The Palmist Ch. 09

In fact, I wondered, with horror, was the answer already no? Was she doing this because she had already changed her mind about us marrying, but she just decided it would be deliciously wicked to reveal her reversal to me in this way? Maybe it was good I had such thoughts, because the resulting worry and preoccupation probably helped me to stay awake.

Fortunately, though, I did not have to wait until after sunrise to see what would happen. Ashley woke up around 3:30, turned over, looked at me, and smiled. She kicked the covers off of herself, and then brought a foot over to my head, lightly kicking it and asking, "How ya doin' there, bitch boy? Haha. How long 'til the next proposal?"

"Three and a half minutes, ma'am."

"Oh, good. You can stand up, then. Go out to the kitchen and put some coffee on for me."

"Yes, ma'am." I stood, but nearly fell over as my knees tried to adjust. She laughed, and I staggered out into the hallway, carrying the little box with the engagement ring in it, and proceeding to the kitchen.

She came out to the living room and plopped onto the sofa to watch TV. When the coffee was ready, I prepared it how she liked it, and brought her a cup. While she watched TV, I continued proposing, from my knees, and she repeatedly ignored me.

But after about a half hour, and at a 5-minute mark, I asked, "Ashley, will you marry me?" and she looked at me and said, "Take that ring out of the box."

"Yes, ma'am."

She held her left hand out, with her palm upward, and said, "Give it to me."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, with relief and excitement. I held the ring between my index finger and thumb, so as to place it on her, and aimed for her ring finger. She snapped, "What are you doing!? Give- just give it to me, dumbass, don't put it on my finger. I can put it on my own damn finger, you fuckin' idiot. Why do you think I was holding my hand like THIS? Duhhh! God! You are such a fuckin' moron."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Gimme it. Fuck. I can't believe I'm about to marry such- oh... listen... starting now, and until I say... DON'T... SAY... A FUCKING... WORD." She pointed at me, and glared, to emphasize the point. I remained silent, on my knees.

"As I was about to say, I can't believe I'm about to marry such a fuckin' idiot. But I am. We're gonna get married." She slipped the engagement ring on her finger, admired it, and said, "Looks pretty good on me, doesn't it? DON'T SPEAK! Yeah... I love it. Looks great. Now... in case you haven't yet figured out, which you probably haven't 'cause you're such a fuckin' dumbass, the answer is yes. I'll marry you. I don't wanna hear how happy you are, or any of that bullshit. I don't give a shit how you feel. But yes, we're getting married, so we have to go down to the courthouse to get a marriage license. Unfortunately, I'll have to sit in there with you in front of some stranger and admit, Yes, I'm marrying this stupid fuck. How embarrassing."

I remained silent as commanded, but I thought to myself, Please don't let her actually say that to the clerk. I wouldn't put it past her.

We got the marriage license, had Derek and Megan come to Bellewood to serve as witnesses, and got married in the middle of a weekday by a judge. I had to take a couple hours off of work, then had to go back for the afternoon. But before returning, we stopped by Ashley's apartment, where Derek and Megan got to watch, with amusement, as Ashley made me drop my pants so she could put a chastity device on my dick. Then they sent me on my way, and I spent my first few hours as a married man in my office at Feedler, with my dick in a cage under my pants, while my wife and our friends were out somewhere enjoying themselves without me.

I moved into Ashley's apartment until she found us a house. The first two weeks were pretty lonely, since Ashley was on a Caribbean cruise with Rich, on what should have been our honeymoon. She sent me photos of her and Rich having fun. I'd get them at all hours, but it was especially humiliating when they came while I was at work, and I had to look at my wife, in a bikini and sarong, and sunglasses on her head, and see Rich's bare chest and shit-eating grin as he held his muscular arm around my wife's waist. One photo was accompanied by a text that said, "Having a great time, don't wish you were here."

The first Saturday night she amused herself by calling me in the middle of the night, and waking me up. She said, "Hey bitch boy. Send me a text every five minutes telling me you love me, until I tell you stop. And it had better be *every five minutes*, right on time." Then she hung up, and I spent hours, until around noon Sunday, sending her "I love you Ashley" texts. She and Rich probably went to sleep after that phone call (after laughing their asses off first), and they probably found it hilarious whenever they got up Sunday and saw that Ashley had nearly a hundred texts from me.

These are just some ways in which Ashley loves to make an idiot out of me, and it's always even more fun for her when her friends are there to laugh. When it's just the two of us, she takes out all her hostility on me, and also enjoys being bratty or generally abusive. She loves to sneeze in my face, for example, or spit in it, and then I have to just go on about my duties and not wipe it off, while she laughs. Or sometimes she spits on the kitchen floor and makes me lick it up. Under any and all circumstances she loves to insult me, and never misses an opportunity to tell me what a dumbass I am if I can't figure something out. Like if I'm putting a piece of furniture together, she'll lounge and enjoy herself while watching me, and carping:

"It goes in the *side*, dumbass. Don't you see that hole? Duh!"

"No, dumbass, you gotta put those little nails in first. The ones in the little baggie over there, shithead."

