While looking down at the squirming wannabee mumbling through the adult sized rubber pacifier strapped firmly in place, Mrs. Williams attempted to summarize how the current state of affairs had come to pass.
“Before we started your little charade, you never fully explained to me why you insisted on Nanny strapping in your pacifier before our night-time chats?
“Additionally,” she said, while reaching into the crib and patting the cage underneath the milky white 7 gauge plastic baby pants, “I never understood your insistence on 24/7 chastity, as well as your strict dress code for Nanny? I would have been more than happy to wear whatever rings your bell and would even have thrown in an occasional whipping,” his wife teased.
Mrs. Williams’ provocative soliloquy caused her husband to squirm atop the rubber mattress pad, as his penis made a concerted but futile effort to expand inside the confining chastity cage.
“Originally I thought your requests somewhat extreme, but I have grown to appreciate your decisions, and have even started to look forward to seeing you in a constant state of arousal without the possibility of relief,”Mrs. Williams continued, uninterrupted.
“In spite of this, it’s only two months into your twelve month arrangement with Nanny, and already I can see you’re having second thoughts, not only about your fantasy in general, but chastity specifically.
“Fortunately for you, or not, Nanny has left for the evening with the only keys to unlock your cage. The keys that you adamantly insisted she keep, just in case I faltered in resolve.
“But look at the bright side. ‘What bright side,’ you ask? Giancarlo!” she said excitedly, causing her husband to tug feverishly at the four shiny pink patent leather wrist-cuffs anchoring him to the side slats of the adult sized crib in the converted maid’s room in their four bedroom apartment on Manhattan’s Upper Eastside.
“I have fantasized about Giancarlo long before you started down this kinky path, and now I can actually have the real thing, while you’re acting out your silly little fantasy. It’s ironic but I can actually say that I’m getting as much, if not more, out of this as you are.”
Mrs. Williams’ startling revelation was suddenly interrupted by a call on her cell phone. “Giancarlo, it’s so nice to hear from you,” she purred. “Sure, I can see you tonight,” she replied with a smile, while looking down at her spouse’s futile efforts to protest. “Why don’t you drop by around 9 o’clock? That should give me more than enough time to make sure that my husband will not be disturbing us. Ciao.”
In a further attempt to further underscore his newly cuckolded status, Mrs. Williams informed her husband, “Tonight, I think it’s time that Giancarlo and I christen the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, while you’re tucked in for the night down the hall. I expect we’ll make a lot of noise during our lovemaking, but I strongly suggest that you keep as quiet as the proverbial church mouse. It’s much too early for Giancarlo to know of your situation. Capisce?” She shut the overhead light and closed the bedroom door, leaving her husband to digest the rapidly changing events in their household.
Later that week, while secured to the inside of the crib awaiting his two hour afternoon nap, Mr. Williams attempted to discuss with Nanny his expanding cuckold status.
“My wife is having too much of a good time at my expense.”
“It is not my place to discuss Mrs. Williams’ activities.”
“Can we discuss my arrangement with you?” he appealed.
“What is there to discuss?” Nanny responded tersely.
“I wish to terminate it,” he stammered.
“Don’t be silly,” Nanny retorted.
“I’m serious!” he insisted.
“Does Mrs. Williams know of your decision?”
“I haven’t been able to discuss it with her.”
“Why not?” Nanny asked.
“I only see her at my bedtime, after you’ve strapped in my pacifier.”
“Whose brilliant idea was that?” Nanny asked, knowing the answer before she asked it.
“And why did you want that, pray tell?”
“To insure that I wouldn’t be able to sweet-talk her into letting me go before our twelve month arrangement ended,” Mr. Williams moaned.
“So instead, you think you can sweet-talk me?” Nanny asked sarcastically.
“I no longer require your services,” Mr. Williams repeated confidently.
Nanny countered in a stronger tone, “I left a good job with the understanding that I would be gainfully employed by you for one whole year.”
“I’ll pay the rest of your annual salary,” Mr. Williams counter-offered.
