Erotic Novella: The Marriage Consultant


The first part of my erotic novella, The Marriage Consultant, a story about a relationship coach that uses some… alternative techniques.

I walked into Slade’s office, where he was diligently typing away.  “Slade, I need to file some paperwork in the office today, I should be back by one, at the latest.  Should I pick up anything while I’m out?”  I had already called my assistant to come pick me up, she should be outside any minute. 

He looked up at me, eyebrows raised.  “…Lunch?” 

I smiled.  “Consider it done.”  I kissed him on the cheek and walked out.

I gathered up my bag, notes, and tablet, and shoved my dirty clothes underneath as neatly as I wanted to — which was not very.  I heard a soft car horn from outside.  Perfect timing, as always.  

My assistant was standing in front of the passenger door.  “Good morning, Ms. Thompson,” she said, perfectly neutral.

“Good morning, Gina.”  I smiled at her politely, noting her new pencil skirt — very on-trend with an exposed metal zipper hugging the curve of her ass.  “Pretty skirt,” I remarked sincerely.  I let my eyes follow down the line to her black strap stilettos, then back up to her white business blouse and blonde chignon.  Her blouse had the top button undone, showing just a hint of perfect cleavage.  She was extremely attractive, even if I was not normally attracted to women.  I felt I had to give credit where credit was due.     

She opened the door for me, and I handed her my bag.  “Thank you, ma’am.”  She seemed pleased at my compliment.

Our first stop was my apartment, so I could pick up another week’s worth of clothes.  I intentionally picked some more revealing pieces: shorter skirts and tighter jeans. 

I wanted to keep Slade’s mind where it belonged.  

When we arrived at the office, I let Gina open my door and take my bag.  I strode in confidently, glad to be back on my own ground.  As I sat down at my desk, and Gina followed me in, clipboard in hand.  I listened passively to her weekly report, mildly bored by the humdrum day-to-day of the office.  There were several phone calls I needed to return, but she had already taken care of the email.  There were no new hot prospects, which was okay for the time being.  I didn’t like to leave one client at home to go meet with another, anyway.  I thanked Gina for her work and she politely excused herself.  As she walked out, I couldn’t help but notice that shiny zipper swaying back and forth.  I should really think of getting a skirt like that for myself — it worked.  

Phone calls didn’t take long.  I synced my notes on Slade from my tablet to my work laptop, adding in a few more details.  Overall, I thought the first week had gone well, except for a little bit of a rough start.  He seemed to be getting into the flow of things, now, though.  Of course, it was just the first week, and I had been purposely behaving myself.  I took a deep breath.  Hopefully next week would continue to work for us.  

My phone buzzed.  It was Gina, reminding me of my next appointment.  I felt my heart rate quicken. 

This was the part I was looking forward to the least.  Or the most?  Definitely the least, I thought. 

I had mixed feelings about it. 

The door to my office opened quietly, Gina poked her head in.  “Ready, Ms. Thompson?”  Her voice was soothing, the same tone you’d use to encourage a shy child before her first public speech.  

I half-smiled.  “I suppose so, let’s get it over with.”  I followed her out the door and down the hall, where my heart rate suddenly became a deafening toll in my chest.  Even though we did this every week, it never really got easier for me.  

We walked into our office bathroom, which was a modest marble-tiled wet room, a custom job I had installed shortly after we moved in.  Along with the normal appurtenances, we had a roomy walk-in shower with a molded stone lounge.  Dark wood cabinets of soft towels and other bath supplies were along the adjoining wall.  It had a very spa-like feel to it, which always put me more at ease.  

Gina stood expectantly as I removed my clothes and placed them neatly on a shelf near the door.  I opened the drawer underneath and took out the set of PVC hand and ankle cuffs.  I clicked them in place, thinking that although I normally prefer leather restraints, they didn’t really hold up in the shower for very long.  The metal attachments clinked against the hard plastic as I walked over to the lounge.  I flipped a switch to turn on the radiant heat inside the stone bench and laid down, the metal of my chastity belt connecting with a dull clack.  Gina gently took my hands and connected them by screwable carbiener to an eye hook above my head.  I pulled on the restraint subconsciously; it didn’t give.

My assistant turned away from me and began to undress herself. 

She was absolutely beautiful, and she knew it. 

Slowly slipping one shoulder off, then the other, she looked back at me with those wicked blue eyes.  My breath became quicker and more shallow as my body reminded me of all the sex I had had this past week, with no release.  She wiggled her hips to remove her tight skirt, bending over at the waist unnecessarily.  Her heels, lacy pink bra, and tiny thong were next.  She folded everything and brought it over to her shelf.  She returned to stand in front of me in her full glory, perfect body, perfect breasts, perfectly smooth everywhere.  I couldn’t help but be aroused, and a little envious.  

In her hand Gina swayed a single key, smiling at me.  “Excited?”

I moaned.  “Oh, my god, yes.” 

“Yes, what?”  She frowned playfully.  

“Yes… ma’am,” I sighed, blushing slightly.  

“That’s better.  Because who holds the key?’

“You do, ma’am.”  I blushed harder.  

Gina looked pleased with herself as she inserted the key into the lock of my belt.   I heard it click apart, and I felt the two rows of magnets down each side of my pussy release their grip.  More importantly, the magnet attached to my clit ring clicked open.  

That was really the part that kept the shield in place — the ring through my clit.  While in a desperate moment, I might want to rip the subdermal piercings out, if I ripped the clitoral piercing, I’d be ruined — never able to cum again.  Better to play this chastity game, with the hope of ultimate release, then risk losing the ability forever.  

I let out a sigh as I felt the cool air rush past my pussy, the first time in a week.  The design of the shield allows me to keep fairly clean, but nothing feels as good as fresh air.  

Photo by Henry Ravenscroft on Unsplash

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