Preface



This story is loosely based around the life of my wife and I, but the events of the story are only fantasy. We're both around the age of 30, give or take a few years. At the time this story takes place our relationship has a female led D/S dynamic that includes chastity, orgasm denial, and heavy humiliation. Approximately 1 year has gone by since the events of chapters 1-3. There has been concern voiced that certain situations throughout this series may have appeared to have lacked my consent, but as mentioned in the previous chapter, a previously established safe word was available for use that would have brought all activities to a halt.



*****



My heart sunk as my wife Anne placed her 2 carry-on bins onto the airport security conveyor belt. The first contained her clutch-style handbag. She had intentionally packed it light so that my chastity cage was 1 of only of 2 items it carried. As soon as the bag reached the scanner it would be clearly visible to the TSA agent, an older but still quite attractive blonde woman. If that wasn't enough, the contents of the second bin would certainly verify any suspicions. It held my wife's personal effects, which consisted of only her wedding ring and the necklace that held the key to my cage's padlock.



My wife walked through the detector first, just as the bins were pulled under the scanner. As soon as she was cleared, she walked towards the conveyor belt and looked directly at the blonde TSA agent. It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at, but as she did the look on her face turned from concentration to a mixture of shock and amusement. She turned her head from the monitor and met the gaze of my wife, who confidently wore a knowing smile. The agent's grin grew and she quickly shifted her curiosity towards the detector. My face must have been as red as a tomato as I walked through with my eyes locked towards the floor.



"Enjoy your trip, ma'am. Please remember to 'properly secure' your belongings before your departure," said the TSA agent in a way that clearly indicated that she knew what the stainless steel device was used for.



"Oh, I absolutely will! Thank you," my wife said as she removed her necklace from the bin and slid it over her head.



It felt like hours before the agent finished scanning my bin of carry-on items. She must have found my embarrassment entertaining, because it really seemed like she was taking her time on purpose just to prolong my awkward suffering. Once the bin slid out I did everything I could to empty it and be on my way as quickly as possible.



"Have a safe trip, sir!" giggled the agent, no longer able to hold back her laughter as we headed towards the terminal.



"I don't know why you get so embarrassed. You should be thanking me for even unlocking you at all. It's not as if there is anything illegal about wearing a chastity device through an airport," explained my wife as we walked. "It's probably nothing they haven't seen a hundred times before. I mean sure, they'd have to take you back to a private room for a closer look. There they'd have to insist that you 'drop trou', but then they would see that it was just a piece of body jewelry. After that I'm sure that they would let you through. Once they managed to stop laughing, that is."



Just as we had almost made it to our departure gate, my wife pulled me aside near the men's restroom and opened her handbag. She first removed the padlock, which she used her key to unlock before handing it to me. Then she pulled out the little red bag holding my cage and literally tossed it to me.



"Catch!" she said as I barely managed to avoid fumbling it. I could only imagine the loud noise it would have made had the steel device hit the ground. She then issued an order that hastily dispatched me inside, "You know what to do, you've got 3 minutes."



We hadn't even boarded the plane yet and it was already becoming clear that this was going to be one hell of a weekend. My wife was obviously ready to let loose now that she had recovered from having her tubes tied 6 weeks ago. At the time we had scheduled the procedure, she insisted that I also book us this weekend trip to Las Vegas so that she could celebrate the new freedom that the procedure would afford her. When I appeared confused by her request, her blunt explanation made no attempt to spare my feelings.



Reminding me of the early morning post-coital discussion that we had nearly a year ago, she explained that this procedure would remove the last remaining obstacle that prevented her from seeking out the sexual pleasure which I had proven unable to give her. Without the concern of an accidental pregnancy, she saw no more reason to delay the inevitable. In no uncertain terms, she informed me that this Vegas trip would be my official initiation into my new life as her cuckold.



