Married Woman Cuckolding StoryThe soft knock on my door awakened me from my slumber.
I looked at the clock on the VCR and saw that it was nearly ten-thirty. I must have dozed off while sitting on the couch, waiting for Kimberly to show up. It was a Saturday night, and she had called earlier to tell me that her husband was working overtime and that she might stop by later in the evening, if it was all right with me. Kimberly explained that she had a dinner date with an old friend and hoped to be finished by nine.
That had been one-and-a-half hours ago. Rising up from the couch, I walked over to the door and opened it. Kimberly was standing there with a mischievous grin on her lovely face. I held the door open for her to come in and watched with evident desire as she stepped past me into the apartment. She was definitely dressed to kill. Kimberly was wearing a tight blue skirt outfit with a matching belt and high-heeled shoes, a white long-sleeved silk blouse, and skin-tone pantyhose. The colors of her outfit accented her beautiful eyes and blonde hair. I felt my heart leap into my throat, followed by a deep primal stirring in the area of my groin. I knew that I was falling in love with this woman, and it scared the living daylights out of me. She knew my darkest secrets, especially my desire to be dominated by a strong-willed female. I'd let her read several of my short stories about female domination and cuckolded men, and she had jokingly suggested that it might be time for her to trade in her husband for a submissive boyfriend. Though Kimberly and I had stayed after work a number of times to listen to the bands in the lounge and had gone out to dinner on three different occasions, we'd managed to keep our relationship platonic. I couldn't help but wonder if that would change tonight.
"I'm sorry for being late," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Robert wanted me to go back to his place for a quick drink." I felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Kimberly hadn't told me that her old friend was a gentleman. It suddenly explained why she was so dressed up tonight. I wondered if Robert was an ex-boyfriend, or a former lover.
"Did you have a good time?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered. "We met over at the Olive Garden on Flamingo Avenue. The dinner was great, and it was fun seeing Robert again."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"I have a chilled bottle of Chardonnay in the refrigerator."
"Sounds good to me," she said.
I got two wine glasses from the upper cabinet above the sink, took the bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator, popped the cork, and poured a glass for each of us. As I did this, I noticed Kimberly moving around my small studio apartment. She suddenly stopped in front of my bookcase and pulled out the copy of The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield. Kimberly seemed restless as she glanced through it. I could tell that something was occupying her mind and figured that she'd let me know what it was when the time was right. I put the bottle of wine back into the refrigerator, then picked up the two glasses and walked over to where she was standing
"Is anything the matter," I asked, handing her one of the glasses.
"Not really," she answered. "Have you read this book?'
"Three or four times," I said.
"I remember seeing it on the bestseller lists for the longest time."
"Is it good?" she asked.
"I think so. It's certainly thought provoking. If you're open to what the author talks about, it can change your life.
"Has it changed yours?"
"Tell me how?"
"I now look at the people in my life a lot differently," I said.
"Is that good?"
"I don't know if it's good or not. I definitely feel closer to many of the people I consider to be my friends. It's like we've been together before in a previous lifetime."
"You mean like in reincarnation?" "Yes."
"Do you think we've been together before?" "Maybe."
"Probably as Mistress and slave," I said, smiling at her.
Kimberly took a long sip of wine and stared boldly at me. I started to feel just a little nervous under her watchful gaze.
"I want to ask you a serious question," she said, replacing the novel back to its rightful place on the bookshelf. "Think carefully about your answer and please be honest."
"Okay." Taking another sip of wine, Kimberly turned around and walked into the opened area of my bedroom. She sat down on the end of the bed and crossed her shapely legs.
"Get down on your knees in front of me," she ordered. The tone of her voice had changed and the look in her eyes sent a small chill of excitement coursing down my spine. I instinctively sensed that this was not a game being played. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
"What's going on, Kimberly?"
"I'll only tell you one more time to get down on your knees. If you don't obey me, I'm going to leave." I placed my glass of wine on the counter, then walked over to her and did as ordered.
"Put your hands behind your back and keep them there," she continued. "You are not to look at my face without permission. Your eyes are to be focused on my feet. For the moment that's all you're worthy of looking at. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answered.
"You are to show me respect," she demanded.
"That's better," Kimberly said. "Were you serious about wanting to be a slave? Think carefully before you answer."
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"You're sure this is what you want?"
"Would you like to be my slave?" she asked. "Yes, I would."
