The Throne Pt. 02: Their Anniversary

Part two of three, preceded by The Throne Pt. 1: Her Birthday and followed by The Throne Pt. 3: His Birthday. The dates line up with the calendar in February 2020.

For my birthday, my husband made me a facesitting throne and we put it to immediate use. Knowing how hard he worked on it, I suggested we also use it for a femdom weekend on our anniversary two weeks later. Over our two decades of marriage, we had explored both sides of dominance; this would be an occasion to go further.

As usual, our anniversary celebration would be just the two of us at home. A few days before, we presented each other with relevant gifts. He gave me a dildo gag.

"It's for me, of course," he said when I looked surprised. "Well, actually one end is for me, the other is for you." I felt a tickle between my legs as I imagined how it could be used with the throne.

Unsure how he would react to my gift, I was relieved that he smiled broadly when he unwrapped it--a chastity cage!

"That will help you stay focused on me this weekend," I said, affecting a stern voice.

Jim grinned momentarily, then tried to look serious, "Yes, Mistress Pam."

"It is adjustable, but we should be sure of the fit," I said, laying the parts on the table and motioning for him to get his penis out. The challenge was to get him soft enough to fit into it, given how excited he was by the idea. After a few failed attempts, he used a cold washcloth to soak his genitals, which allowed me to fasten the ring around his cock and balls and fit the cage over his shrunken shaft.

As it dried and warmed, it tried to regain its eager size.

"Ooof," he groaned as the tightness became uncomfortable. "That will take some getting used to. But I'll give it a try."

He pulled up his pants and left it on as we discussed other plans for the weekend. We came up with a rough schedule and menus for dinner each day, but I didn't reveal everything I had in mind. Of course, he would make the meals and pamper and serve me. If or when or how I might use or confuse or abuse him was up to me.

With a list of things to get, he had almost left to go shopping before I stopped him. He had forgotten about the chastity cage, so I guess it wasn't too painful. Still, I took it off, saving it for the weekend.

Our dinner Friday was our annual romantic, Valentine's Day, anniversary eve tradition. We both dressed up, him in a tuxedo, me in a backless evening gown with a plunging neckline and a slit that flashed my whole leg when I walked. So dressed, we took some selfies to commemorate the occasion.

The slight difference was that this year, he did all the preparations for dinner. It was a wonderful meal and we celebrated our two decades as loving husband and wife.

After dinner, we would usually transition into a passionate evening of lovemaking. Jim's demeanor indicated that he was expecting the two days in chastity to start in the morning.

As we finished our coffee, I could see his anticipation grow. So did mine, but I was envisaging a different scenario.

"Jim, how much do you love me?" I asked in a conversational tone.

"Pam, I love you with my whole heart and soul," he replied sincerely. "I love you more each day."

Good answer, I thought. But I pressed on, locking eyes, "Do you love me enough to do whatever I say, whether you like it or not, without hesitation?"

He looked a little puzzled, not yet understanding. "Yes, my love."

"From this moment on," my voice stiffened, "you are mine to command and use for whatever and however I choose. You will show me proper respect." He looked down, disappointed, adjusting to my plans.

"You must not use my name nor presume to call me your love," I admonished. "You will address me as your queen and only speak when I expect you to. Is that understood?"

"Yes, My Queen," he said, getting into his role.

"You are a drone," I instructed. "Generally useless and, as you'll soon see, you shouldn't get your hopes up on the mating front." His quickly suppressed smile showed he appreciated my choice of terminology.

"Refill my cup, drone, then undress and return with the chastity device," I ordered. He quickly did as he was told.

He stood close as I positioned the ring behind his balls and against his pubic bone. I smiled at the cold dampness of his genitals--he had chilled them to make the process easier. Not waiting for them to reinflate, I fit the cage over the head and shaft and clicked it into place. This time, I used the little padlock to secure it. Hooking the chain with the key around my neck, I nestled it in my cleavage, giving him another reason to look there with longing.

"Clean this up," I said and rose to change from my fancy gown into something more comfortable. I chose a sexier outfit than I would usually lounge around in--translucent top and harem pants that I was sure would make Jim stress the cage.

Adjourning to the living room, I queued up a movie while he cleaned up the table and kitchen.

