Locktober Pt. 04

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.

***********

(Sunday, Week 2-Days locked-7)

"What do you think of this one?"

Patrick shifted uncomfortably on the bed as Karen turned her phone towards him. His mind blurred at the moment. The pinch of the chastity cage and the return to Locktober reality both prickling him.

He took the phone, flicking his eyes to his excited looking wife.

"We're really doing this?"

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

Saturday, the day prior, had been almost normal. They woke together, kissing beneath the warmth of the sheets, the taste of Karen's love still on his mustache.

The daily photo of his caged penis had become routine.

They walked together in the park near their home, Patrick studiously identifying birds that flew overhead. Karen talking about Phoenix Global. The moment was small, and huge all at once.

At dinner that night, Patrick was dressed and acted like the mature, older man he was. He picked the wine, politely asked what Karen would prefer from the menu and ordered for her chivalrously.

He talked.

She listened.

Her phone remained on silent in her purse.

Their roles were defined in public. He was the stately, older husband. Wise, worldly, amused by her youthful innocence.

Karena was the bright-eyed young woman he'd fallen in love with when she walked into his classroom all those years ago. Listening, encouraging, rapt by his experienced recounting of the ways of the world.

He confidently called for the bill.

Held her chair as they left.

Opened the car door for her.

As soon as they crossed the threshold into their apartment the roles flipped.

Karen demanded satisfaction almost before they crossed the threshold into their apartment.

"You fed me too much wine professor," she chided, leaning her head back as he feasted on her upthrust breasts, youthful and proud in her tight green dress.

"I yearn for you," he moaned, as he freed her supple breasts, licking her protruding nipples.

"I need it," she huffed, biting his tongue softly as their faces met, "Right here..."

Patrick's eyes softened as he felt a soft push on his balding head. She was beckoning him to kneel, right there on the carpet of their living room.

He obeyed.

He felt the bite of the cage as his slack-covered knees hit the Persian rug, watching as her panties fell around her shapely thighs, falling gracefully to pool at her feet. She bunched the hem of her dress in one hand, lifting it and giving Patrick a close view of her moist sex.

He smelled her arousal.

Her unrelenting desire.

Her free hand guided lower and he slid further down, his head lifting to bury himself in her needy vagina.

"That's it," she almost growled.

He felt her weight as she dipped, wetting his nose.

"Play with it," she begged.

Patrick brought his hand up and his pointer finger joined his probing tongue.

"Faster..."

She shucked his head as he lavished her with his tongue.

"Slower..."

He paused, his eyebrow raising, at the order. Then he dutifully slowed the roll of his mouth on her, suctioning her sensitive entrance as his finger curled, devilishly slow.

"More..."

The word hit Patrick as he felt her grip his stringy hair, guiding his pace as she lamented the coming release.

"Yessss," she purred, locking his mouth to her as her thighs squeezed him.

Her body quivered, not an epic quake, but a satisfied shudder.

She breathed heavily as she came down from the short orgasm.

"T-thank you my love," she panted, "Thank you... thank you..."

*********

"Babe," Karen said louder, shaking Patrick from the memory, "Which one looks right?"

Patrick sighed as he stared at her phone, looking at the opaque sex toy on the screen. His mind set aside a tinge of jealousy as he read the dimensions of the dildo aloud, reasoning that she was leaning on him for his expertise, since he had some experience with purchasing sex toys.

"Six inches, my love," he asked, his words probing. He knew his size. He'd come to accept it. He fought back the feelings of introducing a sex toy in his first marriage as he looked at Karen expectantly.

"The girls said it was average," she mused.

Patrick eyebrows betrayed him as he was hit with the reality that his own penis might be considered below average.

"It seems fine," he replied, "If that's what you prefer..."

"I prefer you," she responded quickly, not wanting to bruise her husband's already flagging masculinity. She stole a glance at his chastity-clad penis, resting above the bed sheet.

A symbol of his devotion.

"How will I survive this month," he asked, handing her back her phone.

"The promise of ravishing me in a tropical setting, just you and me..."

Patrick wrestled with the wager. The first week had been challenging in ways he didn't expect. The chastity cage, an annoyance he could play off as his naive wife trying to fit in with her co-workers, had cast him into a more subdued role at home. In public, he still looked the part, the wise, old professor with the young wife. But cracks were starting to show as the world blended into something he wasn't quite comfortable with.

