Married in chastity

Married in chastity

A little over a year ago he’d proposed to her. He’d got down on his knees, declared undying love and devotion and with hope writ large across his face, waited for an answer. The following night she’d given it to him:

A silicon cage and a padlock.

It was, she told him, an act of love. It was a symbol of how he was now betrothed to her and would forsake all others. How sex between them would end until their wedding night. He would be chaste for her. He would wait for her.

She looked at him kneeling in the middle of the Bridal Suite with his head bowed and his hands behind his back. This was how he presented himself whenever she required him, only tonight it took on special meaning. A year had passed. A year of shaping him into the submissive she wanted, not the one he had played in their sex games.

He was, she noticed, trembling a little more than usual. She looked at her own hand, admiring the large diamond ring before seeing how she too was shaking. Clenching and releasing her fist rid her of that. Still, she couldn’t deny she wasn’t excited at finally having him as her husband.

Days had turned into weeks into months. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t asked to be released. He’d just become more obedient and attentive until finally he confessed his submissive nature to her. When she heard her say he wanted to be her slave she didn’t know how she was supposed to react. Run away was the mostly likely outcome, or at least be shocked. But when she’d seen his bright red cheeks and how afraid he looked she knew this was what she wanted.

She walked past him. Her hand was on her hip, her walk swaying a little extra just to tease him. She turned and faced him, looking down at him and striking a deliberately stylish pose. Overplay the drama, she told herself.

For a few seconds she left him there, looking at him and smiling to herself. How easy it was to do this to him. A command and he was naked and kneeling, ready to obey whatever instruction she gave him.

“Look,” she commanded.

His head lifted. Anticipation and expectation were in that glowing, clean shaven face.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked and twirled for him.

It was a white dress; an elegant dress. She liked the way it clung to the curves of her figure all the way to her knees where the skirt flared and gathered round her feet.

“Yes,” he said and paused, unsure what to say next.

“Has your position changed?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

“Then?”

“Yes, Goddess,” he said with a little more confidence in his voice.

“Eyes,” she snapped. His head had dropped a little and she wanted him looking right in her eyes as she said what she had to. The word hadn’t finished and his eyes met hers. “Do you remember what I said when I locked you away?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

She waited. He got the hint.

“You said you wouldn’t remove it until our wedding night, Goddess,” he continued.

She smiled.

“Yes, that’s right, sweetie.”

Sweetie. The slave name she’d decided on and always used with such a patronising tone of voice. It was belittling and ideal for use in public.

“I promised you I’d take the chastity cage off on our wedding night. But you know what? I lied!”

As the words left her mouth she saw the change in him. There had been hope before, a chance that finally he would be released and allowed to release. Even the slimmest of hope that she might even allow him to have sex with her.

“You see, sweetie, I’ve got your tiny little prick right where I want it, which is somewhere it won’t be troubling me. And let’s face it, after a year it will be tiny.”

He moved to protest, but she blocked him with a simple display of her first finger and a gentle wag of it back and forth.

“No, sweetie, you don’t have to thank me. Being my slave is what you wanted and a good wife always gives her husband what he wants. So you get your lifetime of sexless obedience and servitude to a superior Goddess. Are you happy now, sweetie?”

The conflict inside him entertained her no end. She knew he wanted to protest, but he also wanted to obey. The latter would win because she had spent so long training him to be the perfect submissive.

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him. “There are lots of boys and girls I can have sex with. There’s one downstairs right now. I introduced him to Dave at the reception, remember?”

She nearly laughed when his cheeks turned crimson red and his head dropped in shame.

“You will do,” she told him. “I’ll just go and bring him upstairs. Then, as it’s our wedding night, you can watch me get laid and as a special treat I’ll let you clean up.”

Tears were starting to roll down his face. She realised she had to leave the room or she would laugh at him, which wasn’t what she wanted to do. Not yet. Not until he had Dave’s dick in his mouth.

She walked towards the door, pausing next to him and resting her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad we’re married,” she said. “I know you’ll honour and obey me, won’t you sweetie?”

He sniffed back a tear and said, “Yes, Goddess.”

“Good,” she said and left him as she went to fetch the first of many lovers.

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About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.

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