Cockold Mistress

I arrived at the appointed time, rang the doorbell, and waited for Mistress to let me. I was more nervous than usual because today was to be special. Today, Mistress would be playing a most unusual role; today, Mistress would be my wife.

When Mistress answered the door, she was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. It was what I might have expected from my wife on a sunny fall afternoon. She smiled at me knowingly and said, “Hi, honey. You’re home from work early. Are you excited about tonight?”
“Oh yes, dear,” I responded. I’m not sure that my voice had the right enthusiasm. I was nervous as hell and I wanted to get this right. I was there for “my wife’s” pleasure, not mine.
“Come on then,” she said turning toward the stair, “I’m going to need your help getting ready.” We walked downstairs to her “dressing room” and I left her tribute on the side table as she locked the door behind us.
“You are such a sweet hubby,” she intoned as she smiled at me. The smile was just a little wicked and told me that her comment was not one of respect. “I love that you like to help me get ready to go out. It’s so much more fun when you help me choose my clothes and pamper me before a big night of partying.” I was warming a little at the enthusiasm in her voice. I knew that my wife did truly love this part and it made me want to please her even more. “Do you love me, sweetie?”

“Oh god yes I love you. You are the best,” I responded. It felt genuine. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall in line and accept Mistress in her role as my wife. “I so much want you to be happy. It always makes me feel good to share your joy and pleasure.”
“I love you too, sweetie. And tonight I’m going to show you just how much. I am going to give you everything you want and then some.” I smiled guiltily. I knew what she meant and I knew what was coming next.
“You know you are a really special husband.” Her words made me blush. “There are so few guys who would do for their wives what you do for me. And you not only do it but you enjoy it.” At her own words, she laughs. “You take such good care of me and I love you for it. I also love to hear you say it. Tell me what you’re going to do for me tonight. Please?” She wasn’t begging; it was a tease.
“Well I’m going to help you get ready to go out tonight.”
“Oh you can do better than that. Tell me what we’re going to do tonight.”
I gulp slightly. In most of our years of marriage, she had treated this part of our relationship as something personal and private. I knew what she had been doing but it was unspoken. Recently, though, my “wife” had gotten bolder and now I was expected to be an active participant. I swallowed hard, but my words came out as barely more than a whisper, “I’m going to help you get ready so that you can go out and fuck your boyfriend.” Her laughter made me feel two feet tall. She knew she had me. “That’s right,” she said. I was glowing bright red. “I’m going to go out with a man who can do what you can’t. Think about it, sweetie. I love you but that little cock is useless to me. But you manage to take care of me anyway, don’t you?”

I knew she was right. There was barely enough cock to put into her and when I just kept popping out she had decided it just wasn’t worth the trouble. She was okay with me using my fingers and my tongue to get her off but she needed more. So I didn’t resist when she started dating other men. The way things evolved just seemed natural. I smiled weakly and said, “Yes ma’am I will always take care of you. That includes helping you get the kind of sex you need and want.”
Her laughter spoke volumes. She loved me but she knew I was hers to use. “So what does that make you, sweetie?”
“That makes me a wimp and a sissy and a cuckold,” I choked out. I knew it but it was still hard to say.
“Whose wimp are you?”
“I’m your wimp, ma’am. I’m yours to use anyway you want to. I’ll do whatever you want to make you happy. What would you like me to do you for you now?”
“Well for starters, you can get out of those clothes. Those are a man’s clothes. You’re not a man are you?
“No, I’m not a man” my reply was tinged with shame.
“Prove it,” she chuckled.
I took off my shirt and lay in on the settee and then kicked off my shoes. Looking at my feet, she asked, “Now what are those?”
I wasn’t wearing socks and the feet of my panty hose shown below the hem of my jeans. “Those are panty hose,” I admitted.
“Oh you are my sissy boy aren’t you?” she giggled, “Okay, off with the pants.”
