Monday, June 24, 2019


He had the two of us over for dinner on a Saturday; it was the second meeting between the three of us-the first was coffee to get to know one another to see if there was chemistry between my wife and me and him. This one was supposed to be a relaxing, no pressure dinner, but he took charge from the moment the two of us arrived.

When he opened the door, he glanced at his watch, smiled, invited us in. "There's a bottle of wine in the kitchen," he told me, "could you please bring it and three glasses and join your wife and me in living room." He nodded to his side.

I was immediately nervous as I hadn't anticipated leaving them alone so quickly. But while his actual words were a request, the tone in his voice suggested a command. But when I came into the living room with the wine, I felt relieved to see them sitting on opposite couches just chatting.

"Thank you," he said with a disarming smile, "go ahead."

I poured three glasses of wine, handed one to my wife, one to him, then sat with the third next to my wife, putting my hand on her leg as if trying to claim her.

"Ashley, we need to discuss something before we discuss anything else," he said sipping his wine.

"W...what?" my wife asked.

"Respect," he said.

"R...respect?" I interrupted. He narrowed his eyes, obviously displeased I'd spoken. "S...sorry," I said to his nod.

"Respect," he repeated, looking back at Ashley. "I told you to be here seven."

"We...we were," Ashley said, glancing at me. We'd discussed that earlier, the importance of being on time.

"7:01," he said; I thought of him checking his watch. "I said seven. Not one after, not five minutes before. Respect is doing what I ask, no more, no less."

"It was my fault," I said, defending my wife, though really it was hers, she'd stepped back into the house to get her phone.

"Fault isn't the issue, Paul," he said looking at me, "the issue is respect. I told Ashley to be here at seven, it doesn't matter why she wasn't, but she wasn't. We're going to establish this here, now, tonight."

"I...I'm sorry," Ashley said, looking down.

I glanced at her, saw her red face, knew it wasn't just shame, but excitement, too.

He nodded. "We agree, correct, as we discussed, the power dynamic in any relationship we have?"

"Y...yes," Ashley said softly, her face reddening more.


"Yes," I said.

"I apologize in advance, I'd hoped to wait a bit, but we may as well establish this now there are consequences for disrespect."

" want us to leave?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach, feeling Ashley's leg shake.

"Leave? No, Paul, I most certainly do not want the two of you to leave," he said. "You two will fail from time to time, it's to be expected, but it's also a teaching moment. Actions have consequences."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Ashley, I want you over here," he said, motioning her with a finger, "lift your skirt up and lie across my lap."

I saw Ashley's eyes go wide, didn't understand at first. "W...why?" I asked.

"Because wives that are disrespectful get punished," he said.

"'re going to spank her?" I asked, jaw slack as I understood his intention, "I thought...I thought this was just dinner?"

"It's just dinner in that there was no expectation of sex tonight, Paul; I'm going to spank her now, not fuck her."


"Paul," Ashley said softly, "'s okay."

"But he...he's going to..."

She leaned over, whispered in my ear. "Isn't this everything we wanted?"

"Yea, but..."

"It's okay, Paul," she said, standing.

He was watching us, sipping his wine, a knowing grin on his face. Ashley stood, leaned down, kissed me softly on the lips, walked around the table towards him. She reached down, lifted her skirt, exposing her bare legs, her ass, all but bare because of the thong she was wearing.

"You're not wearing hose," he noted.


"Stocking, Ashley. The panties are cute, but I expect full, proper lingerie-that means a matching bra and panty set and a garter belt and stockings."

"I...I'm sorry," she said, looking at me.

"I assume you prefer her in lingerie as well?" he asked me.

"Of...of course."

"I assume you ask her to all the time?"

"Yes, but..." I stopped.

"But she doesn't, does she? She does only when she wants."

"Yes," I looked down, ashamed he seemed to know us so well.

"That's the difference between us in a nutshell, Paul. She does what she wants with you, she'll do what I want with me. Are we clear on that, Ashley? Any questions?"

" Sir," she said in a whisper.

"We're not clear?"

"No, I mean...we're clear," she corrected. "I don't have any questions..."

"What?" he asked.

"I don't have...I mean..."

"The two of you can go shopping," he said, "make a date night out of it."

That was something he talked about at our first meeting-if we got involved with him, the importance of the two of us having time together to do things as a couple. "I...I think that would be nice," she said looking at me for approval.

"I...I'd like that," I said, not sure how the words came from my mouth.

"It's fairly easy, Paul," he said, "we seem to have similar tastes in pretty women. Just pick out things you'd like to see her in, things you fantasized about her wearing but that she'd never agree to. Here's your chance."