-----



We arrived in the room fairly late after an uneventful flight and cab ride. The room was sizable. It had a kitchenette, a living area, and 2 queen beds which my wife had specifically instructed me to request. The tinted sliding doors in the living area opened to a balcony that provided a northwest facing view of the Vegas strip which was only partially blocked by the hotel's sister towers. The balcony doors' reflection remained entirely mirror-like when peering inwards, allowing for complete privacy. The bathroom had a two person whirlpool tub next to a glass enclosed multi-head shower, as well as dual sinks that rose above the long counter-top adjacent from the door to the private toilet.



Not wanting to waste any more of the night, we quickly unpacked, showered, and left the room around 10pm in search of some adult beverages. Well, that was what *I* was searching for. Anne clearly had something else in mind, however. We stopped at the first place that we came across, a cozy little pub-style bar in the tower next to ours. The hotel we were staying in was connected to the backside of a major casino, yet was tucked far enough away from it to allow us the choice of avoiding the extra noise and excitement.



The bar wasn't crowded, but it certainly wasn't empty either. Looking around, we found an open high-top table tucked away in the back corner and sat down. A waitress greeted us and took our drink orders, serving them to us surprisingly quick only a few minutes later. For the next hour or so we sat there sipping our drinks and maintaining random small talk about nothing significant. My wife was clearly distracted.



The waitress came back around and asked us if we'd like another round of drinks. I was about to reply when my wife answered for me, "Just one for myself, thank you. My husband won't be staying much longer."



"I won't be?" I responded quizzically once the waitress had left our table.



"No. Your presence would only complicate my plans for the evening," Anne stated flatly.



"Plans? What plans would those be?" I asked her.



"Oh don't worry, babe. You'll find out soon enough," she replied with an evil, yet sexy smirk on her face.



We sat in silence for the next few minutes and waited for the waitress to return with my wife's drink. Meanwhile, I was running all sorts of scenarios through my head trying to imagine what her plan might entail. I had honestly expected to have an uneventful night due to our late arrival time. As soon as her drink had been served, my wife refocused her full attention on me for what seemed like the first time since the airplane had landed.



"I need you to look to the far corner of the bar, near the register. There's a man sitting there in a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Do you see him?" she asked intently.



"I do. Why?" I answered.



"Because you are going to buy him a beer," my wife explained. "Make sure to have the bartender tell him that it's from me. Then you are going to pay our tab, walk back to the lobby of our tower, and find a seat in view of the elevator. You'll wait there until I text you with further instruction. You are not to approach me if and when I return through the lobby. Understand?"



It took me a few seconds to compose my thoughts enough to answer. "I... uh... I understand."



"We both know that the events of this weekend will be difficult for you, but it's important that you know how much it means to me that you accept them without resistance," Anne said as she stared intensely into my eyes. After leaning over to deliver me a passionate kiss, she continued, "Selflessness is an attractive quality and you've shown it throughout our entire relationship. I love you for that and I consider myself to be one lucky girl, but right now I need you to continue showing it by doing as I have instructed."



"As you wish, my love," I spoke after a short pause to gather my thoughts and prepare myself for the task ahead. I stood up, took my wife's hand, and kissed it before departing towards the bar.



"What can I get you?" asked the older gentleman working behind the bar.



"I'd like to buy that man his next round," I said as I pointed to the man sitting on the bar corner in front of an almost empty glass.



From what I could tell he looked to be in his mid to late twenties. I guessed that he was a few inches taller than Anne or I, but likely still under 6 foot. It was hard to say for sure since he was sitting down. His shirt fit tightly enough to show that he was in good shape, lean but not too muscular. His dark brown hair was a couple of inches long and had been intentionally styled to appear ruffled. If his appearance was indicative of his personality, I couldn't imagine him lacking the confidence to join my wife at her table.



"That's awfully nice of you. Would you like to me to pass along a message?" the bartender offered as if he assumed that I was hitting on the man for myself.



"Yes, please," I responded, wondering if his apparent assumption was better or worse than what I was actually doing. I pointed to my wife's table as I continued, "Just tell him that it's compliments of the lady at the corner table. I'd like to pay my tab beforehand though, if that's alright."



