Yes

I came into the bedroom, my wife was sitting on the bed. "W...well?" I asked her.

"I read both of them," she said, referring to the two works of fiction on cuckolding I'd sent her in an attempt to explain my fantasies.

"A...and?" I swallowed.

She said nothing for a moment, considered her words. "I suppose I have trouble seeing it from the husband's perspective, I have trouble emphasizing with him."

"Oh," I said, worried at her judgmental tone.

"Here me out," she said, holding up her hand. "I'm only saying I have trouble with his perspective so I guess your perspective. I put myself in his place and can't imagine agreeing to let you be with someone else, let alone finding any excitement in that."

"Beth, I don't think..."

"Wait," she said, "I'm not finished. I'm only saying I can't identify with the husbands in the books, but the wife...I have to admit...from her perspective, I suppose...what I mean to say is," she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "It kind of made me wet."

"It...it did?"

She nodded. "I did some other reading and I guess...I understand the difference...the guys I dated, the person I married. I'm not saying I settled when I got married, you've been everything I wanted in a husband except..."

"In...in the bedroom," I said.

She shrugged. "Yea," she said.

"I...I've always known...I mean...I know that I..."

"Shhhh," she said, "don't dwell on that, don't think about it that way."

"Beth, I'm not saying..."

"Do you really want me to take a lover?" she asked. "You really want me to? Not just fantasy, you really want me to sleep with a man?"

I swallowed, nodded. "I...yes," I whispered, looking at her as she crossed her nylon covered legs, looked at me. I couldn't meet her gaze so I looked down at her feet. "I...yes," I said again.

She nodded. "Okay then, but there's a condition."

"Wait, what?"

"Okay," she said, "I'm willing to do that, to cuckold you, but there's a condition."

"You are? Wait, what...what condition?"

"I'm worried you want this now, before, but I'm afraid after you'll regret it."

"I...I won't," I promised.

"I'm sure you're honest saying that now, but in some of the research I was doing, there's often an issue with a husband wanting his wife to date, meaning it, but regretting it after he, well...let me be blunt, masturbates to the fantasy."

"I...I won't," I said.

"Regret it or masturbate?"

"Either."

"Well there's were you're either lying or wrong. You will masturbate and you will regret it after. That's pretty much universally accepted in what I've read."

"I...I can...I'll try...I mean..."

She laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"That's exactly what the literature said you'd say. Oh, I believe you, that you want to try, I'm just concerned when you give in, which you will, this will come back to haunt me."

I was starting to regret all this talk when she smiled. "What?"

"You're dismissing this now without even hearing my condition."

"I...I'm sorry," I said. She nodded. "What...what's the condition," I asked.

She smiled a smile that sent a shiver through me. "You need to wear a chastity cage."

"Beth!" I gasped. I'd purposefully picked stories where that wasn't a theme. It wasn't that I didn't fantasize about that, I just didn't want to give up that control.

"I noticed that was a common theme in much of the literature about cuckolding but conspicuously absent from the two books you sent me. At first I thought that might be something that you just weren't interested in, which I could respect, but the more I thought about it and the more I read about it, I realized it might just scare you."

"Beth, I..."

"It's a precondition," she said, "there's just too much literature warning how a husband's interest in cuckolding differs before and after orgasm, how he becomes resentful. I think that's unhealthy, potentially dangerous to a relationship. So if you want this, and I assume you do, well...you need to wear a chastity cage."

"For...for how long?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not suggesting it become permanent, don't get me wrong, I just think that when and how often you do that is something I need to monitor, something I need to think through. I'm not...well let me put it this way, leaving that choice to you while I'm with a man is going to inevitably lead to you masturbating and being confused, even opposed to me dating while I'm on a date. That's unhealthy. I also think that, based on my reading, a husband that has his orgasms limited and decided by his wife is ultimately more sexually satisfied than if he makes those decisions."

"B...Beth..."

"It's your choice," she said.

"Beth..."

"It's your choice," she said again. "If you want me to take a lover, you need to wear a cage." I looked down. She was dangling her nylon covered and I couldn't help but stare at it. "You're fantasizing about it, aren't you?"

"Beth..."

"Aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Picturing the relief, no longer pressured to do what a man does, free intimate in different ways."

"B...Beth..." I felt like I was going to burst.

She reached down, undid her shoe, slipped it off. "It's what you fantasize about, isn't it? Your little penis locked away, your sexual disappointments and frustrations ended, finding a new role."

"B...Beth," I moaned softly.

She held her foot to me. "It's just a small cage," she said, "a way to channel you to things you prefer."

"Beth," I moaned again.

"Yes or no?" she askd.

"Y...yes," I whispered.