His

 

"Look, I wore the stockings you like," my wife said, sitting on the bed, arranging the hem of her dress to show off the welt of one of her stockings.

As my eyes went from her half-exposed breasts to the top of her leg, I felt the familiar soreness between my legs as my penis swelled in the small cage, my constant companion this last year, and I wondered yet again whether I should have agreed to this, to any of this. 

Suddenly my eyes went to her left hand, noticing something different. She wasn't wearing her wedding rings, instead had a ring I'd never see on her middle finger. "What's that? You...you're not wearing..."

She followed my eyes, looked down at her hand for a moment. She shifted on the bed, crossed and recrossed her legs, touched her necklace with her left hand, displaying it.

"He...he thinks..." She paused, considered her words. "He's my boyfriend, he thinks it's weird for me to wear my wedding rings when we're not together, so he...he got me this to wear when I'm with him. It...it's like a...a promise ring," she said.

"A...a promise ring?

"You know, a ring  as a show of a commitment to a monogamous relationship, not marriage, but to signify that I'm...that I'm his," she said.

"You're not going to wear your wedding rings?" I asked, shocked, jealousy welling up inside me.

"Of course, when I'm with you, of course I will. Just...when I'm...when I'm with him, I'll take them off. I have a necklace I'm going to put them on, something for you to wear, to hold me close to your heart with I'm with him. But this means..." she held up her hand. "This means when I'm with him, I'm his, a reminder I'm his, not yours. Just like what you wear reminds you I'm his."

I felt the cage tighten more than usual. "C...Claire..."

She stood, raised the hem of her dress. "He's going to be here any minute, do you want to kiss me goodbye?"

Filled with shame, I hesitated but a moment. 

"If you don't want to," she started to say.

"I...I do," I said as I knelt before her. It was our way of parting, of my promise to serve her. No traditional kiss on the lips but instead a soft, sensual, tender, gentle kiss on her pussy through her panties.

As I knelt, she uncovered more of her pussy but stopped me before my lips touched hers. "The ring first," she said.

"The...the ring?"

"Kiss the ring he gave me first, that will be our new ritual when I'm wearing it. Kiss what he gave me first, then a light kiss on what you're giving him."

"Claire, I...I just...I want..."

"Shhhh, I know," she said, "I know. Of course you do. But it's his now, it's his."