Locktober Pt. 01

A note before Locktober: This story involves adult chastity and interracial cuckolding. If that's not what you came for, this is not the month, or story, for you. Everyone here is an adult. Nothing that follows is a brief for real life. It is a story about a lock, a marriage, and what happens when comparison walks in.

********

September 30th

"I look ridiculous!"

Patrick Littleton frowned in the mirror as he called over his shoulder.

The glass was still foggy from the cold shower he had just endured. He wiped his thick glasses taking in the sight. He still couldn't believe she had talked him into it.

At fifty-six, he looked every bit a man of his advanced age. His shoulders looked like a man that gestured at whiteboards all day. His arms were thin, the only heavy lifting he did each day was a dry erase marker or laser pointer while teaching philosophy at the local liberal arts college. A soft paunch rounded the front of him, paler than the rest, the settled belly of second-marriage comfort, and a metabolism that had ebbed to a halt over the years. It was the body of a man who talked for a living, winning arguments rather than physical altercations.

His hair, once long, flowing and hazel during his younger years, was a greyish wisp now. He styled it as best he could but the shine of his bald head showed through the growing thinness. The mustache he'd grown years ago to look distinguished had gone salt and pepper, mostly salt. On his chest the dark patches had coarsened and greyed, a sparse map arrowing towards his navel. The sharpness of his youthful face was gone now, replaced with something thinner, the thick glasses guarded eyes that were once wild and free, now weary with age.

When he was in his collared shirt and argyle vest, tie tightened around his Adam's Apple he had gravitas, intellect and wisdom. But, naked in his bathroom, he looked captured, subdued.

And now it wasn't just his aged body.

His eyes fell lower as his wife called from the bedroom.

"Please Honey! Come out and let me see!"

Patrick sighed as he turned and exited the bathroom, taking a few steps towards his waiting wife. Covering his crotch with his hands.

"I think I did it right," Patrick said aloud, looking up like he was examining their ceiling fan.

"Come closer doctor," his wife advised.

He enjoyed it when she called him that.

In actuality he'd never really practiced much of anything besides philosophy, not really much of a doctor at all.

"Drop em' stud," his wife Karen ordered, her voice amused.

Patrick made a disgruntled grunt as he obeyed his younger wife.

"It's cute," she admitted, drawing his eyes with her excited tone, her ringed hand reaching out to touch him.

Patrick's, normally proud, four inch penis was encased in a ruby red, plastic chastity cage, that glowed with newness in the dimly lit bedroom. A snug ring lifted his balls, still quaint, but bulged in new captivity. His shaft was compressed, the tube of the device wickedly short. His head was mashed to the slotted front, pink skin showing through the holes, still damp from the shower.

He forgot himself for a moment as he drank her in.

*********

Patrick felt it the moment he saw her.

He, the wise professor with authority and a newly, ringless finger. She had been assigned to him during her graduate studies, twenty-three, brunette, sharp, staying late. He remembered the first time he saw her, knock-knee'd, unsure of herself. But Patrick saw beneath the surface immediately. Her oversized clothes did little to hide a trim waist, strong thighs and a pair of pillowy D-cups she seemed desperate to hide. Her face was round, youthful, with just a touch of baby fat that made her smile glow. Deep green eyes say between a small, sharp nose, her cute face framed by a short bob haircut he later discovered was a dead ringer for her mother.

He felt a burning for her the moment she crossed the threshold into his classroom. And the looks that they shared during that semester told him the door was open. He courted her in the only way he knew how, books left open that invited long conversations after class. Intelligent arguments that further melted him as she proved she could challenge him. And then, a late night study session in his office. The door closed. A witty comment. The look. He held his breath as he leaned in, a kiss, deep and full of possibility.

It still took all his nerve to ask her to dinner. He was surprised at how easily she agreed.

His first marriage had starved his libido, almost politely. Little sex leading to no sex. He remembered how out of practice he felt two months into dating as they talked in a dimly lit parking lot overlooking the beach below.

That night, after so much talking, he discovered it.

"I'm a virgin."

Angels might have sang in Patrick's head, but he played it cool. He was her elder. He was the one who led her.

They made love the first time right there and the car. Her skirt rucked. His knee on the console. His hands beneath her upturned bra, hefting her heavy breasts as he kissed her long, dark nipples. He remembered the warm, wet heat when he slid his slender penis inside her. He was a starved man. She was an untapped resource, an oasis.

