Locktober Pt. 10

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.

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

(Tuesday night, Week 3-Days locked-16)

"We need to talk."

Patrick nodded, his hand still on the door knob, as Karen stood before him like she had been waiting some time for him to return.

"Sorry I'm late," Patrick replied, "It's been a day."

Karen seemed to soften as her older husband wore the weight of his workday on his face.

"Want me to make dinner," Patrick asked.

"Let's go for a walk," Karen responded.

Patrick was tired, but he closed his eyes, feeling a strange peace as she walked past him and touched his hand.

"We have a lot to talk about..."

Connection.

Patrick set down his leather satchel and followed her out the door into the surprisingly warm evening air.

***********

(Earlier that day)

"You gotta let Travonte play!"

Patrick sighed as another football player barged into his office. The door had been basically left open the whole day. Members of the team dropping in, unannounced, every thirty minutes or so to plead their case. The news that he had failed the starting linebacker before the team's game that weekend was buzzing around campus. He grew uncomfortable as he moved around the halls of the university.

Patrick refused to budge, stationed behind the supposed authority of the large desk in his office.

He explained the importance of taking their studies seriously.

Over and over.

He would listen, or feign listening, the constant barrage of the young, virile players, so passionate in their defense of their teammate made his cage swell. He found his mind wracked as he tried to remain composed, even though he was more focused on the throbbing pain in his chastity clad penis.

He rejoiced as the clock on his wall read five o' clock, signaling the end of his day.

The jubilation was fleeting as he thought about what awaited him when he returned home. He and Karen never fought, at least not for long. He hadn't spoken to his twenty eight year old wife all day.

A rarity as he prided himself on his communication.

He gathered his things, ignoring a late email from Dean Withers requesting a meeting, figuring that home with his beautiful wife was better than what had transpired that day at the university.

"Yo, Doc..."

Patrick's relief floated away as he heard the familiar, deep voice.

Devon.

"You too," Patrick asked, mustering his remaining resolve as the black team captain stood at the door.

"Let's take a walk," the huge black running back said.

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

(Tuesday night)

"We never do this," Patrick mused as the couple walked slowly around the well-kept confines of their apartment complex.

Karen has asked him once why he never bought a house. Patrick reasoned that he liked the place. It was quiet. Respectable. When Karen pushed further he admitted he wasn't much for the suburban duties of a giant house, preferring the amenities and controlled environment of the small, but high-end, apartment. He enjoyed the fact he was letting her into his world.

"I don't want to fight," Karen said softly, enjoying the fresh air, looking at their hands together, then to her husband's face.

"It's been torture," Patrick replied.

Karen chuckled, "We know a thing or two about that don't we..."

Patrick smiled at her.

She smiled back, but her eyes moved like there was more.

He pressed her.

"I... I talked to Sonya..."

**********

(Earlier that day)

Karen sat in her car, fiddling with her phone. She had closed the group chat. She told herself she was busy as she thumbed through her contacts. She brought up social media, trying to run out the clock before work.

Somehow, Patrick's ex-wife's profile popped up on the screen.

"Algorithm," she grumbled.

She shook the disgusted look from her face as she dialed the number.

"Sonya Littleton-Marks," the sharp voice answered.

Karen cringed at the name. Sonya had built her career while she and Patrick were married. She kept the name after the divorce as it was all over the name plate and mast head of her law office. Patrick said it was about control. Karen hated her for it.

"It's me," Karen replied back, quiet, but just as sharp.

"Hi," the voice said coldly.

Karen shook her head at the frigidity and settled on something close to pleasantness.

"We heard about Junior, that's great...."

"That was Tara's doing," Sonya replied.

Karen tried again, "Well that was thoughtful of her. Do they have a registry yet?"

"Typically they do," Sonya responded with an added urgency, firmly establishing her station above Karen in the broken family hierarchy.

"Bitch," Karen thought to herself.

"Well," Karen said, pushing the word from her mind, "We'd like to send them something..."

"I can send the link," Sonya offered, almost begrudgingly.

The silence on the phone lasted too long. Like a battle of wills between the two women.

Karen folded first, "We're doing fine," she said, trying to sound happier than she was at the moment.

