Part 4
…With the door closed and securely bolted behind me I stood there with my nose to the cool and thick concrete wall for a few additional seconds; surreal would be an understatement, but then again I actually chose this option. A minute is not very long at all to sort out my new temporary holding cell in the coming pitch blackness either, but what's coming can't be called a surprise either. Bucket in the corner, water bottles next to it, and the coarse wool blanket at the foot of my improvised bed, the simple pillow at the head. I've arranged for my head to be furthest from the door rather reflexively, not sure why though. I'm not exactly tired either, more amped up I'd say, heart pounding in my chest and all. The feeling is near-sexual for me, my body reflexively readying itself for "something."
"Where was my Jess, and what new experiences was SHE having, all while I was here basically parked out of sight like the family dog? So kenneled and safely looked after, as if the family were on vacation at Disney or something; having their fun in the sun while I expectantly waited in a little cage for their return, no-doubt giddy from their adventures when they finally got around to collecting me." I mused darkly.
So the light goes off as I had been warned it would, telling me Alice is still standing just on the other side of that door. I could scream, pound on Alice's door even; but why? I'm where the ladies want me, safe and secure and out of sight. If my Jess were unhappy with her lot in life I could imagine her taking this "opportunity" to meet up with somebody new, maybe somebody from her office, as objectively she's both impossibly pretty, and well spoken. "It's not impossible that some other man would be wanting on my Jess, many men would if given the slightest signal of opportunity" I tell myself darkly.
Except of course that there was exactly zero evidence to support such a premise; "just a dark room leading to dark irrational thoughts, the culmination of my greatest unfounded fears," I realize. I'm just a few minutes into this experience, this room, for me, is way more than just a room though, it opens one's soul to all sorts of doubts and insecurities. Further thoughts invade my mind, "what was the wager, and what therefore did the winner win, and the loser lose?"
"It's a good surprise, no worries mate," I hear, whispered in my ear. At first I thought I had said such myself, but this voice, to me, sounded British, and I called no one "mate" ever, I just don't speak like that. I'm not frightened though, as even in the pitch blackness of this room it's impossible that anybody is physically inside here with me. I'm more-so curious, wondering who owned this voice, wondering maybe if I were losing my mind instead, and this bifurcated other personality of mine had the Brit accent and vocabulary.
"Can you give me a clue friend?" I ask softly; but silence is my answer.
"…Can you tell me something I don't know?" I tried next. It's my own little sanity test for myself, if this voice, this other entity tells me something I don't know, and that turns out to be true, I'll know it's not me, that there is another "somebody" interacting with me, as logically implausible as that is.
…I lay there in dead silence, time has no meaning, has it been minutes, or hours, I really don't know. I'm not thirsty, nor do I need to fumble for and find my bucket either, thank heavens for that as peeing from a standing position, with a chastity device, is a bit of a challenge. A kind of daydream eventually comes to me, I see Jess wearing some very nice slinky undergarments, asking somebody how she looks in them. It's like I'm seeing this from above, not from Jess' eyes, but not another's either, the perspective is all wrong for that, too high. They're blue, my favorite color, and an unseen voice tells her she looks magnificent in them, which in my mind's eye she does.
I'm kind of into lingerene, obviously not wearing it myself, but appreciating quality well fitting things usually hidden beneath Jess' outer clothes, so for me the surprise-present hidden from others beneath the proverbial pretty wrapping paper of a nice dress and heels. Jess looks magnificent in almost anything, but these items aren't department store off the rack items either, it has the feel of a boutique where a personal shopping assistant sizes you and brings you things to try on. Jess and I did this once together as a bit of an indulgence, it was a magical experience, for both of us really, but one just a bit extravagant for our budgets at this stage of our lives. Don't get me wrong, Jess deserves this and more, but another man might have to be writing those checks.
More dark thoughts; "are these for somebody else to appreciate on my Jess, somebody who could write that proverbial check, or for me bearing in mind that they're my favorite color?" I wonder.
"I told you it was a good surprise, the ladies are just having a spot of fun," the voice shares in a whisper.
"Thank you," I whisper back. I also realize that if not chastity caged I'd be extraordinarily tempted to self-entertain to that vision of Jess in my mind, the old adage being that nobody goes all matchy-matchy, unless somebody else is expected to be seeing said undergarments.
I then imagine other things, Alice upstairs in her living room, sitting in a comfortable throne-like high-back chair, looking at her large television, watching the feed from the camera in this very cell. I've been staring at the light fixture for minutes though, or more accurately in the general direction I believe it to be as I can't see a thing in this room. So no visible IR illuminators, but I'm not up on the latest technology either; as in are there other ways for a camera to "see" in a no-light environment like this one?
