Locktober Pt. 02

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.

**********

October 2nd

"Honey, can you bring the key?"

Patrick craned his head outside the shower, minutes earlier he had awoken before Karen, smiling as he watched her doze contentedly. Last night he had eaten her to orgasm, at her request. He felt a strange pride in the satisfied look on her face as she dreamt, happy to fulfill her needs.

"MMM, thank you for last night," his young wife said through a yawn, stretching her arms as she joined him in the steamy shower.

"I'll admit, this contraption sure makes me focus on you," Patrick admitted as they shared a wet kiss beneath the jets.

"I read that's why a lot of couples have it as a regular part of their love life, it puts the woman's needs at the forefront of the husband's minds."

"Don't get any ideas," Patrick replied as he shampooed his wispy hair.

"Let's get you all clean mister," Karen said playfully as she removed the key to the cage from between her breasts and unlocked him.

"Ahhh, sweet freedom," Patrick joked as he felt the relief from his constricted penis losing the burden of the plastic cage. His body rejoiced as the blood flowed steadily to his penis. There was a dull soreness, but it was overshadowed by the sweet feeling of release.

Of possibility.

They soaped each other, their eyes watching each other, their love rekindled for the fleeting moment Patrick's four inch penis was free to rise to its quaint fullness.

His breath held as his shaft touched her bare legs beneath the hot water raining down on them. He felt the softness of her young, womanly body, the warmth channeling through his sensitive glans, running through them.

Remembering.

"Ready for pictures," Karen asked as she stepped out of the shower, ruining the moment of freedom.

"If I must," Patrick chuckled back.

Karen grabbed her phone and pointed it at Patrick's excited penis. They both watched as it wilted from stage fright beneath the bright light from her phone's camera. She knelt and looked up, the key hanging mischievously from her mouth as she secured Patrick's penis in the ruby-red cage.

The lock made a wicked, wet sound as it clasped, announcing another day of frustration for the older husband.

"Done," Patrick asked after a long, embarrassing moment.

"Got it," Karen replied, already typing away at her phone.

"You're really sending it," Patrick asked.

"Already did," his wife replied before blurting, "Holy moly."

Patrick heard the dings from her phone that felt like soft blows to his manhood.

"What are they saying," he asked.

Karen moved to the bedroom as she recited.

"There's Tosha," Karen replied, eyes still fixed on the phone.

"Renee," Karen added with disdain.

Patrick was already dressing for class when Karen's warm laughter, a sound he loved dearly, captured his attention.

"What," he asked.

"Tosha said she thought Bradley would be bigger."

Patrick laughed uncomfortably.

"Renee called Tosha a bitch," Karen continued, sounding like a court stenographer.

"K... I..."

"Oop, Garcia sent Frank's," she snorted, "His is pink!"

"Honey I don't want to hear about..."

"Heather," Karen said, getting dressed with one hand while keeping her phone in front of her eyes with the other.

"I think I'm going to head out," Patrick announced, a little dismayed that Karen was so engrossed in her phone.

"Oh snap," Karen cried, "Miranda's out!"

Patrick paused at their bedroom door, feeling a jealousy for Will, Miranda's husband. He'd surely put his foot down and ended this nonsense. Patrick wished for a moment he had been the one to end the whole charade. But the opportunity had clearly passed.

"They got drunk last night," Karen narrated, "Will wore her down."

"Smart guy," Patrick said, lifting his eyebrow, his eyes testing the waters.

"They do it almost every night, she was never going to make it," Karen said plainly as she finished dressing, "But that's one down!"

"Karen," Patrick pestered, his ego still registering that Will was making love to his wife nightly while Patrick and Karen had diminished to about once a week. And that was before the whole chastity bet resigned him to a month in the plastic penis prison. He admired Karen's effortless beauty as she joined him, walking together to the kitchen.

"So what happens to her now," Patrick asked, fixing them both a cup of coffee to go.

Karen smiled as she took it, smelling the aroma.