"Across my lap, Ashley," he said to her, eyes locked on me, silently showing me who, from the beginning, controlled things.

Ashley did as he instructed and he didn't hesitate, he held her with one arm, and spanked her bare ass, five slow, methodical smacks on one cheek, five on the other, then repeating for twenty spanks. She squirmed with each blow, gasping, even moaning, rubbing herself onto him.

When he finished, he left his hand on her left cheek, his fingers resting casually on the fabric of her thong. She was still squirming, slowly, almost inside herself, oblivious to both of us. He looked at me, a grin on his face, and I realized with her squirming, his fingers had worked themselves between her ass cheeks and between her legs and must be pressed against her pussy.

"Soaked," he mouthed to me, "fucking soaked."

"You're not getting fucked tonight, Ashley, I don't care how hot you get or how much you beg; I promised him."

I wanted to say something, was shocked I wanted beg. I watched her lift her ass up, towards him, moan slightly as she forced his hand to rub against her. "Jesus, she's incorrigible," he said watching me.

I stared. Sex between us was nothing like this; in reality, it was mostly me getting her drunk or begging and her relenting. Yet here she was, the second time we'd seen this man, on his lap, rubbing against him like a dog in heat. "Sorry, I'm sure you're not used to this," he said, reading my mind. "It's just one of those things, how women respond to men. I mean, real men."

"I...I know," I said looking down.

"Not tonight, Ashley," he said, pulling his hand up and gently pushing her off his lap onto the floor.

I saw the hunger in her eyes, the desire, the need. The spanking had an effect on him as well as her and it was obvious he had an erection. Ashley was staring at it, watching it like it was the only thing in the world.

"Assume you don't get that response, either," he said to me.

"," I said, if anything, it was the opposite as she rarely if ever did that to me.

"It's how a woman responds to a firm man," he said to me, looked down at her. "Go ahead."

She didn't look back at me for permission, she didn't act like she even remembered I was there. Instead, acting like she was starved, she quickly undid his pants, took out his large, thick, erect cock, and started giving him a blowjob that would make a porn star proud.

"An A for effort," he said leaning back, "but you need some practice. Which you'll get."

I just sat there, an erection in my own pants, and watched my wife give another man the most erotic blowjob I'd ever seen. Suddenly he tensed, grabbed her head, fucked her mouth. He exploded and she tried to take him, tried to swallow all of it, but couldn't there was just too much.

She tried, though, even made up for it, continuing to suck and lick him until she cleaned up and swallowed all his cum. He watched me while she did it, watched my reaction to seeing my wife give him a blowjob, my reaction to seeing her now only swallow his cum, but seemingly enjoying it, needing it, loving it.

We ate dinner, one very satisfied man and one very sexually frustrated, but throughly submissive couple.

Friday, June 21, 2019

The Perils of Technology

Your wife told you she was going out with friends, but seeing how she was dressed, you wondered if she was being truthful. So you used the "find my phone" app, found out where she was, followed her.

Turns out she wasn't lying, she was out with friends. Male friends.

Seeing her, half naked, a cock in each hand, you quietly left the club, stomach in knots.

When she got home, you feigned sleep, felt her climb into bed next to you, but an arm over your body, move her mouth to your ear.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked softly.

You turned over, eyes wide. "M...Monica..."

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked again.

" were going out with friends."

"I did...I never said girlfriends. You left before the best part."

"The...the best part?"

"When they took turns with me, sweetie. I was on the couch on my hands and knees, one in my mouth, one in my pussy."

"M...Monica," you moaned.

"It's okay, there's an encore," she promised.

" encore?"

"Yea, the part of the show where the wife goes home to her devoted husband and confesses what a naughty girl she's been and he does the only thing a sweet, devoted husband can do."

"W...what's that?" I asked.

"He licks her clean," she said, moving on top of me, sliding her pussy over my mouth, eagerly feeding me everything inside her.

Thursday, June 20, 2019


At first, it was a request, a subtle ask - she wanted you to suck her lover's cock.

But when he found out about it, when she confessed to her lover her desire, it switched from her request to his demand.

To him, it wasn't so much that he was into men-he wasn't-but your hesitation.

If you wanted to do it, if you wanted to suck his cock, he'd have ignored it.

But your hesitation.

Making you do it established who was the man in your three way relationship.

Who was the dominant.

Who was the alpha.

And not just between the two of you, but in her eyes, too.

It became a ritual, you would fluff him, suck him until he was hard, getting him ready to fuck her.

