They were both very tanned and sat on the plane holding hands and chatting happily about the Villa. It really had been a magical honeymoon, far more than Simon should really have spent, but what a wonderful start to their married life.
As they wheeled their luggage through Customs a wheel fell off Simon's case and rolled under the counter unseen by either of them.
"Hang on Soph, a wheel's come off my luggage."
Sophie stopped, rolling her eys as she turned to see Simon looking around the lounge, scratching his head.
"It can't have just disappeared, have a look around you." Sophie stood, arms folded whilst her new husband crawled around under the counter, emerging finally with the wheel in his hand. Before he had a chance to get up Sophie stood in front of him, putting out her hand. Simon looked up, and meekly gave the wheel to her like an offering.
"It has sheered right off. You will just have to carry the case back to the car," Sophie said, dismissively dropping the wheel back into Simon's hand.
Simon got up, dusting down his trousers and struggled after his wife, holding his luggage with both hands, as she marched on towards the car-parks.
"Not that way Soph, we are in the short-term, car-park, No. 1, over here." Sophie once again, stopped, span on her heels and looked her new husband. He stood there, ticket in his mouth, struggling to pull his wallet out from his bag at the back of a long queue.
"What! Have you any idea how expensive short-term is? "
"Well, you were with me when we parked darling. You didn't say anything then. "
Sophie shook her head and the word idiot formed on her lips. But she managed to stop herself. 'I am tired, 'she said to herself, and they stood in silence until at last they reached the machine.
PLEASE PAY Â£765.75
INSERT CREDIT/DEBIT CARD AND FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS ON THE SCREEN
"Jesus Simon. That is more than our flights cost."
Simon pulled out his credit card. He knew that there was not enough money left in his current account, so they would just have to pay it off over a few weeks.
They arrived home a 2am. Sophie had slept for most of the journey, and woke with a start, just as Simon turned into their street.
"Bring the bags in and lock up. I am off to bed, and don't wake me!" Sophie said quietly, rummaging for her keys and stepping out of the car without a backward glance.
Simon did as he was told, finally scooping up the mail and placing it on the kitchen table before tiptoeing upstairs. He climbed into bed as quietly as possible, slipping under the duvet, and just as he began to fall asleep the alarm went.
Sophie sat up.
"You idiot Simon. Why is that still set?"
"Sorry Soph. I must have set it on repeat or something. There, it is off now."
"Don't bother, I am sleeping in the spare room." Sophie stood up, wrapping the duvet around her shoulders and marched out of the room, leaving the light on and the door wide open.
"Soph...don't go. Soph?"
In the morning Simon woke at 10 after a fitful night's sleep under a towel and an itchy blanket. He padded downstairs still yawning to find his wife, fully dressed, opening the post with a long silver letter-opener.
Simon looked at her admiringly. She really was the most beautiful creature. The sun had bleached her hair even lighter, perfectly contrasting her flawless Mediterranean complexion. She wore black leggings over the tiniest black skirt, black ankle boots and a black, figure hugging top with v-neck.
"Ah, Simon, just in time," Sophie said, handing Simon a small parcel from the post. This is for you from me. A wedding present."
"Oh darling, how nice," Simon said in an exaggerated tone.
He sat down at the kitchen table in his dressing gown, and started to open the jiffy bag, taking out a small wooden box, beautifully carved with a brass catch at the front.
"Now Simon. I want you to open the box and take out the contents. Then we are going to have a little talk."
Simon looked at the box and then at his wife. What on earth was going on.
Sophie clasped her hands together, resting them on the table and looked at her husband.
"Open it Simon, and you will see?"
Simon scratched the tip of his nose nervously and opened the box, taking out a small heavy contraption, a series of metal rings held together with tiny padlocks and a large thimble like object attached to one end. It was exquisitely made in polished titanium, and looked as if it was built to last forever.
"Now Simon. Do you know what this is," Sophie said, picking up the object between her finger and thumb and holding it up in front of her husband.
"Jewellery? A lucky charm?"
Simon shrugged, not entirely knowing how to sound grateful when he hadn't a clue what he was looking at.
"Well, yes, not a bad guess Simon."
