Sally and David

I must have slept like the dead, my dreams a swirl of confusing images and sensations. Sally, the bedroom, her voice, something about gifts. Did we talk? I opened my eyes, the reality of the spare bedroom sinking in. Shit, we must have talked, and it must have gone badly.

I closed my eyes again, trying to find clarity. An image flashed in my mind: Sally, a vibrator, her eyes locked onto mine, her body writhing with pleasure. The memory was vivid, and I could almost feel her touch.

“Arrgh, what the fuck was that?” I groaned, a sudden, crushing pain in my cock and balls. My hands flew down to my groin, and I felt the metal cage that trapped my cock, the tight ring pushing my balls forward, my shaved balls. A memory surfaced, a fragment of a dream: Sally shaving me, talking about a gift, something about six months.

I sat up sharply, trying to swing my leg out of bed, but something pulled sharply at my ankle. 

“What the fuck?” I thought, my mind racing.

I threw off the quilt, revealing a leather manacle padlocked to my leg, a chain padlocked to the bed frame.

 “Sally!” I shouted, or rather, tried to shout, because as soon as the first sound left my mouth, a shock around my neck, like being strangled by a bunch of electric eels, silenced me.

I rolled off the bed with a thud, my back twisting as my leg stayed tethered to the frame. I lay there, catching my breath, my hands going to my neck, feeling the collar locked around it.

What had she done? She said there would be changes, but what the fuck. I tried to shout for Sally again, but the pain around my neck intensified. After catching my breath again, I leaned forward, examining the manacle around my ankle. It was locked to the sturdiest part of the metal frame; there was no way I was going to move it. I got myself up and hobbled towards the door, but it was just out of reach.

A tap on the door echoed through the room. “I'm coming in,” Sally called out, her voice calm and collected.

The door opened, and she peeked around the edge, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of determination and amusement. 

“Please sit on the bed for me, David,” she said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Wh..” I started, but a sharp shock around my neck silenced me, the pain intense and sudden.

“David, you shouldn't try to speak; your collar is set for silence and will be until I decide you can be trusted,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

I glared at her, my mind racing with a mix of anger and confusion. If looks could kill, she would be six feet under, but they can't, so I complied, sitting on the bed with a thud.

“That's better, things will be easier for us if you behave,” she said, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Easier for us? What the fuck was she talking about? I didn't see her wearing any of these so-called 'gifts.' 

She was dressed in an outfit I hadn't seen before: a short black skirt, stockings that caught my eye, a slight silk blouse, and small heels that completed the look of a sexy secretary. She even smelled good, a new perfume that was both alluring and intoxicating.

She sat down on a chair by the door, crossing her legs. The stockings came clearly into view. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and took a sip, her eyes never leaving mine as she looked me over, seemingly deciding where to start.

“You know, David, things between us have not been good. I am at my sexual prime, and you are ignoring me and my needs. Instead, you prefer to pull yourself off and flirt in chat rooms,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of disappointment and anger.

“Shit,” I thought to myself, “She knows about the chat rooms.”

“I've been monitoring your internet traffic for about eight months now. I've even got some lovely footage of you smelling my panties and wanking into them. You really should have covered up your webcam,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and dominance.

“Jesus,” I thought, my mind racing with the realization that she knew everything. I couldn't even remember the pervy stuff I might have done over the last eight months. The thought of her seeing all of that, of knowing every intimate detail, was humiliating.

“I've also installed a few mini Wi-Fi cams around the house and have caught you doing some very questionable things,” she continued, her voice dripping with menace. “Everything has been recorded and stored. If I'm pushed, I won't hesitate to release it all over your social media sites.”

She took a slow sip of her coffee, savoring the moment, before setting the cup down with a deliberate clink.

 “I've had to resort to other methods to fulfill my needs, David. And that, I'm afraid, is entirely your fault.”

What the fuck does she mean by 'other methods? I thought, my mind racing with a mix of dread and confusion.

I stared at her, searching for an explanation, but she ignored my silent plea, her eyes cold and unyielding. 

“No more excuses, David. You are my husband, and it is your duty to keep me happy and fulfilled. I intend to ensure that you do just that.”

I tried to speak, to protest, but a sharp shock around my neck silenced me, a reminder of my place. 

“David, I warned you not to speak. You could have woken up with a ball gag in your mouth, but I chose this method. It's so much more... humane.”

Ok, it’s official, my wife has gone fucking crazy.

“The rules are simple, David. You do as you're told, without question or hesitation, and your life will be pleasant. Cross me, and you'll regret it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

I glared at her, my anger boiling over, but she merely smiled, a chilling expression that sent a shiver down my spine. 

“You're wearing a state-of-the-art electronic collar. It has many features, including the silent mode you've already experienced. It can be activated remotely, at any level, with a fob or my phone. The app is particularly useful; I can send a signal from anywhere in the world. You will be monitored, so choose your actions wisely when I'm not here.”

Christ in a handcart, as soon as I can, I'm going to kick the shit out of her and get out of this fucking house. I'll have this thing cut off and be done with her crazy ass once and for all.

As if reading my mind, Sally leaned forward, her voice a menacing whisper. “Another feature is instant activation. If you even think about attacking me, one scream from me will leave you writhing on the floor in agony. And of course, it’s mapped to the house, so you cannot leave unless I permit it. You are mine, David, in every sense of the word.”

