I can imagine her, lying in bed with her new man, telling stories of our failed marriage and laughing. Laughing at me, of course.
And no doubt one of the thing they'd be laughing at would be my bondage interests. She was interested when I first told her my fantasies of being tied up and helpless. She tried tying me to the bed and getting on top. She even made a game of hiding the keys to my chastity belt, and teasing me about it until we got to bed.
But it became clear that she was never really into it. What started out as fun became a chore, and she gave up.
This is probably just the story she's telling her new guy now, except she'd probably insert a few extra words, like 'pathetic' and 'stupid'.
After I'd come to realise she wasn't into the bondage game, I had started doing it 'solo'. She didn't mind, as long as it didn't involved her doing anything.
I got a time lock safe, and at the beginning of each month I would set the timer for about a week, lock my chastity belt on, and then lock the keys into the safe. I would then spend the week feeling secured and helpless, and would enjoy becoming free after a week. Sometimes that enjoyment would be with the assistance of my wife, but usually not.
Some time a few weeks after she had left me, I found that she had used her key to come back into the house. She had taken her half of our CD collection, and left my half in a metal bucket which was also full of burning paper. The stench of burning plastic filled the house.
It was the end of the month, and I knew she would try some nasty trick to give me problems with my chastity belt when I put it on in a few days, so I checked out the equipment carefully.
Sure enough, she had changed the time delay on the safe, so if I had locked it without checking, it would have stayed locked for a year.
I checked over the belt and lock, and found that she had filled the lock's keyhole with glue. Anticipating a problem, I had already bought a replacement lock, but since the lock she ruined was locked at the time, she must have known it wouldn't catch me out.
All else was clear, so I slipped on the belt, locked it up, and put the keys into the safe.
The sound I had been waiting for all week - it indicated that the time delay had expired and the safe could now be opened.
As I got up to go over to the safe, the phone rang. I cursed the bad timing, but answered it anyway.
The voice said, "Hello, small-fry." It was my estranged wife.
"What do you want?"
"I've just called to see if you are enjoying your usual time in your chastity belt."
"Yes I am, and don't worry, I found all your booby traps."
"Did you? Did you find them all?"
For a moment, I worried, but I remembered checking all components for signs of tampering. "Yes, I'm quite sure. In fact, the safe has already opened."
"Well, that's okay, you must be okay then, mustn't you."
I went over to the safe and took the keys out. Meanwhile she continued to talk. "On a completely different note, have you ever heard of epoxy adhesives? They come as two parts which are each harmless, but when they're mixed together they form a very solid bond."
Her talk of glues was worrying me, so I quickly put the key into the lock. It turned and the lock popped open just as it always did. I said, "I don't know what you think you've done, but my chastity belt lock is operating just fine."
She continued, "I'm sure the lock is fine. However, when you were examining the belt, did you notice a very thin layer of clear fluid on the parts of the waist band that overlap? The parts that are squeezed together by the lock locking post?"
I pulled the lock off the belt; it came off fine. I then tried to pull apart the two halves of the belt, but they wouldn't come apart!
I vaguely heard her carry on, "All the time you've been wearing the belt, those two layers of otherwise harmless fluid have been pressed together, mixing up, and forming a rock hard bond between the two halves of the waist belt."
It was stuck solid. I shouted, "You bitch! What have you done to it?"
She just giggled. "There is a solvent available - of course, you have to know what sort of epoxy it is to get the right solvent."
I tried to say, "What? How? Where do I get it?" but the line had gone dead.
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