"Would you obey my every command, no matter how painful or humiliating it might be?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. "But what about your husband?"
"Don't worry about him," she said. "I do exactly as I please with whomever I want, and he doesn't say a word."
"No, you don't." Kimberly gave me a wicked-sounding laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She finished off her glass of wine and held it out to me. "But in time you will, darling. Now, go pour me another glass of wine."
I remembered to keep my eyes cast downward as I stood up and took the glass from her. Walking back into the kitchen area of the apartment, I quickly filled Kimberly's glass and then returned to where she was sitting. I knelt down in front of her again and held out the glass for her to take.
"Very good," she said.
I continued to stare down at her legs and feet. Kimberly's right leg was crossed over the left and her foot was swinging lazily back and forth. I found the sight to be erotic and wanted desperately to touch her legs…to run my hands up them and feel the silky texture of nylon against bare skin. In the years we'd known each other at work, I had never touched her in a sexual manner; yet, the desire to do so had been constantly in the back of my mind.
"Would you like to kiss my feet?" she asked. I was surprised by her offer. Of course I wanted to kiss her feet! What submissive male wouldn't want to kiss the feet of this gorgeous woman?
"Yes, Mistress," I said. "It would give me great pleasure to kiss your feet."
"I want you to place your hands behind your back again. Imagine that your wrists are handcuffed together." I obeyed her.
Kimberly finished off the wine and then set the glass down on the floor. Leaning back on the bed, she supported her upper torso with her elbows so that she could watch me and raised her right foot until the toe of her shoe was touching my lips. Her skirt slid back an inch or two, offering me a generous view of her upper thighs. I tried to catch a glimpse between her legs, and I suddenly felt like a teenager, trying to get a peek up a beautiful woman's skirt. Some things never changed in life.
I could feel the excitement mounding at the thought of what she might have on underneath her skirt. I wondered what Kimberly would think if she knew what was on mind. Would it turn her on, knowing the affect she was having on me? Did she have any idea just how sexy she looked at the moment? Shifting my attention to the foot in front of my face, I slowly parted my lips and took the toe of her shoe into my mouth. "Suck it," she ordered.
I didn't need any encouragement. I worked my mouth up and down for a minute or two, and then slid my tongue lightly over the top and sides of the shoe, listening as she sighed with contentment. The fact that she was enjoying this simple act of devotion excited me even more. "That's it, slave," Kimberly said in a husky tone of voice. "Keep sucking my shoe. You can't imagine how wet I'm starting to get. Worship me as you would a Goddess."
She lifted her leg higher into the air and pushed her shoe deeper into my mouth. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I tried not to gag. It was then I realized that I could now see all the way up her skirt. My eyes widened in amazement as their gaze traveled up the silky path between her legs to the white crotch of her pantyhose. I was delighted to see that she wasn't wearing any panties under the hose.
"Are you looking up my skirt?" she asked. Not being able to answer the question with the toe of her shoe crammed into my mouth, I shook my head from side to side.
"I think you're lying to me," Kimberly said. "That's something a slave should never do under any circumstances, especially to his Mistress. I'll give you one more chance to answer the question honestly. If you don't, I promise that the punishment will be severe. Now, are you looking up my skirt?" I nodded my head.
"So you did lie to me." I nodded again.
"You'll have to be punished for that," she stated. I swallowed hard, wondering exactly what kind of punishment she might have in store for me. Maybe it would be some form of psychological torment.
"Did I give you permission to stop sucking my shoe?" I immediately started sucking it again as if my life hung in the balance.
"Sometime this week," she continued, "you and I will go shopping for a nice riding crop and maybe a good, sturdy paddle." Uh-oh! I thought.
"I intend to take our relationship as Mistress and slave very seriously. I can already tell that a hard whipping is needed to put the fear of the Goddess into you, and I promise that when I've finish beating that *** of yours, you'll think twice before lying to me again. I stopped sucking her shoe and removed it from my mouth. "But I'm not really into physical pain," I said. "That was just stuff for my stories."
"I don't like a slave who whines," she said.
"Don't say another word. Whether or not you're into corporal punishment is of no consequence to me. The fact of the matter is that you're going to be whipped."
"Can't we discuss this?" I pleaded.
"You're just digging the hole deeper for yourself."
"I can't help it. The look in your eyes is starting to scare me."