I put my head in my hands, struggling to comprehend the reality unfolding before me. This had to be a nightmare; any moment now, I would wake up, and this twisted scenario would dissolve into laughter. The weight of Sally's words pressed down on me, each one a heavy stone in a pile of impossible truths.

Sally's voice cut through my daze, her tone sharp and unyielding. “I’ve also made sure that you will no longer be able to carry out your favorite pastime. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that your little cock is unable to carry out any function other than to pee. Incidentally, you will have to sit to pee, just like the rest of us girls.” She chuckled at that, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

“The cage is made of titanium and features a special lock designed to be pick-proof. Even if you got the keys, I’m not sure that you could unlock them, given the position of the locks. A nice little feature is that it comes with attachments for my pleasure, while you get none,” she continued, her voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and malice.

I just glared at her, waiting for the punchline, for her to burst out laughing and tell me it was all a joke. But her expression remained serious, her eyes cold and calculating.

 “Now, David, both of these items were very expensive, so I expect you to take the utmost care of them. Is that understood?”

I just looked at her, my mind reeling, unable to form words. “David?” she prompted, her voice firm. I nodded, a small, involuntary movement of my head, acknowledging her demand.

 She drank the last of her coffee, stood, and placed the cup on the chair, her movements deliberate and measured.

“David, I’m going to unlock your leg now. I will expect you to behave. You can come downstairs once this room is tidied up. Don’t worry about dressing, you won’t need clothes today,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

She slipped a key out from her pocket, bent, and unlocked the padlock holding the manacle on my leg. I pulled it off, stood up, and lunged at her, driven by a mix of anger and desperation. 

“DAVID DON’T,” she yelled at the top of her voice, her eyes wide with a sudden flash of fear.

I found out very quickly that the ‘instant’ feature on the collar works as advertised. A shock coursed through my body, and I fell writhing on the floor, my muscles spasming uncontrollably. The pain was intense, a searing agony that left me gasping for breath, my vision swimming in a haze of tears.

I must have lost consciousness. I woke up on the floor, my head aching, and my body stiff. I moved my legs, and I heard a rattle. I looked, then put my head back on the floor and sighed. The bitch had locked manacles on my legs with a short chain between them. Fuck! Could it get any worse? Well, yes, it could and would, though I didn’t know that yet.

I struggled to my feet and looked around the room. The quilt was on the floor, the chair overturned, and the coffee cup was on the floor, but no Sally, or that Bitch as she was quickly being renamed in my mind.

I had to think about what her ‘instructions’ were. Tidy the room, go downstairs, don’t dress. 

Bide my time, I thought, let the bitch get this out of her system, then run for the hills. 

I did as I was told. I made a stop in the bathroom on the way down and found, yes, I did have to sit, which was a bit more awkward with my legs chained like that.

While in the bathroom, I took a moment to examine the collar locked around my neck in the mirror. It was thinner than it felt, a sleek, black leather covering that fit perfectly around my throat. A ring hung loosely at the front, and I squeezed it, trying to bend it, but it was unyielding. Whatever the leather was concealing was incredibly strong. I felt around the back, discovering a fingernail-thin line, but no locking mechanism was apparent.

I grabbed the hand mirror from the counter by the sink and tried to inspect the underside of the cock cage, but I had no luck in finding the lock there either. These devices were clearly well-made, designed to be secure and unyielding.

I waddled my way downstairs, checking the lounge, the office, and the dining room, before finally finding Sally in the kitchen. She was perched on a barstool, chatting on the phone, laughing with someone. When she looked at her phone and saw me, she ended her call with a hasty goodbye.

The smile vanished from her face as she approached me, standing almost nose to nose. It felt like a challenge, a test to see if I would make another move. I didn’t; I’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“On your knees,” she ordered, her voice dripping with menace.

I stood my ground, looking her straight in the eye, defiance coursing through me. The slap caught me off guard; I didn’t see it coming. She pulled a fob, similar to a car fob, out of her pocket and held it up, her finger hovering over a button.

“Now,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

I looked between her eyes and the fob, sighed, and knelt, the weight of my situation pressing down on me.

“Head touching the ground,” she instructed, her tone dripping with authority.

I looked up at her, rolled my eyes, and bent forward, my forehead touching the cool floor.

“Not off to a very good start, are we?” She said, her voice laced with disappointment and a hint of satisfaction.

God, I wanted to say so much, to scream and shout, but the collar around my neck held me silent.

“I hope you're starting to realize how little control over your life you have now, you useless piece of shit. I was hoping that you would be willing to put the effort in, but I see now that we are going to have to work on a few things together, aren’t we?” she continued, her words a mix of mockery and menace.

“Yep,” I thought to myself, “My wife is bat shit crazy.”

“I think you owe me an apology,” she continued. “Now, you can’t speak, so what can you do?” She pretended to think, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I know, you can kiss my shoes, yes, that would be a great way to apologize, don’t you think?” She pushed one foot forward, the heel of her shoe glinting in the light.

I hesitated for a moment; it was a moment too long. I yelled as something thin slashed across my back, and yes, you guessed it, that set the collar off, and I fell sideways on the floor, my body convulsing with pain.

I looked up and saw the bitch holding a riding crop in one hand, tapping it against the palm of the other, a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Do we want to try that again?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

I got back up on my knees, leaned forward, and kissed her foot, the taste of leather and submission filling my mouth.