Sophie smiled, for the first time since the airport, and Simon, smiled back, relieved that his wife's mood was finally beginning to lift.
"Stand up, and open your dressing-gown, and I will show you."
Simon looked puzzled, but did as he was told, standing in front of his wife and looking down. Before he had a moment to get aroused, Sophie had slipped one of the rings around the sack above his testicles and clicked it shut. It felt cold and heavy, but not too tight. A further ring slipped around the base of his penis, which in turn she pushed into the perforated thimble, locking the head into position. Al the fastenings were then locked with three tiny silver padlocks.
"There. How does that feel?"
The whole procedure had taken less than a minute, and Simon looked down at the device and realized what had happened.
"Now Simon, I wish you to sit down and listen to me."
Simon sat down, making the device clink against the wooden seat, and felt an uncomfortable pressure as his penis strained against the restraint.
"This device is going to be a very important part of our marriage from now on Simon."
'But, Soph, don't you trust...."
"Shh, shh, don't interrupt me Simon, I am speaking. Now, this is not a question of trust. I know that you would never be unfaithful to me. It is a question of control. I wish you to understand that I have complete control over your desires, and this device is a symbol of that control. When you are wearing it, I have complete control, and you will do as I tell you. If you please me then at certain times I may choose to release you for a period of time. If you displease me then the device will remain on indefinitely. "
"Do you understand me so far Simon?"
Simon shrugged his shoulders, and whispered..."but, why Soph?"
"Now Simon, let us start with some basic rules now we are back home and starting our life together.. You do not call me Soph. You call me Miss Sophie at all times when we are alone. In company you may call me Sophie.
Secondly, you need to understand how this is going to work on practical level. I wish to make changes to your emotional state. To do this I am going to ask you to do things for me, and if and when you do those things that will please me. If I am pleased then I shall release you. But it does not end there. Once you are released then I will expect you to behave appropriately. If you do, then you will find some relief. If you behave inappropriately you will be put back into chastity and the whole process is repeated."
Simon looked at his wife and could see how clever her idea was. He would be expected to behave in a certain way both in and out of chastity and one would reinforce the other. His behaviour, thoughts and feelings would be modified in chastity and then his relief would be controlled out of chastity. This could be just terrifying.
"But why are you doing this now Soph? I thought we were happy. I love you?"
"Simon. My name is Sophie. That is three more days in chastity over and above the time that I decide is appropriate for this first session. I do love you Simon, very much, and yes we are happy. Both of those things are true. But I wish our love, our relationship, to be lifted up onto an entirely different level. In time you will come to understand that this will lead to more fulfillment and an even greater happiness for both of us."
Simon just looked at his new wife. He really had no idea if this was just some kind of sex game, or a joke, or whether she really was going to take control of his, well, his desires.
"Now Simon. Go and get dressed and then we shall have some breakfast. You will think more clearly when you have eaten.
Upstairs Simon examined the device more closely. It was exquisitely well made, every surface polished like glass with a perfect chrome-like finish. The ring above his testicles would be completely impossible to remove, unless he castrated himself. The ring around the base of his penis was attached directly to this lower ring with two smaller rings either side. So this to could not be released. He tried to pull the head of his penis out of the thimble, but it had a circular ridge running around the base holding it in position. There was also a silver mesh guard from the thimble back to the second ring, making it impossible for him to touch himself, or pull on anything. He was completely trapped by this simple, but beautifully engineered contraption.
Simon showered quickly and bounced his way downstairs in jeans and a teashirt, momentarily forgetting about the device and looking forward to spending their first day of married life together back home.
Breakfast was a happy affair. They talked about the wedding and their honeymoon, and afterwards downloaded all their photographs and pinged some of them off to their friends on Facebook.
Simon cleared up the breakfast table whilst Sophie finished off the photographs and started to sort out their wedding presents.
As Simon looked out of the window washing up Sophie casually dropped into the conversation.
"Mummy is coming to stay for a few days this afternoon. Can you put new sheets on the bed and then go to the supermarket. I will write a list for you."
Simon turned and looked at Sophie, the water dripping down his arms off his wife's pink rubber gloves.