"That's good," Sonya answered, "I'm glad to hear it."

Her voice wasn't glad.

"Anything else," Sonya asked.

Karen felt the weight in her throat. Her mind wrestled with opening up to the vile woman. But Patrick hadn't been himself lately, certainly not last night. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

"Can I ask you a question..."

"Must you," Sonya responded, with a sweet venom.

Karen looked at the rearview mirror, rolling her eyes.

"W-when Patrick wanted a divorce, I mean, I know this is overstepping but, I've never asked for..."

Wait," Sonya replied, her voice raising as her interest seemingly peaked, "He told you he divorced me?"

Karen felt something uncomfortable bubble in her gut. She felt the inside of the car grow smaller as she wagered responding.

"Well... yes..."

"Of course he did," Sonya blurted, taking the reins of the conversation, "Listen..."

Karen felt like she had reverted to the shy co-ed as she interrupted, "I'm not trying to upset you..."

"You're not," Sonya similarly chirped, wresting the focus back to herself, "Karen, Patrick saying it was all his idea is typical him. He was threatened by my career, he shrunk when I grew, he didn't want to... how do I say this... explore things with me."

"It's like that now," Karen was so rapt by Patrick's ex-wife's words, comparing them to her current situation, that her response slipped out before she could catch it.

The silence on the line was clearly Sonya weighing her response.

"Karen, Patrick is a submissive. He can fight it all day long, but it's what he is. I tried to show him, to tell him it was okay..."

"And he ran," Karen said softly, finishing Sonya's sentence as she watched her co-workers file into the data center.

Another long fews seconds lingered before Sonya's voice crackled.

"Then he found you, his young trophy. My therapist called it, "Peter Pan Syndrome."

Karen felt weighted in the driver seat as the revelations spewed forth from the phone. First with how she would carry this knowledge. And then, how she would approach her husband with everything.

"Look, I've got a client meeting," Sonya said. It was resolute, but there was a touch of sincerity in her usually wicked voice.

"No, no, I understand," Karen replied softly.

"I'll send you the link to the registry," Sonya offered.

"Thank you, I..."

"Don't thank me," she mused, "He's your problem now..."

Karen frowned as the call ended. She sighed as she grabbed her purse.

A knock at her car window startled her.

It was Renee.

Karen opened the door, offering her warm smile amidst the heavy moment with Sonya.

"Let's go for a walk," the office harlot said, hooking her arm to Karen's as she whisked her towards a set of picnic tables in the atrium near the office.

***********

(Tuesday night)

"How did that go," Patrick grumbled, watching the gravel pellets crunch around his loafers as they circled back to their apartment.

"F-fine, it was fine," Karen lied, "She's sending the registry."

"That's good," Patrick said warmly, oblivious to the ramifications of the conversation, "She didn't poison you through the phone did she?"

Karen laughed, it was weak and forced. She shook her head.

"Good," Patrick continued, "Karen, I'm not trying to control you. I want you to be happy. It's this darn thing between my legs. It's controlling my thoughts, my body..."

"Your actions," Karen asked, finishing his sentence.

Patrick nodded.

"K, I'm leaking like a faucet. I'm... so full."

Karen smiled, "I think I can help with that..."

Patrick perked up at her words, his head turning slightly at the potential. He wanted to press further but the weight of his day begged to be shared.

"I finally failed one of the football players. I felt like myself today, well besides..."

Karen fought off her feelings for a moment and focused on him.

"Tell me about it..."

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

(Earlier that day)

"Doc," Devon said as they moved through the campus, "This is a big deal."

Patrick felt so small next to the burly running back. He noticed how the female co-eds made eyes at black athlete as they crossed the campus rotunda. He spotted his car in the parking lot, trying to steer Devon in that direction.

"Devon, he knew the rules. He doesn't take this stuff seriously. He's got to learn."

Devon paused, turning to the mild-mannered professor, his bulk shadowing Patrick as he gripped the strings of his backpack.

"You know I agree. But this is Travonte's shot. Man, It's all of our shots. You can't take that away."