Other thoughts flood into my empty mind, there being a vacuum created by the lacking sensory inputs associated with normal human interactions. I imagine not a bed to somewhat comfortably recline on inside this odd little room though, but instead bars that extended from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and one like myself affixed to the bars with a great many straps and bonds. So strapped to the bars at a dozen or more points of contact, suspended off the ground like an insect captured in a spider's web, hooded, helpless, and struggling for a bit until the futility of such became apparent. I imagine this not in dread, but excitement to try it myself, wanting to personally experience the whole deal, a strict physical control to rival the mental control both ladies already have over me. It's a giving of oneself, or I suppose offering oneself instead; if of course I were to respectfully ask for such treatment myself. I don't recall seeing anything inside this room when it was illuminated to suggest such bars were ever actually mounted in this cell though. So perhaps an option never explored, or perhaps just the kinky daydreams of a submissive soul like my own that wonders how to somehow top an experience like this one…
So I close my eyes and try to remember when I had ever been so mentally free to just let my mind go where it wills. I realize the threat of those dark thoughts, but I try to flood them with happy thoughts about my Jess collecting me from Miss Alice's with a good report on my behavior. There are just so many little factors here that push my personal buttons; the ladies being properly dressed, all while I'm not, reinforcing the concept that they are something so much more than I am. It simply can't be an accident. Then there's the device Alice caught me in, so not really a functioning man for either of these ladies, as long as that device was affixed to my guy parts, but perhaps still useful for lesser chores and services.
Then my mind betrays me, "who was I to question, even in my mind, where Jess was, and what she's up to?" It comes down to trust, and either I trust Jess or I don't…
So it's with these "I trust Jess" happy-thoughts that I drift off to sleep, and I have some nice dreams with her starring in them, things we've done, things I'd like to do - if she'd let me - all positive things. How long I slept I don't know, but it was long enough to wake myself snoring once, that bewilderment one feels when waking in an unfamiliar dark room telling me I was deep asleep for a bit.
"…He's more than welcome to stay with me again," I hear softly in my dream, but it's not the Brit voice, and then I realize it's not a dream at all, that these are Alice's words.
"So he's passed his little test, we could do this again sometime?" Jess asks just as quietly, and it feels like the cliche moment when one checks on a sleeping new infant with a family member, just to be sure he or she is okay.
"Just look at him, sleeping like a baby, I almost hate to wake him. This was good for me too by the way dear, I miss having a man around again," Alice tells my Jess, my eyes slowly opening to see Miss Jessica and Miss Alice standing side by side in the open doorway of my cell, the protege standing next to her mentor. Jess is wearing a new blue dress that I don't recall seeing on her before - she certainly didn't drop me off wearing it - and it fits her well, not "look-at-me" tight, more of what she calls "business-sexy," as if made for her body specifically. There is a certain look that's expected at her office, not sexy, certainly not trashy, as either takes away from looking at ladies like Jess in a professional manner; more so just reminding their mostly male clientele that this is a capable intelligent woman, who happens to also be blessed with some fine genetics.
"Truthfully Jess is the whole package, and I know she could do better than I; maybe she's even had casual offers already?" I wonder, those old fears of inadequacy rearing their ugly head again.
Anyway, this has the look of a new dress for the office, and I'm wondering if the daydream I had about the blue bra and panty set she was wearing might be matching this dress. It would make sense in my guy's mind that such garments should match what's on over it, maybe not printing through like a contrasting color might. Yes, I know all about slips and lacy layers, but certain dresses don't work with such things, not to mention they seem from an earlier era, so while still sexy to my guy's mind, perhaps dating the wearer in an unflattering way…
Anyway, I'm somehow exercising some extraordinary self-control here by not jumping up and hugging Jess to death, but such sends the wrong message, suggesting that I don't trust her intentions for me, that my time here with Miss Alice was unpleasant; and the truth of the matter is that it wasn't. I find Miss Alice captivating, quite literally with this special room of hers; and the control she so casually exercises over me is powerful, maybe a power that Jess herself could use in her own professional life in the coming years. So learning how to emulate and refine this powerful and confident Alice-persona could be seen as an investment in her future, but the little nagging fear in the back of my mind is that somebody else will one day like what she's become, and want to steal her away with promises of things that I simply can't offer myself. So in the end, I could be the perfect obedient husband and treat her like the queen she is, and still lose my Jess one day to a better man, or perhaps just one with deeper pockets and better promises…
In the end it was a simple decision, and I'd already delayed long enough, so I silently got to my knees in the center of the room, head bowed, arms behind my back in the position that Alice, Miss Alice, had taught me. So full silent submission to both ladies, accepting of whatever they decided was appropriate. Had I been looking up I would have seen both ladies turn their heads and make eye contact, exchanging both an expression and a knowing smirk, things going exactly as Miss Alice had suggested they would.