But, the deep green pools in her eyes, the key to his cage dangling between her breasts, even the pulsing throb from his confined penis, everything worked to condition him in a way he couldn't quite explain.

He pursed his lips, settling for a calming, playful, "Oh, I've got plans for you my dear..."

"Clink."

The sound of the cage made his confidence fade, he hoped she hadn't heard it.

Her awkward smile said otherwise.

"Turning in," he said, "I love you."

"G'night," Karen said back, turning off the bed side lamp.

Fifteen minutes later, when the professor was snoring softly, his position awkward, but effective for sleeping with a hard, plastic cage around his penis, the light from Karen's phone glowed blue in the dark bedroom.

She stared at the dildos in her shopping cart on the Pleasureland website.

The average, white dildo. Patrick had cringed at the idea, remembering how it didn't help his previous marriage. He was even dismayed by the size, six inches. Tosha had called it average. It was two inches bigger than her husband's penis.

"It's just for fun," she told herself.

Then her eyes fell on the much bigger, much blacker sex toy, sitting below the white dildo in the cart, but clearly at the front of her mind.

"Boyfriend dick," she whispered, echoing Garcia's words.

To call it intimidating would be an understatement. She had only experienced Patrick's four inches, save for a hand job or two during her formative years. The faux penis in the cart was twice that size, veiny, sturdy looking.

"I mean, what's the harm in trying," she reasoned.

Her work friends badgering.

Her wanton thoughts of enjoying the fruits of the Locktober bet.

And an intrigue that bubbled from somewhere, deep in her mind.

The forces at play seemed to control her finger as she held her breath and ordered both.

Patrick would enjoy it.

"Or, I'll make him," she thought wickedly, reveling for a moment in the control the Locktober bet had given her over her older, more experienced, husband.

The thought was warm, like her body, as she placed the phone down and smiled as she faded into sleep.

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

(Monday, Week 2-Days locked-8)

"Honey, would you order some of that cream you mentioned, I'm feeling some chafing."

Patrick looked at himself in the mirror, the sag of his intellectual body made him nod in acceptance as he eyed his penis, locked once again after check-in pictures, cooled from the recent shower.

"Honey," he asked again, striding naked, save for the ruby-red cage, into their bedroom.

"Heather's out," she shouted, her face in her phone, already dressed for work.

"Wow," Patrick replied.

"I gotta go," she said, her voice giddy, already moving towards the bedroom door.

"Honey," Patrick called, stopping her advance, "The cream?"

Karen looked up from the screen, long enough to show care, but brief enough to show her vested interest in the message.

"Oh, of course," she said quickly exiting the bedroom.

"Love you," Patrick cried.

"Love you," she shouted back as the door closed behind her.

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

Karen hurried to her desk, sharing a smile with Tosha, She and Garcia nodded their heads, she even grinned as Renee winked at her.

The room fell quiet as Heather entered, the white, plastic chastity cage in her hand. The mousy programmer looked positively sullen.

"BA BA BA," Tosha sang.

"Another one bites the dust," the girls added before the room exploded with laughter.

"Tommy has needs," Heather said quietly as she strode towards the table where Miranda's husband's former cage sat, a shrine to the fallen.

"You do to, it seems," Renee interrupted. The computer bay rang with laughter, harsh at first but fading.

The group watched as Heather gingerly placed Tommy's cage next to Will's.

"Whoa, not Heather," Demetrius said as he walked into the office, making a bee line towards the mousy programmer.

"Sorry boss," she said, it was conciliatory in her quiet way.

"Don't apologize to me," the black man replied, "I'm surprised you held out as long as you did!"

He smiled as she gazed around the room.

"So let's see," he said coyly, moving his eyes like he was taking inventory, "that makes Miranda and Heather getting some, that it?"

Tosha moved to stand, but Garcia beat her to it, "D, we have our ways. Women know how to get what we need..."

"That so," Demetrius replied, moving past her desk.

Karen's smile faded as the muscular black man stood by her desk, she slouched, her face now eye level with his crotch.

"Karen, is this true," he asked.

"Leave her alone D," Tosha added, "Karen is the innocent one, we don't want you corrupting her."

"I...," Karen said, not sure if it was her time to speak.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Demetrius responded, speaking over the curvy young wife, his eyes lingering on her for a long moment.

Karen clamped her legs shut involuntarily as visions of the huge, life-like ebony dildo flashed as she blinked.

"Boyfriend dick."