"Oh my god, look at you. Haven't you ever used a screwdriver before? God, you're so useless."

Often her hectoring actually does help me get the job done. Had I been by myself, it would have taken longer to figure things out sometimes. I've always wondered, though, how she knows so much about this kinda stuff when she never does anything.

As for my sexual frustration, well... never being allowed to cum is brutal at first, but after months upon months, one gets used to it. It doesn't get easy, but it just becomes one's way of life. One adapts. It's not boring; I can tell you that. Because if Ashley senses I'm getting a little too comfortable in my life with her, and feels I'm not experiencing enough frustration and torment, well... she'll fix that. She's gotten buttplugs, some of which vibrate, which she makes me wear, to intensify the frustration of chastity. She also got a little electric shock ring to put around the base of my dick and balls, just behind the ring holding the chastity device on. It has a remote, which she loves to hand off to her friends so they can shock me as they bark out orders to me.

She's also purchased six or seven different chastity devices, and she changes them up. Her favorite one is metal and looks like a curved, rigid slinky. It's like putting your dick through a sequence of rings, which are all attached by a curved cross-piece along the top. But then it has little metal spikes, pointing INWARD. Oh, God. If your dick tries to get hard at all, those spikes start to dig in. Ohhhhhhh, my god, it hurts! And of course when she puts that thing on me, she LOVES to try to tease me and get me all turned on, and watch and listen as I wince and whine.

We have a house now. Ashley made good on her threat to have my bedroom just be a closet. It's in a hallway, and I sleep on the floor of it. I'm glad the floor is carpeted, because I get no padding; nothing but a pillow. That's it. I have to curl into a ball, too, because there isn't even enough room to lay flat.

And I have to sleep there whether she is home or not. Quite regularly, she's not. Unlike most married men, if I get home and my wife is not there, I have to accept not knowing when I'll see her next. It might be that evening, the middle of that night, the next morning, or the next afternoon. I'm not allowed to call or text her unless she does it first. I almost broke the rule once, though, because I hadn't seen or heard from her in 48 hours, and I was really starting to worry. When I finally heard my phone ring and saw her name come up, I frantically answered, "Hello!?" I half-expected to hear someone else's voice telling me something had happened to Ashley. But it was her, and I said, "Oh thank God."

"What?" she said. "Thank God? For what?"

"That you're OK, ma'am, I was so worried."

"Oh. Jesus, has it been that long?"

"Yes! Ma'am. Two whole days. I haven't heard from you; I was beside myself."

"Oh. Well. Time flies when you're having fun. What, you think I've been spending this time thinking about my husband?" I heard someone else laughing upon hearing her say that. "Well, you can stop worrying, bitch boy [more, and louder laughing in the background], I'm fine. I'm in Seattle. Friend of Becca's has this camper, and we took off the other night. Oh my god, this thing is *sweet*. We'll be back in a few days."

"What about your job, ma'am?"

"I took time off, dumbass. Besides, what's it to you? Maybe I took time off, maybe I quit. What business is it of yours?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Mind your own business, which is keeping my house clean, paying our bills, making my money."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, as I listened to people howl with laughter on the other end. Then she just hung up, which made me feel sad, because I thought I'd upset her. But I realized, when she called a few hours later, that I hadn't upset her. She probably just thought her friends would be entertained if she hung up on her husband after scolding him like a child. Or... maybe she was just done talking.

Around my family Ashley behaves herself. She's never pretended to like me, but she doesn't call me names or order me around. Mom and Dad have always been frankly mystified as to what I see in her, especially since sometimes she declines to attend gatherings with my family. Or she'll say she'll meet me there but never show up. But I'm not about to tell my parents I'm lucky to be married to a goddess bitch in view of what a loser I am.

Around her family, though, things are different. She never made any secret of the fact that her husband is just her little bitch, just as I was before we married. Her cousins, and some of her aunts and uncles, laugh, but her parents and grandparents just shake their heads, sigh, and say, "Ashley, Ashley..." They know they can't change her, and so do I. But the difference is, I don't want to. I love her, and will always love her, just as she is.

I'm sure Derek told Ashley about Lila, but I've never heard Ashley mention her. Since I drive Whitestone Road every day, now and then I'll stop in just to let Lila know how things are going. One day I asked if she would recommend some herbs that would help me function better, for though I wouldn't trade my life with Ashley for anything, it can be challenging. She bagged up some for me, and when I offered to pay, she said, "Don't be silly, hun. I can't take your wife's money for that." When I asked if Ashley had ever come in for a reading, Lila smiled and said, "Well now... that isn't really any of your business, is it, hun?"

"Um... no, ma'am. I guess it isn't."

If Ashley has been in, it's possible that Lila never disclosed to her that she even knew me. And if she hasn't been there, it may just be because she reacted with disinterest and indifference when Derek told her about Lila (much like Derek himself initially reacted). So I may be the only one who truly appreciates the fact that Derek, Megan, Ashley, and I are all happily married today because a very hard-working, skilled, small-town palm reader knew how to read my broken heart line.

END