Patrick liberal leanings bubbled up as he reasoned through thoughts of the black man and his plight in their society. The players were mostly there on scholarship. He paused as his need to retain some semblance of control in some aspect of his life and his understanding of how this might affect the young black man did battle.

"Still," Patrick mustered, "He's crude. What he wrote, it was insulting."

Devon seized the moment, "So let him apologize. We don't want this to blow up any more than it already has..."

Patrick's mind wandered back to Dean Wither's email and the coming conversation with his superior at the school. He was a tenured professor. Respected by his peers. But the weeks in chastity and his feeling of his station slipping at school steadied him as they continued.

"I'm sorry Devon. Really I am. But the grade stands. Moving forward he can..."

Patrick's face went pale white as he felt Devon's powerful hand on his shoulder, stopping his advance. Patrick felt his leg shake, his penis felt like it might burst against the plastic slats of the cage beneath his slacks.

"You need to do the right thing," Devon said coolly but sure, "This is bigger than your little class."

Patrick backed away, his intellectual mind moving to its default flight setting as he edged towards the parking lot.

"Devon," Patrick croaked, "I think you need to let this go. You and the other boys..."

"Don't," Devon hissed, his body lurching to its full impressive stature before the gaunt, older professor, "Call me boy..."

Patrick was thankful that a few other faculty members emerged from a side building, heading to their cars as he felt the aggression from the huge running back.

"Devon, I didn't mean..."

His answer came in the form of a snarl from Devon, his eyebrows furrowed, like he was sizing up the smaller white man. And then suddenly his face went flat, like he decided the older professor wasn't worth the effort.

"Tried to warn you dude," he said as he turned and headed back into the heart of campus.

***********

(Tuesday night)

"So, I'm standing firm," Patrick said as he and Karen made their way back to the apartment.

"That's good," Karen replied, "You... you have to do what's right. Even if they can't see it..."

Patrick took the opportunity to opine, "Young men are impetuous, head strong. They need to be guided. K, they truly don't know what they don't know."

They walked in silence for a minute as they turned towards their building. Karen was measuring what to say next. Patrick was similarly unsure, but his mind peaked at his wife's comment from earlier.

"You uhhh, said you might have a solution for..."

Patrick pointed to the small lump in his slacks, his eyes filled with hope at the possibility of a relief for his heavy burden.

"Well," Karen said, her voice sly and warm, choosing to bury her misgivings about Patrick's past with his ex-wife for the moment and hopefully right the ship that was the Locktober bet, "I talked to Renee today..."

"K," Patrick grumbled.

***********

(Earlier that day)

"So, we'll slip the key to Roy when he comes to pick Tosha up later on. And then we'll let nature take its course..."

Karen was barely listening as she tried to make sense of the conversation with Sonya.

"Sound like a plan," Renee asked, trying to get Karen's attention.

Karen nodded.

She had underestimated Renee's underhandedness. It was almost Machiavellian. Renee had noticed that Roy was dropping off Tosha that week, car trouble or something. She'd clocked it and then used Karen to push the idea of the keys staying in the office. All to get them in the hands of Roy, who would, assuredly, use them for his own pleasure.

It was devious.

Very Renee.

"She'll be super pissed," Karen mused.

She and Tosha were friends, heck the whole office was friends. A move like this might destroy the dynamic the team had built over the past year. But Renee's smile was confident, and a little uncaring.

"All's fair in love and locked penises," she cackled.

Karen sighed as she shook her head at Renee's callousness. But she was right. If she succeeded, it would be down to her and Renee with thousands of dollars on the line.

She could feel the closeness of victory.

Her mind wandered to a daydream, she and Patrick in an over-water bungalow. In her vision, she kneeled and unlocked him, freeing his penis and feeling his hands roam her body as he feasted on his prize.

"Patty's going nuts huh," Renee said, watching Karen's eyes off someplace else.

"He's losing it," Karen admitted, "His... stuff is all bloated and red. It's painful for him."

Karen watched Renee's tweezed eyebrow fight her botox as it lifted as high as it could.

"Kinda takes the fun out of it," Renee purred.

"Yep," Karen replied quickly.

"My Bradley had that," she almost sang, her smile showing pride in herself, "There's a trick or two I can teach you..."

