A Wife's Dark Talent Ch. 03

"As I said last weekend, I need you to hold it together tomorrow during my date. As well as after my date. This is like an insurance police, a conditional release bail, that you will, Honey. Not that I don't trust you. But it will all but certainly cut down all that macho testosterone enough I will not have to worry about you."

"But Jaime...I will hold it together."

Pleaded Henry.

"I am sure you will. But as they say, trust, but verify."

Added Jaime as she continued assembling the device on her bound husband's manhood. And finished by threading a small, high tech looking padlock through it at the end.

"This, in fact, is a smart padlock. It has several useful features, but most important feature for you right now, is that it is biometric. Only my thumbprint can unlock it. Don't you think there is something romantic about the fact that only your wife's body can unlock your manhood?"

Added Jaime as she shifted over to the side, besides her husband, after she was done assembling the device. And started to toy with her husband's masculine pride and joy, locked in a steel cage now.

"Maybe, yes, I guess. But Jaime..."

"No buts, I said. It will be ok, I promise. I love you Henry."

Added Jaime as she finally moved to untie her husbands hands. And even though Henry felt something entirely new, a very, very deep pit in his stomach he had never experienced before, he let Jaime have her way. And said.

"I love you too, Jaime."

*****

Henry was actually preemptively exiled from his marital bed that night after that. After Jaime had locked up her own husband less than an hour earlier, she hand simply quite callously told him that he looked quite "emasculated and unattractive" and that she did not want him near her in that condition, so it was the guestroom for him that night. That stung real bad, and a tear did roll down Henry's cheek before he bid his wife goodnight and left as expected.

Jaime was colder the following morning too, and Henry attributed it to her building up to being Goddess Kiersten later in the day. Henry had no idea if Jaime thought of him at all during her workday, but for Henry it was impossible not to obsess about Jaime as he went about giving lectures, and meeting his research group, at the university. The weight, temperature, and inflexibility of the device he wore made it impossible. And even though he tried to fake some swagger during his day, he felt it was an act. He felt less confident, assertive, as if his wife had indeed cut his blood testosterone level in half the moment she locked him up. It was all a new exquisite agony to him, as if he was drowning in the sea, thrashing to stay afloat as he gasped for air. Rationally, he tried to think the device should not change his body chemistry. Emotively, it felt certain that it did, and in a moment alone in his office he asked aloud of his absent wife.

"Jaime, what are you doing to me?"

When Henry finally made it home, as he waited for Jaime, he knew the point had been reached where he definitely should not expect any love, affection, or kindness from her till her date was over. And indeed, when she arrived, she merely walked past him in silence in utter disregard of his existence. Simply for her to lock herself in their master suite and get ready for her date. Henry audibly groaned at that.

One hour later, he again thought the pain might all be worth it to enjoy his wife, as she climbed down the stairs to their living room decked out in a new high of absolutely ravishing. Jaime was in a short, tight, asymmetrical cocktail little white dress that bared one of her shoulders and almost bared one of her hips on the opposite side. A pair of black-nylon lace-top thigh highs, the lace tops visible under the far too short dress. And a pair of matte black leather four inch stiletto pumps. Her hair, in an elegant stick bun that only covered her delicate long neck with a couple of loose strands. And her face, in a classic red lips, blue-black eyes, rosy cheeks look. The whole ensemble, combined with Jaime's elegant top model strut, making her look halfway between a high class hooker, and the world sluttiest bride. And Henry drooled at the sight for a minute, before remembering this was for another man's benefit, and another of his ever more common groans escaped his mouth. Which only made Jaime, rather Goddess Kiersten, malevolently smile.

"I have no time to waste on you tonight. Let's go."

Is all that Henry's wife spat. And Henry confirmed that, yes, that was Goddess Kiersten before him.

Henry's chauffeur drive was more painful than usual, as his manhood tried to stir in its cage. And the reality that he was caged while driving his delectable wife to meet another man struck him. He really was struggling to understand all these feelings Jaime's games where making him feel. But to his horror, it occurred to him he could get used to them. Even as, when they finally made it to Jaime's, rather Kiersten's, townhouse, and Henry opened the door for his Goddess Wife, the fact that she just stepped out and walked away without so much as a word, or even a glance, still stung. Even though he was fully expecting such treatment by now.

