Scrip didn't get Marigold. First she'd asked him to bring home other men for threesomes, then she'd told Scrip, after a few session that she didn't want him to participate.
Really, but to "just watch" which was fine with Scrip, as it seemed most of the time when there was a three-way.
Marigold did almost all the sucking and attention on the other guy while Scrip was asked to like, do weird shit like suck the guy's balls.
After Marigold had had Scrip be a voyeur during her fuck fests with the young men he brought home, she sometimes gave him a little loving' after it was all over.
First she'd have her slave husband Rusk suck the semen out of her clit, and often lick used juices off the other guy's dick.
THEN she'd fuck Scrip later in the night....
But after a while Marigold began just telling Scrip that she was feeling "icky" after sex with other men.
Yes and she didn't want him touching her, even denying him her glorious breasts, saying her nipples were tender.
At one point, Marigold had asked Scrip if he would clean her and one of her lovers up, and Scrip had rebelled, mildly.
Certainly, Rusk was good for that, he'd done that with Scrip and Marigold when Scrip had first entered the picture, but Rusk was a slave!
He was Marigold's submissive, damn it and that wasn't Scrip!
Scrip was a red-blooded man, a former military officer, damn it.
A guy's guy. What was also distressing about Marigold was that she wasn't fucking Scrip anymore at all, even when she wasn't having her lively nights with other guys.
Marigold had a couple of girls she fooled around with.
Phoebe, and the new one, Kourtney,,,they were her slave girls, and it kept her kind of busy, but still, Scrip was supposedly her boyfriend and she wasn't letting him touch her at all.
Scrip begged and Marigold denied, and Rusk heard their exchanges and gave Scrip a wistful smile. I've been there, the smile said.
As Scrip was now Rusk's dominant as well as Marigold, this wistful, knowing smile of Rusk's had enraged him.
Yes and he'd taken out some of the tension and stress by giving Rusk a brutal whipping with a two by four from the back yard.
But Rusk had taken it without a murmur, even when the welts became bloody. Then, when Scrip had calmed down, Rusk had said,
"Remember that Disney movie, Pinocchio, when the little donkeys take him in the cart to Pleasure Island, but after some fun, Pinocchio becomes a donkey himself?
Watch and see, Scrip, your time is coming."
After some time, Scrip's sexual frustration came to a peak.
Marigold's refusals for nookie just drove him nuts.
Besides she looked so enticing, her long dark curls setting off the brief camisoles she paraded around in...it was very difficult!
If Scrip had still been living in his condo, he could've just dated other women.
Marigold had implied that she might divorce Rusk and marry Scrip if he bought her a fairly expensive Andy Warhol painting she'd seen on a trip to New York.
Besotted, Scrip had sold his condo, his Rolex, his sports car and his truck, emptied his Merrill Lynch portfolio.
And his Roth IRA and 401K, divested his company stock options and borrowed 20 K from his grandmother and given her the Warhol as an engagement present.
Marigold had thanked Scrip for the painting but said she was quite happily married to Rusk, thank you very much, and that she'd been just kidding, though the painting went right on her wall.
"You need a place to live, Scriptor.
Why don't you rent my furnace room downstairs? Where the boiler is.
My submissive nephew Birdie, the college student has now moved to the potting shed out back, and you can have the whole furnace room for only $900 a month."
Now of course, Scrip, renting a room in Marigold's house, obviously couldn't bring women back there, and so he was REALLY horny.
One night he was in the furnace room jerking off and Marigold came in without knocking and all hell broke loose.
"Scrip what are you doing?" Marigold screamed.
"This is a violation of our relationship, of our trust"
Marigold picked up Scrip's copy of "Barely Legal" and ripped it into shreds as she continued to shriek at him.
"Honey, we haven't made love in over four months."
Scrip whined helplessly. "I'm just so horny."
Marigold sniffed in contempt.
"I keep my husband Rusk in a chastity device because he is such a weak willed baby. But I expected more from you, Scrip. I really did."
"Please oh please don't lock up my dick." Scrip begged.
He was still holding his penis in his hand, and felt a little ridiculous.
Scrip had watched Rusk in his chaste frustration, months and months of having his genitals locked up in that horrible thing, and not getting to cum at all.
When Marigold had her wild parties, orgies.
Those where Rusk's mouth was kept busy on the crotches of men and women, and his asshole constantly rammed by lively bisexuals...
Yes, and having to watch Marigold, his wife and everyone else have numerous orgasms fucking various people...
