It started way before the wedding. I had been submitting to Thomas for years. We had slowly been evolving to a TPE relationship but without a lot of the trapping of classical BDSM. I wanted to feel controlled every moment of every day and he wanted to practice that control over me.
Before the engagement, there was tests of this control. He started to buy clothes for me and he started to purge things he did not like for me to wear. I loved wearing what he loved for me to wear.
We enrolled in classes together. One semester it was a glassblowing class, the next on French philosophy. The activities he wanted and desired filled more and more of my time. He doesnât speak any foreign languages but started me on language programs too. He said when we travel he thought it would be sexy for me to serve him as a translator, and that hit me where I live because I just want to serve. So more of my time was taken up.
I was already fit but Thomas was muscular. He said he didnât want muscle for me but a lean triathlete body. So I stopped lifting as much just once a day for conditioning while the rest was filled with swimming, cycling and running. Those exercises also lent itself for me to be able to listen to language tapes. He was supportive and got me any gear that was needed and he loved for me to model skin tight trisuits and the like and tell me that I am beginning to look like a triathlete but there is always room for improvement. He found coaches to formulate healthy plans with appropriate training intervals and a nutritionist to improve my diet even more.
I was the one that proposed. I did it as we were eating dinner. I was the one who was sent to cooking school and although Thomas will sometimes help out, he likes listening to me in the kitchen as he reads a book. Our diets were very different by this point. He would be alternating between billing and cutting, while my diet was more about leaning out.
He said yes and I was so happy, because our love for each other was so strong and he said he canât wait to make my obedience official. And I replied that the more control he has the better. COVID hit the next month and it was decided we would move in together. We were both freelance financial journalists so it was easy to work from home. And we bought the apartment of our neighbor who had moved back home. We did some home improvement and put in a door to combine both units and turned the extra space into a home gym for ourselves.
All this gave more opportunities of control. He got me a chastity belt as an engagement ring and promised me strict chastity for myself until we got married. He loved having yet more control over me. And I hated it but I also enjoyed the submission. It definitely helped me focus more on serving him sexually, and he would mumble how he hopes that COVID quarantine would last forever.
He started to control me in other ways at this time as well. He started scheduling my time. My free time was disappearing with more and more cardio and other things that interested him. That included things like stripping and repainting every piece of furniture in the place. He liked playing with some fetish gear since we were both stuck at home during that time as well. It felt good to be accomplished and it felt good to be of service and it was good to be submissive. He particularly liked putting our face masks on and go grocery shopping. I would be gagged under mine, and I would usually be plugged as well. I might even have full rubber underneath my street wear.
Not everything was perfect though. I might go off schedule. I might miss a training goal. I might fail a language quiz. I might please him correctly. I might complain about my submission ( even though that is what I asked for). He wasnât a sadist and I wasnât a masochist. But punishment would be swift and severe. Spankings, rulers on hands, cornertime, writing lines, skipped meals or extra exercise. The worst part of punishment was losing what little free time I had. He also reminded me though that is the best part of punishment since it would be more time controlled.
Eventually the quarantines began to be lifted and the wedding could be planned in earnest. He did most of the planning while I took calligraphy courses and such. He declared that anything handwritten by me going forward should be just as beautiful as the invitations I was ordered to write out. He loved instilling new skills in me and I did love yet more control and the sense of accomplishment when finishing the invitations. But now grocery lists were now a chore and a writing lines punishment was a trial.
Thomas also picked the suit I was to wear and that I would be wearing a corset underneath so my slim fit would be a nice contrast to his muscles. I said that sounded like it would look nice and I would of course do anything he asked. He said he was glad to hear it because it was just not a corset for the day but for the six months leading up to the wedding so I could be properly tightlaced and right as possible. The tightlacing he me change my diet even more. He had me switch to a pure liquid diet so grilled chicken and salad was now run through a food processor with a liter of water. Sitting at the dinner table tightlaced eating my liquid dinner through a straw just excited him more, especially as he ate heaps of food that I deliciously prepared.
My only reprieve from the corset and the chastity was when I exercised because of the chaffing they would cause. It just made me enjoy my workouts more, but I was never free enough from his gaze that I could âcheatâ during those times.
The wedding eventually came and went in a flash of an eye. I had a punishing leather corset on over a rubber catsuit hidden under a slim cut three piece suit. I couldnât really eat or drink anything during the whole time and I was encouraged to go from table to socialize like a good host. He did order my shoes too small as well just so I could feel every new step into our future. I loved the control and the chastity release later that night almost made it all worth it. The experience of his control was what really made it worth it.