He came quickly and helpless. The shame of a man that couldn't last. Not in that moment and not much longer as the years progressed. He watched her as he felt his spent penis slither out from inside her. She ran her hands through his thinning hair.

"That was amazing," she cooed.

He'd never forget the swell of pride.

"I love that my body makes you lose control," she said, those deep eyes falling deeper for him in that intimate moment.

"I love you Karen," Patrick said, his blissed out mind unable to form anything profound.

********

They enjoyed a healthy love-life during the first two years of marriage. Patrick took it upon himself to make up for the time he had lost with his loathsome ex-wife, enjoying Karen's young, nubile body. She enjoyed pleasing him, still finding satisfaction in how he would lose his usual, noetic mind, the moment he sank inside her or when she would, unprompted, kneel between his legs and suck his excited penis after a long day.

But as the years wore on, and once Karen finally got a job. It turned out a Masters in Political Philosophy wasn't much use in the current job market. Their love-making waned. One was too tired, one had a long day, both too beset by the way of the world to think of romance. But they still found each other, at least once a week, and melded as they had that first time.

The nervousness he had felt that first time bubbled up as he joined her eyes, staring down his paunch at his groin.

"What do you think," Patrick asked in a tone that felt like defeat and tasted almost bitter.

Karen couldn't help the mirth in her voice as she almost cackled, "The girls at work are gonna die when I tell them!"

Patrick rolled his eyes, his mind wandering back to how he found himself in this predicament.

***********

Karen had almost bounced through the door that last Monday of September. Patrick had gotten home early and had dutifully prepared dinner after starting the laundry. They shared the household duties but his schedule was often more flexible and he found himself preparing for his young wife's return from her job most nights.

He watched her smile through her spaghetti as he finished debriefing her on his day.

"What's got you so giddy," her balding husband asked.

"Nothing," she said through a grin that stretched her cheeks.

"Spill it K," Patrick pestered.

"Well," she said mischievously, "Have you ever heard of Locktober?"

Patrick's fork dropped as he watched his beautiful wife crane her fingers over her plate.

He was a guy, of course he'd heard of it. He wasn't a prude, enjoying the occasional porn, and he found himself wandering into the more female dominant stuff from time to time.

But his pride answered for him, "N-no... what's that?"

His face fell as he listened to his wife give a dissertation that would have rivaled one of his better students. The basic gist of chastity, the idea behind locking up your man for four straight weeks, the forms and functions of the cage.

He listened, patient like he was, his eyes playing a high stakes game to hide the fact that he'd already had the knowledge.

"And... you want that for me? For us?"

Karen giggled again, "It's the girls at work, and I mean Demetrius started the whole thing."

Patrick's shoulders slouched.

Demetrius.

Karen had taken an admin job at a data center that had popped up out of nowhere. The usual thing, promising jobs, hiding intentions. It was the kind of thing Patrick had railed against, given his leanings, but Karen had pursued it anyway. She was one of the lucky few that got the jobs that were far fewer than the company had originally promised. Her and five other women.

And Demetrius.

He had come from some non-profit program, some kind of re-entry thing. Patrick had initially applauded the man when Karen described him. He, of course, was in favor of second chances for people who had paid their debt to society. On paper he was the Assistant Manager of Data Center Operations and Infrastructure. But there wasn't really anyone above him, maybe just the AI itself, Patrick had mused after Karen told him about her first day.

Patrick had met the man during some team event during Karen's first few months there.

His political leanings and his uncomfortable feelings waging a quiet war after that day.

Demetrius was huge, Patrick had taken to calling him "Fridge" after that first meeting. He lorded over the grill, six-five easy, his muscular chest obscuring the company logo on his polo. Tattoos ran down both muscular arms that tested the validity of the sleeves. A close-cut beard. Sharp jaw. Dark skin that beaded in the heat. The red solo cup looked like a toy in his huge hand as he flipped the hot dogs. The black man was cool and confident. He made little jokes that had made Patrick and the other husbands at the event uncomfortable.

"Sorry folks, the big wieners are charred black, but I think you'll love them!"

Patrick noticed the turn of phrase. His shoulders sinking as something disquieting ran down his spine. He calmed as Karen yelled back from the picnic table.

"Gross, boss!"

There were more, so many more. But the girls didn't seem to mind.

Patrick did. And he carried that disdain right through Karen's proclamation.

"So are you going to report him to HR," Patrick asked, hoping he could maneuver the conversation.

"I'm basically HR," Karen replied back.