"Ah, certainly," he said in a way that almost suggested he'd seen this type of thing before. He turned around to a collection of receipts on clip boards, examining one further as he picked it up, "With that last beer, it'll be $32 even."



"Have a good night," I said as I set down $40 on the bar, eager to escape from the situation. With my heart pounding, I took one last nervous look at my wife. She smiled as we made eye contact, but did nothing else to outwardly acknowledge my departure. Not knowing what might be about to happen or how either of us would feel about it afterwards was certainly nerve wracking, but yet somehow so strangely exciting. My apprehension peaked, however, once I took my seat in the lobby. Relegated to sitting anxiously while awaiting her further instruction, I could do nothing but think of all of the disastrous ways the night could possibly end. Time slowed to a crawl.



-----



Her entire body tingled with exhilaration as the elevator doors closed, severing her eye contact with her wide-eyed husband who sat obediently idle in the lobby. Her face did nothing to show it, but her mind was racing as the reality of what was about to happen hit her full force. For the first time in almost a decade, she was going to give her body to a man other than her husband. A man who she had known for less than an hour. A man who was practically a complete stranger.



As the elevator rose upward, her mind ran down a list of what she had even managed to learn about him over the last 40 minutes of conversation. His name was Damon and at 27 years old, he was still several years younger than her. She wasn't sure exactly where he was from, but she knew it wasn't Vegas. He had flown in on business to promote tomorrow's big sporting event at the venue attached to the casino. She struggled to come up with anything else and began to question herself internally. Was she really about to hop into a bed with a younger man about whom she knew so little? Just then the elevator chimed, opening the door to her floor and successfully interrupting her thought process.



"After you!" said Damon as he held his arm out in front of them.



She could only smile in acknowledgement as she exited the elevator, turning right and beginning the short walk to the room. She felt like a giddy little school girl, what was wrong with her? She had spent most of the last 10 years playing the role of cruel and calculating domme to her husband, so this should be easy! Her hands shook slightly as she waved the access card in front of the reader on the door handle.



Just as she stepped inside the door and turned to make sure it closed behind them, Damon scooped his arms up from behind her legs and pinned her against the wall with a passionate kiss. No longer able to stand the anticipation, she surrendered to the excitement and returned his passion with a decade's worth of pent up sexual frustration. He ran his hands up her legs, raising her skirt and giving her ass a firm squeeze. Her body emitted a primal moan in response and she could practically feel the wet patch grow on her already soaked panties.



Glancing to his left, Damon quickly found his target. Lifting her from the wall, he turned and more or less threw her onto the bed. Before she knew it he was shirtless and back on top of her. Her view was impeded by the fact that neither of them had flipped the light switch on, but she was almost positive that she saw a flash of abs. Just the thought of him having a sexy six-pack sent pleasure quaking between her legs. She had always found her husband wildly attractive, but well defined abs were something that he never quite managed to attain.



Her husband! Oh god, she had forgotten about her husband. Any thoughts of him waiting nervously downstairs had instantly been stripped away the moment Damon put his hands on her, replaced only by thoughts of her own pleasure.



"Hold on. Stop. Wait a second," she hesitated, breaking their kiss and pushing her hand against his chest.



"What is it? Something wrong?" Damon asked with concern.



"No, no. God no. I just need to tell you something first," she responded quickly.



"Yea?" he said, appearing worried.



"The thing is, I have husband..." she informed him.



"I know, I saw your ring. You know what they say about what happens in Vegas..." he shrugged.



"...and he's here with me," she clarified.



"Oh," he uttered, suddenly looking tentative about his surroundings.



"...and he watched us get in the elevator together after I made him pay for your beer and wait in the lobby."



"Wait, do I need to be worried about him coming up here?" Damon nervously questioned.



"No, absolutely not! He is well aware of my intentions and will stay in the lobby unless I text him instruction to do otherwise," she assured.



"Ah, I see. You're just one of those freaky swinger couples where the husband gets off on sharing his wife with other men," he said with a smile, returning to a relaxed state.



