I’d never taken kindly to the saying “ball and chain” being applied to marriage. Of course, we all know the tired tropes of old, bitter couples only still together by some unfortunate combination of convenience and familiarity and venting their frustrations in whispers behind each other’s backs, desperately pleading to be freed from the self-imposed prison of their ill-fated marriage.

As much as I acknowledged the potential for a happily wed couple to metamorphosize into the shambling, ruined husk of two unhappy parties unwittingly joined at the hip with no hope of separation, I’d never so much as considered such a fate would befall me. Perhaps you could call it naivete, a childish positivity in my approach to the world that closed me off to any possibility of my marital bliss dissolving into stale, bitter disenchantment as it did with so many.

If that was indeed the case, Jen, my wife, did little to help in dissuading me of my notions of a perfectly tranquil romance with the woman I would forever love. Jen was…is my everything, I still think back fondly on her lustrous smile and carefree nature, a sprightly goddess of beauty right next door who took an interest in a bashful, nerdy kid like me.

Our romance was a whirlwind, every day with her was fresh, every beaming smile on her lips setting my heart alight as my blood pulsed within my veins in heart palpitating excitement. Years trickled by with us arm in arm, astounded by the euphoria that encapsulated me in her acceptance, her joy, what little family I had in my youth had never gave me the connection she so readily provided, and I was quick to center my life around building a future for the family we would build together.

It wasn’t easy, of course, and I would be dishonest to say there weren’t some speed bumps along the road to our happily ever after, but we’d achieved it soon enough. Jen only seemed to become all the more astoundingly beautiful in my eyes once she’d sworn herself to me on the altar…but now her fiery gaze held a promise of otherworldly pleasure that would set my world spinning in her grasp. She was…impassioned, to put it lightly, inviting me into the sensual realm where I did all I could to bring her pleasure matching mine, eager to learn, to touch, to make her feel some fraction of the wanton bliss she laid before me so readily.

And for a time, that was our marriage. A timeless, infinitely passionate affair that I never wanted to end. Our child, Melanie, was born from our union not too long after, and I could feel my heart widen with unmatched love the moment I laid eyes on her crying face. We were a family, perhaps not an extraordinary one, but a happy one nonetheless.

The sex slowed down a bit, but I was fine with that, Jen was a mother now and it only made sense for her to focus her efforts on raising our child to the best of her ability. She’d insisted on staying home to make sure Melanie was constantly attended to, and I’d accepted that request without a second thought, redoubling my efforts at work to keep the house afloat while she artfully worked on the beautiful little girl that was now my world.

Picking up the pace to provide for a home on one person’s income wasn’t an easy task, but I welcomed it, more than happy to see the loving look of appreciation on Jen’s face and her thoughtful whispers of thanks for all I did for the home. It was less exciting, and a bit tiring, but I was happy, and we were at peace. Love is all you need, right? And I knew for certain I had that, so what more was there to want?

But the years continued to wile onward, and as Melanie grew into the beautiful young woman I knew and loved even more today, my little slice of familial paradise seemed to go…awry.

There was no tragedy, no miscarriage, no unexpected death that could so easily be blamed for the troubles of my marriage. It just seemed to…wear away somehow. Ever so slowly, the adoration in Jen’s eyes seemed to fade away bit by bit, our conversation cutting down to little more than short text exchanges on whatever school event for Melanie needed my input, and chaste talks over the dinner table where she asked me about my increasingly monotonous work at my job.

Gone was the boisterous passion with which she once lured me into bed with her, our lovemaking shifting into hurried bouts of unenthused bucking that barely made the bed creak so as to avoid waking up Melanie…before disappearing altogether at some point. The cheery, energetic mood she brought out amongst our friends (well, honestly, mostly her friends) was nowhere to be found when we were alone, her mood shifting to one of tiredness and exhaustion whenever we were left to our own devices.

Once Melanie was all grown up and making her way out into the world by herself, I expected things to change…but I was foolish to have done so. The moment she was out of the house, Jen seemed to have developed a sudden passion for her former career, striking out as a literature professor in our local university…which left her plenty of time to rub shoulders with big wigs in the world of academia while I buried myself in work to distract from the rejection I felt.

Every attempt to spark the romance of our youth anew was met with some new excuse, an art gala she just had to attend to get in good with the donors for the university, a struggling student who just needed some extra help outside of class to really start showing their full potential, a brunch or dinner or birthday party with the Dean’s family that she just couldn't miss. It was astounding how quickly she seemed to fill her life with new ways to socialize with anyone but me, and I was left with the sudden realization that Jen was the center around which my world revolved…without her, there was a chasm in my life that left me anxious and afraid of the lonely void that she might leave behind for me to inhabit.