I unbuckled the belt and let my jeans drop to the floor. Kicking them aside I stood there in just the panty hose, my panty hose, as she stared at my crotch.
“Good sissy, I see you haven’t tampered with my property.” She was looking at the locked cage on my cock. “It’s so small and useless I wouldn’t want you wasting any time playing with it.” Even as she said this I felt myself shrivel inside the device. Jerking off was the only way I might satisfy myself but she figured my time was better spent focused on her. “Now why don’t you help me get ready for my date?” “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could muster.
“Help me out of these clothes,” she instructed as she started to pull the sweatshirt over her head. Standing behind her I took the sides and pulled upward as she let it slide off her body. Pulling her arms out, I took it and set it on the table. With little make-up and an everyday plain white bra holding her ample breasts, Mistress was the spitting image of my wife. The illusion was complete. “Fold it properly,” she instructed, and I proceed to make a neat package of the garment. “Now the jeans.”
I fumbled to unbutton and unzipped the tight jeans. “Don’t get too excited and don’t touch,” she stated firmly, “there’s nothing there for you, sissy.” Carefully, I hooked a couple of belt loops and started to slide the jeans down her legs. Sitting down on a side chair she lifted her legs. “Remove them,” my “wife” demanded. Kneeling, I slipped off the sandals she was wearing and pulled the jeans off her legs. Not needing to be told a second time, I carefully creased and folded them and set them with the sweatshirt.
Wearing only the plain bra and a mismatched pair of bikini briefs, the vision of my wife sat there and raised one foot. “Massage it,” she commanded. Kneeling again in front of her, I took her foot and began to message her lovely appendage. When she switched feet so that I could message the other she saw me take an extra breath. I was intoxicated by her aroma. The fragrance of her feet was mixed with her bodily smells of sweat and sex. I am sure she had been masturbating before I arrived. “You like that don’t you? Get your nose in there and smell them.” I put my face to the sole of her left foot and breathed in deeply. She giggled.
“It certainly doesn’t take much to make you happy does it?” She was right, I was in heaven.
“No ma’am,” I replied between deep breaths that pulled her scent into my nostrils.
“Clean them.” I looked at her confused; there was nothing to wash with close by. “With your tongue, silly wimp,” she laughed again. Her amusement was contagious and I was pathetic; I gave her a silly grin and began to run my tongue over her bare foot. “Suck my toes clean, too!” One by one, I took her toes into my mouth and swirled my tongue around each of them. When I was done with that foot, I repeated the procedure on her right foot. As I sucked on her big toe, she shocked me with her comment. “You are very good at that sissy boy, I bet you would like to suck a cock, wouldn’t you? I didn’t and I shook my head no.
“Oh come on. I do it all the time. Just not yours. Suck on my big toe like it’s a hard cock.” I was about to resist when she followed up with an imperial, “Do it!” Putting her toe back in my mouth, I gently move my tongue around. “No, no.” she implored, “do what I do. Give that cock nice long strokes in and out.” I began to bob my head up and done on her foot moving from the tip to the base with my lips, sucking hard as I moved up the shaft of her toe. Laughing again, she chortled, “Good sissy, good girl, that’s the way to do it. You’ll be ready when I bring you the real thing. Tell me you want it!”
I was about to say no but thought twice about it. I’m a sissy and this is what my wife says wants me to do. So I complied, “Yes, I want it.” “Oh, you can do better than that. Tell me in all the detail what you want and what you are going to do. And I want to hear lots of enthusiasm.” She had one hand resting on her breast and with the other she was tracing small circles on the front mound of her panties. I wanted to panic and reject the images in my head, but clearly this was turning her on and I didn’t want to deny her.
Slowly at first, I told her, “I want you to bring me a guy with a big cock to suck.” She smiled as I paused to consider the words I had just spoken. I may have thought about what it would be like to suck another man’s cock but I had never uttered those words out loud before. “I want him hard and wet from fucking you.” I not much of a man I remember; so what the hell.