The husband who was supposed to protect his wife's chastity was doing the opposite, not only sitting by, watching as a man fucked her, but actively helping in the process.

And she, every time, watched in awe as her husband was emasculated by her lover, watched in awe, her excitement building until her husband helped slide her lover's cock into her wet pussy.

For a sissy, an orgasm only confuses things


When you're married to a sissy, it's kind of hard to resist taking advantage of the fact that you have a cock hungry slut living in your house, one who, while ashamed to admit it, will eagerly suck your bull's cock whenever he demands.

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Pretty Little Liar

It was a lie, a white lie, a small one of almost no consequence, a lie she told you the first time you were intimate. "I don't like doing that," she said when you tried to get her to go down on you, "and even if I did it, I'd never want to swallow."

You told her it was okay, that day, you were just so stunned to have such a beautiful woman naked in your bed, you'd have agreed to anything, even though you didn't think you were agreeing to never putting your penis in her mouth, ever.

But she did. And reminded you over the next few years of dating and marriage. Oral sex was a one-way street, something you did to her but something she never reciprocated.

Oh, if she was drinking and you managed to get into a sixty-nine, she'd maybe blow on it softly, but she never took it in her mouth. "I don't like that," she tell you.

But it was a lie. It was always a lie.

It wasn't taking a man in her mouth that she didn't like, quite the opposite, she loved sucking cock, loved kneeling before a man, taking him between her lips, sucking him, making him cum, swallowing him.

That was the little white lie part. She loved sucking a man's cock. But not her beta, not her soft, non-assertive boyfriend then husband.

You learned this on your second wedding anniversary, the day she went on her date with her first lover, the day you were first cuckolded. You learned this when sitting quietly in the hotel room corner, you watched her kiss her way around his legs, watched her take his hard cock in her mouth, and suck it like his cock was the most important thing in the world.

It was a small lie, a white lie, one you never forgot but easily forgave.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019


"H...honey, he said...he said they were non-negotiable," she told her husband, afraid how he'd react, afraid he'd change his mind.

"But...can't you...can't you just ask him...I mean...he...he wants..."

"Does he strike you as the type that negotiates non-negotiable things?" she asked.

"No, but..."

"Isn't he the type that means what he says...the first time..."

"Yea, but," her husband tried to say, "it's just...he's so..."

"Dominant?" she suggested shyly.

"We...we haven't even agreed to anything," he pouted.

"I think that's the point," she said.

"But...but six months???"

He had three rules, he'd told the two of you, four non-negotiable rules. First, if you invited him into your marriage, for the first six months her body belonged exclusively to him. Second, for those six months, you were not permitted to orgasm unless he gave permission. Third, to enforce the first two rules, you were to wear a chastity cage to which he held the key. Fourth, and finally, while he was involved in your lives, he was the man in the relationship, the alpha, the dominant.

"I...I'm sure it will go by quickly," she said, already fantasizing about him.

"Six months in that will not go quickly," he said, eyeing the pink cage sitting on the nightstand.

"You want to tell him no?" she asked in a tone he knew so well.

"No, but...I just...I don't want to have to ask him to, you know, cum...that...that's embarrassing."

"So don't ask," he heard a deep voice behind him.

He spun around, saw him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "I...I didn't hear you come in," her husband mumbled, eyes downcast.

"Evidently not," her potential lover said eyes boring into her husband. "It's simple, really, if it's so embarrassing, don't ask. That saves me telling you no, anyway. So, what's your decision?"

He glanced at the young woman, knew her decision, looked back at the husband, waiting for his.

"I...we...I mean...I suppose we'll try it," he said, weak in this decision as he was weak in everything.

"Go put it on then," the man ordered, nodding to the bathroom.

He picked up the cage, hands shaking, felt his wife slide up next to him. "There...there's a pair of my panties on the counter," she whispered in his ear, "he...he said you have to wear them when you're wearing that."

Her husband's eyes went wide, looked at the man who was smiling, obviously aware of the words his wife just spoke; the man nodded, ever so slightly, confirmed his wife's words.

An hour later, they were in the bedroom; husband in a chair, naked save for nylon panties and the cage; wife on the bed, in slutty lingerie, blindfolded, bound, collared; and her lover, behind her, fucking her, furiously, as she screamed in orgasm after orgasm.

Monday, June 10, 2019

Golf Trip

"Hope you're having fun with the guys on your golf trip," your wife's text said, "I'm hoping for a hole in one tonight, too."

Tuesday, June 4, 2019


"What...what's all that?" her husband asked her, stunned when he got home, saw his wife.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said slowly unbuttoning the romper she was wearing. "Looks like pantyhose...and the prettiest lingerie I've ever seen."