Patrick rolled his eyes, "So, what all does this entail my love," he responded, flatly, hoping his tone would win the day.

Karen brushed it off.

"Well, and this is if you'll do it, we've got a pool going. Demetrius puts in a hundred dollars a day, whichever husband lasts longest, that wife gets the pot!"

Patrick shook his head, his words coming out before he could process, "Money often costs too much..."

"The quotes," Karen said with a smile, shaking her head at her husband's yearning to hold the intellectual high ground.

"Sorry dear," Patrick replied, smiling at his phrasing, "That a lot of money, my love."

"Right," Karen affirmed as a wet noddle wobbled to her pouty lips.

"So, what's Fridge get out of all this," Patrick asked, his academic mind mildly intrigued.

Karen's face warmed as she sensed her older husband's resolve moving in her favor.

"Well, the wives each put in twenty bucks a day. If the husbands can't make it the month, he gets the pot."

"Jesus K," Patrick replied, doing the math, "There's six of y'all, that's... I mean that's..."

"I know," she replied, "But babe, we can do it. We can win it!"

Patrick ran his hands through the remaining strands of silver hair on his head as he pondered the ramifications.

"K, that's no sex for a month," Patrick almost whined, "I mean, on Saturdays we always..."

"And no jerking off," Karen added, her soft voice coming out slightly rude.

"K," Patrick moaned.

"No handjobs either," she stated.

"Honey," Patrick said, feeling the train going off the tracks.

"No blowjobs," Karen said, like she had already practiced the list of things that wouldn't be done.

Patrick's hands moved atop his bald dome as he spoke, "I mean... no. Right? No."

He felt that sting when Karen slumped in her chair. He hated letting her down.

"We can go on that vacation," Karen said quietly, her eyes raising from her plate.

"Jamaica," Patrick replied, they'd talked about it for years. The word like honey from his mouth.

"Yep, and I'll wear the bikini..."

Patrick's heart jumped. She'd worn it once on their honeymoon, it was basically dental floss. He had been so proud parading his young wife around the resort. It was the best sex of their marriage.

It was tempting.

"So, if we win," Patrick responded, something conservative bubbling forth.

"When we win," she replied, confidence swelling in her ample chest, "We'll go ahead and book the trip. So at the end of the month, pay ourselves back, fly away and..."

"And," Patrick prodded.

"I'll let you do whatever you want to me..."

Patrick breathed in deeply, fingers in mustache, looking deep in thought. He was the measured one, supposedly wise beyond his years.

But beneath the surface he was fantasizing like a teenage boy.

His mind flooded with images of his young, naked wife, giving him whatever he wanted.

She watched him, her eyes bulging as she waited for his response.

"So... how would this work?"

********

September 30th

"It looks painful," Karen mused as she brought her face close to the strange contraption constricting her husband's penis.

"I mean, it's not normal," Patrick joked. His breath held as she watched her beautiful face inspect him like a specimen.

"We're so winning that money," Karen replied, her green, round eyes looking up his body before settling on his clearly unamused face.

"Thirty one days," Patrick said, almost quietly, like a final plea.

"We can do this," Karen added, "And remember Doctor Littleton, you can do whatever you want to me..."

"With my mouth," Patrick recalled as he settled next to his busty wife, kissing her neck, "I remember."

"MMMM, yes."

Patrick kissed up her nape, his fingers ran down her oversized sleeping shirt, "And my fingers..."

"They're gonna get a lot of work," she moaned, spurring him forward.

Patrick grimaced as he felt his small penis fill the uncomfortable cage, questing for full arousal.

"Owww," he growled as the reality of his confinement took physical manifest.

"Poor baby," Karen whined back, giving him a faux pout.

"Can we uhhh, finish this tomorrow night, this is taking some getting used to," Patrick admitted as he groped his ensnared penis in one hand, silently wishing it away.

"Fine," Karen replied, sounding almost motherly, "But remember, part of this is you focusing on my pleasure. And I want that."

"I know, I know," Patrick responded, prickly, moving to his side of the bed, feeling the cold against his naked back. The frigid temperature of their bedroom biting his nearly nude form.

He closed his eyes, trying to will forth old visions of Karen in that tiny string bikini. The way her huge breasts jostled as they moved across the pool deck, the way her ample ass cheeks swallowed the barely-their-bottoms.

"Wait," Karen blurted, jolting both of them up.

"What's up," Patrick said, almost annoyed as the visions of his wife faded.