“Yesssss!” She hissed. Her hand was moving faster.
“His cock will be a lot larger than mine and he’ll stretch my lips as I suck up and down on the shaft with the head completely in my mouth.” It wasn’t something I wanted to happen but my little cock was swelling and making the cage bob. She notice and giggled.
“Well that certainly turns you on! Tell me what he does.”
“He puts his hands on my head and begins to fuck my face. He’s too big so I put my hand around his shaft to make him feel good. I know that you will like to watch me jerk him off and it will keep him from trying to put his monster down my throat.” “Good girl. You learn quickly. Don’t you just love sucking cock? Tell me you do.”
“Ummmm,” I moan. In my head I’m getting into it. I take her foot and hold it like his cock and begin to make vigorous sucking and pumping motions. Pausing, I managed to say, “Yes, I love it. I love sucking cock. I want to feel him cum in my mouth.” I go back to my sucking. In my hand I feel her foot go rigid and she pushes it into my mouth, hard.
“Suck it. He’s cumming in your mouth. Moan like a horny sissy slut.” I moan in earnest. I am lost in the mixture of humiliation and hedonistic pleasure. Pleased with my performance, she pulls her foot out of my mouth.
“God you’ve made me hot. I need to get fucked so badly,” my “wife” says. She is my wife. Any pretext of role playing is gone. “Sit there and help me decide what to wear.”
My wife gets up from the chair. She is strikingly beautiful even in her boring everyday underwear. She walks over to the table and picks up a lingerie set. It’s black and lacy, a low-cut bra that would barely contain her, with a matching garter belt. She has a red thong and the stock tops are tinged with red as well. “Don’t you wish I would wear something like this for you?”
I know the right answer. “Oh, no! That’s too good for me. You should wear it for your dates. It will get them really turned on. It turns me on just thinking about it and but I would be a waste of your time.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you are right. Seeing your little thing get hard would just make me laugh. This outfit is for getting the big dogs panting. Too bad for you, sissy boy. But let’s look at some other choices and you can choose for me I want something to make my guys really hard before I suck cock.”
She proceeds to hold up several alternatives, including a 50’s style foundation garment. The bra and girdle and bottom are all one piece and there are hooks on the back for closure and hooks on the crotch for access. Nylon stocking tabs dangle from the bottom. Oh god, I want to see her in that and she knows it. My dicklette is throbbing again. In the end, I choose the black lace with the red thong. “Why didn’t you choose the fetish wear?” she asks. She calls it that because no woman in their right mind would wear that stuff today except for its effect on poor pathetic wimps like me. I would wear it. She knows that too. Once I conceded to her that it turned me when she fucks other men, everything unraveled. I had to tell her about my cock cage and ball stretcher and show her my own collection of lingerie. Now she was using my kinks to control me. She was most amused to discover that her infidelity was my biggest thrill.
I was into her preparation now. “I want you to wear something that will really turn your date on,” I encouraged. “You need something to get the juices of a real man flowing. You want to make him hard and hungry. That lace outfit will do the trick.”
She smiles at me. “Good answer! You do love me don’t you?”
“Yes dear, I do love you. I love you more everyday. And tonight I want you to get the fucking of a lifetime.”
“Oh I expect to,” she says calmly, “You will love this. I’m going out with two studs tonight. Think about it sissy. I get two and you get none.” Then she added, “Well, it won’t actually be nothing for you. My pussy will be twice as full when you’re down there with your tongue later on tonight.” She gives another one of her cruel laughs and says, “I bet you wait up for me! You’ll be so horny but you won’t be able to do anything about it until I get home. As your reward, I’m going to tell you all the juicy details … while you go down on me and clean me out.”
My heart is pounding. After letting me imagine all those secret liaisons, she is finally letting me on the details. I should be mortified. A normal man would have left her years ago. But I’m not a normal man. I’m a wimp and a cuckold. Her wimp. And it turns me on to think of her fucking and sucking handsome guys with big cocks. I take my satisfaction in knowing that she still comes home to me.
