The Key My Wife Kept at Our Wedding

—How time flies, right?

I looked at her through the dressing-room mirror. She was still wearing her wedding dress, and in my head I could still hear the “I do” we had said only a few hours earlier. Marina came up behind me, unhurried, with that sweet look she knew so well how to fake when it suited her.

“This is a before and after, my love,” she said, smiling.

She kissed me calmly, almost tenderly. And, as every time her body pressed against mine, the chastity belt tightened and reminded me that what had once been mine now belonged to her. I shifted, uncomfortable, and tried to get myself situated without managing it.

“Do you know that from today your life is mine?” she murmured against my ear.

I searched for her eyes in the reflection. Beneath the sweetness there was a cold, calculating core, while she wrapped her arms around my chest.

“I know,” I answered, nothing more.

“Relax,” she added, glancing sideways at my caged groin. “Tonight I’ll take it off.”

I smiled like an idiot. At last she was going to take it off. I had been locked up for months, counting the days, begging with my eyes every time she got undressed in front of me without letting me touch her. That was the happiest day of my life, and I owed it all to her. I belonged to her.

“I’ll see you after the banquet,” she said. “When I leave, count twenty minutes and come up.”

And she left the dressing room in her gorgeous dress, heading for the grand dining hall.

***

The hours dissolved into toasts and laughter. The estate was halfway up the mountain, with a long pool splitting the garden in two and a sky so clear it looked painted. We all drank, we all danced. Marina opened the wedding dance leaning against me, smiling at the guests, and when dinner ended she stood up, brushed the back of my neck with her fingers, and disappeared up the stairs.

I counted the twenty minutes like a condemned man counts the seconds before his sentence. When they were up, I crossed the garden almost running, tripping over my own shoes as I went around the pool. I went upstairs, reached the suite door, and before opening it, heard the commotion on the other side.

I pushed the door open and froze in the doorway.

Marina was on all fours on the bed, with her wedding dress hiked up to her waist, and a man I had never seen in my life —still in his shirt and with the suit trousers half down— was pounding her from behind. I felt shame rising up my neck like a fever. He looked at me and laughed without stopping his thrusts.

She noticed I was there. They didn’t stop. She turned her head and gave me that brazen expression she used to wear back when I was the one fucking her; the same one, or even worse. She didn’t look away from me, and I swear she came right then, biting her lip while one long moan singled me out as if I were the guilty one.

She gestured for me to come closer. She tried to speak, but her voice broke into another gasp. I moved slowly, and halfway there my legs gave out and I ended up on my knees. Marina brought a hand to her neck, tore off a fine chain from which hung a small key, and threw it to the floor at my feet before leaning down to kiss me while she came again.

“What a bitch you are,” the stranger said, and a slap cracked dryly through the whole room.

I picked up the key from the parquet floor. She tried to say something again, but pleasure cut her off hard.

Inside me a dull rage was born that my submissive side snuffed out at once, as if two different men lived under my skin: one who wanted to rip that guy off my wife, and another who only wanted to obey. The second won, as always.

I looked at Marina’s face, expectant, waiting for her to free me at last. I slipped the key into the padlock of the belt without taking my eyes off her, hurt, and opened it. I had been locked up so long that the simple touch of air felt like someone else’s caress.

The man stopped, and the two of them, as if they had rehearsed the choreography, changed positions. Marina lay back down, drew up her legs, and he went back in. She still had her heels on. She stretched one foot toward me and made me understand, with nothing but her eyes, what she wanted.

I moved close and let her grab me by the neck. She dug her nails in, all hot and flushed, and pushed her foot against my lips. I took off the shoe carefully, and as soon as the sole was free, she shoved her toes into my mouth. I licked them because that was what she expected of me.

“Cum,” she said, almost out of breath.

I started jerking off while I watched the stranger hold her by the throat, shove two fingers into her mouth, and then land a slap across her face. Marina was loving it; she was loving it more than she had ever loved it with me.

Three strokes were enough for me to feel I was about to burst. I stopped dead, holding back.

They both looked at me. I answered only to her.

“I haven’t come in a long time…” I excused myself.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered.

I jerked myself off a couple more times and came almost without feeling it, emptying myself into my own hand with a mix of relief and humiliation.

“Keep it,” she managed to say between thrusts.

“Should I clean myself?” I asked, waiting for her permission.

“No,” she replied, annoyed, cutting off her sentence with another orgasm.

I put the chastity belt back on over all the semen and pulled up my underwear. The cold metal trapped once again what would never truly be mine again.

***

Then she grabbed me by the hair and brought my head down to her belly, forcing me to watch head-on as the other man’s cock went in and out of her. The sound did not stop, slap after slap of flesh against flesh. Each thrust was harder, and Marina’s screams drilled through the walls as if she were being punished, as if she were suffering and that was exactly what she wanted.

The man lifted one of her legs and rested it on his shoulder, leaving one ass cheek exposed. He started spanking her with his hand, harder and harder. The more intense her orgasms were, the more fiercely she pressed my head against her skin. A tear escaped me without permission. Not from sadness: from something I wouldn’t know how to name.

When they stopped, they shoved me aside. Marina grabbed me by the neck again and threw me flat on my back on the bed. She got on top of me the other way around, with her sex over my face and her head at the height of my caged groin. He positioned himself behind her. I saw, a hand’s breadth from my face, how he penetrated her again, his balls hanging down, the thick smell of sex getting into my throat.

He spanked her again and sped up until, at last, he reached the end. He pulled out, took aim, and semen shot out over my wife’s pussy and ass, slowly sliding down until it dripped onto my face. She sat up, opened her legs while lying on her back, and looked at me with that triumphant expression, as if the one who had just fucked her had been me.

“Clean me up,” she said, licking her lips.

I crawled toward her like a dog and, afraid, stuck out my tongue.

“Come on, put some effort into it, let it show that she’s your wife,” the guy said behind my back.

I heard Marina laugh while I started licking. She cut herself off suddenly to come one more time, I suppose because of how filthy the scene was.

“Yes…” she panted, trembling. “Clean me well, puppy.”

I tasted her used sex, her sweaty skin, the other man’s trace. I tasted her whole wedding night and cleaned off every last bit. When I was done, she lifted my face with two fingers and kissed me with a lovestruck expression.

“I love you,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

“Tsk,” she warned, raising an eyebrow, making it clear I had better answer if I didn’t want to anger her.

“I love you, baby.”

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she told the stranger, in a tone she had never used with me. “Bitch.”

He just smiled. When the two of us got up, I was already dressed. Marina put on her thong with the wedding dress still over it, and when she turned I saw her bruised ass from the spanking.

“Come on, or they’ll start wondering where the bride and groom have gone,” she said, mocking me.

***

Back in the dining hall, where everyone was still drinking, laughing, and dancing, a college friend came over to me with two glasses in his hands.

“Fuck, you could have at least tried to be discreet.”

I looked at him, frightened, not understanding what he meant.

“Nothing would have happened if you’d waited until the end of the party. Look at her, what a mess she’s got in her hair. You must have had the time of your life, huh?”

I searched for Marina with my eyes. She was dancing in the center of the room, surrounded by her friends, beside the man who had just fucked her in front of me. She moved like a goddess, owner of every gaze in the room.

“You have no idea,” I replied.

The stranger met my gaze and laughed under his breath, making some comment to his buddies. I imagined them all laughing at me. I turned on my heel and tried not to cross paths with him for the rest of the night.

As I went back to the table, I felt the weight of the belt between my legs and her taste still in my mouth. It was my wedding night. It was the happiest day of my life. And, for the first time, I wasn’t sure who that happiness belonged to.