All The World's a Stage - Finale

Reading notes:

1. This is the third and final chapter of another collaboration between my new sissy friend Simon(e) and myself. It is a re-hash of an original story outlined by my late friend and Simon(e)'s ex-Owner, Nicola.

2. All participants are well over the age of eighteen, and all activities described are undertaken consensually.

3. All authors value feedback. Please consider leaving a comment when you've read this.

Act 1: Scene 1 (Note: The action in this scene takes place twenty one years in the past.)

I had been living with Margaret and Keith for just over a year when Olwen joined our threesome and three became four. I'd better explain the pecking order in our household.

I'm the Daddy to both Margaret and Keith. Margaret is my submissive baby girl and Keith's HotWife. Keith is a sissy cuckold who serves us both. Attentive readers will remember that Margaret is quite petite, with pert tits and a smooth cunt. Keith is pathetically equipped in the cock department, and now wears a cock lock twenty-four-seven.

And Olwen? She's taller than Margaret and a lot bustier. When she first joined our family, her cunt was almost hidden by a thick bush. I managed to convince her to shave, but every now and then, she lets her pubes grow out. It's like fucking a haystack! She loves sucking cock as much as eating cunt, and her rimming skills are very well developed. She and I tend to always dominate Margaret, but every now and again, she gets Margaret to strap on and we dp her. So, although she doesn't actually live with us, Olwen goes out of her way to ascertain that she's not submissive. As I've said, she loves sex with me and with Margaret, singly and as a threesome. Naturally we all use Keith as a fuck toy, and I've trained him to fluff me and to clean up everyone after we've all been fucking.

So there you are. You're up to date with our domestic arrangements. Following a very successful Christmas pantomime production of Aladdin, the Port Aber Amateur Dramatic Society (P. A. A. D. S.) committee met to discuss what options they had for their spring production. I'm not a member of this society, but I am the Stage Manager at the theatre where they perform, so the society's performance director, who just happens to be Olwen, invited me to the meeting to give my opinion on what was possible to stage, based on what lighting, sound and stage area were available to them. A number of productions were discussed, and in the end the choice fell between Fiddler on the Roof and Oliver.

This was all going to plan. Olwen had steered the discussion in exactly the way she had told Margaret, Keith and me a few hours previously. She intended putting on Oliver, and casting Margaret as Nancy and Keith as Mr. Sowerberry the undertaker. She envisaged opposition from some of the less ambitious committee members, and so she was relying on me to pour cold water on any suggestions other than Oliver. I knew that if I spoke in purely technical terms about the difficulties of staging anything but Oliver, the committee would listen to me, and be bound to go with Olwen's suggestion.

I thought we had carried the day, but just before the Chair called for a final vote, Delia Crosby, who was the Ladies' chorus representative on the committee, and a dried-up, frustrated know-it-all spoke up.

"Before we vote," she began, looking around at everyone who was sitting around the table, "I want to know where the director thinks she can lay her hands on enough youngsters to play the inmates of the orphanage where Oliver Twist lives as well as the dozen or so members of Fagin's gang of street urchins?"

She smiled triumphantly. "I know Drew can do miracles with lighting effects," she continued, "but I'm sure that even he can't make members of our Society appear like children, or even teenagers!"

There was a rumble of agreement round the table, and Delia looked pleased with herself.Olwen waited until there was quiet and then she spoke.

"You don't need to get involved with casting, Delia," she said, smiling sweetly before adding, "If I were you, I'd worry more about remembering your lines and not falling over the scenery!"

Everyone, apart from Delia sniggered as they recalled Deliah's efforts to exit stage right through a door during the production of Aladdin. The door in question opened outwards, but Deliah tried to push it instead of pulling it, which nearly resulted in a section of Widow Twankey's house falling over. It was only the prompt action by some of the stage crew that prevented a disaster.

"I intend recruiting members of my A S drama class," Olwen continued. She was Head of Drama at the local High School. "They all need to get some practical work done before they start their A Level courses in September, and based on my assessment of their work so far, I reckon I can count on between twenty five and thirty of them agreeing to join our production."

