Locktober Pt. 03

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.

*********

(Friday, Week 1-Days locked-5)

"Don't you look distinguished," Karen said as she strode behind her husband, adjusting his familiar red tie from behind in the mirror in their bedroom.

Patrick inhaled as he nodded in agreement.

Minutes earlier he had stood, shivering in the bathroom as Karen snapped the obligatory picture of his chastity-clad genitals to satisfy the parameters of the Locktober bet. The days had become uniform, in a way neither intended. Up at the alarm. A brief respite in the shower. The picture of him locked back snuggly afterwards to satisfy the group chat. Fleeting moments of normalcy.

He noted his wife's warm, confident smile.

Her giggle as the other women on the team sent the pictures of their similarly subdued husbands.

He'd even chanced another attempt at release as they dressed.

"You sure you're not going to miss Saturdays," he asked, probing his young wife.

"Honey," she had replied warmly, "Of course I will. I love our time together."

His eyes pleaded, softly, not wanting to be overbearing.

"But," she said with resolution, "We're seeing this through."

He nodded, face unsure.

"I can't wait to feel your mouth on me again," she purred.

It was conciliatory, but he straightened as he swelled, both in his chest and his cage, at the knowledge that she desired some part of him.

They parted, like they had every morning that week.

Shared "I love you's."

The warm feel of her lips on his cheek.

He resolved to continue the bet. She'd promised him every part of her body would be his to control after they won. The thought melted his resolve. As he drove he was struck with how he would hide the cage as he presented it to the faculty during their scheduled department head meeting that day.

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

Karen greeted Jax kindly, like always, as she slid her key card into the scanner.

She traversed the long hallway, her eyes moving for a moment to the empty gym, before she entered the strange sanctity of the computer bay.

Everyone was there, the dull tone of whispers rising slightly above the firing copy machine.

"How'd you make out last night," Tosha asked the young wife as Karen settled in.

"Are we kissing and telling now," Karen replied as she arranged her desk, turning on her computer.

"Just sharing war stories," Tosha confided with a smile.

"Well, Will and I did battle last night," Miranda chimed in knowingly, "You girls still happy with mouths and fingers?"

"I feel like a teenager," Karen blurted.

"You basically are," Miranda fired back, sipping her coffee with a smile.

"She's just jealous," Tosha responded, wagging her finger, as she eyed Karen.

"I'm starting to miss it," Heather said, just the simple words, carrying across the room with weight as she quickly dove back into her screen.

The bay murmured.

"Frank used Mr. Happy on me last night," Garcia confided, her tone sounding like she wanted to continue the conversation.

"Mr. Happy," Karen asked.

Garcia's face glowed, "It's a whole thing, a vibrator, it lights up. Frank insisted on top of the line.

Karen felt her own cheeks flush at the thought.

Garcia looked at her wickedly, "It's for the more... advanced."

"Oh stop," Tosha pleaded, she was standing. Her age and title giving her some sense of leadership amongst the women, "Karen, you've really never..."

"No, I mean, Patty and I talked about it last night..."

She almost jumped as Garcia and Tosha descended upon her desk.

"You have to get one..."

"It really cools the fire..."

"Patty will love it..."

Karen's body buzzed at the peer pressure as Garcia grabbed her phone.

"Look, I'll show you the site," the chubby blonde announced as she held the phone to Karen's face to open it before she could stop her.

"There we are, Pleasureland Toys," Garcia purred.

"And they deliver," Renee called from across the room, earning a sea of soft, disdainful looks from the more faithful wives on the team.

"How about that one," Karen said as the trio returned to the phone.

Her finger pressed against a quaint, almost medical-looking, opaque dildo. Small and thin.

"Hmmm," Garcia hummed, "It's only five inches, is that what Patty has?"

Karen felt her back slump in her seat, caught between two women she considered friends, trapped.

"He... he's maybe a little smaller than that," she said softly.

She looked up as the two older women gave each other a look that was understanding, maybe pity.

