Fiction: Wanting Out

Wanting out

Copyright 2010 by mikecb

It was by no means the longest stint in my chastity belt, but for some reason, this time it was unbearable.  Maybe the thrill was gone.  Maybe it was the craziness of the Holidays.  Maybe it was just the monotony of more than 20 days having my cock locked in this steel tube.  I wanted out.  I wanted the tube off.  I wanted to go pound one out in the shower.  I didn’t even feel like having sex with my wife.  In fact, I even felt a little angry at her.  It was totally unfair of me, of course.  I was the one who asked her for this!  She was reluctant at first, but I nagged and whined until we finally invested in this expensive chastity tube.

It took a long time before she was comfortable with fulfilling my fantasy fully – allowing me to pleasure her, while not being relieved myself.  She felt so guilty at first.  It took me months and months to convince her that I craved the denial and intimacy even more than a mere orgasm.  She’d let me out for a “sympathy release” as often as not.  I have to confess that after being locked up for a while, I wouldn’t turn them down!    Finally, after two years, she finally believed that sex was no longer all about the male orgasm, but that sex was about intimacy and her pleasure first.  My pleasure was her pleasure.   It was a journey, and not always an easy one, but we got there.  Her orgasms were frequent, and mine were often spaced many weeks apart.    It was wonderful.  We had never been so intimate and close. 

How did we slip into this complacency?  How did we go from the most meaningful and powerful sex of our lives, to this interminable sexless hell that we seemed to be in now?   Sure, she would tease me a little.  She’d stroke my balls in the morning, or flash a little skin, but somehow, it wasn’t enough anymore.  Those little gestures that made chastity play such a delight a year ago, now just fueled my frustration.   I felt bad.  I was so curt with her last night.  She was doing everything right – at least as “right” seemed to be a few months ago, but now it was all wrong.  She was confused and frustrated, and my blood was boiling with inexpressible frustration.  Finally, I just rolled over in bed, ignoring her, and went to sleep.  I awoke in the night, hours later.  Was she crying?  I was still so angry, I didn’t want to know.  I pulled the pillow over my head and went back to my own restless sleep.

It finally reached the tipping point this morning.  Our daughter was off on the school bus, and my wife and I were in the kitchen, packing our lunches before we drove off to our separate jobs.  We were making our plans for the evening, and somehow planning logistics for our daughter’s cheerleading practice turned into another argument.  Finally my wife turned to me and screamed “That’s IT!”

“What?” I asked, angrily.

“Take it off!”  She reached in her pocket, and threw the key at me.  “Now!”

The key bounced off my chest and to the floor.  I was devastated.  I reached down, and picked it up.  I hadn’t held this key in my hand for over a year.  “But… Honey…”

“You want to make my life miserable, when I’ve done everything you asked?!?  Fuck it!” she shrieked.

“I’m…. I’m sorry.  I just…  The Holidays… Work… It’s been three weeks…  I’m just.. I don’t know…”

“You know what?” she asked.  “I don’t care!  I’m supposed to be in charge of releases, and you’re supposed to be OK with that.  But, apparently you want to change those rules!” she growled.

“I didn’t say that.  I don’t want…  NO!  That’s not what…”

She barked at me.  “THEN PROVE IT!”

“What can I do?” I asked, meekly.

“Beg.”  She folded her arms, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Beg?  B-but for what?”

“What do you need?” she asked, more calmly, but with a meaningful stare.

My head was spinning.  What I needed was to get out of this freaking tube, and get some relief.  Yet, I had the key in my hand and it was the worst thing I could possibly imagine.  I wanted out.  I wanted in.  I wanted to end all this.  I desperately wanted her to take the key back.   I was so fucking confused, and the next thing I knew, I was crying.  I fell to my knees.  

“Please Honey, take them back.”  I said.  Tears streamed down my face, and my nose began to run.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve been a prick.”

“Yes, you have.”  My wife said, coldly.  She remained standing against the counter, staring down at me.

Her words stung like she’d slapped me.  “I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  I just must be hormones, or the fucking Holidays, or something.”  I was still kneeling.  I lifted the key toward her.  “Please..  Take it back.”