"I shouldn't have let you read my short stories."
"Would you like to please me with that tongue of yours?" Kimberly asked, her eyes gleaming with mischievousness.
"Yes, Mistress," I replied.
Kimberly lowered her foot and then uncrossed her legs. She watched the ex
Lifting her pelvis up, I grabbed the waistband of her pantyhose and pulled them down to her knees. I then raised her legs up in the air and placed my head between them, sliding the tip of my tongue into the moist folds of her vagina, searching for the tiny bud of flesh that would be instrumental in bringing her to the ultimate state of ecstasy. "Stop," she ordered. "I want you to first slide your tongue up inside my ***** and to **** me with it for several minutes."
I quickly buried my tongue into Kimberly's **** and tasted the juices that filled her. Holding on to her hips, I slowly ****** her, sliding my tongue in and out of the wetness that seemed to be flowing out of her. "Yes, that's it," she whispered.
I'd always loved performing oral sex on a woman because for me it was the perfect position for a slave to be in. In fact, it excited me so much that sometimes I could almost reach my own ****** while doing it. There was just something about a lady gripping the sides of my face with her thighs, holding me firmly in place so that I couldn't escape, and demanding that I sexually please her with my mouth until she was completely satiated, that gave me an instant erection. This was really the kind of dominance I enjoyed. I wanted a woman to make me please her…to be forceful in her demands with perhaps the threat of punishment, or humiliation, as an incentive.
"You're such a good slave," Kimberly said in a soft voice. "I may decide to keep you forever. Maybe I can talk my husband into letting you move in with us. That would certainly be interesting." I lost my concentration for a second and had to keep myself from laughing out loud. Few husbands would allow their wife's lover to move in with them. I had to assume that Kimberly was simply wrapped up in the throes of passion, lost within the world of her own fantasy. It was certainly a hot fantasy, but not one that could easily be adapted to the realities of day-to-day living.
When my second wife, Carol, was alive, she used to make me lie face down in her walk-in closet. She would then hogtie my hands to my ankles and command me not to make a sound. Her lover, Jim, would arrive later, and they would spend the afternoon having sex. He always knew I was in the closet, tied up, helpless to prevent him from taking my wife. It used to excite him so much that he would often have three-to-four ******* during the course of the afternoon. Jim was such a good lover that Carol would at times threaten me with the possibility of having him move in with us to make sure that I remained obedient to her demands. Though we both knew that it was an unlikely scenario, her threat always had the desired affect of breaking down my resistance to whatever she wanted. After Carol died of cancer, I often wondered what our life together would've been like if Jim had moved in with us. These memories made me think twice about Kimberly's remark. Maybe there was more to it than I thought.
Moving my tongue back and forth inside her vagina, I noticed that she really was soaking wet! There was somewhat of a salty flavor to her juices, not to mention a certain degree of consistency. It made me wonder if she and Robert had shared more than a drink together when they went back to his apartment. "Remember me telling you how bad I am?" Kimberly said as she ground her pelvis hard against my face. I looked up into her eyes and nodded my head. "Robert is one of my ex-lovers," she continued, "and we had sex before I came over here tonight." I waited. "And he didn't wear a condom."
I started to withdraw my tongue from her body and to pull away, but then I suddenly felt her hand pressing down on top of my head, holding me in place. Her legs tightened their grip against the sides of my face, and I knew that I was her prisoner and would be required to eat her *****, until she was totally satisfied with my performance. "Where do you think you're going? If you know what's good for you, you'd better keep eating me until I give you permission to stop." I nodded my head.
"In time you'll learn to enjoy what I'm making you do," she said. "You should be grateful that I'm even allowing you this pleasure."
I pushed my tongue back into her and started to **** her more vigorously, knowing that what I tasted was Robert's *****. Well, I wanted to be Kimberly's slave. I guess this was a step in the right direction. For the next fifteen minutes or so, I serviced her with my mouth, lapping up the residue of her ex-lover like a little puppy with a bowl of cold milk. Kimberly had two rather sizable ******* during that short period of time before making me stop. "Do you like the humiliation of being made to eat my lover's ***?"
"Yes, Mistress," I answered.
"I thought you might," she said. "I want you to give me a key to your apartment. Robert and I are going to meet here on Saturdays to have sex."
"Why don't you use his place?"
