Modern Day Thornbirds Ch. 02

Two months apart and Marty woke the next morning all alone in his bed in the basement. He and Mary had laid in bed together, but as she drifted off she reminded him she wanted him to sleep in his bed. He grudgingly did, missing the feel of her buttocks against his caged manhood.

He liked spooning her, but also being spooned by her. There was something he found really sensual about having her pubic mound against his bottom and her breasts pressing against his back.

It was humiliating to be married only a few years and being kicked out of the master bedroom. It also stung to imagine Father spooning with her. The bitterness and wounds he felt in one part of his brain were not the same in other parts. It excited him sexually to be sleeping in separate beds and to picture Father and Mary sleeping after an energetic long bout of lovemaking.

He looked at the clock and realized he had slept a long time. He got out of bed and after finishing his morning routine, headed upstairs. On the main level, there was no sign of Mary. He walked upstairs to her bedroom. They had a large house. Four bedrooms and three bathrooms on the second floor.

He wondered why Mary hadn't exiled him to one of those rooms, but to the one furthest from her. Maybe she really did want him to be invisible when she was with Father. He walked into her bedroom. The bed was unmade, towels on the bathroom floor, clothes on the floor, but no sign of his wife.

He gathered up the towels, clothes, and stripped the sheets off of the bed. He noticed the mattress cover was wet and removed it. The sex the day before had been spectacular. He wondered if she would want his face between her legs that day or if she needed a break.

He started the laundry, walked into the garage and noticed her car was gone. He went and picked up the newspaper. It was a big paper making him realize it was Sunday. He had gotten his days mixed up. He was sure she had gone to Mass, but church had ended hours ago.

He made himself a pot of coffee and made a list of things he needed to do. He had explored his new bedroom earlier. It was actually a nice room, as big as the master bedroom with its own bathroom and a large walk in closet. He found his clothes in one of the drawers. He had emptied his suitcase before going to sleep.

He wondered where she got the furniture because there had been none when he left. It was not an impulsive decision she had made, but one thought out in great detail. He felt a lump in his throat form as this revelation hit him. He wondered how long she had been wanting to do this, but hadn't. He wondered if their extended separation prompted her to act upon her desires.

What was funny is during their separation he had often fantasized about her taking a lover in his absence, the two of them making love in the master bedroom, the imaginary man sleeping where Marty normally did, but he had purposely kept those thoughts out of his letters.

He didn't want her to think that being cuckolded was all he thought about and that he still had what he called normal thoughts. He wondered if reading those letters confused, even scared her. From the work she had put in he concluded they had not. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined being kicked out of the master bedroom, much less his first day home.

He was starting to see her fantasy was different than his. If he wanted it to progress he would have to accept his cuckolding on her terms.

He looked around the kitchen for a note, but found none. He wondered if she had forgotten to leave him one or if it had been an intentional slight, to remind him he needed to roll with the punches, that he was not first and foremost in her thoughts.

That realization stung a bit, but its effect on him was to drive him deeper into submission, fueling his need to please her more.

He skipped eating and with cleaning supplies in hand began to thoroughly clean the house for his mistress. He thought she would walk through the door any moment as she had been gone for hours.

It was early evening when she returned.

He felt a little lost without her there to provide him instruction. He didn't know if he should cook them dinner or fix himself a meal. He had decided to wait. In a marriage of equals he would have expressed anger about her not telling him her plans, but theirs was not a marriage based on mutual respect.

When she came into the house her first words were not to greet him or explain where she had been, but, "Did you not hear the garage door open?"

He answered, "I heard it."

She coldly said, "Next time you hear it I expect you to come outside and greet me."

She looked at the kitchen and asked, "Where's dinner?"

He apologized for not having started it, "You didn't leave a note. I didn't know if you wanted me to make dinner or if you had plans."

He wanted to point out all the effort he had put into tidying up the house, but wisely decided not to.