And at the end of the night, poor Rusk was sexually frustrated, jaw cramped after all that sucking, and Scrip would hear Rusk crying himself to sleep...
Marigold gave Scrip a severe lecture about onanism and self-abuse.
Scrip took a cold shower and went to bed, trying to keep his hands above the covers. But it didn't end there.
The next day, at the property brokerage company, Scrip's secretary, Ms. Finch, a shapely but sixtyish lady, accosted him.
Scrip was always a little freaked out by Ms. Finch, as he'd heard that she had a weird relationship with the partner who had been her direct boss before him.
Ms. Finch apparently used to take the guy's pants down and whip his ass with a wooden hairbrush once a week!
Finally he'd retired, but Scrip worried sometimes that Ms. Finch missed having that kind of deal going on...
But what she said to him was even weirder.
"Give me your bathroom key, Scrip"
(that's right. She called him Scrip and he called her Ms. Finch).
It turned out that Marigold had told Ms. Finch that Scrip spent too much time in the bathroom and was "wasting water" Of course she suspected he was jerking off...
"You know Mrs. Ruskin is a partner's wife, Scriptor, and we must indulge her whims." Ms. Finch said with a grim smile.
Ms. Finch began timing Scrip in the lavatory, and accompanying him when he showed properties, ensuring that he didn't spend too much time in THEIR bathrooms, either.
And then she told Scrip that Marigold required that Scrip be home within ten minutes, and had the bus schedule memorized...
Ah because of course Scrip had sold the car to pay for Marigold's painting!
At home Scrip still complained bitterly about "not getting any" which Marigold criticized grammatically as a sentence fragment, but oh well.
"What you need is something to distract you, Scrip. More housework?"
But of course that wasn't enough.
And then she caught him again, beating off in the shower, and Marigold went nuts. She told Scrip she would throw him out in the street if this kept up. "I have an idea though..."
Marigold had Scrip over a barrel. He didn't want to be a slave like Rusk was, but on the other hand, his bank accounts were empty and he had nowhere else to live.
He didn't see his old pals or his family anymore because he'd become so obsessed with Marigold, and without those old contacts—
Yes, and the truth was, even though his parents probably would have taken him in, he loved Marigold and would do anything...she was just so hot!
Looking at her shouting at him, wearing a tight white and red striped sweater-dress...
Ah he knew, he just knew eventually she'd let him lay her again. It might just take time. So he probably should humor her.
It really worried him. He didn't want to wind up like Rusk, whose cock never could achieve full erection in that little lock-up deal he had.
Marigold spent much time teasing and driving Rusk mad.
Yes, and recently she'd tied Rusk naked to the floor and put a sort of board with a hole in it across his legs, with his penis and balls sticking out of the hole.
Marigold had then used her high heel to jam his penis against the board, stubbing at it as if it were a cigarette butt on the sidewalk...
And then she reversed the board so it was behind Rusk's legs with the penis and balls sticking out back...and Rusk was forced to stay on his knees.
"You like this little board thing, Scrip?"
Marigold asked coquettishly once, while putting Rusk through his paces.
"It's called a Humbler."
She paused and tapped the Humbler, which was locking poor Rusk's balls behind his legs as he crouched on all fours.
"The humbler consists of a testicle cuff device that clamps around the base of the scrotum, mounted in the centre of a bar that passes behind the thighs at the base of the buttocks.
This forces the wearer to keep his legs folded forward, as any attempt to straighten the legs even slightly pulls directly on the scrotum, causing from considerable discomfort to extreme pain"
Marigold had laughed as she described what poor Rusk was going through.
"I sometimes leave Rusk in the Humbler for entire weekends, though I'm not sure how good it is for his back."
Marigold smiled.
"See how I lock it with the bolts and all?
Tight as anything.
And then I can whip his ass, and my cane hits his balls too, and he can't get far, because of course he's hobbled by the damn thing."
Marigold had then whacked Rusk's balls and cock, sticking out of the Humbler as they were.
Then he began trying to get away, and she whacked again and again, and Rusk burst into tears and attempted to scuttle away on his knees.
But when she paused, Rusk paused too and looked up at her adoringly, clad as she was in super tiny shorts and white boots, and a brief tube top.
Scrip could see that Rusk's dick was trying to harden, but it didn't have a lot of room to, as half of it was trapped in the two boards that were locked together.
Scrip could tell that in a way, Rusk was experiencing an ecstasy that escaped Scrip...