"Well, she keeps paying into Demetrius's pot. And I'm sure the girls are going to give her a hard time today."

"Not so bad," Patrick mused as they opened their front door.

"Don't," Karen said, pausing and gazing at her husband, "Get any ideas, we're winning this thing."

Patrick's shoulders slouched as he presented his cheek, accepting a warm peck from his wife.

"Wouldn't dream of it...."

**********

Karen's face turned red as the team hooted and hollered at Miranda's entrance. If her face was flushed, the embarrassed older woman was a deep, shamed crimson.

"The first loser, ladies," Tosha cat called.

"Couldn't even make it a day," Garcia added.

Karen watched the walk of shame, resolving to not feel this humiliation herself. She couldn't help but join the chorus as her older friend eyed her, almost waiting for it.

"Hope it was worth it," Karen said, giggling as she covered her mouth.

Miranda scowled at her, clearly unhappy in defeat, but with an air of superiority.

"At least I got some last night!"

The women all paused, a knowing grumble running through the team. Miranda had lost, but in a way, she had also won.

"Well, I did fine last night," Renee announced, checking her nails.

"It was good to be in charge for a change," Heather added.

Garcia agreed, adding, "Frank dusted off some toys we hadn't played with in months."

The group laughed.

"Toys," Karen asked, her eyes moving from woman to woman.

"Oh you sweet summer child," Renee cackled with that air of superiority everyone hated.

"Well, let's see it..."

The group turned as Demetrius entered.

The well dressed black man prowled across the bay and stood before Miranda.

"We really tried," the older woman said.

"Uh huh," Demetrius said with faux disappointment, holding out his huge hand.

Miranda dug in her purse and produced a light blue chastity cage, lock undone, and dropped it in the black man's waiting palm.

"Here lies Miranda," Tosha giggled as Demetrius moved to an inset table by the copy machine.

He smiled as he placed the empty cage on display for the group.

"One down," he said, as a smile crept across his face, "Five to go..."

Tosha stood as she shouted back, "No way you're winning this D, Roy was already looking at golf carts last night. He's already spending that money.

Demetrius replied, with a slyness in his tone, "You'd think you'd find a better use for him than that Tosh..."

"Oh, we did just fine," she shot back.

Demetrius moved to the door, "I hope you ladies keep enjoying the little slaves I've created for you."

His words hung in the dry air of the office, something about the thought reverberating amongst the women.

"Karen, bring me that Phoenix Global wrap up when you get a minute," the black man said, "And everyone get your mind out of the gutters and into those tickets."

Karen's fingers shook slightly as she watched Demetrius's muscular back exit the office.

"Star student," Renee said bitchily.

"Shut up," Karen spit back.

***********

"You've got to get your mind in your studies young man."

Patrick tried to remain professional as he awkwardly crossed his legs in his office. The school's star player, Devon, was seated across from him. The black athlete had requested the meeting after another failed pop quiz.

"I know Dr. L," the muscled black man replied, "Just distracted, that's all."

Patrick nodded.

He knew all about distraction. It was currently between his legs, catching and pulling his pubic hair every time he shifted. He'd have yelped if he had been alone in his office.

"Football stuff," Patrick asked.

"Girl stuff," Devon replied.

Patrick suddenly felt an unease twist in his gut. Something about the fact that his penis was constricted, his physical intimacy restricted to his wife's pleasure, and the black man's sexual freedom hit him.

"Well, you've got to devote more time to your studies..."

Devon nodded his head, "I'm trying Doc, for real. But the girls here. Man, they won't leave me alone!"

Patrick again recoiled internally.

"Girls... women will always be there," Patrick mused, "I didn't worry about such things when I was your age. And look at what that dedication did for me."

The aged professor couldn't help but look down momentarily at the slight bulge of the cage in his khakis. Suddenly unsure of the previous advice he had just extolled.

"I promise I'll study more, try and give the ladies a rest. Will you just please pass me on this one. I need to play Doc..."