"Not exactly. Who I sleep with and when he gets off are both decisions that are entirely up to me. We've both learned and agreed that it's for the best if I have the final say in those matters, along with most other decisions in our relationship," she explained. Traces of her dominant side shown through for the first time as she casually played with the key hanging from her necklace. She was unable to get a read on his expression, so she wasn't sure if he had made the connection between the key and the words she spoke.



"That's... interesting. Does that mean I won't have to worry about him needing to watch?" he joked.



"Well, you won't *have* to, no. I can make him wait downstairs until we are done if you prefer. But it would really turn me on if you showed him firsthand what his wife looks like when she's getting fucked by a real man," she said coyly while running her finger down the center of his chest.



"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose depriving him of such an educational experience would be doing him a disservice, wouldn't it? Besides, a real man wouldn't let an audience keep him from fulfilling the desires of a woman as gorgeous as yourself," Damon replied cockily. "Tell him not to keep us waiting and get his ass up here already."



-----



My heart skipped a beat when I felt vibration of my phone notifying me of an incoming text message. I nearly dropped it as I scrambled to see what it said. Only 10 minutes had passed since I saw the elevator doors close in front of my wife and the man from the bar, but it seemed like it had been hours. My mind was full with ideas of how they might have spent that time together. I took in a deep breath as I clicked on a text message from my wife.



I realized as soon as it opened that it wasn't just a text message. My wife had sent me an up-close picture of a neatly groomed and half-erect cock with her wedding ring clearly displayed on the hand she had wrapped around it. My heart sank, it wasn't even fully hard and it was already as big as I was at my largest. It sank even further when I looked below the picture to see her message:



"It's time for you to meet the man that'll be officially making you my cuckold, dear husband. It's been so long since I've taken one his size, so I'll need to use that skillful tongue of yours to make sure I'm all warmed up first. Come up here and join us."



Part of me wanted to sprint towards the elevator, but the other part of me was paralyzed with anxiety and fear. What have I gotten myself into? Can I handle what I'm about to see? Should I tell her to do this without me? Should I call it off altogether? Just as my panic reached its peak, some more questions crossed my mind. What if she enjoys this? What if we *both* enjoy it? What if doing this brings us even closer together than we already were?



Making the decision that we had come too far to back out now, I stood up and walked to the elevator. As I hit the elevator's "up" button, it all sank in. This was real. This was real, and I was committed to it. We were committed to it, for better or worse. The rest of the short trip to the room was a blur. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the hotel room door with my access card in hand.



The first thing that I saw as I entered the room was my wife's feet at the end of the bed nearest the door. Her legs laid open wide with her knees slightly bent. As I walked further inside I could see her panties peeking out from below her skirt, which had ridden almost all of the way up to her waist. The large wet spot on them was easily visible, clear as day. She was sopping wet.



The next thing that I saw stopped me in my tracks. My beautiful partner of over 10 years lay there on her back, with her mouth wide open, as the man from the bar thrust his intimidatingly large cock in and out of it. He hadn't yet noticed my presence, but she sure had. Her eyes were glued to mine as his member repeatedly filled her mouth. The look that she gave me made my own cock harden in its cage. She was loving this.



"I'd like you to meet Damon, hon," my wife spoke after finally removing him from her mouth and taking a deep breath. "Damon, this is my husband that I told you about."



"Oh yea! From downstairs. Thanks for the beer by the way," Damon joked.



I replied with a polite smile and nod, but found myself too embarrassed and nervous to say anything.



"Babe, just the thought of Damon finally giving me the kind of fucking that I need has me so turned on. I must be soaked," my wife said as she slid her panties off. "Why don't you put your face down there and see for yourself?"



I didn't even need to get any closer to see that she wasn't lying. The arousal that Damon had stirred within her left her pussy glistening with wetness. When I buried my tongue inside of her I wasn't surprised to find that she was even wetter than she looked. Her juices practically flowed into my mouth. I had never felt her this wet before, not once in over a decade of sexual experiences together.

