The Price of Failure

It is not uncommon for men of a certain age to experience erectile dysfunction but this was of little comfort when it started happening to me six months ago. Vanessa was certainly not mollified by knowing she was not the first woman to discover she had a malfunctioning husband on her hands. She was understanding at first -- 'don't worry, sweetie, we'll try another time' and similar platitudes - but her patience wore thin as the failures mounted.

It was always the same. I would get hard, no problem, then come the attempt at penetration I would wilt. It became a vicious circle. I fretted in advance about losing power at the critical moment and the anxiety only made it more sure to happen.

"Jesus, not again!" my wife groaned, exasperated, after yet another flop. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She wriggled out from under me and the two of us lay apart and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. I was acutely conscious of my wife's negative aura. Her disappointment was palpable. Her frustration too. Vanessa had a healthy appetite and it had been weeks now.

We were silent for a long time, Vanessa sulking, me not knowing quite what to say. I felt dreadful.

What the fuck WAS wrong with me?

I risked a glance at Vanessa. One thing was not in doubt, the issue was with me not her. My wife loved sex and was terrific at it. She had all the tools too. She was more than twenty years younger than me, still in her prime, exceedingly pretty and possessed of a glorious body. There it was now, naked and splayed out next to me on the bed. Oh god.

When she eventually turned and spoke to me her tone was more weary than annoyed.

"Well? Cat got your tongue?"

"I'm sorry, honey," I muttered, unable to hold her gaze, not enjoying what I saw there, because along with the irritation there was more than a trace of something else - contempt.

Vanessa propped onto her side, facing me, and took hold of my flaccid penis. She began to play with it, turning me on again, and I relaxed a little, thinking we were about to do what we had been doing since the onset of my problem, a handjob, perhaps if I was lucky a blowjob, Vanessa being highly skilled at both, followed by her pushing my head between her legs and having me lick her out. I hoped so because it was nice. Not the real thing, no, but nice. And, I desperately hoped, enough for Vanessa. Not impossible, I thought, since my tongue still knew its business and I always made her cum.

Not this time. I never got the chance. Once she had me squirming and on the edge, Vanessa as usual stopped, and as usual I grinned lewdly and told her what a fucking tease she was, and to please please please finish me off, something I knew she enjoyed, me begging for sex, but on this occasion there was no resumption. Instead, she began idly flicking my cock with her finger, smirking at it.

"The poor useless thing," she coo'd, her expression one of cool disdain.

"Please, Vanessa," I said, erection gone, hating the vibe.

"Please what, sweetie?"

"Don't make fun of me."

She gurned rather nastily.

"Why not?"

"Because, you know -"

"I don't know, Mark, no. Only thing I know is that I would rather like to be fucked properly on a regular basis by a man and it appears my husband is not up to the task."

"I am sorry, honey, I really am."

"So you keep saying. But you being sorry does not fill my pussy. It wants some stiff cock. Look, I really have had it with this shit, Mark. I'm going fucking crazy. Things either change around here in the bedroom department or we better call it a day. We simply cannot continue like this."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard."

"I'm not sure I did. What exactly are you saying?"

"Divorce, honey, is what I'm saying."

"You don't mean that!"

"I'm afraid I do, Mark. A woman has needs. Surely you realize this."

I said that I did. I did realize this. And I pleaded with her not to leave me. I loved her, I insisted, and even though my dick was misbehaving I still found her incredibly attractive. I told her that she was the most gorgeous sexy woman on the planet. I told her I could not live without her -- which was true. There was also the matter of being taken to the cleaners, financially, although this I did not mention.

Vanessa seemed to quite like hearing all this and she relented. With a sudden dazzling smile she announced that she had an idea, a plan which could possibly keep us together.

I kind of guessed what this would entail before she came out with it, but was hoping I was wrong for two main reasons. One, I would detest it. Two, I would nevertheless agree. Sure enough, my fears were realized. Vanessa's price for staying in the marriage was that she be allowed to seek sexual satisfaction elsewhere. When pressed for detail, she said I would soon find out.

"This is not fair, Vanessa," I protested, but weakly, not sure that I really wanted to discuss the matter further.

She laughed abruptly.

"Got it in one. It will not be fair, sweetie, no. That's rather the point. You wanna know more about what I have in mind? OK, let me give you the essentials. From now on this relationship is all about me and what I want, therefore I am gonna have myself a good time with other men. Real men who know how to please a woman."