At the urban-park parking lot a couple of blocks away, Henry was full of trepidation. He could see his wife, standing elegantly and exquisitely by a large window in her townhouse living room. And as he observed her, the despairing husband took a hold of his still encased manhood, regretting the choices that led him to be in this situation. Unable to reclaim his wife even in principle, if the need arose for it. Making another groan escape his throat as he tried to crack his cock cage like in a nut in a cracker in the palm of his hands. To absolutely no effect, of course.

And it only went downhill for Henry, from then on, as his wife's latest client let himself in after no more than quick ring of her door bell.

"Good evening Goddess Kiersten. Thank you for seeing me."

"It is Mistress Kiersten to you, doctor. And you better not forget your place."

Uttered first Kiersten's date, and the Goddess replied in a venomous hiss immediately afterwards, without even turning around to look at her client for a minute.

"Come over here and strip."

She then said as she finally turned to the man in her full exquisite glory.

Henry was taken aback the moment he saw his wife's client. Jaime had not shared any less about him than her other clients. But her other clients had matched Henry's expectations much better than this man, Patrick, the surgeon. For this one was a fit 40, rather than the other two's softer 50's. Had a deep bass voice that sounded very masculine. And was a dark chocolate black. And even thought Henry considered himself a quite enlightened white man, he all of a sudden felt a deep electric shock of sexual menace, of sexual threat, to himself, if not to his wife. A sense of doom he did not like one bit. Which only got worse as he realized if anything, the man's fancy gray and black date-night clothes only muted his sex appeal. As piece after piece came off the masculine man's back.

"Eyes down doctor. Do not forget your place, I said. I will not say it again. And put your hands behind your back."

Snapped Mistress Kiersten as she then picked a new bondage contraption Henry had never seen or imagined before. A rigid posture bar meant to run behind a submissive's back, with manacles for the hands and a posture collar for the neck, and buckled and locked it onto the fully pliant man. Leaving him heavily restrained in a highly degrading predicament, even if his chest and arms still flexed like hard metal.

And yet what most, most intimidated Henry, beginning to sweat bullets behind the screen of the tablet in a car two block away, was when he began to study the man's manhood. Manhood that was beginning to stretch and rise as Henry's wife began to strut around her client in a clockwise circle. Her thigh high tops fully exposed every time she stepped forward. Her slim alabaster-white neck and shoulders looking so vulnerable by comparison to the thick dark man's she circled. Her heels click clacking like a mechanical clock setting the time. All made exponentially worse when after two full circles, she reached with the tip of her right index finger, and began to trace the man's rod up and down its full length with every pass. Henry all but dropped the tablet and ripped the steering wheel from its column.

"Doctor, I bet you often feel like a god."

Said Mistress Kiersten as she gave the man's great big dark tool a sprint on its step, on its way to full size and erection with her touch.

"In the operating room, with a dozen other medical professionals in attendance. Anesthesiologists, residents, surgical nurses and technicians. All fully at your command, waiting upon your very word. Don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Kiersten."

"The life of a patient in your hands. It is either you, or the grim reaper for them. And you always win that battle. With the living heart of your patients, literally in your hands. Is it not so?"

Added Kiersten, as she continued her strutting. Henry noticing she did it with the practiced perfection of a ballerina. The perfect amount of both seduction and authority in each sultry but confident step.

"Yes, Mistress Kiersten."

"And then there is this."

Added Henry's wife, as she gave the man before her a firm, but brief, full handed squeeze of the manhood. That made the man grunt, before Kiersten went back to simply teasing it with the tip of her index finger, and saying.

"I bet this makes you feel like a god. When all the women swoon after it. Lust after it. Even when they merely notice a big hard bulge in your pants. When your own blonde Southern Princess of a wife tells your everyday 'Oh, Sugar Pie! My Sweet Honeybee! I love your big black cock so much! I mean, y'all have nice big black cocks, but yours is the best! I love it so much when you fuck me hard with it, I cannot live without it!'"

Which utterly shocked Henry, as his wife briefly dropped her own muted Midwestern accent, for an exaggerated Southern one at the end. And the man she was expertly teasing and taunting grunted under her ministrations.

