Ibis by Leviathan Laroche (my miracle luna book free read TXT) 📕

was obvious that her horny pussy fluids were running down her bare legs.

***

I woke up and my wife was cooking dinner- I walked up to her and kissed her. She had an apron on, but nothing else except the chastity belt.

"I was thinking about the rules for the belt," I told her.

She looked at me, her eyes wide. She has been waiting for this moment for a long time. It has always been a fantasy of hers to be locked in a cage, denied of any relief.

My wife is the rebellious type. She acts like she doesn't like rules and breaks them all the time. But when I make them, it makes her knees buckle.

"You will be in the belt for most of the time. Especially while I am not at home. I will have the keys on me, so you can't touch your pussy. The goal is to train you. You will not be able to touch your clit or rub your pussy without my supervision. I am here to control your orgasms. This means that most of the time, I will let you out of the belt but I will ruin your orgasm. You must thank me for your orgasm even though there was no penetration or pleasure when you have them. When you are in the shower, you are still not allowed to touch your pussy. You will let me know so I can reach my hands into the shower and rub your pussy with my hands. YOU are not allowed to touch YOUR OWN pussy."

My wife looked at me with her mouth gaping. She was so turned on at this point. I saw her lips quiver from how horny she is and how much she wanted my cock.

"Look at you being turned on at this, you sick horny slut." I laughed. She smiled at me, moving towards me. I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her gently on her lips.

"I am going to take you out of your belt twice a day to clean you. I am going to rub you clean with a warm cloth."

"mmmm" she says smiling, being turned on and being seductive.

"Every night, I am going to take you out of the chastity belt."

"you are?" she says.

"Yes, I am going to tease your pussy so it's soaking wet. Then I am going to lock you back up. You can go to bed horny every single night. Except for when you get a ruined orgasm. But you would still be going to bed horny. So it's kind of like the same thing, I guess."

She looked at me, completely turned on by this. I knew she would be. I read her internet history. I know what she's into and how much of a submissive cuckquean wife she wants to be.

"Are you dripping from this?" I looked at her.

She blushed. I reached down, feeling her legs. "Holy shit, your legs are wet. You are a messy girl." I grinned as I watched her pleading look. The look that says please fuck me, but I am so turned on by this.

"I need to go back to cooking dinner" My wife says in a joking manner. It meant, I am going to cook dinner if you don't fuck me right now. So I decided to maintain her desperation.

"Go ahead" I said. I sat back and watched her cook and thought about what I was going to do to her tonight. Hang Me Out to DRY

 At long last, my wife and I were finally one step closer to what I pictured as a major breakthrough in our sexual relationship. We are both somewhat private and proper and the subject of sex rarely comes up after we leave the bedroom. Only recently did I secretly discover her interest in something more than ordinary sex. Every once in a great while I will come across a steamy novel of hers but recently I found one by author Anne Rice and one about someone named 'O'. I saw a trend in her reading material featuring women in a submissive if not slave-like role in and out of the bedroom.

I can discern fantasy from reality pretty well and it did not change my views despite her darker tastes. But two weeks ago she showed up in bed wearing her hair in a ponytail. Since we have been married she has kept a ritual of combing her hair out for several minutes just before coming to bed. When she made advances moments later I noticed she was wearing a rubber thong. This was extremely unusual and I did my best to be nonchalant although I was extremely aroused. It's not easy when this tall beauty is straddling my abdomen. Almost immediately she maneuvered to where her hands were gripping the headboard and her hair was there for the pulling. I did not let go as I watched her transform into a very vocal and whore-like creature.

Things were about to change.

We had both agreed last Friday to visit an artsy theater and watch an old movie called 'Belle du Jour'. Innocently enough, I brought up the idea of having a drink afterward since my mother would have our three-year old until the following day. We met after work and got settled into the sparsely filled movie room. I had seen this movie before and I paid close attention to Cyan during the first five minutes. The main character has an argument with her husband aboard a carriage. The man orders the drivers to stop and the woman is whisked to nearby trees and tied. The drivers proceed to undress and whip her. Meanwhile, Cyan is slowly shifting and squirming within her seat. The rest of the movie is filled with similar dream sequences and afterward Cyan said nothing. Her behavior told me she was still digesting the scenes and after we had stopped for a few drinks, she began to rave about the movie.