To make things even worse, Jen, unlike the typical frigid wife, hadn’t let herself go in the slightest. If anything, she seemed to only get more beautiful as we spent time apart, her figure was toned and athletic, yet bursting with the matronly curves of a woman in the prime of her life, and yet I hadn’t seen her in her nakedness for more than a year. The thought that she had found another man to devote herself to brushed through my mind on many occasions, despite my attempts to push away the vile thought, and it terrified me.

What had I done wrong? Why did she avoid me? Why did she seem to be so eager to be anywhere but beside me? The questions bounced around in my mind and refused to relent, until finally, one night, returning from a long working evening with some hope that I would at least be greeted with a hug and a warm meal…I saw her dressed to the nines in a sparkly black evening gown, one that I remembered…one she used to wear for me.

I tried to contain myself as I asked what she was so dressed up for, and my heart sank when I heard it…some gaudy ball with the collection of ever widening socialite friends she seemed to be gathering around her, one of which was professor Jordan Reese…a privileged co-worker of hers from a disgustingly wealthy family that I knew had eyes for her the moment I saw him.

I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore, I had to let loose the swirling cocktail of emotions that battled and raged within me. I told her everything, how abandoned I felt, how hurt I was by her never ending rejection of me…it didn’t take long for me to ask the burning question of whether she was sleeping with someone else, and the shock and horror in her eyes took just long enough to set in that that inkling of doubt was planted in my mind.

She denied it…more than denied it, she was furious, livid even. She harangued me over how selfish it was to make her feel that way, how she’d given up her career just to raise Melanie, to make me happy, that my incessant nagging her for sex (though I’d learned not to ask for quite some time now) when she wasn’t ready was a much realer issue than her seeing her co-workers now and again. I wanted to remain steadfast, to be true to my convictions and my wants for our marriage…but it broke me when I saw her cry, to know that the tears streaming down her face were my doing, that I’d broken my solemn promise never to hurt her, no matter what.

She was quick to pass the ultimatum, go to therapy and get sorted out, or this marriage is over. I agreed. How couldn’t I? But as I laid in bed alone that night, wondering where my wife was and whether that bastard Jason was trying to woo her with his silver tongue, I couldn’t help but feel the slightest tint of rage working through my panicked breath…

Therapy couldn’t come soon enough.

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And that brought me over to you, going off a referral from one of my old work clients, a real lover of this psychobabble stuff. They listed off all manner of endearing titles for you and lauding your “groundbreaking insights on human sexual psychology and practical explanations of our most primal instincts.”

If I was being honest with myself…I didn’t really buy much into the idea of therapy at all. Spending hundreds to talk about your personal life to someone you didn’t know in the hopes of having your problems solved seemed…counterintuitive to me, but if it would get Jen to stay with me, going through a bit of tedium once a week wasn’t too much of a worry for me.

I was rather taken aback when I was welcomed into your office, my frustrated mind exploding with lust as my eyes roved over your ripe, feminine form, your clothes hugging tightly on your body and making my heart thump beneath my chest. I smiled awkwardly as you welcomed me, your voice low and quiet, yet mesmerizing in its tone, leaving me powerless to do anything but follow your direction as you requested me to sit opposite you.

It was shameful to realize how I reacted to being alone in a room with a beautiful woman after years starving for some meager touch from my wife, but as you swiftly began conversation, I found my worry melting away. It was astounding to notice how long it had been since I had such a natural, enjoyable conversation with someone my age, it seemed like beneath all the fancy degrees hung up on your walls, and the erotic paintings that lined the rooms of the office and made me blush when I peeked at them, you were really just an excellent conversationalist.

We talked about my career, my daughter, how happy I was to know she was making her way in the world after all I’d done to provide her with a future…and you seemed interested, much more than Jen had been in anything I had to say about myself these past few years. But the dreaded moment I’d expected eventually came, and I winced to myself once you poised the question of my sexual relationship with my wife. It took some coercion at first, but with how comfortable I’d already gotten, and the fact that deep down I truly did wish to talk to someone about my woes, I was quick to give up my initial attempts at avoiding the question.

