Roland's Performance

AFTER THE SHOW

Tarique and Roland bowed and the curtain pulled close, shutting them off from the audience.

Tarique grinned at her husband, as she tossed her ash blonde hair.

"You think we did a pretty good performance, hon?"

"Y-yes, Tarique, but you could have gone just a little easier. I think you broke a blister that you put on my butt from last week's whipping."

They walked into the dressing room.

Roland's mouth was feeling especially gross. Tarique had made him eat three cakes of Ivory soap after he'd emitted a mild curse during the nipple torture exhibit.

Tarique was taking off her leather corset, and Roland helped by going to his knees and undoing her boots and pulling down her stockings.

"What, Roland? With the whips and canes display? I had to show them how to use these implements properly. You cry like a little bitch, Roland."

"Yes, but also the skull fucking with the dildo, I nearly vomited, and did you have to call up Harvey from the audience and have me suck his dick?"

Tarique made a mock sad face as she undid her corset. "Aaw. Poor baby. But Harvey is your best friend and I was trying to make the audience understand that this is the ideal way to subjugate your husband, reduce your status in other men's eyes."

She paused.

"See, after you service your old buddies a few times, they won't ask you to go bowling with them anymore, and I can use that extra time to have you do more housework. Don't the ladies need to understand that?"

Roland turned bright red and stared at the floor. And Tarique laughed merrily.

Roland looked around for his tux. Where was the damn tuxedo? This had been a big deal.

Tarique had been asked to do a display at the Paincafe on proper femdom marriage activities, most of the Tawse Club and the Scourge Society had been in attendance.

She had implored Roland to help her, and thought they'd done a great job.

Yes, she'd whipped Roland with different implements, showed proper make up application for slut training, squirted the cosmetics off Roland's face when peeing in his mouth...

And showed how you could turn a driveway basketball hoop into a testicular suspension device.

Tarique had attached mousetraps and clothespins all over Roland's body, nipples, under the arms, all over the groin area, and then knocked them all off his body as he'd screamed.

And then Tarique had invited four or five young men from the audience to come up and smoke cigars on stage and drop ashes and stub them out all over Rollie's tongue as he knelt with his mouth open-what an ashtray!

Now Tarique stepped into a glittery evening gown. "Now I'm going to go see our friends, and thank Peggy and Jocelyn for their support in setting it up, have a little shrimp. Zip me up, honey?"

"Honey where are my clothes?"

"What clothes? The overalls you wore over here?"

"No, my nice clothes for the reception. I was part of the act too, I'd like my own congratulations, and have a little champagne to get the ashes and the soap taste out of my mouth."

Tarique took Roland by the hand and led him to her makeup table, which peculiarly had an eyehole drilled into it. Roland hadn't seen that before.

As Roland stood, stunned, Tarique locked him in his chastity cage and chained the cage to the eyehole in the table, which would force him to stand for as long as it was locked.

"What's going on?"

Tarique grabbed Roland's wrists and locked them behind his back with steel handcuffs.

Then, as if nothing happened she sat down and began applying eyeliner, and then lipstick.

"Tarique, I thought we would go downstairs and have some cake. There's a cake with a picture of us on it, honey." Roland's voice became a little emotional.

C'mon, please. She'd rubbed habaneras peppers on his balls. Just to thrill the audience. Couldn't he get a break now?

"Roland, forget it." Tarique closed her compact. "You are my submissive, those people downstairs are normal, they don't want some slave boy faggot hanging around, not my friends. You stay up here and wait for me."

"But they're in the scene, too, those people, and you and I had a deal, if I could go through with the performance-"

Roland was near tears.

"I don't make deals with slave-pigs. You're a pain slut, not a labor negotiator."

"But you told me we would have such a good time after." Roland began sobbing slightly. "You said it would be good for both of us."

"It can be good for you if you remain in sub space now, realize the role."

Roland felt like he did when he was a kid and his parents sent him upstairs so they could party with the other grown-ups in the living room.

"And what's this? Why do I have to stand here with my dick locked to your makeup table?"

Tarique shook her head. "You just don't learn. You're my slave, we put on a performance, and now you are chained there for a couple of hours while I go down and have fun with my friends...

...If you're going to be difficult, well, I don't have the energy to discipline you."

"Discipline me?" He'd just gone through three hours of discipline.

"Enrique, the electrician who did the lights offered to whip your ass if I gave him a little beejay next week. That might be the way to calm you down."

Roland's blood ran cold; she'd do it, too. "I'm calm, I just don't think it's fair."

Tarique smiled coldly and stepped close to the makeup table. She ran a long red nail over Roland's caged cock. It was quite a color "Carnal Red Lacquer"...he remembered it when he'd given her a manicure earlier this afternoon.

Tarique ran her finger up and down over Roland's skin, which was poking through the bars of the cage as he got more and more erect. It was a little small, this cage, but it really worked in keeping his penis in check.

It was not the normal plastic cock chastity device that Roland wore during the week to work, but the metal bars were so tight and kept his penis really locked in.

Normally, Roland was left in the plastic device all week long, without it being removed even for a tease. Then on the weekends, he was put in the cage so Tarique could tease and toy with his cock as she liked.

"You don't think it's fair?" Tarique breathed into Roland's ear. Her Chanel No. 5 enveloped him, and she brushed her full lips, the lips he'd not kissed in a year against his ear casually.

Roland stared down into her plunging cleavage, which really made glittery gown look so awesome...

Tarique rubbed the chastity cage casually, and Roland's dick expanded helplessly until it was really bulging through the bars.