"Well doctor, you are no god when you get stopped every month by some bigoted cop for 'driving suspiciously' in your own luxury European sports car. You know, because most likely you stole it. Or paid for it with drug money."

"You are no god, when every weekend some bigoted old lady berates you at your local luxury organic grocery store, for not picking up the mess another customer made. You know, because you must surely be part of the help."

"You are most certainly no god to me. And be careful, be very careful with those lustful looks. As not so long ago, not so far away, there were severe consequences for men like you that gazed like that at women like me. Even more severe ones for, marrying women like your wife, if you could even do it all."

"You are, in short, nothing more than another black man in America. Closer to a slave than a god. Do not forget that, slave!"

Striked out viciously Goddess Kiersten, like rendering twenty lashes with a long tailed whip, before her client answered.

"Yes Mistress Kiersten. Sorry Mistress Kiersten."

"In fact, doctor, you may be too ashamed to ask your own 32 year old trophy wife to give you what you want, what you need, what you deserve. What you come to me to give you in her place. But do not be fooled. She has got the measure of you. Did you not say she asked you for a vasectomy?"

Asked cruelly Goddess Kiersten as she finally stopped right in front of her client. His by now quite large and rigid tool pointing directly at her inviting pelvis in that short, tight white dress. To Henry's utter dismay.

"Yes Mistress Kiersten, she has."

"Why do you think that is, you fool? Because you are both too busy being top surgeons? Because she does not feel the maternal instinct? Well, sorry to break it you, but after you are a good hubby and give her what she wants, she will show up pregnant a year after the fact, and tell you 'Oh, Sugar Pie! Good news, we are pregnant!' And you will wonder how is that possible, but think botched vasectomies do happen, and let it go. Till a full pregnancy later she pops out a baby... that is obviously not yours. And when you ask her 'Honey, I am confused, explain this to me.' Then she will tell you 'Oh, my Honeybee. I love your big black cock so much. I want you to fuck me with it forever. But I do want to be a mother. And as a mother I have to think about the future of my children. And they will have a better life, you know, with another natural sperm donor. But, Sugar Pie, you can still give them all your love. Talking of which, it has been two hours, and you must change our baby's diaper.' Have you considered that outcome, slave?"

"No Mistress! That is so cruel! Please have mercy!"

"Shut up slave! Your stupidity and naivete bores me to death."

And now Henry was really, truly aghast. He was shocked at the cruelty his wife seemed capable off. And never having forgotten his own manhood was compromised in a steel cage, considered he was most certainly not about to get a vasectomy at his wife's request anytime soon.

"In fact, lets put that big black cock of yours to a better use. On your knees. Now!"

Whipped Mistress Kiersten at the handsome black doctor. Who, almost in tears, went on his knees as best he could directly in front of Henry's wife. Eye level with her exquisite white cocktail dress clad pelvis. Just above eye level her exquisite lace-top thigh-high clad thighs. As he vibrated like a tuning fork in distressed submission. And Mistress Kiersten, to Henry's dismay, tied a 25 tail black suede flogger just under the head of his manhood. Instructing him.

"Now sweep my floor. Come on, swing that big black cock back and forth. And do a job more suited to your station."

As the impressive but thoroughly humbled man began to do as instructed.

"Lower to the ground! Your big black tool is too erect. Do something about that or I will shrink it for you, and you won't like my methods. And get every corner of the room!"

Continued to taunt and mock the exquisite svelte fair blonde, as her muscular black slave cowed in fear before her, and did his damn best to do as instructed.

"You know, slave. I considered helping myself to that big black cock too, before coming here. For the purpose, I even left behind my panties at the last minute. But now that I see who you are, that is never going to happen."

Spat out Henry's wife. And now Henry had to pause. Take that from the top. Did his wife just say she left behind her panties to help herself to another man? Than cannot be true. he thought. And yet the first thing he did was turn around to check the rear passenger seat. And the husband almost suffered a heart attack, when lo and behold, therein lay a neatly folded pair of white lace panties on the black leather car seat. Henry screamed at full lung in the closed, otherwise silent car instantly upon seeing that. And almost snapped the 13 inch screened tablet in two in his hands, but kept a hold of himself at the last minute. Instead, Henry quickly picked up the panties from the back seat, and took a long deep sniff of his wife's vaginal scent on it. Like shooting a drug, it gave Henry intense comfort to do so, so he kept a firm fist grip on the thin and delicate garment, and continued taking sporadic sniffs as his wife's date went on.