"I think you should go at least another inch up, like six."

"Six is respectable," Tosha added, trying to measure her tone, "Not intimidating..."

"What's that one," Karen said as the screen glided down to other options.

"That, my dear," Garcia replied frankly, "Is boyfriend dick."

Karen's breath caught at the life-like dildo, standing proudly on the screen. It was thick, like a sausage from the meat section, long and shaped in a way that looked designed for pleasure. It was chocolate brown, with protruding, rubber veins and a pair of heavy looking faux balls.

"H-how big," Karen stammered as something coiled in her stomach.

"8!"

The trio jumped at Demetrius's voice, booming as he walked into the bay. The phone went flying to the desk, Tosha gripped Karen's swivel chair, Garcia looked like a deer in headlights.

"What's all this," the black man asked, eyeing the group.

"They were just... shopping," Renee replied, her smile wicked.

"Ladies, we've got 8 tickets that popped up overnight!"

"Phoenix," Karen asked, putting her hand over her overturned phone, for extra protection.

"That's just the start," he added. His voice was serious, but the women watched him smirk as he passed by the lonely chasity cage on the table by the printer, his eyes moved to Miranda.

The older woman smiled, it faded as Demetrius regained his composure.

"Alright ladies, we need focus today."

He watched the women's eyes moving to one another.

"Jesus, what," he asked as he settled beside Heather's desk.

Tosha composed herself, releasing Karen to turn slowly in the swivel chair as she spoke for the group.

"It's the bet, we're... I think we're all a bit... frustarted..."

"Speak for yourself," Renee added as she reclined leisurely in her ergonomic chair.

Demetrius kept his poker face at the office harlot's reply. Karen noted how he didn't even look at the leggy woman.

"Is that was this," he said as he ran his hands over his face, a playful tiredness in his voice, "Girls, do what you gotta do. We have a big day today. Can y'all keep it in your pants until we get this under control?"

The women glanced at one another.

The bet that had been fun at first, had slowly morphed. The sexual talk amongst them growing louder. Frustrated. Hungrier.

"You just want the money," Garcia chided as she moved slowly back to her station.

"I just want happy clients," the black man shot back, "None of y'all are lasting the month."

Karen watched as his eyes fell on Miranda. She smiled, producing her daily twenty dollar bill and slid it across the table ceremoniously.

The bay was silent for a long moment before Demetrius spoke again.

"Figure it out girls," he added before making a quick exit.

Tosha watched him leave, waiting a few extra seconds to be sure.

"Get the six inch one, you know, for him," she said, almost whispering, "But think about the... what did Garcia call it?"

"Boyfriend dick," Karen answered, turning her phone over her eyes opening wide as the screen reopened to the monster faux brown phallus.

"Right," Tosha replied, "Don't deny yourself," she added.

"I don't think so," Karen replied, "You just want me to lose..."

"Gonna be a long month my dear," the older woman chided as she moved back to her desk and settled in to her first ticket.

Karen watched her go, finger still on the image of the huge dildo. She looked at it for a long moment.

"Patrick would understand," she reasoned to herself.

"We can use it together," she thought.

"He doesn't have to know about... this one."

She felt the warmth rise in her body as she stared at the phone. She caught another email from the team at Phoenix Global and she placed her phone on the desk, hand laying across the warm screen as she dove into work.

***********

"If we treat the core requirement as optional, we should stop calling it a requirement," Patrick said, and the meeting, mercifully, began to end.

"Jesus, these are brain numbing," one of Patrick's colleagues said, walking up to the lectern.

"I know," Patrick said with a soft smile, "Maybe you lead the next one."

"Fat chance," the man said, "Hey, what's with the clipboard, you held it the whole meeting?"

Patrick's face fell. It was a solution to the soft bulge of the cage in his khakis. He'd thought of it as he wrestled with standing before his peers, his penis confined beneath his slacks, talking about department requirements for athletic competition. He reasoned no one would notice. Sure, it was odd, but his fellow intellectuals would have no course to think it was anything other than an odd angle.