"Drone," I called as he worked.

"Yes, My Queen?" he replied from the kitchen.

"Come when I call you!" I shouted angrily and he scurried to stand in front of me. "You don't yell at me from another room."

"I apologize, My Queen," he said, looking down meekly.

"Bring me a glass of wine," I said, intentionally not being specific so I could reject whatever he brought me.

"No, no, get me something else," I said to his first attempt.

"Are you trying to annoy me? Bring me something I will like!" I complained about his second guess. It was interesting to test him, knowing he would try to find a logical choice when I was being completely arbitrary.

"This will do," I took his third offering. "Get back to work. When you have finished, come massage my feet."

Watching him run back and forth and fret about getting my approval was fun for me, but I think he liked the challenge as well. His sigh when I finally accepted the glass gave him more satisfaction than if I had just taken whatever he brought the first time.

I selected a chick-flick that I normally would not have subjected him to. When he joined me, I insisted that he pay attention and asked his opinion on various characters and plot points.

"Do you think he would wear a chastity cage for her?" I posed when the male lead was begging the female lead to take him back.

Although I intended the question in jest, Jim took a moment to think about it and answered seriously.

"He doesn't seem like he would be willing to suppress his gratification for someone else," he replied. "He would also worry too much about its effect on his self-image."

"Nonsense," I contradicted, taking note of his thoughtful answer, but disregarding it. "She's so hot, he'd do anything to get in her pants."

He fidgeted, wanting to argue about it, but he knew I was baiting him.

"You make a good point, My Queen," he reluctantly conceded.

It took some work, but my non sequitur questions and capricious reactions to his answers put him off balance. I hoped to recreate that feeling when we first met: when he didn't know what to expect, what I meant, what I wanted, or what to say.

When the movie ended, I decided it was time for bed.

"Clean up and come to the bedroom," I said.

When he finished and hurried into the room, I tittered, staring at the chastity cage that bounced as he jogged, the extra weight and stiffness making it move in an unnatural way. He couldn't help following my gaze sheepishly.

"Get a blanket, drone, you'll sleep on the floor," his face fell as I pointed to the rug. It was thick and soft so we had something warm to step on when we got out of bed; it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for him.

Before I turned off the lights, I retrieved my vibrator from the bedstand. He surely recognized the buzzing when I turned it on. The wine, the teasing, seeing him naked--even with the contraption--as well as the anticipation of the weekend, had me feeling warm. As I spread the vibrations over my sensitive spots, it didn't take long to get going. Knowing what I was doing to my husband seemed to heighten my excitement.

My sighs and moans were louder than my usual solo behavior as I put on a show. It wasn't entirely an act, though. Thinking about what I had planned for the next two days made me horny. Massaging my pussy with the round pulsating head quickly drove me to the peak.

My vocalizations were only a bit overdone as a surprisingly intense orgasm washed over me. I clicked off the vibrator ready to sleep and set it next to me, but my pussy had other ideas. Stroking it with a finger didn't relieve the itch and I found myself turning the vibrator back on.

It had been off for less than a minute, so buzzing my folds had me instantly sighing again. Recalling his dream of multiple naked women seeking his sperm, I fantasized having multiple naked men vying for the chance to make me orgasm. The youngest had the largest erection and picturing him fucking me drove me to another climax. Staying near the peak, my horny brain went through a sequence of imaginary partners and sex acts, making my body spasm with pleasure again and again as the sex toy worked its magic.

I lost track of the count and the minutes until my mind was finally saturated. Turning it off, I fell asleep.

In the morning, when I was sufficiently awake to remember what we were doing, I called, "Drone!"

Jim came quickly, "Good morning, My Queen."

I had slipped off my sleepwear, so he couldn't help staring at my body. The few extra pounds I had acquired over the years enhanced my boobs and butt, and I had managed to withstand most of the effects of age and gravity. Stretching and turning to give him the full show, I chuckled as he gulped and looked down, the sight of me making his penis try to swell.

"I'm going to take a shower. Bring me warm towels," I ordered.

They would take a few minutes in the dryer, but I took my time as the hot spray warmed my skin. When he arrived with the towels, I paid him no heed. I used the hand-held showerhead to wash the night's stickiness from between my legs. Lingering to tease him aroused me as well, so I was extra-clean by the time I was done.