"Instead, slave, look at you reduced to nothing more than a disgrace to your family. Marrying a White Princess only so she will geld you and cuck you. Dating another White Princess and paying her money, only so she will rub your inadequacy in your face. You are pathetic!"

"I am sorry Mistress, you are right, but I can not help it. Please, I am sorry!"

"Silence slave! I am tired of talking to you. It bores me. That was a lousy sweeping job anyway. Maybe I can find a better use for your useless body. Crawl over here on your knees!"

Continued to cruelly lash Henry's exquisite, truly exquisite, but diabolical, fiendish wife. As she strutted in her four inch heels and tight, short little white dress--like the most irresistible and evil of biblical temptresses--to her living room high-back armchair "throne" and sat down on it. Seductively crossing one leg over the other, in a sexually inflammatory but socially pompous move she clearly had mastered to prima ballerina perfection.

"Here I said!"

She snapped again, impatient at her hurrying slave. Who as soon as he got there got a curt.

"Open your mouth!"

And proceeded to suffer Henry's wife wrapping, buckling and locking a unique contraption of a gag in his mouth. A gag that not only silenced him, but seemed to end in a protruding attachment point for an accessory or accessories. And indeed no sooner was the gag secure, Mistress Kiersten fastened a ring, like a small basketball hoop, on it. And dropped a small ice water bucket with a half bottle of sparkling wine --which had rested unnoticed on a side table--in it. Turning the handsome black man on his knees into nothing more than table ware for Henry's cruel wife.

Henry felt his wife just kept going from high to new high of diabolical cruelty. And even though he was appalled, he also was getting more and more turned on by it. And his manhood would have been hard as steel pipe by now had it anywhere to go. Instead, stunted in the actual steel cage that it was, the only thing Henry felt, was wetness seeping through his increasingly moist pants. And Henry was truly torn by all the emotions Goddess Kiersten was making him feel, as much as she was making her date feel. So the husband just kept going to his wife's panties for comfort.

Yet that comfort was not enough, when just before Mistress Kiersten poured herself some sparkling wine on a flute and began to drink from it, she untied the 25 tail swede flogger from her date's manhood. And used her sharply contrasting, delicate alabaster white hands to roll a large sized condom over the now free piece of dark man-meat.

"Please, Jaime, no."

Begged the distraught husband in the car alone. As his wife then leaned back in her throne, began to sip with her right hand. And rolling her left fingers fully around the latex wrapped man-shaft, began to use her left thumb to slowly, softly caress the man-head in her grip.

Both the Goddess' husband and the Goddess' date began to groan at that. Henry managed to eventually stop groaning. Not so the man on his knees just the side of his wife, who began to vibrate once again like a tuning fork. And who, to Henry's dismay, only seemed to get bigger and harder with every passing second of Henry's wife attention. Intellectually, Henry understood Jaime was rendering the cruel pre-orgasm torture he himself had experienced less than a week ago. But he could not help hating his wife's date with a passion, and wish him a slow and painful death.

Goddess Kiersten kept torturing both the man before her, and the one behind a wireless connection for the next fifteen minutes or so, as she glamorously sipped sparkling wine from her flute in silence. Until, still in silence, and without even glancing at her date, she moved to reverse her leg cross. Her left leg, previously over her right, went to the ground, and the right one went over it instead. As she did so, with the exquisite mathematical perfection of a ballerina again, she let go of the piece of man-meat she had been toying with in her hand, and put it on a vice between her thighs instead. Henry watched in horror as the lace tops of her thigh highs griped the length of her date's shaft between them. And his heart stopped in even greater horror, as he saw the head of that shaft, which extended past his wife's thighs, begin to pulse and inflate like a balloon the reservoir tip of the condom that covered it. And that, Henry decided, was enough. This time he did take off the wireless earbuds he was wearing, and shut down the tablet screen he was watching, even if his wife's date was not done.