"Real men?"

"Yes, Mark, and I'm sure you know what that means. It means hunky young men with top of the range bodies and lovely big juicy cocks that work every time. Guys who will be only too happy to take me to bed and shag me senseless, make love to me every which way and satisfy all of my whims and desires, just like I deserve. You do agree it's what I deserve, baby, don't you?"

I nodded. It was hard to hear but I knew she was right. Vanessa was the sort of woman who deserved the best of everything and that included in the sack. Especially in the sack, let's face it.

"Good. So that's sorted."

Vanessa's tone was imperious. Having demonstrated her power over me she was now rather luxuriating in it.

"But what about me?" I asked, plaintively, hoping my obvious distress would soften her heart.

No dice. My wife laughed at me again, a mocking supercilious laugh.

With a jolt, I realized that she was relishing the situation. It was like I no longer knew this woman and it dawned on me that I could be in a heap of trouble.

Just how much trouble became clear when she resumed speaking.

"Were you not listening? I don't give a shit about you. That is all over. I won't leave you but apart from that forget it. This is about me and me and me. Well, me and my various dishy boyfriends, to be precise. Although, come to think of it, it will be a little bit about you too, because I'm gonna be telling these guys I hook up with about my pathetic inadequate husband who doesn't get to fuck me anymore, 'cos he can't get it up, and we'll be having a giggle about that while we're doing it, yeah we will, I'll make a point of joking about you and your faulty equipment, I bet they'll love that, sweetie, don't you reckon, bet these horny young studs I'll be bedding will just love the idea of pumping the hot slutty wife of some sad old bastard who these days never gets more than a sniff of her panties, and only then if he asks very nicely and she happens to be feeling generous."

Vanessa had shifted closer and was gazing at me intently, savouring the shattering impact of her words. There was a distinctly brutal glint in her deep and radiant brown eyes.

"So, yeah, don't worry, you will not be forgotten. Neglected, yes, but not forgotten. Because it will be a large part of my fun, knowing how you hate your wife screwing around with other men and yet are unable to stop her. How miserable and jealous you will feel every minute of the day. The thought of you suffering will make the whole thing even better for me. I'm really looking forward to it. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy cuckolding you. Oh and I won't be discreet. Quite the opposite. People are gonna know precisely what is going on. Everybody will be sniggering behind your back. Maybe to your face, some of them, you know how mean people can be. Just imagine the humiliation!"

She got up from the bed and, still naked, strolled around to my side. I made as if to get up too, however she stopped me.

"No, you stay there."

Standing beside me, my wife struck a provocative pose, preening and pouting. She squeezed her breasts together, massaged them sensuously, then she slowly, teasingly, ran her fingers down her belly, to her pussy, and she began pleasuring herself, all the time staring at me, a wicked grin on her face, daring me to look away.

Of course I couldn't. I was mesmerized and Vanessa knew it. She had always delighted in her physical assets and loved to flaunt them. That's how she had hooked me, in truth. Wealthy man (partner at prestigious legal practice) becomes besotted with his alluring and very flirtatious young secretary and he leaves his wife and kids for her. He divorces, remarries the little honey, and it's great, she gives him a new lease of life, he feels decades younger, meanwhile the honey gets a rich doting husband, and thus secures for herself the affluence and status that her looks entitle her to, doing the trade which she knows is best executed before she turns thirty.

OK, it's one big cliché - but it's life. And things had worked out fine. We had been happy for the five years we had been married. Until now. This.

Vanessa raised her arms above her head and began gyrating like a stripper, giggling down at me, at the shame and the frustration etched across my face as I ogled her beautiful undulating body.

"So, tell me. You think I'll have a problem attracting guys?"

The question was needling and rhetorical. We both knew they'd be queuing round the block.

"Vanessa," I pleaded, head twitching, voice barely a whisper.

Which only encouraged her. She was really enjoying this.

She stopped the sexy dancing and moved closer, gazing down at me.

"The good news is that you can still take me out sometimes. You know, to a restaurant, bar, club, whatever. Just like we do now. Because you like that, honey, don't you? You like how I always wear heels and a killer dress, how all the men ogle, wishing they were you. You like that, baby, right?"

