Punishment

I walked into the living room, found my wife, Monica, sitting on the couch holding a cup of tea. Eric, her boyfriend, was in the kitchen making water for his coffee. He either didn't hear me come up from the basement or just ignored me as he often did. Monica, however, just stared at me.

"What?" I whispered.

She furrowed her brow, knowing I knew full well what. "Tell him," she mouthed.

"Mon, please," I mouthed back.

Monica kept her eyes on me, raised her voice. "Eric, dear, when you're done with your coffee, would you come over here for a minute."

"I was going to take it to the bedroom," he said, "you and my coffee."

She smiled. "Oh, you can, this will just take a minute. My little hubby has something he needs to tell you."

Eric looked up, looked at Monica who still had her back to him, then me. "Tell me?" he asked.

"There's something hubby needs to get off his little conscience," she said, grinning when she said 'little'.

I looked at my wife, my eyes begging her, but it was too late, as Eric chuckled. "This should be good," he said.

My wife smiled at me, knowing the die was cast.

*****

Several hours earlier, in the middle of the night, she'd come down to the basement to check in on me as was her habit when Eric spent the night. I was in the small room off the large, center media room. It was a room designed as a small utility room since converted plain, stark bedroom, containing a plain, twin bed, a small writing table, and a straight backed wooden chair. It was the room I spent the night in whenever Eric was over.

We had spare rooms on the second floor, well furnished rooms with queen sized beds, comfortable chairs, simple, modern guest rooms. The room in the basement looked more like a servant's room, which wasn't surprising, as Monica got the inspiration while watching Downton Abby.

When she came down there, I was awake, of course. She walked in, still in the lingerie she'd worn for Eric, sat on the edge of the bed, touched my face. "He's asleep, but lightly, so I only have a few minutes," she said.

"You...you don't have to," I said, looking at her, then looking away.

"I know, but I like to," she said. "He...we...we did it twice, there's so much."

"I...I don't...we don't have to..."

That was our usual banter, her offering me her cum filled pussy, my hesitation, pretending I hadn't been looking forward to it for hours, if not days.

"I know," she said, "I just like it when you...when you clean me after."

"I...it's okay, go...go back...I...I'm tired," I said.

She looked at me, confused for a moment, then suddenly anger showed on her face. "You touched yourself," she said, her words an accusation.

"Monica..."

"I thought he made himself clear," she said.

"Monica, he...I'm...he can't..."

"No masturbating," she said, "you agreed. No masturbating for a week before and two days after we date."

"Monica, I...he...he's taken you out every Saturday for two months, that...that means I haven't...you know..."

"Pleasured yourself," she sneered. "That's just how it worked out. My god, are we going to do this again? This is exactly how you get when you do this, of course he wanted it to stop. He is not going to be happy about this."

"You...you don't have to tell him," I said.

"I'm not," she said.

"You...you won't?"

"No," she said, "you will. In the morning, when he gets up."

"Monica, please," I begged, "he...he'll..."

"Be angry, I'm sure," she said, "justifiably so. He's likely to punish you but that's your own doing. You need to tell him you've misbehaved, no secrets, that was our deal."

"Mon..."

"Turn over," she said, climbing further onto the small bed. 

"Mon, please, I...you know I..."

"Don't like it after you've pleasured yourself? Oh, I know, love, I know. Which is exactly why you're going to do it. Think about this next time, this can either be enjoyable or agonizing, but it's your choice."

*****

Eric finished making his coffee, came over and sat next to my wife, his arm around her. 

Looking at me, he reached inside her satin robe, found one of her firm breasts, cupped it, held it, showing obvious dominance, making it clear who was the man in the house, who had unfettered sexual access to her. "Well," he said, "let's hear it. What's eating at your conscience?"

"I...I..."

"Can we not draw this out?" he said. "I'd like take my hot coffee and your hot wife back to bed."

I swallowed. "I...I kind of...I mean...I touched myself last night," I blurted out.

"Touched yourself as you masturbated?"

"K...kind of..."

"As in you masturbated before or Monica came to tuck you in?"

"B...before," I said, eyes down.

"While she was with me?"

I nodded.

He held Monica tighter, she closed her eyes and leaned into him. "Was he petulant?" he asked.

"Not...not terribly so," she said, "not as bad as before, but you know how that makes me feel."

Eric looked over at me, glared. "Like you did something wrong," he said, "like wanting a sex life is somehow wrong."

"Yea," she said.

"You'll recall I said there were going to be consequences if you did that again?"

"I know, please, I...I'm sorry..."

"It's your wife you need to apologize to," he said, "an apology to her, written."

"Y...yes, Sir," I said, too eagerly, too anxious to give away that an apology to her was light.

He grinned at me. "That's not your consequence," he said. 

Monica opened her eyes, looked from me to him. She looked tender, sweet in his protective embrace, trusting him to take care of any problems in her house. "What is?" she asked.

"His problem, as we talked about, is lingering thoughts of sex with you. The thoughts aren't the issue, though, it's his actions when he thinks about them. You understand now, don't you?"

She nodded. "I don't...I mean..."

"I do," he said, stopping her.

She nodded. "Of course," she said, "I trust you to do what's best."

"Thank you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "The issue," he said, looking at me, "is getting you to accept the break your marital sexual bond, it's getting you to accept sex with your wife as you used to know it isn't something to hope for. Intimacy is appropriate, even desired. Sex is not."

"I...I know," I said, "I just...sometimes..."

"Yes, sometimes you can't help it, not living with such a beautiful woman, you just want to try again to be the man in her life. Well, we've talked about that and Monica agrees we need to put a stop to that, don't you?"

"E...Eric," my wife said, face slightly red.

"She's been reluctant for some time, but now sees things my way."

"See...sees what things?" I asked.

"That letting you delude yourself into thinking you have some masculine role is, in the long term, detrimental to you and to her. She agreed that if you did this again, we'd do things my way."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Of course you don't," he said. "Monica..."

"Hon, he...we...he's going to emasculate you."

"Emasculate me?" I stammered, as if sleeping with my wife wasn't emasculating.

"He...you're going to have to start wearing..." She looked away. "To start wearing a chastity cage and...and panties."

I looked at her, mouth open. "Monica," I whispered.

"He's right," she said, "you...I know you keep thinking about sex and...and..."

"That stops. Today," he said.