She told him she was hungry and thirsty and her feet were sore and she needed a bath.

He asked her what she wanted to eat. She told him, "Use your imagination. You know what I like."

He offered to rub her feet. She said they could wait until after she had eaten.

Forty five minutes later they finished the meal he quickly prepared.

"You need to work on anticipating my needs. I don't mind telling you to do things, but I much prefer it when you take the initiative and think about what I would want."

He said he would work on it. He offered to make her a hot tea. She nodded she would. As he set the pot to boil she commented, "See, that wasn't so hard was it. You know I like a hot tea after my evening meal, especially on a day like today. Cold, windy, and wet."

While the water was heating up, he walked over to the table, dropped to his knees and began to unlace her shoes. He removed each one and then her socks. Just as he was about to start kneading them, she reminded him about the water.

He got up, made her tea, brought her the mug, and got back on his knees. He worked on her feet, his body underneath the kitchen table. He didn't speak while he massaged them. Towards the end of the massage she moved her feet away from his hands and placed it on the polycarbonate cage covering his penis.

"Just checking to see if it was on."

She moved it around using her toes searching for his testicles. She applied pressure to them, not enough to hurt, but firm enough to be uncomfortable.

"That's enough attention for my feet. Now go run my bath. When it's ready, come back and get me."

Fifteen minutes later he had the tub filled with hot water. He did as requested.

"Thank you."

She took one last drink, stood up, and headed to her bedroom.

She didn't ask him to accompany her. He cleaned up the kitchen while she bathed.

She returned a half hour later, with her bathrobe on, a towel wrapped around her head.

She sat in her chair and turned on the television. She ignored Marty who was sitting on the couch beside her.

She found a show she liked and started watching it.

During a commercial break, she told him, "I'm sorry I was so cross with you earlier. The house looks wonderful. Dinner was great, the foot massage wonderful, and my bathwater the right temperature. You did well so I think you deserve a treat."

She undid the sash holding her robe together. She was naked underneath her robe.

Draping her legs over the arm rests she opened her menu for Marty to sample from.

He knelt in front of the chair and pressed his face to her sex. He began to slowly lick her.

"That's it cuck. You've earned your reward. Take your time."

She closed her eyes, played with her nipples, and thought about her day spent with Father. They had gotten along so well. She was very deferential towards him and also solicitous, waiting on him, anticipating his needs, much like she wanted from Marty.

They made a lot of eye contact and he held her hand for a longer than necessary time, but the best part of the day was when he commented, "I'm surprised you're here. I would have thought you would have been home with Marty. How long has it been? Two months?"

She smiled and answered knowing those within earshot would hear, "I wouldn't have missed this opportunity to be with you. It's not often your schedule allows it."

By the look on Father's face she wondered if she had crossed a line.

It was when everyone had left and he was walking Mary to her car he said, "I'm glad you chose to spend the day with me. I hope he understands. I really enjoy our time together Mary."

His comments emboldened her to be more direct with Father.

"Me too Father and yes, he understands where he is in the pecking order. You, me, then him. When will I see you again? I had a really good time."

"Soon," he paused looking as if he had something on his mind, "I'm sorry if I've been abrupt with you in the past. I want us to start on a new foot."

Mary said, "I completely understand. Attendance is up. I'm glad you are back at this parish. It' felt like you were exiled."

"I was, but now I don't have to worry about people spying on me, spreading rumors. The new bishop isn't paranoid someone may be trying to get his job."

"Good, but what does that mean?"

"It means I can spend more time with you without worrying. He doesn't care if his pastors have female friends or if they are married or single."

Mary said, "I should thank him the next time I see him."

Father chuckled because how he imagined Mary thanking the bishop was very different from hers.

"He would like that."

He told her when he was free again. She didn't hesitate to tell him she was available or if she needed to talk to Marty first.

"That's my girl," he quipped praising her as if she had done him a favor.

