Charlie and Megan Wilson

"Honey, are you going to..." I started.

"Just enough to make your penis shrink. Okay. I need to fit the cage on your penis, and I'm afraid you'll be too hard for that to happen; hence, a little encouragement with the switch." I swallowed, and I mean hard. That thin little piece of rattan could do a number on a rhinoceros.

"See what I mean," she said, looking down at my swollen member. "You're erect!"

"But, I could..." I started to say jackoff, but she wasn't having any.

"Bend over the table my little man," she said. "Grab the edges and hold on tight."

I did what she said and gritted my teeth so as to minimize the pain. It wouldn't, of course, minimize anything, but the psychological benefit was undeniable.

The first swat was stunning. It drove the air from my lungs like a punch from a heavyweight boxer. Three stripes later my buns were on fire; I was choking and coughing on my own spit. The fifth one was actually cruel: I almost fainted; but it was the last one. I was crying; I couldn't help it.

"Straighten up, Charlie. And turn around. She was in the process of moving a chair for her to sit on while she put the cage on me. I found myself standing not more than twelve inches from her. She slipped the small silvery tube over my cock and then attached that to two rings, also silver, with which she encircled my balls. A small padlock conjoined the assembly completing my sexual imprisonment. I was frightened. She tugged on the tube and drew a cry of pain from me. There would be no getting out of my cage without the key.

"Honey?" I said.

"You'll be let out on occasion. I don't want you to go crazy either. But, I will be the one dictating the when," she said. "Does it feel okay? I don't want you to actually be hurting from it. It's supposed to be fairly comfortable, at least that's what the advertisement said."

"It's okay, I guess. But, honey, I'm scared. I've never been denied like this. I just don't know if I can make it for any length of time," I said. She smiled.

"Exactly. I need you to be actually desperate on nights when I have a visitor. Okay?" she said.

It was a week later when Daryl reappeared. I hadn't seen him in a while. It was actually a good thing for me. He was one bull that didn't oppress me. I hoped he'd be staying awhile. It'd be a major improvement on the losers Megan and I had been dealing with for the past while.

We visited and talked about nothing and everything. It was nice.

"So, I hear she locked you up," he said. We were on the patio. Megan had gone back inside to get some iced tea for us.

"Yes. It's supposed to keep me ready for her, sessions," I said. "She said it was actually your idea."

"Hmm, yes, among other things. A cuckold has to be ready for anything; I mean in terms of the way he might be treated by this or that bull. Megan told me you actually got into it with one of them, some big guy?" said Daryl.

"Yes. It was not good. He just went way too far deriding me, so I had to do something," I said. "Like I say, me going at him like I did was not good; I mean really not good! Now, she makes sure I can't argue too much with them, the bulls." He nodded his complete understanding.

"Here she comes," I said.

"You boys good?" she said, setting the tray of teas down on the umbrella covered table.

"Yes, more or less getting reacquainted," said Daryl.

"True," I said.

We gabbed for some little time; then, I had to beg off. "You guys visit for a while. I have to get some yard work done," I said. "Life isn't just sex only." The two of them laughed, and I headed off.

I did the front yard first; it's always the easiest. When I did finally get to the backyard they'd gone inside. I knew it wasn't for sex, or I would have been invited. I smiled; well, the guy was as close to a good friend that the two of us had among those who knew our propensities.

I was pulling weeds outside of the kitchen window, and I heard them talking.

"So how are you two getting along then, really," said Daryl. I could actually hear her sigh.

"Okay," she said. But, there was no enthusiasm in her statement.

"Really? I hear a but in there someplace," he said.

"Yes, well, I got what I paid for. He's a wimp right enough. I mean a total big assed, down and dirty, you better believe it candyass," she said. "But, he's virtually worthless in bed. And, really there isn't even any 'virtually' in the mix either if it comes to that. He's not even trainable; I've tried. I mean I do have my bulls; but it would be nice if I could get it on with my husband once in a great while and not come away feeling cheated. After the last experience we had with a bull, kind of a bad one: the way he kept downing Charlie; I had to send the guy on his way, and let Charlie have me as kind of a sop for putting up with the asshole as long as he did. I even faked a semi-orgasm for him; you know, to make him feel a little less down."