The words were like a neon sign in her mind.

"Alright ladies," I'm off site today," Demetrius announced, "Tosha, you're in charge of the hen house."

"Good," the older programmer replied, "Now things can run right."

"See that they do," he said.

It was flirty, but innocent. Tosha and Miranda treated the younger black man like the son they never had, doting on him and explaining away any mistakes he made. It was a genuine, caring relationship.

"Should I come with," Renee asked, drawing the eyes of the other women.

You could see Tosha and Miranda's protective nature in their eyes.

Demetrius smiled, straightening his tie, as he responded, "No, that's fine. It's business."

The group watched the heavy door close behind the huge black man.

"You heard him ladies," Tosha crowed, "Get to work!"

She laughed and shook her head.

There wouldn't be much work getting done today.

But there would be plenty of learning.

*********

Patrick was teaching.

He had introduced a well placed lectern in his classroom, leaning on it, hugging it almost, as it relieved the treacherous thought that someone might notice the odd bulge in his khakis.

He smiled at his ingenuity, even got a short, bizarre thrill from the chance of being caught. Though, always usual, his intellect would shield him from such humiliations.

As he closed his lecture he scanned the room. Most students were listening, or feigning listening. But the smattering of football players, assigned to his Intro to Philosophy class because of the ease at which you could pass if you applied yourself just a smidge, were talking loudly.

The tenured professor narrowed his eyes as he observed a few white women, joining in the mirth at the top of the lecture hall, a few opaque dots amongst a sea of obsidian muscleheads.

"Devon," he called to the top of the classroom, his wits at an end, "Enlighten us on Immanuel Kant."

The captain of the football team's face went blank.

Patrick tried to hide the smugness curling at his lips at the brute's stunned silence.

"That's... uhhh... that's the one where you... some say..."

"Enough," Patrick opined, raising his hand to end the athlete's suffering. He carelessly strode from the lectern and faced the class as he opined.

"Kant argued that raw sexual desire objectifies people and treats them as a means to an end rather than respecting them as individuals."

He focused on Devon as he narrowed his focus, "Which of course is wrong," the professor said.

The room was deathly silent for a long moment.

"Raw don't sound too bad, Doctor L," the black athlete howled back.

The classroom roared.

Patrick felt his leg shake at the sound. He opened his mouth to regain control of the classroom. His words failed as his finger brushed against the hard plastic beneath his zipper.

His face went white.

He moved quickly, retreating to the safety of the lectern.

"That's, ummm, that's enough for today," he cried as the bell rang like a savior.

"Pop quiz next week!"

Patrick watched the class file out, his hands clinging to the wooden podium as he watched the students leaving the lecture hall. That familiar fear at the forefront of his thoughts.

"I thought we were going to go easy on the boys..."

Patrick gripped the lectern tight as he awkwardly turned his body to meet the voice.

"Dean Withers! Were you... were you here long?"

Patrick watched the rotund, older man waddle down the linoleum gangway to front of the class.

"Long enough," he grumbled.

"The grouse documentary was... engrossing."

"Glad you enjoyed it my boy," the senior educator said, before remembering why he came all the way to the front of the room, "The team, I need you to go easy on them. It's hard enough being a student athlete. We need them to be confident... strong."

"I know sir," Patrick allowed, before chancing, "But they've got to apply themselves."

Dean Withers smiled, "They'll do that against state this weekend. You look tired my boy..."

"I... just, keeping late nights," Patrick replied, his mind blunted as the cage beneath his slacks tightened at the confrontation, pleasant as it was.

"That young philly of yours keeping you up," Dean Withers asked, crooking a bushy, unkept eyebrow.

"She's a... ball of energy," Patrick responded, feeling the lie.

"Just remember, we need these boys on the field come Saturday. I'm all for raised expectations. Don't lose that. Just... be pliable on this one."

"You don't know how pliable I can be," Patrick thought to himself as the cage tested his resolve.

"Of course sir," he lamented.

"Their our prized grouse," Dean Withers added as he headed towards the side door to the hallway, recalling the documentary, "We need them preening on gameday."

Patrick wiped the confusion from his face as his superior exited. He observed the empty classroom, his domain. Though he hadn't commanded it as such today.

"Grouse," he said aloud, "Sure."

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

Karen's face was as red as the tomatoes in her kale salad as Garcia paced the breakroom.

"I'm, like, living vicariously through her," the chubby blonde said, smiling as her meal microwaved.