He then did something he hadn't done in a long time. He hugged her and not just for a second. She hugged him back, pressing her breasts against his chest. She wondered if he would kiss her, but he didn't.

She was happy with whatever crumbs he threw her way, but she wanted so much more. She wondered if he really knew how much she wanted him and if it would shock him. He had sent so many signals that she was often left confused about their relationship. She didn't feel that way anymore.

She didn't want to be too optimistic, but she thought there was a chance they would take their friendship to a different level.

As her cuck pleasured her she imagined kissing Father, running her fingers through his hair or resting her head on his chest. She wondered what he would be like in bed, if it would be awkward because he was inexperienced. She didn't care. She would teach him, like she had taught her cuck.

As her orgasm neared, she kept hearing again and again, "That's my girl." It wasn't the words as much as it was the way he said it, as if he owned her.

She mumbled, "I am your girl, Father," as Marty's tongue worked its magic.

After he finished pleasuring her, she said, "Thanks. I needed that. Just being with Father all day gets me worked up. I guess it wasn't as good for you as it was for me."

He told her, "Knowing I'm making you feel good makes me feel good."

She told him to pour them each a glass of wine and to join her, pointing to his spot on the couch.

When he stood up, she noticed the wet spot on his gym shorts.

"I guess it was good for you."

He smiled, but also felt a bit embarrassed about how easy he climaxed.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm glad pleasuring me triggers that kind of response in you."

After doing as she asked, he sat down and listened as she told him about her day spent with Father. Following Mass, there had been a fundraiser held outdoors. She told him about every conversation she had with Father and asked for his insights.

"Am I reading into them making them what I want to hear or is Father into me?"

Marty prefaced his answer by saying it wasn't the cuck in him talking, but her husband.

"He does sound interested in you. Do you really think it's because the bishop left?

She answered, "I don't know. I'm just nervous. He and I may have totally different ideas about what being interested in someone means. I need to play it cool."

Marty pointed out, "You said you wanted him to make the first move. You can let him know you're interested without saying anything."

Talked out, tired, and satisfied on so many levels, Mary yawned and tossed the remote to Marty.

"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

He asked her if she wanted to snuggle.

"Not tonight, but thanks for asking."

She headed upstairs. He heard her bedroom door close. He flipped through the channels but nothing appealed to him. He wasn't a big television watcher. He yawned. His day may have started late, but it had been busy.

The next morning he woke before Mary and prepared breakfast while she got ready for work. She said he had made too much food and didn't have time to sit.

"You eat it," she said as she walked out the door thanking him for the bacon. He didn't have to return to work right away. He cleaned breakfast up, then made a grocery list, planned meals for the week, made his wife's bed, did the laundry, swapped the wet towels for fresh ones and went to the gym then the grocery store.

After unloading the car he showered, shaved, ironed or folded clothes and put them away. It was while he was in her bedroom he noticed she still had on his side of the bed a photo of them on their wedding day. On hers she had a photo of Father and her.

He remembered when it was taken. At a fundraiser. She had looked really good. A strawberry colored dress covered in sequins, almost a miniskirt, her face made up and hair done, a new pedicure and manicure, around her ankle a gold bracelet, high heels, stockings.

Underneath that dress, matching bra and panties, satin he recalled, and around her neck one of two necklaces. One held the key to his cage; the other a gift from a secret Santa. Father was in her clerics. He stayed a few hours and had even sat at their table and talked to the two of them.

Actually, he barely said a word to Marty as his focus was on Mary. He even told her how glamorous she looked which made her smile from ear to ear. She said she was glad he liked her outfit and pointed to her nails and feet showing off her pedicure and manicure but also drawing his attention to her ankle bracelet.

She had worn it for Marty, but only after he assured her no one would know it meant she was available. She wasn't as sure, but wore it and the key to indulge him.

Marty remembered Father noticing it, but not saying anything. He left to go mingle.