Patrick smiled at the moment of superiority his place in the faculty had afforded him. Sure he was locked in a chastity cage, confined by the wicked contest at his wife's work. But here, he was still the authority.

"Listen son," he said, "I want what's best for you. I got some advice on this very thing last night. If you'll promise to focus on this, I'll move it to a D minus so you can play."

"I will Doc, I promise I will."

"Very well," Patrick responded in his most fatherly tone.

Devon stood and extended his huge black hand across the desk.

Patrick hesitated a moment as he felt his poor penis aching for escape from captivity. He feared the black athlete might notice. But he didn't want to be rude.

"CLINK..."

Patrick grimaced at the strange noise, clearly metal and plastic moving in his trousers, as he pushed his chair back and stood.

He found his smaller, pale hand engulfed in Devon's ebony grip.

"Thanks again sir, I'm..."

"He couldn't know," the professor told himself. The real life ramifications of wearing the cage in public flooding his mind.

"Gonna lock in," Devon said, with a smile, small and grateful.

Had he noticed the strange rattle?

"S-see that you do," Patrick replied as he sat down quickly, watching the black athlete's huge frame exit his office.

Patrick fired off a nervous text to Karen. He spent the rest of the afternoon pondering ways to relieve himself from the burdensome cage currently constricting his manhood.

"Hope your day is going well..."

*********

"Yes. Crazy day. Busy."

Karen typed back as she waited for the Phoenix Global report to print.

"Where's D," Karen asked the room as she looked at the clock.

"Gym, lucky you," Renee said with a smile before returning to her screen.

"Bitch," Karen thought to herself as she left the bay and headed into the hallway. She heard the sounds of movement from the expansive gym in the huge building. She told herself when she started she was going to use it everyday. But she had never set foot in it since that first week.

"Fucker!"

"Come on!"

"Come on!"

Karen paused at the manly grunts and the sound of power heating weight. Her eyes went wide as she eased into the open door.

Demetrius was shirtless, his back to her. He was taking out some frustration on a heavy bag that looked to be taking the worst of it.

For a long moment she watched his chiseled back, adorned with winding tattoos she couldn't make out against his deep, ebony skin tone as he pounded the heavy bag. It would swing from the force of one blow before rocking back as the next would imprint a mark of force in the canvas.

His body was so different from Patrick's, D's chiseled, tattooed covered dark skin, bulging with muscles was a contrast against the vision of her husbands, gaunt softness and pale demeanor.

She unconsciously bit her lip as he paused, head raising, sensing her presence. He turned towards her as he steadied the beaten heavy bag with his gloved hand.

"How'd we end up," he asked as he grabbed a water bottle and guzzled it greedily, a few droplets falling on his pronounced chest, mixing with the shine of his own sweat.

"Oh... uh... fine. You know Phoenix, they use the team for ideas on other projects. They waste their hours."

"You explained it," he said, moving across the padded gym floor towards her.

She paused as she smelled him.

Effort.

Strength.

Power.

"Boss," she said in her mind.

"Well," Demetrius asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Of course, they always fold when I bring up the project plan and the meeting notes."

She felt an uneasiness as he reviewed her notes, smiling his winning smile.

"Good job," he replied, handing her back the stack of paper.

"Thank you sir," she responded. His eyes lingered for a long moment.

"What," she asked, confused.

"You and hubby doing okay with the whole bet?"

Something in her body tightened at the question. In the office, surrounded by the team, the bet was fun, comedy, a way to break the monotony of the day.

But his tone was different as they stood alone in the gym, their words echoing in the emptiness.

"Oh, yes. Patty has been really supportive about it. I think we're going to be spending your money at the end of the month," she chided, clutching the papers against her ample chest. She took an involuntary step towards the hallway.

"That's good. Remember what Tosha said when y'all were researching."

"What's that," Karen said as her fingers touched the door frame, something inside her willing her to escape the moment.

"They should serve you, whatever you want for four weeks. I'm sure Patty can do that."

She bristled for a moment at the tone and the nickname she only used for her husband.