"Wash my back," I ordered. He joined me in the shower, getting wet but not enough to enjoy it. "My ass, too," I added when he wisely hesitated before going lower.

He gingerly soaped my crack with his fingers after tending to my cheeks. Applying the hot spray to my back door generated a satisfied moan that was not lost on him.

"Now my feet," I pressed on his shoulders urging him to his knees. It was a tricky operation as I raised each foot while steadying myself on his head. His face was only inches from my soaked pubes, and he struggled to pay attention to his task.

"Dry me," I commanded, turning off the water. He did a thorough job as I had him inspect every part of my body.

"Make me breakfast while I get dressed," I said. He started to hurry to the kitchen. "Stop, drone!" I shouted. "Dry yourself." He was so used to following instructions, he had forgotten he was wet and would drip through the house. Catching himself before he reached for a warm towel, he instead used a regular one to quickly dry off, dabbing where he had dripped on the floor as well.

As I had done last night, I rejected the breakfast he made, arbitrarily deciding that the eggs were undercooked and the toast too dark. He rushed to remake it to my apparent standards. I knew he would laugh later when I revealed the randomness of my complaints.

"I am going shopping," I announced as I finished my coffee. "You will clean the house, paying particular attention to the bathroom and kitchen including the refrigerator. You will have your phone with you at all times and will answer my video calls immediately." I would check up on him to be sure he was keeping busy.

"I hope you didn't throw away the first breakfast you made for me," I smirked. "That's what you can eat."

"Thank you, My Queen," he said obediently as I turned for the door.

Besides interrupting his work and confirming he wasn't loafing, the calls had another purpose. I was trying on clothes, including swimwear and lingerie, so I called from the dressing room, soliciting his opinions about fit, color, and preference. Mostly, I was playfully titillating him.

"Does this give me a camel toe?" I asked, showing him a close-up of a bikini bottom. I could see him lick his lips before he confirmed that it did.

Returning home, I retreated to the bedroom for a nap, leaving him to finish cleaning and prepare dinner.

The food was perfect, and I didn't have the heart to reject any of it. Not knowing that, Jim was tense as he served each course and relieved when I had no objections. I rewarded him by allowing him to eat what I didn't finish, but it was so good, I probably left him hungry.

"When you're done cleaning up, prepare my throne," I said as I rose from the table.

As we had planned, this time, the room was lit with candles, their exotic scent adding to the mood of the soft lighting and music. I made him wait for me to arrive.

He could not resist staring as I stood there wearing only a filmy negligee. My dark nipples were clearly visible on my dangling breasts, as was the dark triangle between my legs.

"I want to watch your poor cock," I said, indicating he should get into position from the front. "Maybe I can make it break out of its cage," I teased.

He slid under the chair, his face positioned in the divide between the cushions. Removing my gown, I settled onto the throne.

"Stop!" I said, slapping his chest. He had taken the liberty of kissing my vulva inches above him. "Perhaps I should get my riding crop to keep you under control."

"I apologize, My Queen," he stammered, knowing it was within reach in a lower drawer of the cabinet next to the throne."I just thought...."

"It is not for you to think, drone!" I rebuked. "You do not deserve to taste my nectar."

I let that statement sink in. My hope was that he hadn't expected this development, at least not at this moment, although I'm sure it was something he had considered. Sliding forward on the leather, already warm from my naked butt and thighs against it, I moved my anus above his tongue.

"Lick my asshole," I commanded. Tentatively at first, he complied, his warm wet tongue exploring my crack. I leaned back a bit to make my rear opening more accessible.

Relaxing after the initial ticklishness subsided, I savored the soothing sensations. He alternately applied his lips, kissing and sucking on the usually reticent but progressively more receptive flesh.

It took a few minutes for my pussy to make the connection that the anal massage was sexual. Usually, I would be well turned on before my butthole got in the picture. In this case, it let me get the flavor of those caresses before they became erotic.

Of course, Jim was getting a different flavor. I had used a douche during my pre-dinner nap, so it wouldn't be too much for him. This wasn't the first time he tasted me there, but pressing down onto his imprisoned face like this was certainly more extreme. With his cock bound tightly, I didn't know if that would increase or diminish the libido that would mitigate any unpleasantness of the situation.