"What man wouldn't?"

"Quite. But I wonder if you will like it quite as much if I were to encourage some of these men to chat me up, even though I'm with my husband, if I were to flirt madly with them, right in front of you, and give them my number, make it clear that I would very much welcome a call. How would that be for you, honey? Would you enjoy an evening like that?"

Vanessa paused, eyebrow raised. An answer was clearly required.

"No, honey, I would not."

"Didn't think so."

She giggled and started vamping around again.

"Poor impotent hubby. All he can do with his pretty young wife is gaze longingly at her. Oh dear. What a crying shame. Just look at you lying there drooling, the sad old schmuck tantalized by what he can't have. Aw, you poor unfortunate thing. This is so tough for you, baby, isn't it, looking at my sexy body, now you know the score. Yeah it must be. But you know what? It is also rather funny. Least I think it is."

"It's not funny, Vanessa. Not at all."

"Oh but it is. It is fucking hilarious and I aim to be amusing myself like this a whole lot. You will get plenty of drooling opportunities, sweetheart, trust me. I'm gonna be such a cockteasing bitch as far as you are concerned. If I'm not out dating some young hunk I'll be here with you at the house and I will be wearing very little, not because it's hot or anything, but just purely to torment you. It's wicked of me, I know, but that is what I plan on doing. Gonna tease the hungry dog with the delicious bone that it just can't quite reach. It will drive you completely beserk, me lolling around the place half-naked, clad in nothing but my skimpiest lingerie, or perhaps in a ridiculous little bikini, or maybe not even that, sometimes I'll be topless, let you drool at my tits, or I might decide to wear nothing at all - you know, like now - and treat you to an eyeful of lovely pussy, the pussy that is reserved exclusively for the enjoyment of other men.

"Honey, please stop this!"

"No point complaining, baby. It's too late. In any case I think I'm gonna actually prefer this new life of ours where I'm getting laid by hot young studs instead of having to tolerate the mediocre efforts of my mediocre husband. I mean, you've never been the world's greatest lover, darling, if we're being honest."

"Baby, don't say that."

"I'm afraid it's true. So this will be much much better for me. A hundred times better. Fact, I can hardly wait. I'm gonna have so much fun! Don't know which I'll love the most, screwing all these handsome strangers or tormenting my enslaved sex-starved hubby. At home you will call me 'Goddess' and spend much time kneeling before me, worshipping my unattainable body. Sometimes when I'm feeling mean I will do evil things like have you put your nose to my cunt. Yes, I like the sound of that, I might do that quite often, make you smell the sweet delicious pussy that you're being totally deprived of. Oh jesus, just think for a second how that experience will be for you. It will send you out of your tiny fucking mind!"

I lay immobile on the bed, flayed by her words and even more so by the sight of her magnificent body, flaunted ever more brazenly before me.

"Oh and another thing. I want you constantly in a state of maximum sexual frustration so there will be no jerking off."

"Vanessa, come on!"

"Nope, I mean it. I'm gonna buy one of those chastity cock cage thingies and lock you up in it. You'll be able to pee OK but nothing else. Therefore no sexual relief, not ever. Imagine that, baby. Imagine living with a woman who looks like me, constantly seeing her up close in a state of undress, watching her take a shower, a bath, sharing a bed with her at night, when she permits it, all of this and yet unable to have sex with her, forbidden to touch her, apart from when you're nosing hopelessly around her cunt, and you cannot even lessen the agony with a wank. Oh yeah and even worse, whenever you get an erection, like that rather impressive one you have right now, it will press up against this metal cage and it will kind of hurt a bit. What a predicament for a poor guy to be in! Great for his cruel and sexy wife, of course, to know that she can torture him, cause him real physical distress, whenever she feels like it simply by flashing the flesh and being a bit of a tease. She will find such a situation delicious, baby, don't you think?"

A gleeful grin from Vanessa and I could not help but grin back. Not much of one, true, but a grin nevertheless, because Vanessa's predilection for teasing was a running joke between us and it is something I have always enjoyed about her. My wife is squarely of that school of beautiful women who know they are irresistible to men and bask in their appreciation very happily. The way she looks gives her a certain arrogance which I find highly attractive. She assumes (rightly) that any male in her orbit will be desperate to win her affections and although things were a little different now as a married woman, in her younger days she had played on this quite shamelessly, either for advantage or amusement, depending on the circumstances and the male in question.