"Well, if you feel that way, why do you stay with him? I mean there's the standard of living and everything he brings to the table; but, is that enough for you to stay with him?" said Daryl. There was that sigh again.

"Yes, I guess so. He's all right when it comes to most things, but apart from his serious lack of bedroom skills; he's boring. Jesus is my husband boring. I mean he's a college professor and everything, but you'd think he'd care about something other than that stuff he's always plying his students with."

"Boy oh boy do I hear a disaster coming if you feel this strongly now," said Daryl.

I was sick. I had to get out of there. This wasn't a scene we were playing; this was how she really felt about me, about us. She didn't know it yet, but we were already done, she and I.

I snuck into the house and upstairs. I was able to pack enough stuff to carry me for a while. I'd have her served as soon as I could. I wasn't one for hanging on to that which was already gone. I'd miss her on some level but my love for her was dead.

I was almost out the door when she caught me. "Charlie?" she said. She eye'd me suspiciously. Daryl was still in the kitchen doing something; I could hear him.

"I won't be boring you anymore, Megan. I'll put everything in motion. Goodbye," I turned to go, but she grabbed my arm.

"Oh my god, you heard us talking didn't you!" she said. I just looked at her without responding. "Jesus, how that must have stung you; I mean what I said."

"It's okay. I know I'm not much. We had a run, a fantasy, but I guess like all fantasies, it was never really real," I said. "I mean when it gets to the point where it's actually boring; well, it's time to change up."

"Charlie, I don't know what to say. It was never you; it was me. If you'd be willing to stay, well, I'd be willing to try and make it up to you," she said.

"I'm sure you would, Megan. But, making it up to me isn't what this is about. What it's about is your belief that I can never be any good; which of course equates with me not ever being able to make you happy. Megan, I'm not willing to be just another sucker who pays the bills and occasionally gets to have his cock sucked. I really really am not into mercy sex. If I'm as worthless as you say; well, that pretty much says it all."

"Okay, Charlie. I just hope you and I don't become enemies over this. I do like you, really," she said. I snickered.

"Not love? I guess you never did, and, I guess you never could. Kinda puts the boff on this relationship, doesn't it, I mean any relationship." I turned and walked out.

I heard Daryl call to her from the kitchen, just as the door closed behind me.

******

MEGAN:

I watched him walk out. I was torn. I really did like the guy and hated to lose him, and no it wasn't all about his income or social contacts or any of that. It was, well, it was complicated.

I needed a husband who was, well, wimpy. I needed a man who adored me and who understood my needs. I needed a man, yes, who could afford me. And, Charlie fit all those criteria to a T. What I did not need Charlie for was sex. I could have all I wanted from men who knew what they were doing. Charlie, when it came to sex, was like the man, or boy, with two left feet on the dance floor. But, in Charlie's case it was two left feet and a sprained ankle. He liked the one particular sexual niche, the spankings and the humiliation; I could give him that, and gladly; but, he was all but incapable of reciprocating. He just didn't have it in him.

What I'd said to Daryl, and it was for his ears only, was true. But, Charlie had heard me. And, now he hated me. Get him back? That would be an almost hopeless task. Still, men were strange creatures. Stranger than we women in spite of all of the mythology to the contrary. There was always the very real hope that after a time crying in his beer and basking in his misery, that he would call or show up on my doorstep hat in hand. If he did, I would be very careful of his feelings and his pride and for a time at least, he would be one pampered sexual animal. Well at any rate, hope springs eternal.

******

I sat there on the barstool crying in my beer, or so the saying goes. She undoubtedly thought that I would be coming back before my shoes would need polishing. Well, she was going to be majorly disappointed. If I meant so little to her, as apparently was the case, I wasn't going to stick around just to be used. Stupid I no doubt was, but I sure as hell wasn't that stupid.

"Last call guy. If you want anything..." said the barkeep.

I looked over toward the cash register where the LCD display showed it to be almost 2:00AM. I was walking so I wasn't in any danger of getting busted. Well, I hoped that that would be the case.

It'd been a bit over two months since I walked out. I'd gotten no calls from her, not even an email telling me to get lost or hurry up and die or any of it; let alone asking me to come back. So, that settled it as far as I was concerned. It was clear that she really didn't give a damn whether I lived or died. I'd quite clearly outlived my usefulness. I smirked, only to myself, but it was a meaningful smirk. Mister micro-dick loser, me, was finally getting on with things. I kinda felt good about that, in a loser sort of way.