"Our little girls growing up," Tosha added.

"Would you two stop," Karen said finally, though she couldn't help the grin on her face.

She had confided, more like admitted under peer pressure, that she had purchased the two dildos the night before. The girls were elated. And both downplayed the underhandedness of buying the larger ebony dildo with Patrick's consent.

"You're in charge this month," Miranda had said.

"Maybe he'll like it," Heather had suggested.

Renee just smirked.

Now Garcia was extolling all the virtues of sex toys. And the hilarious woman was getting personal.

"What's your favorite position with Patty," she asked.

Karen pondered the question. A week ago she would have been embarrassed to open up about her sex life, especially in the office. But the bet, Patrick's dutiful subservience, and the more experienced women's encouragement, had been the key to unlocking something inside her.

"Usually with him on top," she said, gaining confidence as the women smiled with recognition.

Her eyebrows raised as the silence after her statement, and the women's looks, seemed to require more.

"Sometimes I get on top," she stammered, searching for absolution, "Usually one or the other."

Garcia and Tosha looked at each other, that solemn, knowing look.

"Like, one position each time?"

Karen gulped as she nodded, unaware that she and Patrick's lovemaking routine wasn't normal.

Tosha's voice cracked as she responded

"How long do you two usually..."

Karen felt a defensiveness rising in her chest as she responded, voice sheepish and open,

"Maybe... maybe five minutes or so?"

Her friends stared at her.

"L-longer if we've been drinking," she added, hoping it would help.

Her body tensed as the women corralled around her, pulling up chairs close.

"Honey," Tosha said, her tone motherly, "There's so much more..."

Garcia chimed in, "So, sooo much more!"

They discussed how Patrick used his mouth on her, the girl suggesting other positions.

"So you've never tried sitting on his face," Garcia asked, her voice calm but incredulous.

Karen shook her head.

"Girl, that's job one tonight!"

Karen allowed that she enjoyed giving him blowjobs. When asked why, she paused.

"Because it makes him feel good," she replied.

"Don't have to worry about that this month," Miranda replied, walking in on the conversation.

Tosha recommended using the new dildo to show Patrick how she liked it.

"He won't like that," Karen responded flatly.

"Just try it girl," Garcia pestered.

The conversation continued, centered on Karen's love life. Even Heather spoke up, giving a list of suggestions. By the end of the hour Karen had information overload, and a cavalcade of ideas to spice things up with Patrick when she got home.

As the hour ended, the group filed out. Karen sighed at the emptiness of the break room as she pondered everything she had learned.

"You know they want you to break right," Renee said. Karen almost hadn't noticed the office harlot in the corner of the room.

"What's that supposed to mean," Karen asked.

Renee took the invitation and stood, moving gracefully to sit across from the young housewife.

"The bet, they're trying to make you lose."

"No they're not," Karen defended, looking back at the open doorway.

"Come on K, there's a lot of money on the line," Renee said as she drank from her bottled water.

"They're my friends," Karen replied. She wanted to stand up and leave, but Renee's hazel eyes had a way of pausing her.

"I've been in your seat. My Bradley? Useless in bed."

My husband is NOT useless in bed," Karen said, feeling her teeth clench.

"K, I've been here the whole time. Five minutes? Come on girl..."

"Y-you want me to lose too," Karen said back softly, "Everyone knows about you..."

Renee's smile went wide, "What do they know," she almost purred, "I run my household. I do what I want, when I want. This bet is silly. I've got money. I'm in it for the sport."

"Bitch," Karen thought to herself as she bathed in Renee's arrogance. She covered her mouth at the curse word crossing her mind.

"Let me know if you want to learn how to really enjoy this month," the leggy brunette said, standing. She patted Karen on the shoulder as she strode, confidently, back into the computer bay.

Karen turned to speak but the words died in her throat. Her mind filled with sex positions and Renee's strange, ominous offer.

The young wife stood on shaky legs and cleaned her dish, clearing her mind as she counted the minutes until she could return home to her husband.

***********

The text from Patrick came as Karen fought with the door knob.

"Staying late if that's okay. Football team needs tutoring. Dean gave me an earful today. I'll explain when I get home."

Karen read the message as she entered the quiet, stagnant apartment.

No classical music.

No enticing aroma from the kitchen.

No warm welcome.

"Okay, I'll clean up," she typed back.

"Can you take care of yourself," Patrick responded.

