will enjoy kissing your beautiful bride. Your balls may depend on her passion. So be ready, in case she's insufficient to my liking. Will she be insufficient for my liking, boy?"

"No Sir. You'll find she's quite the passionate lover, Sir."

"Will she drop to her knees, to do whatever's necessary to save your balls, boy? Will she? Nevermind, boy. A mere kiss on the lips may -- I say may -- suffice. We'll see. Else perhaps we'll have to resort to the knees thing. Is that good for you, son? Would you like to see that, boy? Don't answer. That's the only deal I'm offering."

I can't believe I've put my wife in this position, and I'm going to have to watch him take advantage of her like this. She's my bride, not his. I am getting a little payback for my indiscretions a few years ago. I can only imagine how Jen felt, catching me passionately kissing another woman. Is that who she will mimic now?

I didn't have to wait long for my answer.

Jen pulled one sleeve of her blouse, pulling it down off her shoulder in a provocative gesture she had seen before. She knew I would remember acutely. And then turned and fell back into his clutches, waiting for him to take whatever he wanted. Yes, exactly as she had seen before.

And he did. He put his hands where another man ought not put them on the wife of another man. And kissed her passionately like a pirate, while his captive had to look on. Along with all the other husbands and boyfriends getting an eyeful.

He scarcely even looked at her journal entries as he signed it and moved on to the next man. Her rough abuse of me last Sunday was of no value in the competition. Dang. All that for nothing. He cared little what humiliations I had endured, and only what he could get now in front of me tonight.

Is this Chastity Club membership in high society worth it?

Jen seems to think so.

"Home, James." she ordered, hoping Mr. Owner would notice she's no pushover.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer."

***