“That’s very kind, but you were insistent to a fault, that I guarantee the full year in writing.” She reached down and inserted the adult-sized pacifier back into his mouth, abruptly ending the pointless conversation.
To Nanny’s delight, Mr. Williams openly begged and moaned throughout the year for their arrangement to end, while at the same time he secretly dreaded its conclusion with each passing day.
Isn’t that the diabolical allure of the fantasy?
Finally their year-long arrangement came to an end, with two divergent outcomes for our married couple. His was expected, while hers wasn’t. Mrs. Williams went on an extended vacation to Italy with Giancarlo, the former Club Masseuse, only to find lovemaking rather mundane without her husband safely tucked away down the hall.
Now unemployed with an abundance of time on her hands, Nanny sits and waits by the phone for her next assignment. Quite unexpectedly, Mrs. Williams called. “Have you heard anything from my husband?”
“Nary a word,” Nanny replied.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Mrs. Williams asked.
“Probably wanking 24/7,” Nanny replied flippantly.
“Be serious,” Mrs. Williams pleaded.
“I am. His little weenie is probably ready to fall off as we speak,” Nanny said matter of factly.
“Should I go home?” Mrs. Williams asked, more than a little concerned.
“Give me a day to get him back in the crib.” Nanny suggested.
“What’s your plan?” Mrs. Williams asked.
“I’m not completely sure but...” Nanny hesitated.
Well aware of her husband’s proclivities, Mrs. Williams couldn’t help herself as she said half-kiddingly, “You’ll probably find him in the crib attempting to fasten the damn cuffs himself.”
Little did she know how spot-on her little joke would prove to be.
“Madam, we have missed you,” said the middle-aged doorman as he ogled her black leather trench coat, cinched tightly at the waist, highlighting the very same zaftig body that Mr. Williams coveted to a fault.
“How sweet of you,” Nanny replied, having gotten his undivided attention. “Mrs. Williams has been vacationing abroad and has asked me to inspect the apartment before she returns.” She continued flirtatiously, “You and I both know, how messy things can get, when little boys are left alone on their own for any extended period of time?”
Nanny proceeded to the elevator without waiting to be announced, while the doorman, barely able to contain himself, followed obediently after her like a little puppy on a strict leather leash.
“Madam, will you be requiring any assistance?” he asked hopefully.
Nanny pushed the button for the Williams’ floor and then teased unmercifully through the open elevator doors, “How kind of you to offer. Fortunately, I have just the right size maid’s outfit that should fit you perfectly. Its accompanying shiny black patent leather corset will do wonders for your waist-line.” The elevator doors closed, leaving him weak in the knees. These brief repartees with middle-aged men, besides bringing her great pleasure, almost invariably led to future monetary assignments.
Still having a key to the apartment she let herself in, only to find Mr. Williams sound asleep, both ankles cuffed to the wooden slats of the crib, along with the mandatory rubber pacifier strapped firmly in place.
Likewise, one wrist was similarly restrained, while the other was left free for unlimited wanking, as evidenced by the dry used condoms strewn throughout the crib, as well as the one still on his now flaccid member.
Nanny remarked to herself that the scene was almost exactly as Mrs. Williams had jokingly predicted, as she proceeded to cuff his untethered wrist without waking the spent wannabee, before leaving to tidy-up the rest of the apartment.
The sound of the Hoover coming through the closed bedroom door gradually awakened Mr. Williams to that beautiful feeling of helplessness whenever Nanny was around.
Finally, Nanny returned and teased, “I thought you might prefer the real thing, as opposed to some half-baked attempt at self-bondage?” As she tapped on the newly cuffed wrist.
Mr. Williams proudly rattled all four cuffs in a show of appreciation for their effectiveness, while Nanny continued.
“I’ve cleaned the entire apartment, except for the odds and ends lying about the crib.”
After donning her elbow-length rubber gloves she proceeded with thumb and index-finger to remove the most recent condom still on his flaccid member and drop it into the dirty wipe basket.
“Apparently, I’ve gotten here just in time,” she chided, while disposing of the half-dozen dried used ones strewn atop the pink rubber mattress cover.