Karen smirked as she replied, "I'm not a kid professor," adding a yellow smiley face emoji.

"LOL," her husband responded.

Karen groaned as she set about completing the nightly household duties. She began to appreciate how much her husband handled for her as she filled the washing machine with their clothes. Even more so as she zapped something quick in the microwave.

She missed his high-effort dinners, as she chewed on something healthy but plastic-tasting.

She missed his intellectual conversations that sometimes flew over her head.

She even found she missed the dull documentaries Patrick insisted upon as she tried to lose herself in some reality-dating show.

"How long," she texted finally.

No response came.

She sighed as she was left to her own devices, turning off the television and moving to the bedroom.

It smelled like them.

Her tired body yearned for a shower as she stripped naked.

Her phone dinged and she almost ran to it, hoping to escape the solitary boredom of her night.

"Sorry if I was pushy, offer still stands if you want to get a drink."

It was from Renee. Karen stared at the message, something catching in her chest as the weight of the day returned. All the talk of sex, even if it cast her husband in a less-than-impressive light, made her body warm.

She inhaled as her hand found her huge, languishing breast, her fingers pulling a dark nipple, hard enough to feel.

She sighed as she looked at her side of the bed. Made, ready to be turned down and enjoyed.

She moved, almost unconsciously to sit on the bedspread.

She spread her legs, closing her eyes.

Her hand moved down the softness of her body. Her fleshy bosom, the slight curve of her stomach, the mound above her love, radiating the heat she was feeling deep inside.

"Yessss," she purred as she touched herself, fingers dabbing at her damp opening. Her fingers moved from memory, pressing the buttons inside herself with an expertise she could only find from her own touch.

She breathed, sharp and deep and she curled her index finger, her other hand gripping the veiny flesh of her youthful right breast. She felt the slide of her finger as her body responded to the knowledge of what it needed, she flushed as she moaned, removing her fingers to see the wetness, shining in the dimly lit room.

"From behind..."

She remembered one of Garcia's wicked suggestions as she moved quickly to position herself on all fours on the bed cover, reaching behind with both hands. She pulled at the weight of her ample cheeks, squeezing as her face fell to the soft covers below.

"Oh... oh my..."

Her moans matched the quest and touch of her longest fingers. The position was awkward, new and her hands moved to meet her mind's begging lament to pleasure herself.

She rutted on the bed, pushing her body to help the depth of her probing fingers. It was greedy, almost sloppy as she felt her body crest.

"Shit... god... shit..."

She growled and moaned as her soft body shook, pressed against the soft covers. She almost tasted the threads as her mouth formed a silent "O," her eyes lidding as she felt the rush from her brain to her toes.

She breathed softly after a long moment, taking inventory of the pleasure. Her mind weighed the pleasure her fingers provided against her husband's ability both when they had sex and his oral efforts this month.

This was a big one.

More prolonged.

But still incomplete.

She nodded against the bed, keeping the fact, but burying it. She thought of the sex toy, probably already on the way to their home, and what it might mean for her pursuit of something bigger... something more.

Her phone dinged again.

"OTW," it read.

Karen moved, like she had been caught, even as the silence of the room felt deafening.

"K," she replied, "Tired."

**********

Thirty minutes later Patrick let himself inside the apartment. He smiled at the state of the place. Karen had left a note, he smiled, she said she left him a microwave meal. He chuckled at the joke.

"You awake," he asked in the darkness after eating his microwaved meal.

"Yes," Karen said softly back, already asleep.

"Sorry for the late notice tonight," he said as he stripped before her.

Karen smiled at him, the cage catching the moonlight through the window blinds, "You don't have to apologize."

He sighed, "Looks like I'm losing my battle to make the team accountable."

Karen yawned as he moved, "Discretion is the better part of valor."

Patrick smiled as he felt her eyes on him and the chastity cage covering his familiar penis.

"I say that," he said, moving to his side of the bed.

"CLINK."

"CLINK."

"CLINK."

The sound of the cage and lock colliding filled the quiet room as Patrick moved to find a painless position on the bed.

"This thing is really doing a number on me," Patrick said as he shimmed across the bed towards her back.

Karen sighed as she felt the cool plastic on her cheeks, her husband draping his thin arm over her.

"Something bigger... something more..."

The words, and the thought of the two dildos arriving at their doorstep any day, promising further pleasure and an opening to a sex life she had never dreamed of warmed her as sleep found her.

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