"We forgot to lock it."

Patrick fell back on the pillow, "Oh... that."

Karen rumbled around her nightstand and moved over to straddle her paunchy husband.

"Ready," Karen asked as she descended to his crotch.

Patrick's breath left him as the serious-looking lock gleamed in the moonlight peaking between the blinds.

"No," he replied honestly.

"Whatever you want babe," she reminded, "Remember, we're both going to be rewarded."

Patrick looked at her work, grimacing as the cold metal touched his sensitive glans through the slats in the wicked device.

The sound of the lock clicking shut sounded louder than it should have.

"There we are, one Padlocked Patty."

"K," Patrick groaned at her jovial announcement.

He felt the weight as her sexy body moved to settle beside him.

"I get out for cleaning right," Patrick asked, turning with a flat frown to his wife. He watched her place the key to the lock around her neck, the chain letting it dangle and hide between her huge breasts.

"Once a day," she replied, "At first."

"You're really serious about this. I'm going crazy already."

Patrick snaked his hand across the space between them and fondled one of her huge, splayed tits.

He jumped as he felt her slap his hand away.

"Were still figuring out all the rules, but it's going to be fine. Tosha's husband is a total horndog. She'll lose easy. Miranda says she and her husband have sex every night, no way they make it."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he said as he resolved to sleep.

"Let the games begin," she said softly as she turned and backed herself up to him, letting his caged penis nestle against her wide ass.

He snarled again as he felt his penis swell and contract, fighting to get hard against the unforgiving, polymer prison.

"To the victor, belongs the spoils," he thought to himself as he focused on how he would survive the next four weeks.

**********

October 1st

Patrick was up before the alarm buzzed at 7am, his hand already beneath the sheets, fidgeting with the hard plastic cage constricting his penis. He was already bargaining with himself, wondering how quickly he could fold on the bet, and free his manhood from the burdensome chastity device.

"I'll tell her I'm in pain," he reasoned in his mind.

Surely Karen wouldn't make him go through with locking his penis for an entire month if he came up with some plausible excuse to remove it.

As he ran through the scenarios in his head he felt his wife shift on the mattress.

"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet and honest.

"What's that my love," Patrick asked, smiling at her.

"I know you think this is silly," she said, touching his face with one hand while bringing his hand between their faces with the other, "It's just... I don't have many friends. I really like the girls at work..."

Patrick nodded, kissing their collapsed hands, "I'm not enough," he asked.

Karen leaned forward, giving his finger a playful bite, before unveiling that killer smile, "Of course you are. But, you know, when I got fired from the university. It really hurt."

Patrick's heart sank as he revisited the indignity of that day, around a year and a half ago. He's secured her a job in the administration office, he'd pulled a lot of strings to make it happen. They had both been so excited. When the college downsized suddenly, she was the victim of being the last hire through the door and so the first one let go.

"Honey, I'm proud that you found this job on your own. And I certainly want you to have friends. But... this is a bit much don't you think?"

Their eyes ran down at the ruby-red chastity cage, before looking at one another.

"You can take it off if you want," Karen mused.

Patrick's face brightened at the opening, but fell as she continued.

"I just really wanted them to like me..."

He sighed, sounding almost fatherly.

He hated disappointing her.

Patrick pursed his lips, nodding as he spoke, "Let's just see how it goes. I can't imagine the other husbands are going to last long either."

"Really," Karen asked, her green eyes brightening in the morning light.

"Really," Patrick huffed happily, "And besides, you've got to let him out for cleaning the morning."

"Let's go," his young wife exclaimed excitedly.

The warmth of the shower felt good on his tired body as he felt Karen fumbling with the lock.

He sighed as his penis reveled in the freedom from the confined, plastic prison.

"There's my little friend," Karen mused, kissing her husband's soft glans before standing.

They made small talk as they cleaned themselves, Karen spent time caressing his member, and he felt his eyes roll back at the familiar sensation of her soft hands on him.

"Whoa, he's excited," she chirped as she admired his pulsing, four inch erection.

"Keep going," Patrick moaned.

He couldn't help frowning as he felt Karen's hand leave his bobbing stub.

"No cumming doctor Littleton," she announced, her voice warm, but resolute.

"I don't know how I'll make it through the day, let alone the month my love," he replied.

Karen placed her hands on his soft chest, staring up into his eyes.

"Tonight you can take care of me, we'll start there."

Patrick shook his head and smiled as he exited the shower, "I'll do what I must..."