That persuaded the committee, and when the votes were counted there were eleven votes for Oliver and one for Fiddler on the Roof. Delia looked most disappointed.

The meeting broke up soon afterwards, having decided to start rehearsals in the theatre practice room in three weeks' time. Olwen had school in the morning, so she went straight home. Keith drove Margaret and me home, and I allowed her to get my cock out and give me the start of a lovely blow job in the back of the car.

We got home safely, and thanks to Margaret's skilful mouth I was ready for a good fuck session. I decided to take my baby girl and her cuckold to bed early. Both of them approved of this plan, and so we all retired to the master bedroom.

I told Margaret to do a nice teasing strip whilst Keith undressed me and fluffed me. He'd been sucking my cock for over a year now, and after an initial display of reluctance (for which he'd received a sharp slap in the face from Margaret) he now had developed an excellent technique for getting my cock rock hard. He also loved being allowed to slide my cock into his HotWife's eager, warm and wet cunt.

Tonight I lay on my back and Keith held my long, thick cock steady as Margaret lowered herself onto me. I'd fucked her hundreds of times since I had moved in, but she remained as tight as the first time. She loved riding me cowgirl style because it meant I could play with the thick, heavy loops she wore through her nipples. I didn't disappoint her, and soon she was moaning in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she bounced up and down on my thick cock.

Keith had retreated to his usual place at the foot of our bed, where he could see all the action. He was, of course, cock locked, but even though he was wearing the most miniscule of chastity devices, he would have been able to get a partial hard-on. Tease and denial was something that both Margaret and I enjoyed enforcing, and Keith gave his consent willingly. He knew that on occasions he would be milked, and the anticipation of that event was enough of an incentive for him to endure weeks without release.

Margaret stopped her bouncing, and climbed off me. She reversed her position and impaled her arse on my throbbing cock, so that she was now facing Keith. She guided my hands back up to her tits and moaned as I first gripped, then twisted her thick nipple rings.

"Get over here, cucky," she said throatily. "You can use your tongue on my cunt and clit and on Daddy's cock shaft. If you pleasure us properly, I'll give you a nice blow job later on, to celebrate your casting as Mr. Sowerberry."

Keith did as he was told. Margaret's arse was beautifully tight and it gripped my cock shaft wonderfully. Anal sex was a favourite of all three of us, and Keith particularly liked eating a cream pie out of Margaret's arse. As he licked my cock shaft I knew that it wouldn't be long before I shot my bolt, and filled Margaret with my cum. Keith would then clean my cock before settling down to eat his cream pie, which usually got me hard enough again to fuck him before I finished off with another cum in Margaret's cunt.

Sure enough, a few moments later, I felt that lovely familiar feeling in my ball sac, and I gave Margaret fair warning.

"Here it comes, baby girl," I gasped. "Get ready for an arseful of Daddy's cum!"

"Give it to me Daddy!" she squealed. "Fill your baby girl full of your hot, thick jizz!"

I obliged and she continued to bounce on me even as my cock was spewing out its' cum. She moaned in ecstasy, as she felt her arse fill up. She sat still and clenched her arse cheeks together, gripping my rapidly softening cock. We were both panting from our exertions, and the only other sound in the bedroom was the snuffling that Keith was making as he continued to worship Margaret's cunt.

As my soft cock slid out of Margaret, Keith latched onto it immediately. His standing orders were to get onto cock clean-up duty straight away, so that he could begin cleaning Margaret up before she started to leak.

"Good cucky," she said softly, patting his head as she moved over to her side of the bed. "Hurry up and clean Daddy's cock. Then once you've finished your cream pie, I'll keep my promise and give you a blow job."

Keith redoubled his cock cleaning efforts, peeling back my foreskin and making sure that nothing remained around my sensitive helmet. Already, his skilful mouth was having the desired effect, and I felt my cock begin to thicken and grow.

