A Wife's Dark Talent Ch. 04

And that is what he did. He put on the cage, realizing after he did, he had no way of knowing if the timer was activated and for how long. Shit! He was after all putting it on more than halfway through his wife's trip. What if she put the timer for the duration of her trip? He would be locked even after she returned! Well, it was done. He had his wife's panties. And they indeed sent him to heaven with their vaginal scent. And he spent the night watching all three of his wife's date recordings, even if he could not jerk off any longer, and his manhood merely cried impotently through the cage.

Just a little before midnight, truly feeling like one of Jaime's dick pic creeps, he photographed himself and sent the pic to his wife with the following.

"Jaime, I found your gift. I thank you for it, as you can see from this pic. Sorry, if it makes me look like one of your creeps. I could think of no other iron clad way to prove to you I am respecting your wishes. Please let me know when you are back from your date. I worry about you. Love, Henry."

That was just a little before midnight. But the midnight hour came and went with no news. Then one in the morning. Two in the morning. Even three, and Henry heard nothing. So he simply went to bed the remaining hours, in his cock cage, almost in tears, taking sniffs off Jaime's panties the rest of the night.

*****

When Jaime finally arrived Thursday night, her husband Henry waited for her like an over eager love sick puppy dog. And as she walked in through the door, he was reminded how stunningly beautiful she was. How Sexy. Even more so as her glow seemed to shine brighter every day. Perhaps pro-Dommeing did suit her. Like drinking human blood suits a vampire. Kept her looking at her best. It was a scary thought, but Henry considered the possibility.

"Jaime. I have missed you."

"I know. So what?"

Answered callously the exquisite executive wife. The tone and careless curtness stabbed Henry in the heart.

"I wanted to know you were at least ok. I... even put the cage on for you.

"I repeat. So what? You want me to pat you on the head. 'Oh hubby! I love you so much. I missed you very, very much too! You know, while I was earning all our family's income. And playing with men that actually know what they want!'"

Said mockingly the cruel wife. Though hurt, Henry was still undaunted.

"I love you, Jaime, and I would like an hour with you tonight. Please."

"I do not have an hour for you. Or rather, I do not want to spend an hour on you. Henry, being needy does not look good on you. Oh gosh, you are going to bore me to death aren't you? I will tell you what, strip down to your little penis cage. Then lie by the Barcelona lounge chair in the sunroom. I'll give you your hour. But then we are done. Better be ready when I come back."

Finally said the wife as she spun around and left for their bedroom to freshen up a bit. Henry did not have any idea how striping and lying on the rug of the four season sunroom was going to get him close to his wife. But if that is what she allowed he would take it. So he was ready when Jaime came back freshened up and dressed down from her work day. A pair of jeans, that being Jaime's, could not help but being flattering and seductive because she had nothing that was not so. A white spaghetti-strap tank top, were the same observation applied. And bare feet. As well as a laptop and a glass of wine in her hands. Then she placed the laptop and wine down on a side table by the lounge chair before turning to her husband and explaining.

"I am days behind with processing my suitors' emails. I am going to do that right now. Your job is to be quiet and be still, and let me forget you are there. If I do not forget you are there, I am gone. Understood?"

"Jaime, how does that make us close?"

"You will see. Now shut up. Clock is ticking."

And Jaime proceeded to shift the chair until it slid over her husband. The line where back and seat met, directly over his waistline. The seat rising at an angle over his chest. His arms under the seat, his legs projecting behind the back. Then Jaime proceeded to sit on the chair and lean back on it, as she turned on a tall standing reading light beside her, and opened the laptop on her lap. And finally rested her soft, fair bare feet directly on her husband's face.

Henry had never been in that position before. It was surreal. And dehumanizing. And he wanted to say something to his wife, but her instructions had been clear. If he made his presence noticed, remembered, she was gone. So he stayed quiet. And listened as his wife made soft clicks on her computer.

"Click."

"Click."

"Click."

Henry though she was pressing a touchpad. Scrolling through emails perhaps. As she occasionally picked up the glass of wine and took sips.