But as the hour approached, his confidence waned. He settled on the strategically placed clipboard to ease his mind.

"Oh, just, keeping my notes."

The man looked at him for a long moment.

"He couldn't know," Patrick's reasonable mind told him. But the gulp from his throat indicated that was an absolute.

The pair parted and Patrick retreated to his office, clipboard still placed before his crotch, awkwardly shaking the hands of his fellow teachers with his non-dominant hand.

He inhaled as he settled back in his office.

The clock ticked loudly as the minutes passed.

He moved.

"CLINK."

The pain he felt was different now. At first the cage was cumbersome, awkward. A bit comedic at home, and easy to brush off at work. A few bites at the hair on his thigh when he moved wrong. The pulsing when his penis hardened against the plastic prison.

This felt different.

He winced as he stood from his desk, moving to check the lock on the door and draw the blinds.

He was breathless as he sat back down.

He again locked at the lock on the door as he freed his brown belt and lowered his zipper.

He froze as voices passed in the hallway.

"Ahhh," he moaned as the cold office air hit his reddened, angry glans, fighting to free itself from the ruby-red cage.

His fingers quested lower as his eyes stayed on the door.

"Funk," he said quietly as his fingers felt the painful bloat of his pent up testicles. He never cursed, but if he had, now would have been the time.

He tried to roll his swollen sack in his hand but it had little give, feeling full, and hot to the touch.

"Ouch," he said, as measured as he could.

He chanced a glance down as the hallway went quiet.

His scrotum was puffy and pulsing against his digits, visible beneath the wicked device. He touched it once more, dread and a strange intrigue filling his mind.

He leaned his head back on the cushion of his tall, leather chair, exhaling for what felt like the first time in minutes.

Then his eyes opened as he looked at the stale, popcorn ceiling.

"Medical issues," he thought to himself, smiling at the almost eureka moment.

He fumbled with his burdensome penis, regaining his respectful professorial standing beneath the desk.

He moved to his laptop and searched for medical issues associated with prolonged chastity. He stared at the screen, observing the side effects.

"A way out," he whispered as his finger glided along the article.

"Dr. L, you in there?"

The slammed the laptop shut as his eyes bolted to the door.

"One minute!"

********

"Movie tonight?"

Karen settled into her chair, another intricate meal, warm and almost soothing after the long day of disgruntled client and her team showing the wear of sexual repression the Locktober bet had introduced.

"Sounds amazing," she answered, squeezing Patrick's hand, "You're the best."

Patrick smiled as he moved across the table, "Thank you my love," he replied, folding his napkin in his lap.

"Seriously," she continued, "I know this is tough for you..."

He snorted, catching himself before flattening his eyes in response.

"It's hard on me too," she mused.

He nodded, sensing an opening.

"I miss us," she said, twirling a noddle around her fork.

"It's Saturday tomorrow," Patrick replied, his tone leading.

"I know," she groaned, "Believe me..."

"No one has to know," Patrick almost whispered.

Karen looked at him. His eyes promised mischief, a passion that had gone absent since the lock first clicked shut, a need she yearned to fill.

"We can't," she moaned finally, the resolve was there, but flimsy.

"Honey," Patrick added, "It's only money, we can find a way to pay for the trip. Can't we just..."

"Patty," she sighed.

They ate silently as the gambit floated between them, unresolved.

"What are we watching," she asked as they changed for bed.

Patrick undid his clothes, waiting for her attention as he lowered his pants. He felt the new sting of fullness in his confined penis. The bloat of backed up reproductive system pulsing. It didn't help that his wife was bending over, her luscious breasts hanging like two udders, waiting for his hands.

"That looks painful," she said finally, her angle gave her a clear sightline of his flushed pink package.

"I was, uhhh, going to mention that," Patrick replied, letting her observe his constricted manhood. He hated that his body recoiled, something automatic, as she hefted his bloated sack softly.