Mary had been in a good mood, but she was even in a better mood after Father stopped by. She even commented on it several times, and how he had commented on her dress.

Marty didn't pick up on the clues she was leaving him. Later on, a friend of their took the photo of the two of them at a roulette wheel, his arm around her waist. She got the photo and found a frame for it which was now on her nightstand. He reacted to the photo like the cuckold he was, finding its presence arousing instead of threatening.

He muttered to himself, "She really is crazy about him. I hope he feels the same."

He thought Mary was reading Father correctly, but wasn't sure she was making it more than it was. Father had good people skills and he could make you feel as if you were the only one he cared to talk to.

He normally didn't snoop, but he was curious about the changes she had made to their former bedroom. He looked in the closets and saw she had taken over more of what was his area. For someone who didn't mind clutter he marveled at how neat and orderly the walk in closet was.

He also noted how there was space and empty hangers.

He asked himself aloud, "Is she planning on having him here overnight?"

The thought made him lightheaded as the blood rushed to his caged manhood as he imagined Father and Mary making love on the bed.

He checked out the armoire which had always been hers and the chest of drawers. She had taken over some of his but left a few drawers empty for him.

Same thing on the nightstand. Empty of all his things. He appreciated Mary for not having just deposited his things in the basement. She had spent a lot of time turning it into a bedroom. She had bought furniture and transferred the contents. His closet was tidy as was the bathroom.

He walked to her side of the bed and out of curiosity opened her nightstand drawer. The contents surprised him in a good way. There were all the cards Father had ever sent her which turned out to be a lot.

He looked at a few and there was nothing Father had written hinting he had feelings for Mary. They were warm words, like one would tell a close friend.

He closed the drawer and noticed there was a book underneath the nightstand drawer in a shelf built below it.

He pulled the book out. It was titled, "Taking Control of Your Marriage."

The cover wasn't particularly racy. He looked at the chapter titles, "Equality is Dead, Making Him Step Up His Game, It's All About Rationing, When He's Been Bad, Becoming The Boss in The Bedroom and the House, and Stepping Out."

His heart pounding in his chest he sat down in the recliner, the one piece of furniture which he had bought for himself, which she hadn't moved to the basement. He wondered if it was because of the weight or its comfort. She had commented more than once how much she liked the chair.

He had spent more than a few hours of his life on his knees in front of the chair pleasuring Mary. It pained him to think he and she would probably never make love again in her bedroom. She had been very clear after their reunion it was their last time. They would use his room or other rooms in the house, but her bedroom was reserved for her lover.

He skimmed through the book. Some of it was really well written and on target about the realities of two income families and how women were doing it all while husbands loafed. He had never been one of those husbands so it didn't apply to him. He did like the chapter on rationing a man's orgasms. The theory was men would do anything for the opportunity to climax.

Let them visit the cow too often and the bull would get lazy was how she described it. She also said rationing could have unintended consequences, both good and bad. Rationing would make a husband do more, but it could also make him too submissive which wasn't particularly sexy.

Even dominant women she pointed out wanted to submit to men who were dominant. It was all about biology and psychology and finding the right balance, submissive but not too submissive. The solution was to encourage him to do things which required him to be manly.

She asked, "Who wants to be fucked by a bull who behaves like a dairy cow? Women want to be bred by men, real men who just happen to worship their wives. What happens if that's not possible or you prefer your husband to be really submissive?"

She addressed it in a chapter dedicated to taking a lover. She explained how open infidelity by the wife can actually strengthen a female led marriage. Seeing her fulfilled both emotionally and physically would drive him into deeper submission.

She would rely on him more because he would do more for her. Even as her interest in him as a lover or companion waned she couldn't imagine life without him. All she had to do to keep him was to throw him the occasional bone.

Marty put the book back in its place, emptied the wastebasket, checked to make sure the boxes of tissue were still full, and emptied her laundry basket before leaving the room.