One thing Henry started noticing quickly was the scent of his wife's feet. They were briny. Not stinky, but a little briny. As very, very small amounts of the day's sweat passed his lips, he noticed they tasted briny too. And suddenly he started to feel aroused. His manhood, the only part of him that was clothed in any way, stretched and groaned, and when it was frustrated, started to leak. The rest of him merely began to go into a cold sweat.

"Click, click."

Suddenly went Henry's wife on the computer. He could not see her face, since it was hidden behind the screen. But he had the soles and toes of her feet directly on his cheeks and eyes respectively. And her calves rose directly over them. Her thighs then angling. She definitely looked like a Goddess with her legs and body looming over him like that.

"Click, click."

Jaime's computer went again. As she adjusted her feet on his face. It was not in any way for Henry's benefit. Truly. Henry could tell. Just the normal adjustment a sitting person does every few minutes.

"Click."

"Click, click."

As by the minute Henry felt his sexual arousal climb more and more. He did not understand it. He should feel humiliated, and he did. What Jaime was doing to him was more appropriate to a playground bullying situation. But Jaime's brine was acting like a drug that drilled a pleasurable hole in his nasal cavity. And the silky softness of her soles acted like a piece of satin that cooled his features. His manhood was increasingly uncomfortable in its cage.

"Click, click, click, click..."

Suddenly went the computer, as the Goddess above him was clearly typing. Who was the lucky suitor? Henry wondered. And he wondered if said suitor would be pleased to know the Goddess was resting her feet on her husband's face while she responded to him. Henry recognized he would have been, and that almost made him groan but for the fact he had been told to remain silent and still.

As time went on, it seemed to go on forever for Henry. Time seemed to stop as his existence became being the stool to his wife's feet. And the uncomfortable wetness in his cage. Until Jaime finally stopped, an hour and a half later. She folder her computer. She switched off the reading lamp. And she walked away from Henry like he truly was not there.

Henry understood he she had given him his hour. That she was done with him for the night. And that she expected him to sleep in the couch.

*****

Friday routine was about what Henry had come to expect by now. Cold, distant wife, that barely acknowledged his existence, as she got ready and left for work. And the same as she came back to get ready for her date. And Henry was convinced by now she forgot she even had a husband on Fridays. Even though he, having spent several days in a row in the diabolical steel cage locked with his wife's fingerprint, could hardly think of anything but obsess about his wife. In any case, Henry also had come to get used to Jaime walking down the stairs in some stunning getup for her dates. And that almost made the Ice Queen silent treatment he had to endure on Fridays worth it.

This time was no exception. For the first time so far, Jaime's look was casual. Night-out stylish and slutty as hell, but casual. Like a rich socialite college Princess dolled up to be gangbanged real hard at the rich boys' Fraternity party. On Jaime that night, that meant truly ultra-low bootcut jeans that completely bared her hip bones, and even the very top of her pubic bone. Quite pointy toed white leather four inch booties to go along with them. And a white stretch halter neck that seemed vacuum sealed onto her perky delicate nubile bosom. A slew of details beyond that brought it further way over the top for Henry. The shimmery white halter neck was adorned with a decorative buckle in the front part of its choker-like neck that made Jaime look like the slutty submissive, rather than the lofty Domme, this date. A fully decorative, not functional, white leather hip belt rode as low on her hips as the jeans themselves, bringing even more attention to Jaime's bared midriff. Shimmery barely gold makeup in both eyes and lips, the latter of which looked like she had just blow jobbed half a sports team. And even a black tribal tattoo, Henry presumed temporary, where her lower back began to rise to her butt in the classic tramp stamp position. It all screamed "I am a slut and I want you to fuck me hard" over and over again. And though Henry's manhood tried to break free of its cage, like the incredible hulk, it failed. And remembering another man had paid for his wife to look like this, Henry could do nothing but groan.

Jaime meanwhile merely helped herself out the door expecting her husband to follow.

One hour later, after chauffeuring and dropping off his wife, and watching her on the four way split screen streaming video on the tablet, Henry's thoughts turned dark. Real dark. As he watched his wife wait for her date like some utterly available star athlete's fangirl, he meditated she had been getting more confident and assertive in her dates. More wiling to push boundaries. Even, or rather especially, sexual boundaries. He dreaded to know what Jaime had been up to with her two dates in Beantown. What had she done in exchange for the serious money they had paid her. Handjobs? Blowjobs? Full vaginal? It made him shudder. Had they even been two separate dates, rather than two nights with two simultaneous men? Had they spit roasted her at the end? Not knowing was driving Henry mad with jealousy and insecurity. And he even realized Jaime knew that and kept him in the dark just to fuck with him that way. So he pushed the thoughts aside just as Jaime's date rang the door bell and let himself in.