Thomas had done all the honeymoon planning. He wanted everything to be a surprise. I would just need my passport. I was originally lead to believe that our trip was going to be about two weeks but on the flight to Paris he said it was going to be forty days and since we are both freelancers that shouldnât be a problem. I agreed and we had a blissful first night in Paris free of the chastity belt, free of the corset but never free from him again.
He was up before me humming as he was busying away. I woke up hungry and horny for another round. He smiled and kissed me and told me it was time to show off his surprise. He mentioned that my cardio training has not been the same with the tightlaced corset training, and that he has a plan to make up for it. He went to the main door to our suite and rolled a beautiful high-end piece of engineering. A road race bicycle.
He explained that we would be going through a 40-day tour throughout all of Europe. He has arranged to be ona series of bus tours where they would set out after breakfast and tour a site or two with lunch before coming to rest at a new hotel and dinner. My trip would be different though. I would head out before breakfast everyday and bike to the final destination with the expectation of beating the bus at the final destination, which should be doable since the bus would be stopping at local points of interest and an hour lunch everyday.
I would not be enjoying any of the delicious cuisines. Thomas with my nutritionist had concocted a nutritional shake that was all natural with no sugars and no artificial sweeteners. With his charming smirk, he said that neither of them really put any consideration into its taste because this was my fuel not my food. And that fuel would be rationed to one of my water bottles as I start off each day. My only encounter with food would be sitting by Thomasâs side every dinner at Europeâs finest restaurants smelling the fabulous food but only sipping ice water. If anyone asks me about it I would just have to explain that I was in training, which would be true because Thomas has already started scheduling triathalons and marathons for the next couple of years. He said that he might start scheduling ultramarathons and fierce triathalons like the Norseman by our fifth anniversary.
For the next forty days though I would be just cycling. Thomas pulled out a map and showed me the different legs expected of me. No leg was shorter than 50 miles while many were over 100 miles. Many days would be through the mountains as well with over a 1000 feet of elevation gain. He turns and winked at me explaining that I have gotten to comfortable with just flats riding on the bike in our gym and that it is time for me to learn how to climb. He said how great it would be for me to be cycling some of the same routes of the Tour de France and other great races.
Thomas also explained that I would be riding naked. No I would still have a pair of cycling bib shorts and jersey, but I would have no tech with me. No headphones which would be unsafe. But also no gps or phone. Not even a spedometer or odometer. He wasnât even allowing me a map. There would be a gps on the bike, so Thomas could track me and know where I was especially if I got in trouble. But every morning I would just be given a destination, and I would have to rely on my language skills to find the location.
If I got to the rendezvous before Thomas he promised he would give me a massage (he has been taking classes too). We might also have sex with a possible built not guaranteed orgasm for me. If I was late. I would be punished. It usually will be physical and an ass strapping on a saddle sore ass was promised to be motivating. A cold shower would replace a massage. And any sex would include extensive CBT. I would also have to sleep on the floor with an extra early alarm so I would have extra time for the next leg.
As I stand there practically in shock he goes to a bad and pulls out some cycling kit. It is overtly America with Stars and Stripes everywhere. He smiles saying, âI thought you should be a cultural ambassador during your trip. You know how much the French love Americans. I am sure this will help finding directions. Now get changed.â
As I got changed he pointed out where the tire repair kit and sunscreen was stowed, and the differences between the water bottles with one with water, another with unsweetened electrolytes and the last filled with my âfuelâ. He then walked me outside in the autumn morning sun. He told me he was glad we were having good weather today because there would surely be cold and wet days in my near future. He then tells me a hotel name I have never heard before and was told it was about 70-80 miles away and that he hoped I donât get lost and forced to double back. His bus will be taking him to two two wineries for tasting tours. He then kissed me and said he would think of me and that he hoped I would think of him with every peddle and be thankful for all the planning he had done for me. He then said that he hoped I succeeded because he really doesnât want to punish me so I should get started right away. He than grabbed my hard cock through my Lycra shorts and said, âHappy Honeymoon, Husband.â And then walked back into the hotel.
As I watched his back leaving me, I wondered what I was in for dying this marriage if this was our honeymoon. I already felt exhausted and absolutely controlled. There was no way to hide my hardon with the Lycra. I wanted to be controlled and now I was in ways that pleases him. I was just a guy next door there-days a week gym guy. Now I was a triathlete. I was Thomasâs triathlete. And I was that triathlete for him. His choices controlled and defined me and I couldnât be happier.
amandla
theartofmadeline
titsay
2087
ellievsbear