"Oh," she said, finding her confidence, "No issues there."

"Good," Demetrius said with a smile.

Karen watched him return to the heavy bag, donning the red gloves again. She waited for a moment and turned to leave.

Demetrius's words stopped her.

"Hey, you can tell the team to cut out a few minutes early."

"Really," she asked.

"Sure," he replied, taking another gulp of water, "And ask Renee to head here before she leaves."

"Yes sir," Karen replied, trying to keep a wicked thought from her mind.

She inhaled deeply in the sterile hallway, gathering herself before she returned to the team, excited to be the one to share the news of the early release.

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

"Salieri," Karen thought to herself as she entered the apartment.

"Two days down," Patrick said, with a smile.

Karen smiled back. He looked like he always did, professorial uniform changed into something resembling Mr. Rogers.

She giggled at the thought that her husband dressed down would have been formal to some people.

"Duck confit, potatoes and salad," he announced as she took her familiar position at the bar.

"My hero," she replied.

"So," Patrick said, watching her take her first bite and warming to her impressed reaction to his cooking, "How did Miranda take it?"

Karen talked between chews, "She was salty, it really made the day go fast."

"Funny," he said, his words more floating than pointed.

"D put the cage on display in the office," she added.

"That cad," Patrick said, hoping his words would land the way he wanted.

The conversation turned to their days. Karen droned about Phoenix Global. Patrick mentioned continued difficulty with the athletes in his class.

The monotony continued until they landed softly on the plush couch in the living room.

"Would you rub my feet," Karen asked.

Patrick paused for a moment, before answering by moving to the Persian rug and removing her work shoes.

"Oh that feels like heaven," Karen moaned.

Patrick worked her feet softly, moving his fingers along her soles until he tired after ten minutes.

He paused, looking up at her.

Karen's face was sheepish.

"Penny for your thoughts," he asked as he willed his fingers to squeeze her toes.

"Have you ever... this is so embarrassing..."

"Go on, my love," Patrick replied.

"Well, Garcia brought it up," Karen stammered, before making sure she had Patrick's attention, "Thought about us exploring a..."

"Go on," Patrick implored.

"A... marital aid?"

Patrick paused his hands between her big toes.

"You mean... sex toys?"

"It's dumb," Karen mused, "dumb idea."

Patrick's mind wandered back years ago. He and his ex-wife had used them. It was her idea. Some last ditch effort to save their marriage.

"It's not replacing you," she told him.

"I feel like I've disappointed you," he remembered saying.

"I think it will help," she said.

He had researched it like he did everything. Patrick had picked it out, a small, white dildo. He chose it because it looked similar to his own, maybe an inch bigger and a tad thicker. He thought he'd chosen correctly. Presented her later that week with, "the solution."

It hadn't worked.

"Honey," Karen lamented, bringing him out of the fog of memories of his first failed marriage.

"I... I have," he stammered.

"You perv," Karen said playfully.

Her voice, those green eyes, suddenly he left the pain of the past and warmed to his beautiful young wife, her exuberance. Her vitality. The way she filled his life with... life.

"We... me and, "she who shall not be named," used them for a little while... towards the end."

Karen grew rigid at the mention of Patrick's ex-wife. She hated the woman, though she'd mostly met her through Patrick's musings. They had shared a glance during Patrick's oldest son's graduation from medical school. The look was judgement. Disapproval. It hadn't been pleasant.

"Towards the end," Karen asked, she had leaned forward, a promise of her deep cleavage beneath her button down lay before Patrick's eyes as she touched his hand.

"Yes," he croaked.

"And it was her idea?"

"It was," he said, looking at her ringed hand on his, "It was meant to be practical."

Karen's mouth did something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Practical," she thought.

"Did you pick it out," she asked.

"I did."

She almost asked what it looked like, but thought better of it.

Garcia's laugh was in her ear.

The way Renee called her a "sweet summer child."

She was the youngest woman in the mine. And the only one who had to ask what the others already knew.

Owned.

Used.