"Haven't we seen quite a bit of her lately. I thought she would want a break after all those wedding preparations."
Simon's voice sounded a little desperate. The fact was that he really didn't get on with Sophie's mother Helen very well at all. He had tried to, but always got the impression that she thought her daughter could have done a lot better. Sophie had always dismissed this, saying that she was like that to everyone, and you just had to give it time. But Simon wasn't sure. In fact he had felt increasingly uncomfortable in the weeks leading up to the wedding, as Helen had increasingly excluded him from any of the arrangements, belittling or even completely ignoring any of his suggestions.
In the end it was simply easier to let Sophie and his mother get on with it, and he had buried himself in his work, turning up when he was needed for rehearsals or to brief the best man and page boys.
"Shall I tell her not to come then Simon?"
Sophie sat back on her chair, her legs now crossed up on the kitchen table. Simon for the first time in his life felt just a little emasculated. Sophie looked magnificent. Her long legs and pointed ankle boots gave her an air of absolute authority. He, by comparison stood at the kitchen sink, wearing pink washing up gloves feeling the pressure growing against the restraint between his legs. It started to hurt and he had to turn away momentarily to let his mind turn to less interesting subjects than his wife's legs.
"I didn't say that, Soph. Of course it is fine. I'll change the bed and then go out."
Mummy is coming for a week Simon, and you can add another three days to your chastity. So that is six so far."
"Sorry, I meant Sophie. Sorry honey."
"I accept your apology Simon, but it is now six days."
Simon decided not to say another thing.
Upstairs the spare room bed was in a mess. His wife appeared to have slept fitfully, the sheets were crumpled and the duvet lay in a heap on the floor. As he changed the sheets he noticed that they were just a little damp. He lifted the undersheet to his nose and smelt her familiar scent, musty and erotic.
As he changed the sheets he noticed a tiny ball under the pillow. He picked up a soaking white thong, that had been deliberately rolled into a ball and stuffed under the pillow. He unravelled the soft cotton material and brought it up to his nose. The scent was quite intoxicating, and again he felt a painful pressure between his legs. He squeezed the material, soaking his fingers.
Simon's mind raced. What had she been doing last night?
Sophie shouted upstairs.
"Mummy will be here at three Simon, and I want you back by then. You also need to fill the car up and wash our holiday clothes. Chop, chop."
That was quite enough. Simon stomped downstairs and confronted Sophie in the hall.
"and what are you intending to do Soph, whilst I run the household?"
Simon looked at her, hands on hips, waiting for a response.
"I, Simon, am going to have at least nine days with an awful lot of time on my hands it would seem." Sophie emphasised the number nine, then slowly picked up her keys and sports bag and opened the front door.
"You can walk to Waitrose, I am going for a swim. Be back by three Simon, I mean it. Oh, and you can put my thong in the wash too, if of course you have finished playing with it, that is."
The door closed. Simon could still hear his wife laughing as she closed the car door and turned on the ignition. His knuckles were white, and he noticed that in his anger he had unconsciously squeezed every drop of his wife's most intimate juices onto the parquet flooring. The ache between his legs intensified, the head of his penis pressing hard against the inside of the inside of the thimble.
'Why am I so angry and so aroused?' Simon thought to himself.
When Sophie returned she had the breezy, happy demeanor of a girl who had had a really good workout. Her hair was still wet and she simply glowed with health and vitality. Simon was busily unpacking bags on the kitchen table, hot and bothered from his long walk down to the supermarket and back.
Sophie's mobile rang as she closed the front door and she went upstairs, talking excitedly to a friend about her wedding and honeymoon. Simon began to feel a bit alone, and for the first time in a fortnight began to look forward to getting back to the office in the morning.
Helen looked like an older version of her daughter. The same blonde hair and clear skin. The same serene confidence, the same piercing steely blue eyes. She was an inch or two shorter than Sophie, her waist had thickened, just a little, but her legs were still shapely and elegant.
As she sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea, Sophie and Simon talked through their holiday photographs. Helen tried to look interested as near identical photographs of tanned, smiling faces, cheek to cheek, came on screen, each one framed against another 'iconic' Venetian landmark.