***********

(Tuesday night)

"And you're sure this will help?"

Patrick felt silly as he sat on all fours on their bed, naked, save for the ruby-red chastity cage, his bare ass upturned.

"Renee does it for Bradley all the time," Karen replied as she leaned down to affirm her husband.

She found herself smiling at his bewildered look. Her conversation with Sonya earlier that day had been eye opening. The knowledge that Patrick hadn't initiated his divorce, even though he had told her it was so, had been a lot to take in.

She stood and ran her hand along his back, one finger running from his shoulder blades, down his spine and settling at the top of his buttocks.

"Your hands are frigid my dear," Patrick said as he faced their headboard.

"Maybe she was lying," Karen thought. She was no fan of Sonya and the feeling was certainly mutual. She was a cold, vile woman. But Karen had never known her to be a liar.

"I'll warm them up before..."

"This is all a bit awkward my love," Patrick said honestly.

"Hush now," Karen ordered as she lifted the almost empty bottle of lube to her fingers. She smiled at the fact that the bottle, which was full at the start of the Locktober bet, would probably need to be replaced soon.

"I'm just a little nervous about..."

"We've done all the steps she suggested my love," Karen cut in, ending Patrick's plea with a firm hand on his exposed buttocks.

*********

(Earlier that night)

She'd followed Renee's instructions to the letter.

"Tease him first," Renee had advised.

Karen had found herself enjoying this part. After Patrick agreed to the process, Karen had bloomed with empowerment. It was the knowledge of his untruth, how he folded as soon as the idea of a full release for him was offered, and his ceding of whatever high ground he stood on at the prospect, that made her body and mind buzz.

"You miss my body don't you," she had purred. Patrick was kneeling in their living room as she paced around him like a dominant predator.

"More than anything my love," he had replied.

"The feel of you inside of me," she continued.

Patrick's mouth elicited a mighty, almost pained, groan.

She ran a finger along his bony shoulder blades as she guided him.

"You'd do anything for me," she asked him.

"Yes," he hissed.

"Kiss my feet..."

Karen was momentarily taken aback at how quickly his balding head drooped to the Persian rug. Her eyes grew wide as she felt his mustache hairs and lips on the bridge of her foot.

Her mind remembered Renee's instructions.

"Order him, be resolute, maybe even cold. He'll follow."

Karen's confidence burgeoned as she moved to the next phase.

"Come," she said with a click of her tongue after he finished lavishing her bare soles.

Patrick moved to stand but a touch of her finger stayed his rise.

"Crawl," she said in a breathy, dominant tone.

Karen moved to the couch and splayed her legs, watching as her husband moved on his hands and knees until he settled between her legs.

"Smell," she ordered.

"Kiss my thighs," she continued.

"Rest your head, just there," she urged, letting Patrick lay his head on her meaty thigh.

"This," she said, moving her pointer finger to run along the petals of her pussy, "This owns you..."

Patrick was quiet as he watched her digit move.

"Speak!"

Patrick's mouth was dry. He felt powerless in the moment. He let the weight of everything in his life float as he lost himself in the moment.

"It owns me, I yearn for it... for you..."

"Good," Karen growled, "Keep yearning..."

"Take him to the edge," Karen remembered Renee suggesting, "Then twist him."

Patrick was mumbling incoherently as he stared at her vagina, just out of reach of his tongue. If he moved an inch he could taste it, taste the thing that was driving him insane. It dewed before his eyes, his cage responded. It wasn't the arousal, the freedom Karen was clearly feeling. It was the hot, bulge of his imprisoned penis, trying to do its natural machination, and the jolt of pain that followed once it felt the familiar, unforgiving sting of the plastic cage.

"Rub my feet," Karen announced rudely.

Patrick looked at her, in his mind they were naked, making love like normal. His penis was positively bursting at the moment. His breathing ragged.

Her eyes were resolved, the finger, moments before rubbing along her slit, now pointing to her feet.

Patrick made a weak noise and lowered himself, accepting Karen's heels into his shaking hands.

Karen sighed at the feel of Patrick giving his best effort as she ran through what was to come next.