"The girls made it sound normal," she said softly, broken innocence in her tone, "Garcia uses them all the time. Like it was nothing."

"Women,' Patrick replied, his soft defense harmless against the fire of thought in Karen's eyes.

"She's not wrong," Karen said as she shifted on the couch, the sheepishness gone. What was left was the month. The possibility. The strange shift happening as her husband knelt at her feet.

"I just don't want to be the only one who hasn't.. felt everything. They talk to me like I'm still that wide-eyed co-ed. I want to be the one who knows what they're doing."

"K," Patrick implored.

"It's not some fix, like with..."

She paused, gauging Patrick's reaction through his eyes. He seemed, at the very least, open.

"No because something's wrong," she finished, the words falling from her mouth to the rug below.

Patrick looked up at her. Still formal, the grey sweater pulled tight over his soft frame. The cage biting at his skin beneath his evening slacks.

"Nothing's wrong," he said, hearing how quickly it came from his mouth.

"Then rub higher," Karen asked, coming out like a soft order.

She was warm. Not from the meal or the wine. Patrick felt her want as she spread her legs, skirt riding up. He felt the painful bulge of his penis trying to rise to the moment, only to once again meet the cold, hard reality of the cage beneath his pants.

His fingers found the inside of her thighs. She opened enough to let him know the time for long speeches was done.

"Touch me," she implored.

"Tell me if," he whispered.

"Shhh," she spoke softly back, her tone firm.

She was wet. He felt it through the cotton of her panties as his fingers moved beneath.

"Take her," his mind told him.

The cage answered with a mean jolt of pain as he swelled against the slats.

He moved her thong aside as best he could and ran his digits across the warm, soaked edges of her love. He knew what she liked, or thought he did as he delved a finger inside her.

Karen's head went back. A sound, smaller than last night. Her hand found his wrist, not to stop, to aim him.

"There..."

"Slower...

"God..."

He obeyed. Two fingers, not deep, the heel of his hand clumsy against her until she moved it. For a minute he thought he had her. Her hips made the slow roll he was still learning. Her breath broke. The cage dug into him and he welcomed it, a truth that he was doing something that mattered.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion by her hip.

"K," Patrick asked.

She didn't reach for it. The sound was enough. Some part of her went to the mine and came back meaner, closer, and not finished. She caught his wrist.

"Not yet," she almost growled.

"K..."

"Not finished, I don't want to think about them..."

She laughed once, breathless, angry at herself.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, somewhere between humor and frustration.

Patrick sat back on his heels. His fingers shone. The cage ached in a way that had stopped being novel and felt more like fate. She looked wrecked and unfinished.

"Later," she said, "The toy, not tonight. We're winning this thing."

Patrick felt unease at the thought. He wanted to tell her how ruinous the dildo had been. It hadn't helped anything.

He spoke as she adjusted herself on the couch, her green eyes settling on him finally.

"If it makes the month easier," he said, words unsure but spilling forth despite his misgivings, "We can look. After the weekend."

She nodded like he had agreed to more than he had.

After preparing for bed, they ended up with the laptop between them. Patrick was price checking flights, like he always did, going from laptop to phone, looking for the best deal.

She whistled as he turned the screen, showing her the price.

"It's Demetrius's money," she responded after a moment of sticker shock.

"And the plot thickens," Patrick added.

"Patty, we're taking this all the way..."

He looked again at the price and then to the key, still on its chain, dangling menacingly between her breasts. He rested his hand on her stomach, pleased that she let it stay.

"After the weekend," she said again, half asleep.

"After the weekend," Patrick lamented.

The cage pressed the sheet when he turned. He hated how he grimaced when she backed herself into the crook of his thin frame.

He didn't sleep quickly.

Neither did she.

Patrick tried to focus on that old memory of Karen in the barely-there bikini, her heavy breasts moving, the way the edges of her nipples fought for freedom with each jostle.

"CLINK..."

The noise from the cage as his body responded to the vision sounded louder than before.

**********