Renewed Vows

I walked into the bedroom, stopped, awed by the sight of my wife of five years, Ashley, gathering a white stocking in her hand.

"You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony," she said as she carefully arranged the stocking.

"I...I'm sorry," I said, turning to leave the room.

She laughed. "Stay," she said, "I don't know the rules for sure, but it's probably different when we're renewing our vows."

I stood transfixed as she stretched her leg, pointed her toes, and pulled the stocking up her leg.

"You always had a thing for stockings, didn't you?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Yes," I said softly. We'd talked about it since the day we got married, renewing our vows on our tenth anniversary, something in the last year I thought wouldn't happen. Not ten years of marriage, but the renewal of our vows.

For nine years I kind of took it for granted, but that changed last year when we met Anton, a former NFL player who moved into our building and wasted no time chatting up and then hitting on my wife.

I was dumbstruck seeing him talk to her at the pool, at the building gym. I knew I should say something, but I couldn't; instead, every time he talked to her I'd dream about him taking her.

"Doesn't it bother you when he's hitting on me?" Ashley asked me one night after we'd had two bottles of wine and were in bed messing around.

"It's kind of hot," I heard myself blurt out.

"What is?" she asked when she was on top of me. "Fantasizing about a big, black man fucking me?"

I know she meant it as a joke, but just hearing her, I instantly exploded inside her.

A month later, he did the same as he moved from neighbor to fantasy to fling to lover to boyfriend to the dominant man in our lives.

So when we started approaching ten years, I was afraid to bring up renewing our vows, afraid of what she'd say, of what he'd say.

But she'd mentioned it to him; of course she had. The thing was, she kept no secrets from him. None. In a way, that was why it was so easy for him to transition from fling to boyfriend to dom. It was natural for him, a natural role, eased by full insight into her psyche and mine.

"He's all for it," she told me a couple of months ago. "Us renewing our vows."

"He is?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes," she said, "don't act so surprised. You know he's always pushed us to be close, emotionally, always."

"Knowing him, I guess I'm surprised he'd be in favor of something so intimate," I said. 

Ashley looked down. "Yea, about that..."

"What?" I asked. "What do you mean 'about that', Ash?"

"Well, er, he said...I mean...he said he's all for renewing our vows, and trust me, he means it, it's just...well, he...he wants to talk to you about it."

"What did he say?" I asked her.

"He'll talk to you about it," she said.

He did, over lunch the next day. He actually was all for us renewing our vows under several conditions: the vows were going to be different than our original vows, he was taking her on the 'honeymoon', and the chastity cage I sometimes wore was going to become permanent.

"Permanent," I gasped.

"Permanent," he said. "I'm not telling you, not even asking you, to forego sexual intimacy," he explained, "but it's not going to be as a man ever again."

"But...but how...how will I..."

"That's the point, you won't," he said. "You can support her that way, emotionally, even intimately, but not as a man, never again as a man."

It terrified me to the core and turned me on to the core. From our chastity play thus far, I knew the longer I went locked, the longer I went without orgasm, the more excited I got, the more I enjoyed his role in our lives, the more I wanted to serve her and serve him. He, obviously, knew it as well as or better than I did.

It built up slowly from orgasm, each day I was more and more turned on, more and more attentive to Ashley's needs, more and more accepting of his role. Ashley was the same, teasing me when I was caged, knowing her teases made me more frustrated, more turned on, more submissive, more eager to please her, until she could count on a good half hour of foot and back rubs and a good hour of oral sex from me night after night. And I'd become more submissive to him, too, accepting him as the man in our lives.

"It's going to be that way every day," he told me, "you'll be pleasantly surprised how quickly the life of a caged, pussy free husband becomes your world."

**********

Standing there watching Ashley dress in the lingerie I'd picked out for her to wear, I felt my penis twitch in the small, metal chastity cage I'd now worn for two weeks. I looked at the small box on the dresser, Tiffany blue with a white ribbon. It held the keys to the cage, keys Ashley had held up until now, keys that would now belong to him.

She saw my eyes, followed my gaze, smiled at me. "This is peak time, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," I nodded. 

"Peak excitement. Peak desire. Peak submissiveness."

"All...all those," I said.

"It's going to be like this every day," she said, "every day. You should go get dressed," she said, "I'm almost ready."

"I...I will," I said.

"They'll look as cute on you as they do on me," she said.

That had been his final demand, one I learned about only after I'd bought her wedding lingerie. What I'd picked out for her I'd also be wearing under my tuxedo. The same bra. The same panties. The same stockings. Today and every day. "Ash..."

"I think it's cute," she smiled. "My sweetie in pretty bras and panties just like me."

"Ashley," I moaned, but she knew my protests were merely pro forma, that after two weeks caged, the thought of being feminized was as exciting as anything.

"It's about roles," she reminded me. "We're renewing our vows, but formalizing who the man in my life...our lives...is."

"Ash..."

"I never imagined it, but it was such a turn-on last night," she said, "seeing you in a bra and panties between my legs."

"Ash..."

"Yes or no?"

"Ash..."

"Yes or now?"

"Yes," I said, "yes."

"Then go get ready," she said, "it's time."