Miss Jessica thanked Miss Alice for watching me, as did I myself, and I was again permitted clothing so as to be returned home again. I have a hundred questions for my lovely bride, but it would be disrespectful and well out of my own proverbial lane to question her like a detective too though. If my Jess had wanted me to gain some self-control - as Alice herself had suggested - questioning her would only confirm that I hadn't learned a thing. My mind was full of questions, but I knew I had to act like this was business as usual, trust that the ladies did in fact have my best interests at heart.
"Is it still 'Miss Jessica?'" I ask my bride while still in the car, sitting in our driveway.
She turns and smiles, and then just about eats my face off with the most passionate kiss that I can ever recall. I'm right there with her, once I get over the shock, and I feel like a fool for doubting her intentions for even a second. Yes this thing we fell into with our neighbor Alice is odd, but wow is it hot and kinky too! With that kiss there is like no doubt that Jess' passion is reserved for me alone, and I realize still again how lucky I am to have her, or I suppose for her to have me.
"I went shopping, grab the bags and follow me inside," Jess orders, and like a proud little puppy I obey, following her inside with my arms full. Once inside I take a bit more notice of the bags; lingerene stores, shoes, some dresses, skirts and blouses too, so a good dose of retail therapy. Not that material things make one happy, but a woman like Jess deserves such luxuries, and from my highly biased point of view she looks magnificent in anything; or really nothing. If I had a dark and suspicious heart I'd perhaps think she was upping her wardrobe to attract some new interest, almost like a shiny new fishing lure attracts the biggest and most aggressive fish. But that passionate kiss tells me something else…
Once inside Jess tells me she's met some interesting new people, she's light and bubbly in her words, and despite the brief twinge in my heart at hearing this I get caught up in her enthusiasm. She goes on to further explain that Alice had arranged for an introduction to some of the local ladies, and formally invited, she stopped in on some of them for tea, served up in the fine home of one of the ladies by her own husband. Other ladies were there as well, and they all got along fabulously, business owners, mayor's office people, even a lawyer already casually known by Jess, so a real female power network. These were important people in the community, Jess tells me, so good connections to have in the future. Now in my mind Jess is already the whole package, but with the friendship and mentoring of these other ladies she could potentially go very far. I'm also like her biggest cheerleader, and in my mind I'll do anything to facilitate "her" success.
I forget all about my own insignificant questions and doubts, but caught up as I am in her "up on top" mood I ask about the tea-serving husband, as in what he was like. She tells me he pretty much did as he was told and then stayed out of the way, that it wasn't disrespectful or anything, but that the ladies weren't there to see him, that he was only there to serve. I think back to my own recent tea-serving experience with Jess and Alice, how easy and intuitive it was to do just as that other husband had apparently done; it's like I could feel what Alice had wanted of me without any extra words. I think I understood things a bit better now, simply serving tea wasn't ever the goal here, the goal was in demonstrating the positions of power each held, without flaunting such servitude in a way as to diminish the other. So not necessarily a slave, but a man who supported his wife, did her bidding out of love perhaps, but certainly not coercion.
I tell Jess that I love her new dress, and she tells me she decided to up her game a bit after her tea with the other ladies, suggesting it was an investment in "our" future. Jess is ordinarily quite precise in her use of language, so this was very comforting to hear. Had she slipped and said "my" future I still wouldn't have called her out on it though, as I didn't feel the least bit in a challenging mood after my brief time under Alice's supervision. So Alice's unique domination apparently had a lingering effect on me, conditioning me to accept further feminine control and direction. So, I see this for what it is, but I don't take the necessary mental steps to "correct" it, as in my mind there was nothing to correct.
A stern look from Jess and then to the chair I had once before placed my clothes on had me stripping down for her, I also realizing that I've been unclothed far more than clothed lately. I see the smile, the approval too, for just a bit longer I'm a human pet that has demonstrated his conditioning, reminding her that I can in fact be trained, that this not so old dog can learn some new tricks.