But we aren’t done yet.
“Turn around,” she says, “and put your hands behind your back.” Doing what she says, I feel the cuffs being placed on my wrists. “I don’t want you getting any ideas. And don’t turn around or you will be punished beyond your imagination. This would be something new for my wife; she was never into to discipline despite my efforts to encourage it. But I know the woman standing behind me is capable of intense cruelty. I am not going to tempt fate.
I hear the rustling of clothing behind me. I imagine that she has removed her day underwear and she is naked. It has been so long since I have seen her completely naked but as much as I want to I don’t dare look. Behind me she says, “Say ahhhh.” Doing as I’m told she reaches around and shoves something in my mouth. I realize immediately from the taste and smell that she is gagging me with her panties. It’s just one more humiliation. She knows that the more she torments me the more I want it. I feel a leather strap being added to hold the wad of cloth in place. I’m sure I feel a naked breast against my back as the strap is cinched tight. She says she’s tired of listening to my pathetic whining talk. She’ll do the talking from now on. “Do not turn around,” she commands. I obey.
I can hear more rustling and shifting. She is certainly taking her time. When she tells me I can look, I turn and see her standing there. She has on the black outfit with the red thong. The stockings attached to her belt make her legs look like a million dollars. She has put on her trademark red lipstick; a color that says fuck my mouth … if you dare. Only a real man would take that bet; she can cut the rest of us down to size with a simple glance. Her hair has been brushed and the fuck-me pumps nearly complete the outfit. All she needs is the dress. But she’s in no hurry. We have time before her date arrives. My wife is happy to use the time to play with me.
“Let’s see that pathetic dick of yours. Take off you pantyhose.” My hands are still cuffed behind my back and she laughs hysterically at the dance I do trying to get them down and off. I grunt and moan through the panty gag. And that makes her laugh harder. The exertion makes me salivate and that makes the panties even wetter. I can taste her in my mouth. Now I am sure she has masturbated before I got “home.” She wants me to know exactly what I am going to be missing. Silently, I thank her. I am pathetic.
With the pantyhose gone, she reaches for the combination lock that holds the cage pin in place. Turning it to 0-0-0 it opens for her. She removes the cage and the pin but leaves the cock ring in place. I know that this is only a temporary reprieve. “Look at that thing,” she says, “I marry a great guy who is smart and takes care of me, but he’s got nothing useful between his legs. You know that don’t you!” Her tone is demanding of an answer and I nod my gagged head to offer a sad yes. “You know that’s why I have to fuck other men, don’t you?” For awhile, she went through a period of feeling guilty, but that didn’t stop her from needing it, or getting it. Now that she knows I’m her willing cuckold, she wants my affirmation to assuage her guilt. This time I nod my head more vigorously. I want her to be happy; I don’t want her to feel guilty. “I fuck them to help you; isn’t that right?” I try my best to smile with the gag in my mouth and make an, “uh-huh,” sound. “You want me to do it, don’t you?” Another “uh-huh.”
“You know what else I have to do, don’t you?” Again, I know what’s coming. “Nod your head if you understand.” I nod. “You want this don’t you? I nod. “I wouldn’t need to fuck other guys if you had a real cock. You’re a great guy and I love you but your cock is useless.” She gives it a swat with her open hand and the sting resonates through my body. My “uh-huh” has a little higher pitch this time. “Your cock is the problem and we need to punish it. You understand that don’t you?” Again I nod my head. I hate my little cock. I want her to punish it. Then I hear her chuckle again. “I’m going to enjoy this.” I think torturing my dick gets her even hotter for her date. It certainly lets her take out her frustration with my inability to service her properly. She goes to work with her CBT tricks, squeezing my balls and whipping my cock. For the next half hour clothes pins and vibrators alternate with whips and ice and lotions. The taste of her panties turns me on and makes me hard for her treatment. Those same panties muffle my screams when the torture becomes too much. At some point she puts ear buds in my ears and blindfolds me. I am listening to gothic organ music drown out my thoughts in the medieval dark. I have no idea what is coming next. She never fails to surprise me. She wants me to know that it’s all the fault of my cock. If I had been a real man, she wouldn’t need to go elsewhere for an orgasm. She’s not punishing it … we are. I want her to do this as much as she enjoys doing it.
