She said good-bye to me in a motel room where I had meantto meet a profesional dom for some fantasy play not available at home. My kinks were too far out for her. Crossdressing she could only just tolerate. Bondage was out of the question. Banding, when I finally got up the nerve to talk about it, was the last straw. Separate bedrooms. Celabacy.

Then came the dom and periodic sessions of relief. Then came the private detective and instead of the dom it was my wife who came to the door of the motel.

I was dressed in my best black negligee with stockings and stappon high heels. The room had my full collection of 'ladies things' scattered around and the bander was in plain sight. Nothing I had to say seemed to have any impact on her. The detective had broken into my computer at her request and couldn't help seeing what was there. He had followed me to the same motel several times and had photo's of me meeting a woman who looked like what she was.

All too much and now she had come to make an end on her own terms. Still, I didn't see it coming, didn't guess that her mind was made up and set. I blubbered my excuses and she just stood there, listening but not careing. When I'd done she took up the bander and said, "Show me how to use this" I did and once the band was in place I was completely at her mercy.

"How do you get it off?" Special scissors.

"Give them to me"

'Not while you're so angry.'

" Think you can use them and wrestle me at the same time? Give them to me and put your hands behind your back."

'I need those scissors and my hands to take the band off. It has to come off soon or not at all.'

"Make a choice. Make a run for it now or put your hands behind your back."

The band was deeply bedded, the familiar preasurised pain filled my guts while the cutting pain of the band itself burned round my trapped scrotum. The scissors were in the bathroom. I tried to bolt for the door and lock it from the inside but she was too quick. Then she had the scissors in her hand.

" You're my husband and you're goiing to let me tie your hands in this room or you need to leave this room and go get help."

'The band has to come off in less then half an hour or my balls are dead. Please baby, that's all the time I've got.' This says I as she ties my hands behind me with a long silk scarf. Round and round the layers then a creul cinch and knot.

"You could have put your real clothes on and gone begging for some scissors but you didn't." she declares "And you put that band on yourself."

'Please baby!Please!'

She took my street clothes and stuffed them in a sack.

My wallet, car keys cell-phone.

"There will be divorce papers for you to sign. My lawyer will send them to your office." Flash! Flash! Digital camera. "Don't come home. Ever."

'Please baby, please just cut the band off! Please untie my hands. Please!!!'

"Someone down at the desk can help you. Or you can wait and I,ll send the same detective that found you round to help you in the morning."