"You'll do what I ask," Karen chided as she gave his bottom a soft, playful spank.

Patrick's smile remained as he donned his professorial uniform. Slacks, loafers, white button down, red tie and argyle vest.

"See you tonight," he said as he and Karen headed towards their cars in the driveway.

"Don't use your tongue too much today, I'll need it tonight," she crowed from her driver door.

"You're a mess," he called back as he headed off to teach his first class of the day.

*************

"Good morning Mrs. Littleton..."

"Good morning Jax..."

Karen smiled as she swiped her keycard. The older black man was always pleasant with her when she checked in for work. Demetrius had hired him on from the same program that placed him in the manager role at the data center.

"Well, have a good day," she added as she listened to the security locks allowing her access to her office.

He was the last person she saw besides her team members each day.

They called it "The Mine."

Well, someone did, at some point, and the name kind of stuck.

It was a Managed Data Center for all intents and purposes. They were the third party, managing multiple companies' IT infrastructure, managing servers, security and networks. It was all a little over Karen's head. She was a generalist, new to the role, and working with the small team that handled most of the heavy lifting. It was simple work, for the most part, and a far cry from where she'd thought she would be career-wise. But she'd applied, interviewed, and achieved the job on her own. A fact that spurred her to be her best each day.

And she loved her teammates.

"Oh my God, is that coffee?"

Tosha, she was already gabbing before Karen entered the office. Her eyes went right to the Starbucks order in the young's wife's hands before she could sit down.

"Let her sit down first Tosh!"

Miranda, she was in her 50's, she'd been in IT so long it was like she created it.

"I need it after last night, Roy was on edge all night," Tosha crowed.

"I can't imagine what that old horndog thought when you showed him the cage," Miranda cackled.

"Hmmm," Tosha pondered as Karen slid her order across her desk, "I think... crestfallen in the word."

The pair laughed.

"How about Will? He couldn't have been happy you put the brakes on his nightly routine..."

Miranda blew into her cup, staring at the java as she answered sharply, "uhhh... no."

"What about you K? How'd the professor take it?"

Karen smiled as she looked around the office, like she was reminiscing.

"He was... funny about it. But he went along with it..."

"Promising," Miranda said with a grin.

"Well, no one's beating us..."

That was Penelope. Though, everyone called her Garcia, like the Criminal Minds character. She was funny, blonde and round. Always quick with a joke and full of spunk.

"How so," Tosha asked.

"The money of course!"

They all laughed, Garcia's husband, Frank, was a notorious tightwad. If she said he was resolved, then he would be tough to beat.

"Anyone else have an issue with the cage size?"

The voice was soft, from across the room.

Heather. The mousy one. She didn't talk much, but when she did it always seemed to carry weight.

"Uhh, yes," Miranda called back.

"Me too," Tosha added.

"Why did Demetrius tell us a four inch cage was big enough," Garcia asked with a laugh.

"K," Tosha asked, noticing the young wife quietly sipping her latte.

"Patty's fit fine," she said, before noticing every eye on her.

"Oh you poor girl," Garcia blurted, eliciting a shared laugh around the room that made Karen buzz with a strange embarrassment.

"What," the young wife asked. All the girls in the office were senior to her, some by more than twenty years. She tapped her fingers as their eyes lingered on her.

"I mean... he definitely filled it," she responded, trying to get the group's attention off her.

"Who needs filling?"

Karen relaxed as the women turned to face the deep baritone voice that asked the question from the office door.

Demetrius moved through the door that looked almost filled from his wide, muscled frame. The women dressed for comfort in the office but Demetrius looked professional, always professional, like he'd garner respect the moment you saw him. He was well groomed as always. His beard was close cut, shaping his strong jaw. Cool without performance. He looked like a man that roms rearranged themselves around.

"Morning, ladies."

"There he is," Tosha said, already standing, already mothering. She was old enough to have packed his lunch in another life.

"You eat?"

"I'm fine Tosh," the black man said with a smile.

"That's not what I asked."

Miranda didn't get up. She did tilt her cheek toward him when he passed, like she had decided he was brilliant and exhausting and hers to keep alive. She pushed his coffee an inch across the desk.

"Karen brought it," she said with a matronly smile.

"Good girl," Demetrius said to no one in particular.

He took the cup and leaned against an open desk by the door, running his eyes over the room. They didn't linger, just counting bodies like he counted functioning servers.