Margaret watched with a dreamy expression of a well fucked HotWife. She reached out to her bedside table and picked up her dainty lady pipe. It was standard practice for her to smoke whilst Keith cleaned me up. It calmed her down, but it also had the opposite effect on Keith, who had a smoking fetish. Margaret never missed an opportunity to tease her cuckold. She lit up and blew smoke at Keith.

I found her pipe smoking amusing. I liked the smell of her tobacco, and also I liked the taste of her when she'd had a pipe. An idea formed in my mind as Keith finished cleaning me up and moved over to begin his cream pie feast.

Margaret blew a long stream of aromatic smoke in his face and smiled as he winced. His cock lock had obviously just got that little bit tighter!

"Do a good job, cucky," she warned, "or there'll be no blow job for you!"

"Yes, Princess," he replied, before he began by licking the first drops of cum that had started to ooze out of her arsehole. Margaret sighed in contentment and puffed on her pipe.

Watching him clean his HotWife's arse always stimulated me, and by the time Keith emerged from between Margaret's legs, his face red and sweaty, and gleaming with cunt juice, I was hard again.

Margaret clenched on her pipe and reached down to her ankle, where she wore the bracelet that held the key to Keith's cock lock. The second key was on a chain around my neck.

She unlocked her cuckold and removed his device. His cock, pathetically small even before we had decided to put him in chastity, sprang free. Margaret giggled, and some smoke came out of her nostrils. She took a last puff and blew her smoke over Keith's rigid cock, before putting her pipe down in the ashtray on her bedside table.

"I swear your little sissy boi clit is shrinking," she laughed. "It never was very impressive. Now it just looks ridiculous. Do you want to try and put it in me, cucky? You know, to see if I can even feel it?"

"Oh, may I, Princess?" he replied hopefully. "That would be such an honour!"

"Don't be so fucking stupid," she replied scornfully. "You know my cunt belongs exclusively to Daddy. I'm not sullying it with that pathetic cocklet! You'll be satisfied with a blow job, or nothing!"

Keith hid his obvious disappointment bravely. "A blow job is more than this sissy cuckold deserves, Princess," he admitted sadly.

"Yes, well for your impudence, I've just decided that your blow job is going to finish with a ruined orgasm," she declared, her expression warning Keith that if he so much as showed any disappointment at this news, he'd not even get the promised blow job.

I winked at her. "I have an idea, baby girl," I said, smiling at her. "I am ready to fuck you again, but I want to congratulate the cuck too. You give him the start of a blow job, and when he starts to leak his pre-cum, you stop. I'll fuck him and he can cum all over your tits and your tummy and clean you up before I fuck you."

"That sounds like a great plan, Daddy," she said enthusiastically before poking one of Keith's nipples with a sharp finger nail. "What do you say, cucky?"

"Thank you, Daddy. Thank you Princess," he squeaked in a pathetically grateful tone.

Margaret gripped his little cock between her thumb and forefinger and slipped it into her mouth. Keith groaned with pleasure. In no time at all, he must have started leaking pre-cum, because Margaret released his cock with a plop. She beckoned him forward and used her hands to open his mouth. She dribbled a thick globule of saliva into his open mouth and pushed his mouth closed.

"Swallow!" she instructed, before turning to me.

"Cucky's pre-cum is so thin and weak," she informed me. "Yours is much thicker and stronger, and tastier. It's no wonder I had to make him a cuckold!"

She snuggled down in the bed and Keith got into position above her. I got behind Keith and put my cock between his arse cheeks.

"Get ready to be fucked, cucky," I told him. "And make sure when you cum you give your HotWife all you can. I want to see her tits and her tummy decorated with cuckold cum!"

"Yes, Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Aaargh!"

This last exclamation shot out of him as my thick hard cock rammed into his arsehole. A few months earlier, both Margaret and I had noticed that he had become much too slack, so we'd instructed him to get something done about it. As CEO of the local Health Board, Keith had lots of contacts, so getting his arsehole tightened up had proved no problem. Now though, every time I fucked him, or Margaret pegged him, he experienced an agonising short, sharp pain as his newly re-constructed arsehole was penetrated.