You could see the little marks on Roland's dick, the burns where Tarique had showed the group how to use a cattle prod shocker successfully to get more housework out of a guy when he said he was too tired!

Tarique took two long red nails and pinched hard. Earlier she'd also demonstrated the Kali's teeth bracelet, which a husband could wear to ensure not leering at young secretaries and passing joggers.

Oh, how his penis was still a bit pink from the cruel spikes of the Kali.

Along with the peppers, cigarette marks and cattle prod shocks!

"What you don't understand, Rollie, about your feelings of fairness, is that feelings aren't facts."

Roland looked up at her, Oh shit, she's reaching for her cane-

WHACK! WHACK!

Right on the cage, so hard.

"What you don't also get is I don't care if you are feeling ill-used."

Tarique kissed Roland's neck and he became erect again, and sure enough, the cane came down once more.

"You asked to be my submissive, and you're going to be and the best way for me to educate others on what a damn good domina I am, and instruct them on the best way to handle a submissive husband is, is showing them how he's not allowed to socialize with normal adults!"

Roland hung his head.

"When they ask where you are, I'll tell them you're still in the dressing room, naked and hard, and that's where you'll stay.

If they want to come up and see you there, I don't care if it humiliates you, all the ladies will come up with their dates and laugh at your shame. Why not?"

"Oh..."

"Unless you want to call safe word. Then we can stop, you can dress, you can do whatever you want."

"No, I like being your submissive..."

"You did tell me these were the best eighteen months of your life, dear."

"Yes, I love it, I want to be your helpless submissive, and most of the time I don't want you to go easy on me."

"And remember-don't blush, when you told me you were more thrilled by a monthly jacking off on my shoes than my nightly, succulent blowjobs in the first months of our marriage..."

"Y-yes of course."

"Okay then!"

"But, uh..."

"No, if you want to be my submissive, you'll stay locked to the table, and not get to pee or sit down for at least two hours, and you'll be taken home, cuffed and naked in the trunk while I blow Harvey in the front seat as he drives."

"Y-yes ma'am." There was a sob in Roland's throat.

"Don't think about it too much. Think about how I teased you in front of the audience earlier with dental floss soaked in bacon grease."

"I enjoyed that."

"And now, before I go downstairs, I'm going to give you a bit more discipline for your lip. I was tired, but I think I'm getting my mojo back."

Tarique backed off and whacked Roland's butt five times as he tried to pull away from the makeup table. Of course this made his dick stretch as it was attached, and the table dragged a little.

WHACK! WHACK! CRACK!

Roland couldn't help trying to get away, but his penis was fastened tightly, and so he finally bent over and bit his lower lip, and endured the thrashing, which went on for nearly three minutes.

Finally, in a swirl of her evening gown, Tarique tossed the cane and walked out of the dressing room, flicking off the light so it was pitch dark and slamming the door shut.

Now Roland was in the dark. He knew he was getting hard again, and was aware that Tarique had been grinding up Viagra and slipping it in his coffee to make him more um, dedicated.

Roland was in tears, crying loudly, and then softly. He was in such pain, and it wasn't fair.

Roland tried desperately to compose himself. He couldn't wipe his tears away, of course as his hands were bound behind him.

Now, thinking of her horrible betrayal-Tarique had told him all week how much he'd enjoy the reception if he went through the ordeal like a good boy-oh, all I went through on stage.

Roland remembered eighteen months ago when he first showed Tarique the thick hairbrush, and asked if she'd "punish" him and of course she was a little afraid then...what a nice girl she'd been!

"Baby, I don't want to hurt your bare butt like that. We never spanked in my family. Just time-outs. Are you sure?"

But then in time Tarique got used to it, and whenever she got annoyed with Roland because he forgot to pick up her dry cleaning, or parked her in by mistake...

Or mislaid her keys, or told a dirty joke in mixed company...

Was that why he was locked up here instead of being downstairs partying?

She'd go "Get in here and take off your pants, get over my knee. You're going to learn to behave like an adult!"

At least three times a week he'd get it, over her knee, and then tied down on the bed, and afterwards, standing naked and welted in a corner of his den, buttocks on fire, Roland would look down tearfully and see his erection pointing up!

Gradually, Roland had taken over most of the housework so Tarique could relax. He'd told her to quit her job after he'd gotten the big raise with the DiCicco account, and let her enjoy playing tennis, doing aerobics and shopping for the clothes that accentuated her beauty.

And now she was famous! Famous for torturing her poor husband. He, Roland, was a respectable stockbroker, but was also on display!

On stage. They were a famous D/S couple. If their thing was filmed, or they took it on the road, Roland would be in a mask, so he didn't lose his job but...

Roland's legs were getting tired, his buttocks were savaged, but yes, he was terribly turned on by the whole thing. Was that enough?

Downstairs, glamorous and chatty, Tarique charmed the guests and flirted with anxious submissive men.

"You understand, Everett, I don't date slave boys, and that's what you are, you weeny dick!"

Everett blushed and grinned.

"I fuck everything else under the sun, though"

Enrique and two handsome male caterers looked a question at her, and she tossed the key to the chain that connected poor Rollie to the makeup table.

She gave them the high sign, and they went up to enjoy a whipping and blowjob party with her poor husband.

They'd fuck his mouth and his ass, and beat the shit out of poor Rollie for being so demanding.

Lucky bastard!

Tarique lifted a glass of champagne, sipped it, and winked at Harvey, poor Roland's ex-best friend. They'd be doin' it tonight!