"So," he said quietly, but the sound of chairs squeaking indicated everyone was leaning towards him, "Everyone's locked in?"

It landed both ways and he knew it. Team ready to compete. Husband's in plastic.

"Yes," Tosha said.

"Yes sir," Miranda crowed.

"Obviously," Garcia added.

Heather's yes was faint, but firm.

Karen heard her own voice in the chorus before she had decided to join it.

"Yes."

"What're we talking about?"

The group's eyes moved to the door.

Renee.

If there was an office sexpot, she was it. Curly brown hair framed a sweet face, but it was her body that turned heads. Karen often wondered how she got into tech because her body was that of a woman who spent her time in the gym. Renee was close to her age, where Karen was naive, Renee was confident. She strode across the floor, and Karen picked up her co-workers' looks. She seemed to bring out the catiness that you might have found in a close-knit office full of women.

Miranda almost growled as she watched the leggy brunette touch Demetrius's arm as she took her seat.

"Locktober," the motherly woman said with a clear bite.

"Oh," Renee replied, wrapping her pouty lips around the straw to her iced coffee, "I convinced Bradley. It was easy."

"Like you," Karen heard Tosha mutter.

"Alright ladies," Demetrius crowed sensing the feminine energy, "Enough chit chat, lets work through some tickets."

Everyone dove into their screens, like the young black man's words were gospel. For the next few hours, the bet was forgotten. Karen processed access requests with half her head and watched Demetrius, leaning over Renee's screen with the other.

She felt Tosha's eyes on her and they shared a knowing look.

The rumor started after that first team picnic. Demetrius and Renee had arrived at the office together the following morning. They said it was a carpool. Economic. Efficient.

But the team's elders thought differently.

He prowled the floor like a lion, tech wasn't his forte. But he over compensated with people skills, and that magnetism that was on display as he moved from cubicle to cubicle.

"Phoenix Global," Demetrius asked as he saw Karen put her hands over head, taking in a particularly nasty email.

"Our favorite people," Karen replied as she craned her neck to meet his gaze.

"You got this girl," he said, with a nod and a look that effortlessly instilled confidence.

Karen had almost forgotten the bet when Tosha brought it up in the break room.

"I know these girls are gonna cheat," she said, confiding in the youngest member of the team.

"You think so," Karen replied, almost shocked at the statement.

"It's a lot of money K," the 50 year old responded, "And you really think you can go without sex for that long?"

Karen's breath caught, she suddenly felt uncomfortable at how confident she was that she could avoid sex with her husband for that long. She searched for the words, something that would hide her feelings and shield her absent husband's ego.

"I mean, four weeks isn't that long..."

"Speak for yourself," her co-worker added.

"Gross!"

The pair turned as Garcia joined them in the break room.

"Frank sent me a picture of his thingie!"

Karen turned a deep shade of red at the chubby woman's proclamation.

"At least he's still wearing it," Miranda chided as she circled the microwave, "Will was already talking about yanking it off during the day."

Karen found her knees raising to her chest as she listened to her friends bemoan their partners lack of conviction.

"Ladies," Tosha said as she stood, "You know what, get the others," the mother hen crowed.

A minute later all the women were pressed inside the lunch area.

"Girls, let's set some rules."

All eyes were on Tosha as she laid out her concerns and elicited suggestions from the chorus.

"We know the guys are going to want out," she said, "And we know they'll be pushing us to fold."

"Honor system," Heather said, before returning to her kale salad.

"I trust y'all," Renee added with a devilish smile.

She might have, but her standing in the group, and the silence told the story of what they thought of her fidelity.

"Pictures," Garcia added, her eyes still studying her phone.

"Eww," Miranda laughed. A few others joined her.

Garcia continued, "Every morning, to the group chat. Lock in the picture. And if you tap out you have to say so."

Tosha pondered the idea for a moment as the group watched her.

"It's filthy," Tosha said, and then, "I love it."

"What's all this cluckin'," Demetrius said, in his deep voice as he leaned against the doorway.

"We're making sure the competition is fair," Renee said as her eyes lingered on the young black man for a moment too long.

He smiled as he enjoyed the sea of eyes on him.

"Accountability," he mused, "I like it. So what's the plan?"

They explained the group chat idea and the morning pictures.

"I mean, I stand to lose a lot here if even one of you makes it the month," the black man said with a grin, clearly enjoying the whole routine.

"We all want to win," Garcia added, "But we can't let this mess everything up."

