I was late from work – my husband punished me anally

He had an important dinner with his partners, and he repeated a hundred times: "Be home by seven, don't let me down." And as luck would have it, I was stuck in a meeting, then traffic jams, my phone died... I burst into the apartment just after eight, sweaty, in a business suit, in heels, and from the moment I stepped inside I knew there was going to be a storm. He was sitting in the living room, in the semi-darkness. He wasn't shouting. He was just looking. His gaze made my insides clench. I started babbling about a meeting, about traffic jams, but he interrupted me very quietly: "You've embarrassed me. I've called ten times." "I tried..." "Shut up. Go to the bedroom. Stand facing the wall and wait." Goosebumps ran all over my body. I took off my shoes and walked wobbly to the bedroom. I stood up as he told me. My heart was pounding somewhere in my throat. A couple of minutes later he came in, and I heard him lock the door. I could tell by the sound that he was holding something leather. He stepped behind me, pressed close, and I could feel his erection even through the thick fabric of his trousers. "You're a busy person, aren't you? All serious... And I forgot who's waiting for you at home." His palm landed on the back of my head and pushed me forward. I rested my forehead against the cool wall. He simply yanked my jacket off, the lining cracking. He unbuttoned my blouse halfway, sending buttons flying across the floor. He pulled my bra up with a rough palm, squeezing my breast so hard I cried out. "Quiet. Keep your voice to yourself at meetings. Here, you only listen." His hand ran down my back, lower, to the small of my back, to my skirt. He lifted it sharply. Sheer stockings, a lace belt… I stood there, pressing my palms against the wall, afraid to move. He pulled down my panties, spread my legs with his knee, and slapped my butt with his palm – hard, so hard that I jumped on my tiptoes. “You promised. You let me down. Now I will do with you whatever I want. Understand?” I nodded. “With words.” “Yes… I understand.” He pulled my panties down completely. I heard him unzip his fly. I thought he was about to enter, but no. Instead, something cold and smooth touched my bottom. I flinched and turned around—he was holding a metal anal chain. Thin, shiny, with a small ball at the end. He noticed my alarm and smirked. “You wanted to be late? You’ll have to wear this until the morning. Get used to it, we all have a schedule.” The lubricant was right there, apparently prepared in advance. He lubricated his fingers, touched my hole, and I involuntarily clenched. "Relax, or it will get worse. I care about you," his voice mingled irony and tenderness, making my legs treacherous. His finger slid inside—slowly but insistently. I moaned. My body was betraying me; I felt the heat and wetness between my legs. He removed his finger and brought the chain closer. The ball was small, but it felt strange and cold. He inserted it very slowly, literally millimeter by millimeter, holding my thigh. When the ball finally slid inside, I exhaled. The chain hung down, brushing my thighs, and every touch of metal on skin sent a pulse deep inside. "Now follow me. To the kitchen. Show me how you can walk when you're late." Every step gave off a strange, sinful sensation. The end of the chain swayed slightly as I walked, tickling my inner thigh. I felt completely naked, even though my blouse was still unbuttoned. He followed, clearly enjoying the spectacle. In the kitchen, he sat down on a chair, spread his legs, and pulled me toward him by the hips. "You're beautiful when you're guilty. Bend over." I rested my palms on his knees. He ran his finger along the chain, tugged slightly—a sharp pleasure shot through my lower abdomen. I gasped. “Do you like it?” I couldn’t lie. “Yes…” “Then you deserve it.” He lifted me up, turned me toward the table, and pressed lightly on my back. I lay with my chest on the cool tabletop. The chain was still inside me, but he didn't take it out. Instead, he took my silk scarf—the same one that had been hanging over the back of the chair—and tied my wrists tightly behind my back. I was completely at his mercy. His cock entered me sharply, deeply, and I cried out. He paused for a second, giving me time to adjust, and then began moving. Slowly at first, with a drawl, as if punishing me with every movement, then faster and harder. The chain inside me moved with him, intensifying each penetration. I was moaning loudly now, burying my forehead in my folded hands. "That's it... Who's the boss?" "You..." "I can't hear you." "You-e-e..." the last syllable turned into a moan. He suddenly stopped, pulled out almost completely, and I let out a disappointed sob from the sudden emptiness. But he didn't give me time to recover—he grabbed the dangling end of the chain and pulled. Slowly, teasingly, causing the ball inside me to spin and press against my sensitive walls. I whined, pushing my butt back, begging wordlessly. "Impatient..." he breathed into the back of my head. With his free hand, he ran his hand over my buttocks, spreading them apart and pressing his thumb against the tight ring next to the chain. The dual sensation—the penetration of his finger and the tension of the metal—made me dig my nails into the countertop and moan loudly. "Your ass is completely mine today. I want to feel you everywhere." He removed his finger, released the chain, and thrust his cock again—this time all the way in, roughly, with a wet slap. The pleasure bordered on pain, sparks flew from my eyes, but I begged him not to stop. He came with a strangled growl, pinning me to the table with his whole body. For a few seconds, we simply breathed heavily. Then he untied my hands, lifted me up, pulled me close, and kissed the top of my head—gently, as if nothing had happened. "Want some coffee?" As if he hadn't been fucking me over the kitchen table five minutes ago. I could still feel the chain inside me. He noticed me fidgeting and smiled, "No. This will stay inside you until tomorrow. So you don't forget what time it is." I couldn't even think of anything to say. I simply took the cup with trembling fingers and sat down—carefully, on the very edge of the chair. The next morning I woke up, and he was gone. Only on his pillow was a velvet box with beautiful earrings and a note: "No delays today. I'll check this evening." Next to the note was a bottle of a new cooling lubricant. I smiled and rolled over onto my stomach, still feeling a slight ache in my muscles, and realized I was definitely going to be late for work today. Simply because I didn't want to take out what he'd left inside me overnight.