As I trudged home, I looked up at the sign looming in front of me. The Happy Traveler Motor Lodge. I saw a couple, a man, fiftyish and a young woman, maybe old enough to drink if she had a note from her mother, keying a door to one of the rooms off the courtyard. I almost wished it was me. I damn sure needed a little relief. I hadn't gone back even to see Marissa: I was afraid I would run into my wife. I figured that she would at the least have gone back there if only to pay the bills since I wasn't paying them anymore. I was horny as hell.

******

"I don't know Daryl. I'm what, lonely. I need the guy around. I, I think that I love him," she said. "Yuh know, I don't think I really did at first. But, living with him, realizing how hard he tried to please me, more, realizing how hard he tried to understand me, not an easy deal; well, the guy's a treasure. I have to get him back if I can."

"Then go after him. You can get him back. Hell, you can get any man you want to, to do any thing you want him to," he said.

"Hah! I can only hope to wish you know what you're talking about, Daryl," she said.

"Go see him. He's still working at the college. He won't be hard to find. Catch him at lunch or something. You can do it," he said. She nodded.

"Yes. You're right. I can do that. I just hope he'll sit still long enough for me to make my pitch. He was pretty not communicative when he cut out on me. Frankly, I really thought he'd be back. In my heart of hearts I was sure he was pussywhipped enough to beg me. But clearly, I hurt him bad enough to actually ruin what we had, what I thought we had," she said.

"Like I said, stop yakking about it, and just go get him," said Daryl.

"Okay. I will,"

"Good," said, Daryl.

******

I was in the instructors' line waiting to get my coffee and sweet role," when I saw her, and she did look good; she was talking to professor Macklin, who I knew had been her pre-Calc teacher a couple of semesters back; she'd mentioned him. I wondered if she was putting a move on him, or if she were here for what I was pretty sure was the other possible reason: to see me.

Did I want to talk to her? Of course I did. I needed to talk to her, but I also knew where I really stood with her. As far as she was concerned I was nothing more than a meal ticket.

Coffee and role secured I headed for the back of the caf hoping not to be seen. But, of course, deep down, I knew that that was a foolish hope. She loomed over my shoulder; I sensed her more than saw her.

"Whaddya want Megan? This is where I work. I really don't need any of this today," I said. I was being, for me, surprisingly strong.

"Hi Charlie. I was here to get some stuff from records. And..." she started.

"What are you really here for, Megan?" I said. I knew, and she knew I knew, that there was damn little chance that she was there to get records; and, even if such were true, why would she make a stop in the caf where she knew I'd be grabbing my morning coffee. No, I knew why she was here, and it had nothing to do with records.

"Okay, it's true, Charlie, I'm here to see you," she said, wistfully. Well, being right had its upsides, right?

"And why would you want to do that knowing as we do what you think of me," I said.

"Whew," she said, tendering me a half smile. "Well that's the whole shemoyghan, isn't it" she said. "The answer Charlie is not simple. But, if you can cut me a little slack here, I might be able to sell you on, well, what I think will be a reason for you to come home to me.

"Really? You think that something, anything, you can say will undo what I heard that day?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Hmm, you are definitely a glass half-fuller," I said.

I was torn. Should I listen to her spiel or get the hell out of dodge. I couldn't deny the two things that took hold of me right at that moment: one, I was curious; and two, she looked like a million bucks!

"Okay, I'm curious. Lay it on me, but I warn you; yours is very likely the impossible dream," I said. She nodded and took a seat across from me.

"Charlie, first let me say that I am sorry if I hurt you that day," she said.

"If you hurt me?" I said, not quite believing my ears.

"Okay, 'that I hurt you,'" she said. "I did tell it like it was, I mean to Daryl. No, that's not right. I told it like it like I thought it was, at the time."

"Okay, so far my heart is still in ruins. So?" I said.

"Charlie, you are trainable. I know what I said. But, what I should've said was that you, and that's you not me, were just so busy all of the time that training you was a non-happening. What was true, was that you aren't much of a bed partner, but again; if I had the time to do it right, I know I could train you," she said.