"Hi Go..."

"It is just Kiersten for you, handsome."

"Hi Kiersten. I am glad we connected. That my teammate connected us. You truly are a sight to behold."

Said Jaime's date as she smiled back at him. As Jaime had informed Henry, her date was a young man. Just over thirty. Athletic with broad shoulders, and strong pectoral, arm and leg muscles by how his own casual date-night clothes fit him. But he also had the pretty blond boy looks of a country farm-boy behind all that. Which Henry found interesting but did not know what to do with at first.

"Brian is an old...friend...of mine. Girls like me like to have friends like Brian and you, Eric. I have known about you from watching your games. When I found out your team was in town to play the local team, I just had to reach out to Brian to see he if he would connect us. I am glad he did."

Said Henry's wife, as she approached her date, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pushed her pelvis hard against his. So far this whole date had gone like a high-class hooker GFE--girlfriend experience--date, and Henry did not like that one bit. Even less when Jaime's date wrapped his own arms around Kiersten's waist, and French kissed her as deep as he could. And Kiersten allowed it. In fact returned it fully in kind.

"Eric, you might not know this since you were born a farm-boy that barely finished high school. But back in ancient Rome, Roman ladies loved to have rendezvous with gladiatorial champions. The wives, mothers, sisters and daughters of the Roman senators, governors, and even emperors, understood well the pleasures that men that combat, and defeat, other men for a living can provide. Today, princesses like me continue the tradition with champions like you."

Added Kiersten to Eric's ear, almost a whisper, but loud enough for Henry's microphones to pick up. Henry then watched in dismay as Kiersten licked and bit Eric's ear. And Eric ran his hands up and down Kiersten's back, and eventually over her tight jeans clad butt and between her tight jeans clad thighs. That was way too much, painfully thought Henry. But he had learned already a week ago he was supposed to let it play in resigned silence, and watch.

Henry was not much of a sports guy, so he did not recognize the asshole canoodling and fondling his wife. But he was beginning to connect the dots and make educated guesses as his wife's whoring, yes whoring is what he thought it was, progressed. This dumb jock was probably a League hockey player. Maybe even from Jaime's home state or a neighboring state. But he could not try to deduct more, as he had to pause in shock as Kiersten, detaching from her suitor, dropped to her knees to unbuckle, unzip and drop her date's pants to the ground. And was moving in to suck...

Only for her to stop, stand up and recoil. And say.

"What the heck!" What is that? For a moment there I though I had forgotten to pull your underwear down. But no, your underwear is down. And yet... there is hardly anything there! You country bumpkin! Is that even a dick? More like dicklet! First time I've seen one like that. Makes me understand the expression 'manclit'!

Spat out in quick succession and full of venom Henry's wife. As she paced looking angry and irritated, while swinging her hips and bare midriff, in front of her date, each time. And all of a sudden Henry's sympathy went to the other young man, even as Henry had wanted to break his knees and elbows just a minute earlier.

"Kiersten..."

Shut up Dicklet Bumpkin! It is Princess Kiersten to you after all. To think I let you kiss me! And touch me! And I was about to blow you! And fuck you! Oh gross, I am going to have scrub the disgust off my body. You probably are a Johnny quick spurt too. Dicklets always are!

Ouch, thought Henry, and all of a sudden he was fascinated with this turn to his wife's date.

"Please, Princess Kiersten..."

"Shut up I said! How dare you think you could have a date with me? Fuck me? You got no shame? Girls, certainly princesses, expect more. Foolish me that I though because you are a jock with a broad back and big muscles, you would have a manhood too!"

"But, Princess Kiersten... our mutual friend Brian thought since we have the same hometown, and girls back home like you are 'nice'..."

"Oh that is rich. But do not get ahead of yourself Dicklet Quick-Spurt. You are only interesting because you are National Leaguer. But you never have really been that good. And now you are done. Your very, very last overdue year and you will be put to pasture. Then you will be forgotten as the mediocrity that you are!"