It's both a fashion show and a bit of torture too, caged up and unable to participate as I am. I watch as she peels off her new dress, I then fetch some hangers and hang it so as not to get wrinkled. This is a "dry clean only" kind of garment, and it's not dirty yet. The heels, and a lacy blue bra and panty set are just so much more sexy that they sound, so this is like a porn photo-shoot for this audience of one. I feel like the luckiest man alive, and if not for the device I'm wearing I'd very much like to act on what I'm feeling. Back on my knees I'm still overcome, and I scoot up before her and kiss the object of my desire, and she playfully pushes me away, but with a giggle, knowing the effect she has on me. She tells me in one of the bags there's three sets of matching panties, as the blue bra can be worn more than a single day, so this makes practical sense.
I like the way women look, specifically the way Jess looks, but I don't think I always appreciate the work that goes into that look. Jess might not be dressing like this for another man, specifically, but not all of these clothes are intended for me to take her out in, so the feeling I get is kind of a mixed bag of emotions. So we have a bit of a fashion show after that for this audience of one, with me putting Jess' new things away in her draws, closet, or even the laundry as appropriate. We established a section of the spare bedroom's closet for things to go to the dry cleaners, and Jess wants that to be my job too now.
…So the show's eventually over, and we end up in bed, but Jess doesn't feel like fooling around, even though locked as I am, any fooling will be a bit one sided and serving on my part. I don't exactly mind, I'd do that for Jess like three times a day for the rest of my life, and never get off again myself one single time and call that a good life, but she's not up for it. I'm overcome with the desire to touch her though, to serve her, even if not sexually. She's laying on her chest in nothing but a sleepshirt, so "good parts down" in some rather clear body language telling me nothing's happening.
With selfless motivations I press on though, sitting on her magnificent ass and massaging her shoulders and back, and I wear her down with my persistence, getting her out of her sleepshirt.
"Nothing for you tonight," she warns. And I tell her quite honestly that serving her is all I'm after here. I can tell she's skeptical, but she lets me prove my worth by giving about the best massage that I've ever given, with motivations of service to this superior woman that's somehow mine. She's just so relaxed and at peace with herself, it's magnificent to both see and feel, so our banter is natural and unguarded.
"So you asked about Cathy's husband earlier, and I have to tell you I was a bit envious," she tells me. I'm assuming Cathy was the host tea-lady, but Jess hasn't told me this specifically, as in she thinks I come into this with that knowledge already. To ask spoils the free flow of information here though, so I go with this assumption.
"A bit of a stud?" I ask, supressing my own internal jealousy, so it's almost like we're girlfriends checking out the same man. He's married to Cathy though, presumably happily so. It's a bit of new ground for Jess to tell me that another man was good looking, but not unheard of, I obviously know that the ladies look too.
"I've had better," Jess tells me in an off-handed compliment. In that case I'm the obvious "better," so if not his appearance, and presumably not his intelligence or wit either - as their interactions were purportedly limited - I'm to assume it's something else. So in my mind it's either the way he served tea, or just the fact THAT he served the ladies tea, as in his social submission to the group. Now to be fair I've read enough "literature" to know that not all ladies like a socially submissive man, in fact most probably don't, but Jess had chosen me, and I wasn't exactly hiding who I was from her either.
So, powerful educated ladies might like a complimentary man in their life, one that was comfortable with her being in charge. Not exactly a profound revelation, but I wonder how many "power-couples" had split before working this little detail out themselves…
"I was wondering, do you know if Alice's husband was English?" I ask. Of all the things I could want to know about this odd thing we have going on, I'm sure she's wondering why ask this specific question; but she can't know about the "in my head" interactions I had while incarcerated in Alice's jail cell. She might not know the answer herself, but if she does, it might prove or disprove something I suspect.
"No," she tells me. But her "no" was a bit ambiguous for me, did she not know the answer, or did she know he wasn't a Brit? It's like being back under Alice's control, the way I don't always think out my words before speaking to certain people in authority, then of course asking questions inefficiently. Both ladies just seem to do this better than I, and such makes me feel slightly unintelligent in their company.
By the time I've finished massaging her perfect little feet I half-think this is what I'm good for, but she's also had herself a nice little O, and right before she drifted off to sleep she tells me sleepily that Alice's husband was an Aussie, and my mind goes "ping!" To my ear an Australian accent might also sound like a British one, and yes, I know that there are different accents even within a single country, I live in the states, we all have an accent. Somebody from Boston would stand out just a few hundred miles away in Virginia, or anywhere else for that matter.
There's so much to ponder, but having some quality time to sort out one of life's biggest mysteries while in Alice's care seems paramount. There's simply no way that I could have known Alice's husband was an Aussie, unless of course he'd told me himself, unintentionally, from beyond the grave…
"Could I confirm this suspicion with a longer period of isolation, and if so could I ever share the answers with Alice, or really with anybody else for that matter?" I asked myself…