"Funny, I found them in a suitcase in the basement."

"I...I wonder if...if the people before us left it," he stammered.

"They didn't strike me as the type."

"What...what type?" he asked.

"I found all these magazines, too in a box behind it. Forced Womanhood and," she giggled, "Enslaved Sissies and Maids."


"You wouldn't believe some of the articles. Husbands dressed up in pretty lingerie, dominated by the women in their lives...sometimes even men."

"'re kidding," he swallowed.

"There were ads in the magazines for something called a chastity cage, which it looks like is used to lock up a boy's little parts. Funny, in the suitcase was this box for a pink one that looked just like the one worn by some of the sissies in the magazine."

"My god," he said, "I should...I should get rid of this stuff..."

"Really?" she asked.

"Well we can't very well call the old owners, can we?"

"Darling, no, of course not." He took a step towards the lingerie strewn all over the room. "Are you really going to go through with this charade?"

"What...what charade?"

"Pretending these things aren't yours?"

"I don't..."

"There was one article that someone seemed to read more than the others, what was it. Oh, yea, something like, Wife Turns Hubby Sissy Maid. My goodness, that was a naughty one-the wife feminized her husband, put him in a chastity cage, and even dated men while her sissy husband waited on them."


"Are there only two keys?"


"For the cage," she said.

"The...the cage?" he stammered.

"Yes, are these the only two keys for the cage?" she asked again, opening her palm, showing him two brass keys.


"You're wearing it, I presume," she said, "some little fantasy of yours."


"Oh, I'm sorry, I...I just thought...well no matter, you're right, we should be rid of this stuff. It's garbage day, anyway, ten minutes it can all be in a truck."

"No," he shouted, looking at her hand.

"Then these are the only two keys, I presume?"

"Y...yes," he said.

"You're wearing it now?"

"Please, honey..."

"You're wearing it now?" she repeated.

He swallowed, nodded.

"The box said it's a small, it can't grow, can it?"

"," he said.

"So I shouldn't finish taking this off, then," she asked with a shy smile.

He looked at her romper, the hose she wore, felt it grow, quickly felt it find the limits of the cage. "P...please don't," he begged.

"There was a maid's uniform in another suitcase, other things too. I want you showered and dressed in an hour."

"But honey..."

"Showered and dressed in an hour," she repeated, "that isn't a request, this isn't a discussion."

"What...what are you doing with those?" he looked at her hand.

"These are going somewhere safe, dear; according to some of the articles, we won't be needing them for quite some time."

"But without those I can't..."

"Fuck me? Oh, honey, those days are over, trust me."

"But please, I..."

"One hour. Showered and dressed in an hours. Unless you want to find yourself over my lap."

Monday, June 3, 2019

In another life, I feel this feeling every minute of every day.

Ending the "Girls Night Out" Charade

"Where...were are you all going to dinner?" he asked his wife, looking at her, quickly looking away. "That...that Italian place?"

"Paul," she said softly, " don't have to any more."

"Have...have to what?"

"Keep pretending. My god, you don't really think I'm going to dinner with my girlfriends dressed like this, do you?"

"I...I mean...I don't know..."

"Really? You don't know? You think a wife goes out to dinner with her girlfriends dressed like a stripper?"

" don't look like..."

"A whore then? That's more accurate isn't it? Not a stripper for him, but a whore for him."


"You've known for a month, Paul, I saw you looking at my phone...I saw you looking at my text messages in that app."

"I didn't...I didn't mean to," he said softly.

"No, I suppose you didn't. But you did. You looked but said nothing, not for weeks. Instead you waited up, waited for me to come home."

"Just...just to make sure you got home okay."

"And the sex, Paul? The sex when I got home? I've never seen you so eager...I don't have to, you said when I tried to make love to you, just let me worry about you, you told me kissing me everywhere. Everywhere."


"We're going to a club, Paul, my date and me. He likes showing me off, it gets him off, showing his friends this hot, white, suburban mother that belongs to him. This prim and proper woman he uses and sends home to her poor husband."

"He...he's black?"

"BBC," she said.

"B...B...C...?" he stammered.

"Big. Black. Cock."

He thought of the last month, her coming home every Saturday night, hovering over him as he licked her, sucked her.


"Will you be waiting tonight, Paul? Will you wait for me? In bed, pretending to sleep, waiting for me to 'wake you up' by sitting on your face so you can lick me clean?"

"I...I..." He felt his own erection, saw the tent in his pants.

"No," she said.


"No," she said again, "I told you, I belong to him now."