"Would you consider that movie soft porn?" she asked.

I had seen my fair share of porn before but easily conceded.

"Yeah, I suppose it had the basic elements of porn," I replied.

Cyan sipped from her wineglass to conceal a sly grin.

"We've never seen a porno together," she observed.

"Together?" I shot back with a wink.

Cyan took another sip.

At this point in the conversation I decided to tell Cyan about an underground club I'd read about (on the internet but I omitted this fact to soften the suggestion). It is similar to theater sports but volunteers get to perform sexual favors and crowds can watch.

Not surprisingly, Cyan had never heard of the club but her barrage of questions made me well aware of her interest in visiting such a place. I was truly taken aback. In a very short amount of time, this daughter of a Catholic deacon was making strides in her sexual liberation and with me at the helm, no less.

The club was in the basement of a mainstream club called 'La Muir'. On the off chance we'd be visiting, I obtained a code word from their nondescript web site. It proved to be essential as we descended the flight of stairs to a tough-looking man in leather. He looked us up and down and was judging us on our business attire but half-willingly let us in the steel door.

The music was near concert level as we made the first corner. We stopped in our tracks at the sight of a dozen or more people watching a stark naked couple having sex right on the floor. Everywhere we looked there was some sort of activity going on and an audience to boot.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Cyan nodded without looking directly at me.

I did not want this to seem like my idea completely so I asked her on occasion until I was convinced she was okay. This was another world to us but we weren't alone in our appearance. There were other people of varying ages sitting with friends or actively participating in the debauchery. It didn't take long to notice the men and women who openly stared at Cyan as though she was expected to do something for them. One woman in particular touched her thigh and later grazed her breast. I could not tell what Cyan was thinking as she quietly continued to people watch. This place gave license to anyone to touch or say anything to anybody it seemed. We sat on stools at a table next to a woman who was being nailed from behind. She even took a sip of her drink while the guy sweated and pumped away.

I would be remiss if I didn't say I was aroused by this.

I had never seen a female bartender wearing a half-cup bra serving drinks. Her nipples and tattoos were in plain view.

Cyan and I ordered a drink and I was happy to see her relax a bit. Her hand found my leg and patted my inner thigh – a hint of reassurance and perhaps a little foreplay.

"So where's the theater sports thing?!" she asked.

"I don't know," I responded. "Let's ask the waitress."

Cyan leaned over to the woman and she gestured at a small corridor in the corner.

We grabbed our drinks and headed that direction.

There was someone standing at the door requesting a ten-dollar fee from each of us. We willingly paid the money and were given a ticket stub for the door prize. The 'prize' was to be called on stage and be subject to the whims and desires of the audience members – or so I read. I told Cyan about the drawing and she quickly threw in her ticket.

"I never win anything anyway, "she said with a smile and a shrug.

I had not told her the door prize was optional and her odds of 'winning' might be one in one.

We walked into the tiny auditorium to find only about three seats available. About twice as many men filled the seats as women and the thirty or so people all looked our direction as we made ourselves comfortable. Cyan rested her head on my shoulder and I could tell she had overindulged on the wine.

"Don't fall asleep," I reminded her.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said with a yawn.

Just then, A hot woman bounded from behind the curtains. Her yellow rubber top was bulging and I could almost see up her matching skirt. The crowd cheered as she raised a small fishbowl containing about five tickets.

"Oh, my god!" Cyan groaned.

It was obvious she was most likely going to be called onstage and she began to shrink down in her seat.

"Cyan?" the lady said as she held the ticket high. "Ms. Cyan?"

"I'm going to kill you!" she said under her breath as she stood up.

The woman in yellow extended her hand and helped Cyan up a step before the hoots and whistles.

"Hello, Cyan. You're new here. My name is 'Cat'."

"Yea...I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here but you will tell me, right?"

Cat looked around the room at all the smiling faces.

"Everyone will tell you," she said with a forced chuckle.

"Is that your husband or boyfriend in the audience?" asked Cat.

Cyan turned and pointed my direction and nodded.

"That's the man I love," she replied sarcastically.

Cat walked to the edge of the stage and asked an