Putting all pleasantries aside, Nanny continued to take charge as she proceeded to give his spent appendage a good going over with a hot soapy washcloth, before installing the all-important chastity cage.
Then with the great fanfare that Mr. Williams cherished so much, she placed the key to unlock the cage teasingly into one of the breast pockets, located atop his favorite ankle-length shiny brown rubber apron. Nanny completed the picture by sliding the milky white plastic baby pants up and around his waist before closing the chrome poppers, setting the scene for his wife's return.
Later that evening, Mrs. Williams arrived home and walked into her husband’s bedroom for an atypical discussion.
“Nanny has informed me of your antics, and the mess you’ve made while I was on vacation with Giancarlo in Italy.” Her husband rattled his cuffed wrists and attempted to speak through the pacifier strapped firmly in his mouth. “It appears that our marriage has come to a fork in the road,” Mrs. Williams continued, uninterrupted.
“It’s unfortunate for you, but I found out on vacation that my lovemaking with Giancarlo is quite mundane without you in your crib down the hall, attempting valiantly but hopelessly to expand inside your snug chastity cage. In case you haven’t been able to connect the dots yet - we’re going back to the agreement that you and Nanny originated. I haven’t decided on its length. It all depends on the cost. Hopefully, Nanny will have more to say about it tomorrow.” She once again shut off the overhead light, while closing the bedroom door like she had done so many times before.
The following morning, Nanny as usual rose to the occasion and laid out a rather unique strategy to offset the cost of Mr. Williams’ monthly upkeep.
“I know of some women in need of a maid for their Wednesday afternoon bridge game,” Nanny began.
“That doesn’t sound very lucrative?” Mrs. Williams replied skeptically.
“They’ll pay two thousand five hundred dollars for a male maid to cater each session.”
“Every week?” Mrs. Williams asked in disbelief.
“Like clock-work,” Nanny stressed.
“That’s ten thousand each month. It would cover my husband’s agreement with you.” Mrs. Williams added excitedly before pointing out the obvious. “Regrettably, my husband would look ridiculous wearing a French maid’s outfit.”
“They only care about the accoutrement not his physical appearance.”
“They’re quite kinky.”
“Something my husband might like?” Mrs. Williams asked, half-kidding.
“A shiny black patent leather corset, tightly laced with four leather cuffs strategically placed, to immobilize the arms and elbows to the side or criss-cross them behind the back.”
“Sounds pretty tame to me.”
“I’ve saved the best for last.”
“After each deal, the player designated as dummy wins the honor of sitting in the black patent leather queening chair/smother box combo.”
“For what reason?” Mrs. Williams asked, naively.
“Please, Mrs. Williams. Were you born yesterday?” Nanny teased, before drawing the complete picture. “After cuffing the maid’s arms to the corset, his head is tightly wedged into the smother box, which is then strategically placed directly underneath the opening in the seat of the queening chair. His awaiting tongue being forced through a hard rubber O-ring-gag strapped inside his mouth, is the real basis for their weekly meeting.
“I’ve heard that the competition turns fierce. Almost blood-thirsty. Dummy is begging her partner to play slower while the defenders are playing cards without a moment's thought hoping to get their turn at dummy.”
“Now that I’d like to see.” Mrs. Williams hoped, wistfully.
Nanny and Mrs. Williams were never allowed to look in on the festivities, too hush-hush. Some of the players had rich and famous husbands, while the others were rich and famous in their own right.
In spite of not being allowed to watch in person, they did notice something quite unusual. Players never returned for a second afternoon session.
They worried that perhaps Mr. Williams’ performance was not up to snuff.
Their fear was quickly alleviated when after one particularly fierce and boisterous afternoon, a disheveled middle aged matron let slip while leaving the apartment.
“Now I know why, there is a year-long queue to play at this location.”
Mrs. Williams could rest assured that the agreement with Nanny would now be funded indefinitely by The Gotham City Bridge Matrons, with membership in the hundreds.
Thanks to her husband’s remarkable abilities, she and Giancarlo would live happily ever after, or at least until someone younger caught her eye.