"He has a girlfriend who lives with him," she explained. "We went back to his place tonight because his girlfriend is out of town for the weekend. Your apartment, however, will be safer for us to use on a more regular basis."
"Robert is not only my ex-lover, but my Master as well. I allow him to dominate me much in the same way that I'm going to dominate you." I must have had a rather shocked ex
"You," she answered.
"I just can't picture you being some guy's slave."
"You should have seen us at the restaurant tonight," she said. "Once we were seated in the booth, Robert made me pull my skirt up over my hips. He then had me spread my legs so that he could finger me. I had to sit there like that throughout the whole meal. I was so nervous and anxious. I kept thinking that someone was going to notice what he was doing to me. It was humiliating; yet, at the same time, it was also sexually exciting."
"Is that all?" I asked.
"The worse part was in having to act like nothing was going on, even when my body was literally shaking from the intensity of the ****** I had. It was sheer torture. I cried when he licked my juices from his finger and said that he was going to make me his slave again."
"What happened when you got back to his apartment?"
"He bent me over the side of the couch as soon as we stepped through the door," she said. "He then pulled my skirt up, my pantyhose down, and took me from behind like a dog in heat. After he ********** inside of me, Robert ordered me to stay in that position while he had a cold beer to drink. I was so afraid that his girlfriend was going to unexpectedly walk in on us. When he finally finished the beer, he took me a second time, ******* me long and hard with his magnificent ****. It's so big that I almost had an ****** as soon as he entered me. Afterwords, he made me get down on my knees and beg for the pleasure of licking him clean. I felt like such a ****."
"Does your husband know about Robert?"
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I think not," I answered.
"You're so smart."
"Simply a matter of deduction."
"It's time for you to get back to work." Kimberly then pulled my head back into the lush vortex of her womanhood and commanded me to lick her clitoris. She placed one of her hands on the back of my head to control my movements as I eased the tip of my tongue back between the lips of her ***** and swiftly found what I was searching for. I began to move my tongue up and down in a continual rhythm, wanting to tease her for as long as possible, hoping to keep her on the edge of release. She knew what I was doing and liked it. Occasionally, when I veered off the chosen path, her hand would direct me back to where she wanted me to focus the most attention. It wasn't long before she had another ******, this one more powerful than the first two. Her hand pressed against the back of my head, pushing me more deeply into the wet junction between her thighs. Before I was finished with sexually pleasing her, my face would be covered with her juices and the remains of Robert's ***. Such is the life of a slave.
When our sexual escapade was over and Kimberly was getting ready to go home, she kissed me on the lips and then said: "You don't mind the addition of Robert to our relationship, do you?"
"No," I replied.
"You do understand that when Robert and I come over on Saturday, I going to expect clean sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom?"
"It'll be good for you to clean your apartment for us."
"How's that?" I asked.
"It will be a constant reminder of your status as my slave," Kimberly stated. "The purpose of a slave is to serve his Mistress in whatever way she demands. Would you agree with that?"
"Yes," I said.
"Who knows, maybe Robert and I will be waiting for you one Saturday when you get home. We'll let you watch as he dominates me and then ***** me good and hard. Afterwords, I'll make you clean up after him while he watches. Is that something you might enjoy doing?"
"We'll get together after work one night this week and drive down to the Tack & Saddle Store on Industrial Road," she said. "I bet they have some nice riding crops in stock."
"That would be nice," I lied. Kimberly kissed me again and then said, "Don't worry, darling, I promise not to whip you too hard."
I smiled at that and then watched her leave, thinking about what I'd just gotten myself into. I was now the slave of a woman who was married, while at the same time sexually submissive to another man. This sounded like perfect material for the Jerry Springer Show.
Closing the door, I went to the refrigerator and got out the bottle of Chardonnay. I poured myself a full glass and drank it down without a second thought. I had to admit that if I was honest with myself, I was actually looking forward to next Saturday, wondering what she'd have in store for me.
I put the bottle of wine back into the refrigerator and then washed the two glasses. I was still too worked up to go to bed, so I grabbed the copy of Stephen King's newest novel, From a Buick 8, sat down on the couch, and read for an hour. By the time I was ready for bed, the need to ********** had diminished and I was finally able to go to sleep, thinking of Kimberly's beautiful, stocking-covered legs wrapped around my head and the fact that I would now have to wash clothes on Friday night so that she and her Master would have clean sheets to **** on when they came over on Saturday.