Everything spilled out of me all at once, my resentment, my doubt, my fear at losing the woman I loved. I found myself giving voice to feelings I never even knew I had, how I couldn’t understand why she avoided me repeatedly…it wasn’t like I’d let myself go at all, if anything, I was in better shape than most men half my age, owing to a long phase of obsession with fitness as a resolution for my dead sex life. The habit of lifting weights had stuck with me for no other reason than filling in some space in my day while Jen was, as usual, away from home, and it hurt me all the more to see how women’s eyes lingered on my chiseled frame when I went outside…more than a few of which had outright walked to me and shyly propositioned me themselves, which I met with a somber rejection in the form of pointing to my wedding ring with a soft frown.

I wasn’t a selfish lover either, the few times Jen had let me even attempt to have sex with her these past few years were all about her, I would’ve been happy just to feel her skin, to pleasure her wholeheartedly without a care in the world, to know that I could draw out that long dead desire that once lived in her. And it was just…exhausting, to try and try so much on her and get nothing back, but if it hurt her for me to try…I was willing to stop, to go through whatever psych treatment would neuter me enough to perhaps, maybe, sprout some love between us once more even without the passion it once had.

Your face took on a shocked look at that suggestion, immediately disregarding it with a passion, almost surprising me with your rejection of my scornful intentions. You were adamant that therapy wasn’t about removing or destroying my desires, but learning to manage them and get them met healthily…the idea that I could somehow not live in the endless haze of frustration and dissatisfaction that currently consumed me was one I’d all but completely given up on…but with your encouragement, it almost seemed possible, and my heart thumped powerfully with excitement at the thought of finally having an outlet to my lust.

When I asked how, your voice seemed to shift a bit…a nearly sultry tone on your lips as you spoke on, asking whether the looks I got from women had ever extended to my wife’s friends…the gaggle of beautiful women in academia she was now surrounded by, and whom I’d brought up frequently in my rants of dissatisfaction. With a shameful look, I nodded, thinking back with regret on the many unintended leering looks I’d given Jen’s friends…and some of her own students, on the not too rare occasion they were invited to dinner at our home.

You smiled at that, lips curling up in a way that gave me pause, quickening my heart with as much lust and anticipation as it did fear, before you uttered those fateful words…

​

“I think I might have a solution to your…desires, if you’re willing to listen, that is…”

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Phew! That was a pretty long one, wasn't it? Bet you weren't expecting to read an entire short story just for a prompt...but I was really passionate about this idea and got a bit carried away with it, so hopefully anyone who's actually read all this can get past that. And if by some chance you have read all this, I'd assume you have a good idea of the kind of tone I'm going for with this. I'm looking for a lovely lady to hopefully GM or play as the therapist in this idea I have planned, where an older husband who's just a little bit too nice to his beautiful bride and finds himself in a passionless marriage that leaves him miserable and alone.

And that's where you come in! A huge theme of this is corruption and the slow, subtle, but increasingly rapid change of the husband as his therapist digs her hooks into him and flips his switch from humble, insecure, unassuming nice guy to an aggressive, domineering, hypermasculine player who has no issues taking what he wants, when he wants, and from whoever he wants...even if the "who" in this equation are his wife's circle of hot friends just itching for a powerful stud to bring out their inner lust for his pleasure. Expect all the usual hallmarks from this kind of plot, cheating, cuckqueaning, harem elements, and of course a bit of gaslighting to torture poor Jen that much more when she realizes how her hubby is starting to so cruelly ignore her as she did him while he entertains himself with the wet, willing holes of all her slutty friends!

Do try and put effort into your response and give me your own spin on some of the ideas I played with in this prompt, as I'm very open to exploring things with partners that are good writers so long as we gel well. So long as the central elements remain in tact, I'm more than happy to shift things around here and there with someone that's as enthusiastic about this idea as I am, so be sure to shoot me a response with your thoughts, kinks and limits and I'll be sure to get back to any that pique my interest!

My kinks: Interracial/raceplay, maledom, cheating/ntr, cuckolding (as the bull), anal, older women/MILFs, ass worship, exhibitionism, outfits/cosplay sex, cuckqueaning, hatefucking, primal/angry sex, power exchange, teasing, outercourse, titfucking, assjobs, harems, group sex, incest.

Limits: scat, bestiality, underage characters, necrophilia, excessive violence, vore, furries and the like.

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Looking for criticism on both the prompt and the OOC section I added at the end. I really love this idea so I want to be sure it's the best it can possibly be so I attract a good partner. And as much as I can understand critiques on length, I really did try to cut this down as much as I possibly could while preserving the feeling I wanted, but if anyone can give suggestions for further cutting things down while keeping the general feel I wanted this to have, do be sure to give your input. Thanks!