Regardless, the soft, warm, wet ministrations--and both the idea and the image of him below me--generated an electric spark. My hand snapped against my crotch. Slow circles of pressure warmed my front to match my back and the excitement of both sites multiplied.

I had selected a vibrator and a dildo from the drawer, but as my cunt began to flow and my slippery fingers danced across my folds, they seemed unnecessary.

"Stick your tongue in my ass," I hissed, escalating the intensity. Using my hands to pull my soft globes apart, I tried to force myself deeper into the gap. Whether through my adjustment or his, I felt a warm, wet, wick worm its way into my wazoo, making me tighten against the intrusion. Neither of us would be deterred. I concentrated and he persisted, forging deeper, his cheeks sandwiched between mine, his tongue stirring as much as fucking.

The intimacy of that contact surprised me. Whether it was the drone, totally under my control, performing this crude palpation as an act of obedience, or my wonderful husband Jim, following me on this adventure, subjecting himself to me as an act of love, it overwhelmed me.

That warm gush of emotion turned into a flood of ecstasy as the orgasm overtook me. Not centered on my clit, it cut a swath of sweet heat along the path from my tailbone past my anus, my vagina, and my clitoris to my navel. I struggled not to squirm away from his tongue as the waves passed through me.

I sank back into the throne, unwilling to move for several minutes. Jim had slowed but continued his mouth work. It was strange feeling a warm afterglow from that part of my anatomy.

"That was nice, you can stop," I sighed, perhaps out of character, perhaps not. Did I compliment the drone or the husband?

Thinking we could both use a break, I got up and had him get me some wine, being specific this time. The first round had been much more than the warmup I expected, so I took a few minutes to regain my focus.

In the meantime, I toyed with the drone.

"Get back in," I said when he handed me the glass. Walking around the throne, I pretended to contemplate how to use it and him next.

"Get in the other way," I said, continuing my consideration, letting his anticipation grow before I returned to the throne. I made him change twice more as I finished my wine, leaving him with his feet out the back.

Looking down at my husband, I guessed what he was hoping for. However, a satisfying erection wasn't the only thing I intended to deny him.

Taking a deep breath as if I had just decided, I explained, "As I said, you do not deserve to taste my nectar." The obscured view could not hide the disappointment on his face. "But that doesn't mean I should deny myself."

As I spoke, I brought the dildo gag into view.

"Lick it," I said, putting the penis tip against his lips. Extending his tongue, he did his best to apply his saliva to it. I barely gave him half of it, not wanting him to choke. He had purchased it, so he certainly knew its porn-star length and girth.

"You'll never be able to properly lubricate it all," I feigned disappointment. Squirting some lube in my palm, I stroked it onto the head and shaft. The inanimate object didn't appreciate the quality of the handjob I was giving it, but the longing in my husband's eyes told me it was having an effect on him.

"This is as close as you'll get to having a real cock," I taunted as I aimed the gag end toward his mouth. He accepted it and gripped it firmly between his teeth as I fastened the strap behind his head.

"I deserve to ride a dick like this, don't I?" I snickered as I slid my fingers up and down its full length, being sure to bump his nose.

"Yes, My Queen," he mumbled around the gag.

Standing astride him, I put on a show of lowering myself onto that phallus. He was certain to be salivating even without the lump of plastic in his mouth, seeing my still damp flesh spread open above him. Rubbing the head against my pussy, I caressed my hanging folds with it. His eyes opened wide as the bulbous end located and breached my opening.

My long, soft, breathy moan accompanied my impalement as that ersatz organ stretched me wide and deep. I wiggled my hips as I absorbed it bit by bit, moving his head in the process and grinding the flange against his mouth. Only when I had settled full on it and he could see only my bush did he raise his eyes to mine, peeking over the curve of my belly.

I would praise my husband later. The throne's layout and dimensions were perfect for that two-ended accessory. I could rest comfortably with it inside me, which I did, my heat flowing into the plastic. When it began to feel almost human, albeit superhuman, I leaned forward, raising slightly and allowing Jim to partially withdraw.