"Okay, maybe I could buy that. I am busy all of the time. That's true. And, I have always been a fast learner. Yeah, I can buy that I am trainable. But..." I said.

"The stuff about you being boring, right?" she said.

"Yes. And, that is something that I do not accept, and will not allow you or anyone else to accuse me of. The things I say, the way I act are those ways that I have long nurtured and prefer to other modalities of behavior. So, yes, you considering me irredeemably boring is a major sticking point for me," I said.

"Well, and you're right. It's just that I'm boring to; I mean to someone like you. Doctor Charles Wilson, you are so far beyond me intellectually; that you are hard to understand sometimes. You don't talk like other people. But, that's the deal I want to make here. I will do my best to train you in my specialty; and you, well you can maybe train me in the ways that you're an expert in," she said. "Whaddya think."

"I think you have come up with a solution with too many holes to be filled. I am not skilled enough in Psychology to get you to where you wouldn't think me boring. So, no, Megan. It won't work," I said. "Goodbye." I rose and walked out. She didn't try to stop me.

******

I was going to miss her. I'd shut her down pretty hard. Our sex, the games, were somehow lost in the conversations we'd had, both on the day of our breakup and the one I had just walked away from. Megan Wilson was history. I got on with my life.

I was thinking about finding another dungeon-like place like the one I used to frequent, the one where Marissa worked. Just a place to feed my fetish. Yeah, I knew I had one. I couldn't go back to the old place: too great a chance I'd be running into Megan. I knew if I saw her too often that I would succumb. No, I had to stay away from her at all events.

******

I was at home nursing a manhattan I'd made for myself. It was almost 10:00PM. I remembered the old commercial, "It's Miller Time." Well, I had my own version, "It's Mellow Time." Well, I wasn't much of a beer drinker, too bloating. The doorbell startled me. I went to answer it.

"Daryl! What the fuck!" I said, being uncharacteristically crude. But, in my defense, he had to have been the last person in the entire world that I would have expected to see, especially at ten o'clock at night. But here he indeed was, and smiling like he knew something that I was not privy to.

"Can I come in?" he said. I stared. "Please." I stood aside indicating that he should come in.

"Don't get comfortable," I said. "I can't think of any reason why you and I should be talking at all let alone anything of length or importance.

"I understand," he said. "But actually this, my being here, may be of some interest to you; and I'd add important as well; but well, you can be the judge of that." I nodded.

"You need to rethink your relationship with Megan," he said. "She misses you big time, and before you ask, no, she didn't send me here, and she doesn't know anything about me being here."

"Okay, since you've laid out your premise, go ahead extrapolate it," I said. He laughed.

"What is that classroom-ese you're talking?" he said. He kind of laughed.

"What do you want, Daryl? I was in the midst of a very nice kick-back evening until you shattered it with that damn doorbell," I said.

"To quote the great one: 'She wants you, she needs you, she loves you'," he said.

"Really? I mean me? Mister boring, no damn good in bed, pretty much useless in general but good provider: I mean me?"

"Yes you," he said. "Look, she was feeling down that day and a little, what, frustrated with herself. She really believes, sometimes that what she thinks and wants is always correct. Fact is she's right maybe half the time. She really didn't mean a word of it the way it came out, and believe me; she 'thinks' she did mean it, and that pseudo truth is killing her. The truth is she doesn't and didn't mean it, and she is going nuts trying to put it back together. That day she just let loose a flurry of feeling without using her head; she does that sometimes. You gotta come back and hug her and lead her to an understanding that what you two had and have if worth saving. And I'm not talking about the sex stuff; that's just the icing on the cake. I'm talking about the commitment the two of you have toward each other as people and partners."

"And, you expect me to believe that this isn't just another ploy to get me to go back and be the bill payer," I said.

"Look, Charlie, when you hug her and kiss her; I mean if you go back, don't you think that a smart guy like you will be able to tell if she's scamming you? She's a good actress, I'll vouch for that, but not that good. There is no way, she'll be able to fake her feelings, her true feelings, with you paying attention; and you will be," he said. He had me there.

What if she really did love me? What if she'd really been merely frustrated because of my long hours and consequent inability to learn. That bothered me. I'd never had a problem learning anything. But how to love and serve and respond to a woman like Megan and the games we played? Anyway, did I dare take the chance?