Punishment

 

"Did...did you tell him?" I asked my wife nervously.

"Of course I told him," she said, "he's my boyfriend, I don't hide things from him."

"What...what did he say?" I asked, mouth suddenly dry.

"Well he wasn't please, you can be sure of that; I mean, what man would be happy when he finds out some guy is yelling at his girlfriend?"

"I...I said I was sorry," I mumbled.

"I told him that, too," she said. "But as you can imagine, he said it doesn't matter."

I stood there, eyes down, afraid to say the next word. "So...?"

She shifted on the couch. "I'm supposed to unlock the cage before I go out with him tonight."

"Monica," I yelped, "no!"

"You're lucky that's all he's doing, to be honest, I half expected him to come over with a paddle."

"But...if you...I mean...if I'm unlocked...I'll...and..."

"He knows, hon, but that's the punishment."

"But...but I..." He knew exactly what I'd do if my chastity cage was unlocked while she was out with him; I'd try to hold off, but would masturbate thinking about him fucking her within ten minutes of her leaving. Which was torture, because I'd spend the rest of the night not excited at the thought of her with him, but instead, post orgasm, torn with guilt and remorse.

"Just don't do it," she said, "it's only a punishment if you touch yourself."

"I...I can't help it," I begged.

"That's the irony of it, isn't it," she said, "so excited by it when you're caged, so torn by it when you're not. Just wait till I get home."

"Monica," I whispered, "please..."

"Rules are rules," she said, "that's how he is, that's how he'll always be."