Demetrius nodded, he clearly had thoughts, but he kept them to himself, letting the team take the lead.

"We can add you to the chat," Renee said in that voice that everyone hated.

"Umm... no," Demetrius replied.

"So it's decided," Tosha announced.

"Alright y'all, I'm already seeing myself on a beach somewhere warm in November," the black man said with enthusiasm, "Tosha, I'll leave you in charge..."

The motherly woman crooked her tweezed eyebrow at their boss, "Not happening D."

"Alright y'all, back to work, enough talk about your hubbies' little puds," he said as shrugged a heavy shoulder and turned back to the office bay.

The women filed out of the break room, Karen stayed. Her gut twisted as Renee crossed her legs, still seated beside her.

"That money is mine," she mused, "And besides, Bradley loves serving me. I'll use that tongue of his all month for this. You?"

Karen's hands shook uncomfortably at the promiscuous woman's words. But she wanted to keep the peace. "Oh... for sure," she replied simply as she moved to wash out her tupperware.

The actual work picked up again after that. Tickets moved. A server scare turned out to be nothing. At four, Tosha announced Roy was texting her hypotheticals. Heather showed Miranda a perturbed message from Tommy. Miranda told her to turn her phone face down. Karen was clearing out the last of her emails as the clock moved to five, she kept glancing at her phone, expecting a similar message from Patrick, like the other disgruntled men, but none came.

The group walked out together, everyone exchanging pleasantries with Jax as they headed to the parking lot.

"Remember," Tosha said, heading to her car, "Photos or you're out."

"Photos or it didn't happen," Garcia added.

Karen affirmed the words, like the other women, grasping her phone as she headed to her car.

It dinged in the emptying lot.

"Mushroom Risotto waiting for you my love," it read.

The young brunette smiled, excited to return to her waiting, certainly eager, husband.

*************

Karen smiled as she let herself into their studio apartment. The sights, sounds and smells are familiar in a day of strange camaraderie.

It was quintessential Patrick.

The house was immaculate.

The soft strings of classical music her husband could name from memory in the background.

And his fragrant, often complicated, recipe wafting in her nostrils.

"My tormentor returns," he said with a smile as she removed her overcoat.

"You love it," she replied as she took a seat at their kitchen island.

Her husband moved to set the perfectly garnished dish in front of her, pouring a glass of earthy Pinot Noir, and offering it to her.

"Well my day was long, as you can imagine," he mused.

"Tell me," the young wife implored, something strange in her wanting to hear about the effects of the cage on her husband. Her eyes fell to the bulge in the front of his slacks.

It was faint, but there.

"Well, the football team is at it again. They don't know Plato from Socrates. The one, Devon, it's like he can't retain even the basics."

"He's the captain right," Karen asked as she took a bite of the meticulous mushroom meal.

"I suppose that's up to me," Patrick said, almost proudly, "He's so sure he's going to go pro. I might have to fail him."

"A bit cruel dear," Karen added, "Live and let live right?"

"I suppose," the professor added, swirling his wine and smelling it before taking the first sip.

"And how about..."

Karen couldn't help herself, as her hand fell below the marble island and squeezed her husband's thin thigh.

"It certainly makes it hard," Patrick said as they both looked down.

"I think it's supposed to stop that," Karen interrupted with a mischievous smile.

"To teach, I meant," Patrick finished.

He watched her eat, her eyes questing for more.

"It's awkward, hard to sit. I'm sure you didn't factor in the mess when I have to..."

"Pee," Karen asked.

"Yes," he replied in that fatherly tone, "It's like a truck stop after I go."

"Yuck," Karen replied.

"But," Patrick added, trying to regain decorum, "It made me think of you."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes," he said, "It's most unnatural."

He changed the subject, asking her about her day.

Karen was feeling the effects of the wine, and found herself making eyes at her husband. She felt something. Maybe it was the vino. Maybe it was Renee's tawdry words. The whole day had worked her up in a strange way.

She looked at him as she wiped her mouth.

"Are you up for giving me my raincheck from last night," she asked, running her finger along the wet rim of her glass.

"Forward aren't we," he chided.

"I don't know," Karen replied, "This whole thing has me kind of hot."

Patrick finished his last bite, nodding as he spoke, "Of course my love, I've been thinking about you all day. I know this means a lot to you."

"Thank you," she said awkwardly.

Patrick stood from the table, holding out his hand, "Why don't you show me how hot this makes you."

Karen almost jumped from the table as the couple moved towards their bedroom.