Occasionally the pleasure of the pain brings me close to my own orgasm, but she always stops short. I don’t give her orgasms with my cock, why should she give my cock any she figures. We agree that what makes her happy is my encouragement to fuck other men. The more my cock suffers the less useful it is. Punishing it before she goes out seems to help justify her dating for both of us. When she’s done I don’t feel like I want to fuck anyone or anything. My own hand isn’t appealing. She’s horny, I’m useless; we both know she needs a real man now. But she’s just getting warmed up for the night. This is a big turn-on for her. She’s ready for hands on her breasts and deep tongue kisses. She wants to suck a cock … a couple of cocks … and fuck until the orgasms won’t stop. Tonight she tells me, pulling an ear bud from one ear, she’ll have a cock in her pussy and another in her mouth. Thinking about it makes her hot and she punishes my useless dick with gusto. I feel ice against my cock and balls. I shrivel up into my usual nothingness. She takes off the blindfold and removes the ear buds. Picking up the pin and cage from the table she reassembles it around my limp dick. Holding the lock she turns the hasp around and pushes down. Then she spins the dials for the combination. This is the reset position. She doesn’t bother to look at it; she just hooks it through the pin, locks it in place, and gives the dials another spin. I was on the honor system when I came “home” with the 0-0-0 setting but now I have no idea what the combination is. Neither does she. She chuckles at the startled look on my face.
“You don’t need it anyway,” she’s smirking again. My eyes readjust to the light. Damn, she’s beautiful. And in that underwear, she is eroticism personified. “How would you feel about having it removed?” she asks looking at my crotch. “Get rid of some hair, well a lot of hair, put you on hormones, and we could make a passable woman out of you. You are more like a sister or a girlfriend than a husband anyway.” Outwardly, I am horrified. But inwardly there is a certain appeal. Right now, battered and caged, I don’t feel any masculinity down there. “Instead of being a woman with a sissy boy husband, we could be a couple of sexy girls out picking up guys.” She has removed the leather strap and pulled the damp panties out of my mouth. “Do you like that idea? Tell me how much you want it.”
She is pulling on the sexiest leather dress over her naughty lace undies. I should be turned on but instead my emotion is jealousy. And not jealousy of the guys who will fuck her tonight; I’m jealous because I want to be in her shoes. Lost in my thoughts, I blurt out, “Oh god yes that would be wonderful. I want to be a woman just like you.”
Her laughter is genuine now. She is thoroughly amused. She has extracted the ultimate confession.
She steps out of character and is again my Mistress. “Get dressed sissy boy. I can see why your wife likes to fuck other men, but she must really love you to keep coming home. She doesn’t want a girlfriend, she wants a husband. You better take good care of her, not get jealous if she does fuck other guys, and be thankful for whatever she gives you.” Picking up the panties off the settee, she hands them back to me. “Here’s a present for you, put these back in your mouth and don’t take them out until you get home.” I wad them up and force all the material back into my mouth. They are cold and damp now, but they are still rich with her scent.
“Good luck with that cage. If you don’t get it off before your wife gets home, your wishes may just come true. As for the panties, I have worn those during the day for the last couple of days. I’m sure that they are full of my juices, some piss, and my boyfriend’s cum. Knock yourself out.” She’s still laughing as the door closes behind me. If she reads this she’ll know I sucked on those panties all the way home. I knew I was tasting Mistress, but in my mind the juice and piss and cum were those of my well-fucked wife.

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