Then, standing tall and turning her nose up at her painfully smarting client, Kiersten continued.

"And you and I are most certainly not from the same town! You are the son of a pig farmer from Moorhead. I am banking heiress from Kenwood! And I may be nice, but I do not do charity. Certainly not pity fucks! And pity is the only reason a girl would fuck you! In fact, a girl could be doing transcendental meditation while you fuck her, and she probably would not even feel you. Just maybe, she would think there is a mosquito buzzing in her vagina!"

Henry was actually a little surprised Kiersten used that true fact about Jaime in her date. She was indeed a banking heiress that grew up in lakeshore mansion in a wealth neighborhood called Kenwood. Clearly her date being from a rural town of her home state must be true too.

"Please Princess Kiersten... there is no need to be so cruel..."

"Oh but there is!"

Continued the Princess, as she pulled her phone from her back pocket and took a good quick half dozen pictures of the man before her. From his whole body, to closeups of his manhood. Real pictures, as far as Henry could tell. He also noted the penis in question was indeed small, but not as tiny as Henry's wife reaction would have anybody believe.

"I am sooo, tempted to post this to my social media accounts. You should know, Dicklet Bumpkin, we Princesses are all good frenemies. I post this, and there is not a rich socialite girl in North America that will ever date you. We will all be too busy laughing at you! And we are all connected and influential. If only a quarter then repost these pics, whenever you put on your favorite sports networks, the only thing you will hear talking about, is your dicklet! Until everybody forgets about you and nobody talks about you ever again."

And Henry's wife snooty pose and demeanor reminded the husband of a side of her he found so evil. And so hot.

"Kiss my feet!"

"Princess Kiersten, why? That is demeaning!"

"Because I said so, Dicklet Bumpkin. Kiss my feet or I post the pictures!"

And now the strong jock with the small penis, still with his pants around his ankles, went down on his knees half in tears and began to shower Henry's wife feet with a torrential downpour of kisses. While Henry's wife's lips seem to curl up in genuine disgust as he did so.

"That is right. Better way for you to get a piece of me."

Kiersten said as she cocked one foot and leg, then another, while resting her hands on her all but bare hips in a haughty yet highly provocative pose.

"But it probably still is more than you deserve from me. Oink like a pig, pig farm boy!"

"Princess..."

"Oink or else!"

And the strong young man began indeed to oink like a pig. Henry felt for him. He even began to compare how bad his wife's various clients had had it. And excluding the beginning part when Eric got to be frisky with Kiersten, he thought the jock had it pretty bad indeed.

"Stay there and keep oinking!"

Said Princess Kiersten as she left and came back with a small bag of trash, which she proceeded to open and spill on the floor. Spreading all sorts of kitchen trash, from used paper towels, to slowly turning bad vegetable cuttings. Where did Jaime get that bag from, Henry did not know, because they did not use Jaime's townhouse to cook. He did remember she had a maid service come and clean every second week and on demand, and Jaime could have made the strange request they leave some kitchen garbage the last time they came around. In any case, what Kiersten said next really turned Henry's stomach.

"Now eat the trash piglet!

Her date just moaned and groaned this time. And it seemed entirely genuine. But he actually did as instructed.

"Hahahahahahahaha! That is so good. Hahahahaha! Nobody makes a fool of me, and that is what happens if anybody tiries. Piggy!"

Said Kiersten full of cruelty and malice. As she started filiming the pig's garbage feeding actually.

Your wife is a devil, thought Henry to himself. But he had not seen the worst. That came when Princess Kiersten, while still filming, said.

"Now Bumpkin Dicklet, there is a peeled, cored piece of pineapple in there. The hole in it might be too big for your dicklet, but pick it up and fuck it. With your dicklet. You want me to be a 'nice" homestate girl? That is me being nice. You wont leave my house without having fucked. A pineapple, not me!"

And Henry thought that would hurt. The highly acidic pineapple would irritate like hell. That was honest-to-god penis torture. And he still was a man with a penis himself. So for a very different reason than last week he could watch no more. Henry turned off the screen right after Eric thrust his penis into the cored pineapple for the first time.