Helen sighed to herself like a bridge, keeping the joke to herself. It lightened the tedium momentarily.
"So, Simon, how are you enjoying married life so far?" His mother-in-law put her empty cup down slowly, pushing the cup towards Simon. Both women turned to Simon, folding their arms and leaning back awaiting with interest his response.
"Well, it is has only been half a day, Helen, but so far so good." He laughed nervously. Neither Helen or her daughter said anything.
"I understand that arrangements for the first twelve days have already been made Simon?"
Simon blushed red, looking first at his mother-in â€“law and then his wife.
"I don't know what you mean Helen?" Simon replied quickly, sounding a little nervous, casting an angry glance at his wife.
"I think you will find that you do Simon. In fact I think you will find that all three of us know, and it is fifteen now, and will continue to rise until you learn o address me properly."
Simon's anger and embarrassment peaked. He just couldn't bear this any longer and he stood up and left the room. In the hall he buried his head in his hands mouthing the words 'What on earth is happening here,' before walking upstairs slowly, just to get away. His balls began to ache. The pressure increased as he ran over Helen's words once against in his head. 'This is madness. This has just got to stop.' He sat on the edge of the bed, he had never felt so humiliated, or som alone.He didn't emerge again until supper.
Just before 11pm Sophie and her mother met upstairs in the hall.
"Mummy, just leave your washing in the laundry basket in the bathroom and it will be sorted."
"Thank you dear, I will. Goodnight."
"Night, night Mummy, don't let the bed bugs bite. There is a pile of towels for you in the bathroom. Help yourself. "
Sophie gave her mother a quick goodnight kiss. Sophie, wearing a large bath sheet, a towel wrapped around her head, padded across the hall, steam still billowing from the bathroom.
Simon finished clearing up downstairs, locked the back door and made his way upstairs.
Helen stood at the entrance to the bathroom.
"Goodnight Simon. Everything locked up safely?" She half smiled at him, looking momentarily at the stairs, but they both knew what she meant. A moment of silence, then Mrs Chandler turned around.
"Goodnght Simon. Now, where IS that laundry basket?"
Simon had an adrenalin rush. He watched his mother-in-law's curvaceous full bottom as she pulled the light switch on and entered the room. She knew precisely what he was thinking, and the thrill Helen felt almost took her breath away.
Simon couldn't sleep. He just lay there, looking at a small chink of light from the streetlamp outside spread across the ceiling. He looked at the now silent alarm clock. 2.46am. Curled up in the duvet, motionless, Sophie's breath was slow and even, her back towards him. This gave Simon some confidence.
Simon's hand went down to the strange contraption between his legs. He had almost got used to the pressure. It was near constant now.
He started to think about Mrs Chandler's comments in the hall.
' Where is that laundry basket? Where IS that laundry basket? He started to feel hot. A picture of his mother-in-law came into his head. The tightly fitting skirt stretched across her bottom. The voluptuous curve of her hips. Her slightly thickened waist. The back of her neck. His fingers ran across the smooth metal rings. Where IS that laundry basket? He saw her fingers, behind her back, unclipping her skirt. Watched the zip slowly open.
Simon's head went back, his mouth opened, he could hear his heart beating faster and faster. He thought about the lid of the laundry basket. 'Here it is Mrs Chandler. Here it is.' His legs started to shake, something had started, and he knew it wasn't going to stop now. He tried so hard not to make a sound, his head spun, where is is is is...his fingers fluttered against his testicles, the pressure became intense. The skirt fell to the floor. He whispered under his breath:-
"Let me help you Mrs Chandler."
Then Simon let out a tiny gasp of pleasure. His mind raced. He wanted to be in that bathroom more than anything in the world. A tiny jewel appeared through the thimble, and Simon rubbed his finger tips together, feeling the lubrication. Helen hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pantyhose and lent forward. But, it was just impossible, he knew he couldn't cum, the pressure increased until he thought his penis would just burst. Tears came into his eyes. The pain took over. He had to think of something else. Mrs Chandler's bottom began to appear over the waistband of her black panties. "Count sheep...1,2 3, 4. This is just awful.' The frustration was unbearable. But Simon knew he just couldn't cum.