"It hurts," she asked, her voice soft and open.

"Yes."

The pause between them felt longer than it was. Words laid in Patrick's throat, his hopes rising.

"There are creams, they sell them. Maybe we can ice it?"

Patrick's shoulders slouched.

"Maybe," he said, hoping his pout would land with his buxom wife.

"Let me see what we've got in the cabinet," she answered. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't hopeful either.

Minutes later Patrick sat on the comfortable couch, preparing the nature documentary they would enjoy that evening. His eyes moved as Karen moved in front of him and went to her knees.

There was a time, what felt long ago now, that Karen would be between his legs, and place her pouty lips on his penis. Unprompted. Appreciative. The reward for his authority, her reverence of him, and her need to satisfy his desires.

"I'm sorry about all this," she mused, bringing Patrick from his memory of happier, freer times.

"It's... it's okay," he replied softly, his brain fighting the pleasure of her touch and the pain it caused him.

He sighed as he felt the coolness of a dollop of calamine lotion, slathered on his wife's hands, touched his fiery, bloated scrotum.

"Feel's so good," he said as he bit his bottom lip. It did, in a way, but the cage had its own way of biting back.

"I'm glad," she said as she tenderly massaged his groin.

He breathed through his nose as she finished and moved to sit beside him on the couch, her soft body pressed against his gaunt frame, her hand moving to his paunch, settling.

"What're we watching," she asked.

"Sage Grouse, and their mating patterns," he said, for a moment forgetting the buzzing from his nether regions as he focused on the subject.

"Yippee," Karen replied dryly.

"It focuses on the lek. The male birds gather to engage in competitive displays and courtship rituals. A competition of sorts. Dean Withers actually recommended it."

"I wish you would lek me," Karen said playfully, rubbing the tuft of stringy chest hair on Patrick's sunken chest as a British voice began narrating.

"You're incorrigible," Patrick replied as he placed the controller on the arm rest and held her hand on his chest, rubbing along her wedding ring as he focused on the narrator's voice.

Karen yawned only a few minutes into the documentary.

"Babe, this is putting me to sleep. Can I play on my phone?"

"Of course, my love," Patrick said, eyes on the screen, "I can catch you up."

They shared a look that indicated that wouldn't be necessary.

She had her phone in her lap, brightness down, the thread moving under her thumb. A meme from Tosha that made her giggle. A frustrated emoji from Garcia that she felt in her gut. A simple thumbs up from Heather indicating they were all in this together.

Then the narrator's voice penetrated her focus.

"The biggest cock in the covey holds the center. The other males attend, watch and observe. Breeding position affirmed, the hierarchy established."

Karen's thumb stopped. On the screen the large bird strutted, sacs blown, hens already turned his way.

Patrick nodded at the screen, "The biggest cock seems to have the advantage," he mused, "The others learn their place, wait for their turn."

"Mm."

Karen mumbled. Something in her buzzed.

"The biggest cock," she whispered, the words traitorous but small.

She turned her phone, angling it towards herself, something unconscious willing her to bring up the hidden Pleasureland website.

Her breath caught as her finger scrolled past the white dildo at the top of the screen, her eyes settling on the massive chocolate colored dildo that had captured her attention earlier that day.

"Girls, do what you gotta do..."

Demetrius's voice and an image of the black man flooded her mind as the heat from her body became unbearable. She fidgeted on the cushion, her free hand moving to her thigh. Her eyes moved to her husband, still engrossed in the documentary.

She took his hand as she dropped her phone to the coffee table.

She squeezed.

"Ready for bed," she asked, her voice husky.

"There's still a few... oh," he said, getting her gist.

"Now," she said with resolution.

Patrick paused the film, watching Karen stand and take his hand, he gave the screen one last look. The largest grouse was being encircled by the females.

"Lead the way," he said, standing to follow his wife and do his husbandly duty.

As best he could.

*********