My Wife stepped forward within reach of the key, but did not take it.  “You still haven’t told me what you need.” she said. 

I brain was overloaded.  I needed orgasms.  I needed relief.  I needed these hormones to stop raging.  I needed her to take the key back before my heart burst.  I needed her to want me, to love me.  I needed redemption for being such an ass to the woman I love.  “I need to be punished.” I said, before my brain even knew what my mouth was doing.

“Yes, you do.” she said, icily. 

I was stunned that my Wife would even consider punishment.  We had dabbled in a few spankings, occasionally, but she really didn’t enjoy it. She was not interested in pain play, or dominance and submission play, but suddenly I mentioned punishment, and she seemed to be on board with it.  In fact, she was expecting it.  I was shocked.  I looked up at her, surprised at my own admission, and even more so at her agreement.  She pointed to the kitchen table. 

“Drop your pants, and bend over the table.  Now!”  Her voice left no question.  This was an order.

I stood, and went to the table.  We had never done anything like this before.  Our spankings had been in bed, and playful.  Now, she seemed downright furious!   I looked over my shoulder at her.  She had turned away, and was opening a drawer.  I had no idea what she was planning.  I paused another moment, and then undid my belt, and pulled down my pants and underwear.  I put my hands on the table.  I was embarrassed.  This was too weird, but yet, something felt oddly right.

My wife put her palm between my shoulders and pressed me downward.  “All the way down.” she barked.  I had never heard her so authoritative.  I was shocked, and yet, my cock was growing hard in my chastity tube.  I glanced down, and saw she had a rice paddle in her hand.  Holy crap!  That thing suddenly looked vicious!

“I did everything you asked, and what did I get?” her voice was cracking a little.  “You made me cry, you bastard!  I did all this for you.. and I was even starting to like it!”

I felt awful, I tried to turn to console her.  “I’m sor…”   She pushed me down, and I heard the air whistle around the paddle as she hit me in the ass harder than I had ever been hit in my life.  <CRACK>  “Ahhh!”  I lurched upward, and instinctively put my hand on my ass.

“Get down and grab that table.  If you stand up again, I swear to god I’ll hit you in the balls instead!”  Her voice was cold.  Angry.

I began to shake a little, but with a will of its own, my body bent over the middle of the table, and my hands grasped the opposite edges.  

She struck me again, gentler this time, thank god, but she kept paddling.  She worked around my ass, covering the whole surface with blows that warmed my skin.  Then she started hitting harder, and harder still.  I was gasping now, and I heard her grunting as she swung the paddle.  We had discussed a safeword, months ago, when we played with spanking.  I believed she’d honor it, if I said it.  As the blows rained down, my gasping turned to moans, my moans into yelps, my yelps into cries.   My safeword was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it.  I deserved this.  I had been a real bastard.  She had every right to be furious with me.  “I’m sorry….  I’m sorry” began to moan.  She continued to rain blows on my ass, and suddenly I began to weep.  The tears flowed from me as I began to let off moans and finally began, to put it bluntly, blubbering.   “I’m SO sorry honey.  Please….”   It was cathartic.

I don’t even recall when she stopped spanking me.  I was sprawled across the kitchen table, with my red and angry ass in the air, crying my eyes out, still moaning and begging for forgiveness.  I felt her warm embrace, as she folded herself on top of me, lying across my back.  She stroked my hair, and kissed me between the shoulder blades.  

She held me that way for several minutes.  As the tears subsided and my breathing came under control, she whispered “Apology accepted.” 

I slowly began to lift myself.  She stepped back, as I turned from the table.  My pants were still around my ankles as I shuffled to face her.  We embraced then, in a proper hug.  I realized I still had the key in my hand.  I kissed her, and backed away, offering the key.  My nose was running and my eyes were still damp with tears as I asked “Will you still hold this for me?”

She took the key from my hand and put it in her pocket with a smile.  She glanced down, and wrapped her hand around my chastity tube.  My cock was rock hard.   She grinned at me.  “You’re such a perv!”

We looked at each other, and I realized that all the tension was gone.  We burst out laughing, and embraced.  “And you’re perfect.” I said.

Ten minutes later, we were out the door and on the way to work.  I was more cheerful than I had been in weeks.