"Let me see it," she ordered excitedly as they stood before the bed.

Patrick rolled his eyes and undid his outfit, pressed shirt, tie, vest, pleated slacks and boxers falling to the carpeted floor below.

"Ohhh, my little friend looks angry," she cooed, Patrick's testicles were drawn up, the hairy sack a light red, his glans was already bulging at the slats on the plastic cage, it certainly looked uncomfortable.

"All for you my dear," Patrick added as they kissed in the lamp light of their bedroom.

Karen was positively beside herself as she stripped off her work clothes, sighing with want as she felt her husband's small hands cup her freed breasts.

"I missed you," he added, "Now, let me see you."

Karen finished removing her panties and fell to the bed, spreading her legs, so her husband could see her excited, pulsing vagina.

He kneeled at the side of the bed, his head resting on the mattress, framed by her feet.

"K, your love, it's... it's... so flush."

Her heart sang as he called her pussy, "love", his pet name for her vagina. He'd never use a vulgar word like pussy. But in her mind she was begging him to do just that.

"Shall I," he asked as he moved his torso onto the bed, kissing up her thighs.

"Yes... please... I need it..."

Karen felt her body tense as her husband's tongue licked along her flushed petals.

"Fuck," she moaned.

"Language my love," Patrick said, muffled against her..

"Keep licking," she replied, ignoring his plea.

The nubile wife ran her hands down her body, her fingers feeling the warmth in her loins as Patrick darted his tongue inside her unskillfully.

For a moment, she wondered why she hadn't done this sooner. Patrick rarely went down on her, even now her mind begged for him to hit the right spots to bring her over the edge.

"D-don't poke me with it, flatten your tongue..."

Her body rejoiced as he listened, widening his tongue and running it along the sensitive nerve endings.

"Yesss," she groaned as she felt his soft nose bump her clit, urging it to unsheath as he ran his mouth along her wetness.

She tensed as she placed her hands on his head, fingers gripping his bald dome as her pinkies hooked behind his ears.

"Oh... oh... oh..."

Her lamentations were matched by soft, short rolls of her hips, her wide bottom half urging him to change tactics.

"N-now... inside... inside... yes... Oh my God yes..."

Patrick took the hint, hardening his tongue as she bucked against his fluid-shiny face. He breathed in the scent of her arousal, tasted her sopping wetness, resolving to see her through to climax even as his tongue tired.

"Fudge," she yelped, watching her language as something burning uncoiled inside her.

"Fudge, fudge, fudge!"

"MPPPFHMMM," Patrick moaned as he felt her hands steel around his head, her hips driving his tongue inside her, holding him there as she writhed on their bed.

His teeth clenched as his penis bulged painfully against the slats of the cage, helpless to take advantage of his positively wanton wife. He wanted nothing more than to grab the key dangling between his wife's heavy breasts, free his poor penis and plunge inside her. He settled for the cross-eyed, frenzied look of lust in her eyes.

"Fudgeeeeee," she groaned as a short orgasm ran through her body. She clamped her shaking legs around his head, moving her hands to knead her fat breasts as she rejoiced in the feeling.

She kept him there for a long minute as she came down from the orgasmic high. She looked down between her splayed breasts at his wet, smiling face. His chin resting on her mound, watching her.

"Locktober's not so bad," she mused, ruffling his strewn hairs, and returning his smile.

"For you," Patrick said with a soft laugh.

Minutes later they lay beside each other, their hands clasped. Patrick's legs fiddled around, searching for a comfortable position that the cumbersome cage wouldn't allow.

"So that was good, what you wanted," Patrick asked finally, his old eyes searching for validation.

"It was great babe," Karen replied, "You made me very happy."

The professor bathed in the admiration, though he caught the hesitation in her eyes.

"What is it dear?"

Karen exhaled deeply, "So, we have to take pictures of it in the morning. It's dumb. Tosha."

"K," Patrick grumbled, "This is going a bit too far..."

"It's for the bet," Karen chirped back quickly, "We don't want anyone to cheat."

"We?"

Karen squeezed his hand, "The girls... and Demetrius. I know it's asking alot..."

Patrick sighed, that patriarchal sigh, "I'm not sure I like this man controlling my marriage dear..."

"He's not," Karen responded, "He just wants it to be fair."

"Well I'm glad my suffering can provide you and the other ladies with a little bit of fun."

Karen rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

"Let's look at flights tomorrow, I just know we're going to win."

***********