His

I knocked on the door softly, heard her sweet voice. "Come in," Amanda, my fiancee called.

I opened the door, felt my eyes bulge. "A...Amanda," I stammered, "where...where did you get that?"

"You like it? Mark just dropped it off this morning for me."

I looked down, of course he did, of course her boyfriend would drop off lingerie for her the day of our wedding. Of course.  "It...it's pretty," I said, "I...he...I'm sure he'll enjoy it."

She looked down; I knew she had empathy for me, I knew she felt bad I'd miss our wedding night. She shrugged sympathetically. "It's his right," she said.

"I...I know," I said, "I just...it's not how I imagined our wedding night. You with him in the honeymoon suite; me alone in another room trying not to touch myself."

The way she looked at me made my stomach flip. "What?" I asked.

"He...he brought something for you, too," she said almost apologetically. 

I followed her gaze, looked at the bed, saw the small pile. A white babydoll, pink panties, a pink chastity cage. "A...Amanda," I swallowed.

"He...he wants to to wear them to...to the ceremony," she said softly.

"Amanda, please."

She looked down; I knew she wouldn't cross him, wouldn't give any indication she disagreed with him when he made a decision. 

"Just...just tonight?" I asked, mentally preparing myself, thinking at least I had our honeymoon.

She bit her lip, shook her head. "He wants...he wants the key right after the ceremony."

"For how long?" I asked, "morning?"

"He said...he said we can talk about how long when we get back from the honeymoon."

"I...I have to wear that on our honeymoon?"

She nodded. "There's a small suitcase, too, with...with other things. Bras...panties."

"Amanda!"

She shrugged. "You know how he is," she said.

"We can't have sex on our honeymoon?"

"He said we can do whatever we want, be as intimate as we want, except, you know," she lowered her voice, "except you inside me."

"So sex," I sighed.

"He's fine with intimacy," she said, "massaging me, licking me, touching me, just...just not that. You know how possessive he is."

I looked at the cage, the lingerie. I knew what he was doing, emasculating me, feminizing me, caging me, making her see me as weak, effeminate, soft. "Amanda."

She shrugged that shrug she had when she did what he wanted. "It's fun when we're like that," she said, "you know I like that better anyway."

"Not with him," I said.

She shrugged again. "Some of the things are really cute," she said, "babydolls and stockings. Some are matching."

"Amanda, I...I just want to...I mean...is he ever going to let me..."

She looked down again like she knew, knew the answer, knew it was no. "We'll see," she said, knowing it was no. "We'll see."