Back when she worked for me, for example, before she swapped the daily grind for the luxurious life of a rich lady of leisure, Vanessa had been an object of intense desire at the firm, had the guys there wrapped around her little finger, and she had lapped up all the adoring attention she received. Furthermore she encouraged it, coming to work in short sexy skirts and very revealing tops, outfits that were hardly professional and were guaranteed to get the male employees panting. From my privileged vantage point I used to chuckle to myself as I observed my delectable young secretary being a constant distraction to all the guys at the office. It was obvious to me that this gorgeous little minx knew exactly what she was doing to them and that she was enjoying every minute of it.

Yeah, such a pricktease, Vanessa was. She would stretch extravagantly in her chair, pouting and tossing her hair, knowing full well that every male in the vicinity was leching, eyes on stalks, craning for a better view, knowing also that before long she would be surrounded by a group of them, at which point she would get up and perch on her desk for a chat, thighs generously exposed by the inevitable riding up of her tight skirt, and as she held court she would be forever crossing and re-crossing her stunning legs, hem sliding a little higher each time, flaunting this heavenly vista at the poor slobbering guys, shoe dangling from her toes, leaning forward every so often to allow her rapt audience a peep down her cleavage, just basically driving them wild. She was incorrigible. Played them like a violin.

I loved the calculating way in which she toyed with the guys, flirted outrageously to keep them on the boil, just kind of leading them on. She would smile prettily when showered with compliments, laugh suggestively at risqué jokes as they competed to amuse and impress her, and she would sweetly and reluctantly, but nevertheless firmly, turn them down when they asked her out, which they were always doing. It was hilarious to see. Because for all their persistence none of these suckers stood a chance with the luscious Vanessa - as I subsequently discovered, I was her sole target. And of course her antics were all the more amusing to me once we'd commenced our affair and were able to josh about it together in bed. "You are terrible, baby," I used to love telling her, and she would giggle contentedly and say, "I know, the poor guys," or something like that.

Back in the here and now, Vanessa was talking to me again and it was not music to my ears.

"But none of this is the worst thing I'm gonna do. Because I plan to be an utter utter cow sometimes and bring men back to the house. Gonna rub your face in it, sweetie, you know what I mean? Like, let's see, I might come back one night a bit tipsy, couple of gorgeous boys in tow, and we will have ourselves an impromptu little party. I'll have told them all about you, how I have this hapless husband who I love to mistreat, and who they can mistreat too, in fact I want them to, and needless to say they are totally up for it, these guys, they are loving this scenario, can hardly believe their luck."

She paused for a moment, giggled, and tweaked my nose.

"You are registering all this, Mark, I hope," she said.

"I'm listening."

"You'd better be. So, yeah, me in my cute little dress, partying with two big hunks in the lounge, much laughter, lots of flirting, then some smooching and canoodling, both guys with the serious hots for me, and me for them, with you sat there stewing in the corner and looking on, apart from when we want something, a refill, the music changed, some snacks, whatever, in which case we snap our fingers and you run around doing our bidding. You will be our servant essentially. Oh and you will be naked, because after introducing you to my lovers the first thing I will do is make you strip for our entertainment. So all you'll be wearing as you attend to our needs is your cock cage. Oh god, can you picture it?"

I could - although I was trying not to.

"Yeah, my chastity slave boy, looking completely fucking ridiculous and doing whatever me and these two guys, my love interest for the night, tell him to do. We'll go to town with it, especially the guys. They will see how this situation amuses me, therefore they will be total bastards and treat you like shit, bossing you around, calling you names, forcing you to do really demeaning things. You will refer to them as 'sir' or 'master', because that is what they are, your superiors, and will do exactly what they tell you to. Which could be anything at all, whatever takes their fancy. For instance if they announce that you have become a little dog, you will nod enthusiastically and proceed to scamper around the room on all fours going woof woof. Perhaps the pair of them would appreciate it if you grovelled at their feet while they're fooling around with me. Or, what about this, they could force you to -- actually, no, let me leave the rest to your vivid imagination. It won't be pretty, shall we say. As for me, I will be just laughing, offering the occasional suggestion, and generally egging them on to be as sadistic and heartless as they like. I'll say they can even slap you around a little if they want."