"Name calling," she heard Renee say, in her mind, "It puts them in their place. You can't be too rough. Trust me."

"You're good with your hands, boy."

The statement was like electricity as it barged from Karen's mouth. Unfamiliar. Patrick was almost thirty years her senior. Certainly no boy. But the moment was right, he was pliable in her hands. And she needed to push him.

"Thank you Karen," Patrick replied flatly, obviously stinging from her words.

"Call me Goddess, boy," Karen replied.

Patrick couldn't help the small smile at the strange moment. A part of him felt out of place, abdicating his position of control. But the thought of release, his pained penis, and something deeper inside him, made his smile fade as he replied.

"Thank you Goddess," he said, gulping as he hoped she would be pleased with his subservience.

"You worship me," Karen added.

"Yes Goddess."

"Do what I tell you," She said, adding a happy moan as he worked at her soles.

"Yes Goddess."

"Because you want relief," she asked, her eyebrow raising.

"Because I am devoted to you Goddess," Patrick answered smartly.

"Good, follow me to the bedroom," she said abruptly, "Stay on your hands and knees..."

Karen was positively glowing as she walked slowly, feeling and hearing the labored movements of her husband behind her. She reasoned that it served him right, he'd built an entire story of his plight with his ex-wife in his own mind.

She smiled as she walked, letting her ass sway seductively, knowing he was watching.

"He doesn't know what he wants," she thought as she opened the bedroom door.

She held it, watching him waddle clumsily past her into their room.

"This was boy," she added for emphasis.

"He doesn't know what he is," she told herself.

A smile curled at her lips as he stood on his knees by the bed, looking like a dog.

"He needs to be led..."

The thought started wicked in her mind as she observed him, waiting for her. But it curled and imprinted as she ran through the past few weeks.

"You have to push him," Renee had said, "His comfort zone, that place you two live in constantly. Rip it away. Trust me."

Karen moved close to him, so he was eye level with her pussy, placing her hand atop his head.

"Prepare Rufus for me boy," she growled, narrowing her eyes. She knew this was the moment. If Patrick bucked her, it would all come crashing down. If he hesitated, the whole thing would fall apart.

There was a long silence in the bedroom as the order landed.

She looked down at him, eyes fiery, playing the role. Hiding her unsure feeling at how he would respond.

Patrick looked up at her, his eyes unblinking. His lips quivered. He nodded.

"Yes Goddess," he answered, crawling past her to her nightstand and retrieving the huge black dildo.

"Good boy," she replied, rewarding him. She moved past him on the bed, hiding her slight confusion at how to proceed. Almost amazed that he had so willingly gone this far.

She steadied herself, becoming the Goddess again, as Patrick handed her Rufus.

"Be mean..."

Renee's instructions spurred her on.

"Finally a real dick," Karen spat. She wavered for a long second, still uncomfortable, but Patrick's easy submission spurred her on. He moved to sit by her on the bed as she teased her opening with the giant sex toy.

"Fuck," she cried as the huge plastic glans entered her.

"Goddess," Patrick said, something inside him remembering how he corrected her cursing.

"Quiet boy," she growled as she sank more thick inches of plastic cock inside herself.

The wet sounds of the strange union sloshed as Karen sawed the dildo into her sopping wetness.

"So good," she moaned, "Stretching me... fuck!"

Patrick recoiled for a moment, as he clutched her shaking leg, her foul language stinging him.

Karen saw his unease and drove the knife in.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck..."

Patrick's mind was mush as Karen's legs wobbled uncontrolablly, even in his weak grasp. Her orgasm was obvious.

"Fuck... big cock... I love this big fucking cock!"

Karen stared at the ceiling. She was wagering how long she could hold out looking at her husband. She felt his eyes on her.

Had she gone too far?

"That was amazing, Goddess," Patrick said quietly, unprompted.

Karen's eyes moved in slow motion, her head tilting towards Patrick as she came down from the orgasmic high. She smiled at him, he looked at her with an utter devotion she had not seen during the Locktober bet. Something loosened in her mind at the look on his face. It was real. A yielding. Her body rushed with a power that had been playful until this moment.

It soothed her.

"You've done well tonight boy," she answered, leaning forward and playfully ruffling the strewn strands of his comb-over.

"H-have I earned my release," Patrick asked, almost cautiously.

"You have," Karen purred, letting the mask slip for a moment.

*********

Patrick's body tensed as he felt a long drip of lube land at the crest of his ass. He shivered as the cold liquid ran down between his cheeks.

"One finger first," Karen announced behind him.

Patrick breathed in as he wrestled with everything that had happened that night. They had reconciled, thankfully. The walk just an hour earlier seemed a memory as he tried to calm himself as he felt the foreignness of Karen's finger at his tight rosebud.

"Relax," Karen soothed.

He breathed in, frowning for a moment as he eyed Rufus, lounging on Karen's pillow before his eyes, taunting him. He raised an unsteady arm and put her pillow over the huge black dildo.

He resigned to try and follow her instructions.

"Patty, you're tight, I can't even get in," Karen mewled from her end of the bed.

"I'm trying," Patrick whined as he closed his eyes.

"Do you need the Goddess again," Karen asked.

"Please no," Patrick begged with a shaky laugh

His mind ran through the night, leading up to him being on all fours on his own bed. He hated how he had relished the release. Some part of him allowing his younger wife to lead him. He told himself it was for the release she promised. A release that he needed so badly. He'd figure out a way to get back on top. His mind blanked as his body relaxed and he felt her pointer finger enter him.

"Errghhh," he groaned through gritted teeth at her finger entering his exit, "Hurts..."

"Okay," she asked.

"K-keep going please," he answered, it was chipper and wild.

Patrick let his head fall to the bed cover, his ass raising higher as Karen moved her finger inside him.

"God," he announced breathlessly as he felt her pointer curl inside him, "It's right there..."

Karen moved her digit like she was beckoning him to come to her, she smiled as he writhed beneath her. Feeling the power over her older husband grow as his toes wiggled against her thigh.

"I think I can feel it," Karen said, pleased with herself as she felt the edge of the ridge inside him that was undoubtedly his prostate.

"More," Patrick moaned into the bed, his finger grasping the sheets.

"I can't get any deeper," Karen said, disappointed but determined, as she tried to press her small finger deeper.

"Ouch!"

She paused, her digit lodged inside her husband to the knuckle, at his pained protestation.

"M-my balls," Patrick begged through sharp grunts, "Touch my balls..."

Karen ran her free hand beneath her pale husband, feeling the bloat of his reddened testicles. He'd never used a word like "balls," in his life. She reasoned he was lost in his pursuit of relief. She contended herself with his pursuit for his own pleasure, how wanton and weak he sounded as he rocked his ass against her finger.

For a moment the Goddess returned.

"Cum for me," she hissed, jingling his fat scrotum, "Cum for me, boy..."

She felt Patrick tense beneath her.

"Ahhhhh God...."

His voice was hoarse and defeated. She felt his orgasm shoot along her forearm as she continued wiggling his tired testicles. A second plum of his seed wet her fingers as she felt him twitch, his legs writhing beneath her.

"Ahhh..."

"Ahh..."

"Ohhhh..."

Karen found her eyebrow raising at how sad and pathetic her husband sounded as his body sagged to the bed, dislodging her finger.

She looked at it, her nose scrunching.

Patrick was babbling on the bed as she stood and went to the bathroom to clean her finger from her husband's runny mess.

She returned to find him on his side of the bed, looking at her as she climbed in and faced him.

"Was that it," she asked, her eyes concerned at his downright broken eyes.

"I... it was the best it's been," he answered, his honesty seeming to break him further.

"We... we can try again," Karen told him, "I know I was rough on you..."

Patrick smiled at her, "I just, I'm totally overwhelmed with this."

"Maybe we can use something, I don't know, something longer..."

Patrick and Karen both went quiet at the thought, the answer sitting beneath their pillows.

"Let's just... I need to sleep," Patrick answered.

"Okay," Karen replied.

The bedroom was quiet as they continued looking at one another in the dark.

"It's almost done," Karen said, trying to be helpful, "We can get through this..."

Her eyes went wide as Patrick smiled and said, "Yes, Goddess..."

***********