I slammed into him and began to fuck him. I didn't want to cum in him. I was conserving that for Margaret's cunt later on. I needn't have worried. He'd been denied an orgasm for so long that he needed minimal stimulation. And, of course, he'd already had his little cock sucked for a while by his HotWife. He was on the edge in no time at all.

"Nearly there, Daddy," he gasped. "May I cum, please?"

"Just remember your instructions," I grunted, still fucking him deeply. "Tits and tummy,"

"Ughhh! Y...ye...yes Daddy," he gasped as I felt his arse contract and he started to ooze. A thick gout of cum slid onto Margaret's left tit, and he re-positioned his cock so that the rest of his first load landed on her other tit.

Shuffling down a bit he continued to ooze an impressive amount of cum on her tummy, making sure to fill her belly button before continuing down and finishing off with a thick layer that nestled between her pink, puffy cunt lips.

I pulled out of him and lay on my back.

"Hurry up and clean baby girl up," I barked. "I want to fuck her soon."

Keith wasted no time and in very quick order, he'd lapped up all his cum, and Margaret put his cock lock back on.

"You're done for the night, cucky," she informed him. "You can fuck off back to your room now. Daddy and I want some privacy to fuck. We'll have tea in bed in the morning as usual, and I'll lay out your work clothes after my tea. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Princess. Thank you Daddy. Goodnight, both," he replied, and he left us to go back to the spare room, where we all three knew, he'd lie in bed and listen to the sounds of his HotWife being fucked by her Daddy.

That night of celebration changed our lives fundamentally. How? Well, if you read on, you'll find out!

Act 1: Scene 2 (Note: The action in this scene takes place twenty years and eight months in the past.)

Rehearsals began for the Spring production, and from what I could gather they were going well. The read through had resulted in a strong cast, and Olwen's promise to deliver some of her A Level students came to fruition. Twenty eight turned up, and they were split into two crews, a larger one for the residents of the orphanage, and the rest made up Fagin's gang of street urchins.

In a masterstroke of casting, Olwen cast the head boy at her school as Oliver, and in keeping with her penchant for doing things out of left field, the part of the Artful Dodger was given to the deputy head girl. Both of the young people had a great deal of stage time, as well as having to perform some very important musical numbers. Fortunately, both of them were studying music as well as drama, and both possessed fine singing voices. Everybody was impressed, and rehearsals were both enjoyable and smooth running.

Margaret was playing Nancy more as she was written by Dickens, rather than the happy-go-lucky young women familiar to audiences of the popular stage show. She strutted around the stage in a provocative and very slutty manner, her small tits squeezed into a push-'em-up bra and spilling out of her low cut costumes. She reasoned that Nancy was a prostitute, and that's how she was going to play her. Olwen supported her decision, and told Margaret privately that if she wanted to sell her body, that was fine, but that neither she nor her Daddy had any intention of paying to fuck her Margaret agreed that as far as we were concerned, we had no worries about not being able to have her whenever or however we wanted.

About ten weeks before the production was about to open, Margaret was practicing a duet with Oliver. They were singing the song, "I'd do anything for you," and Margaret was sharing looks at me, sat behind the control desk in the practice room, and Olwen, standing off to one side of the stage area. The implication was obvious, and, speaking to Olwen via her headphones, I suggested that she accompany us home after practice so that Margaret could put into deeds the words she was singing. Olwen had just given me the thumbs up when Margaret collapsed.

For a few seconds everyone froze. Then a few of us rushed to help her. As I was the closest, I got there first. I had just put Margaret into the recovery position when she came round, sat up and vomited all over my trousers and my shoes. Somebody screamed.

I supported Margaret because I thought she might keel over again, but she burped, excused herself and suddenly became aware of the state of my trousers.

"Oh Da... Drew I mean. I'm awfully sorry. I don't know what happened there."

Olwen clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Give Margaret some space, please," she said. "We'll call it a night for now. Same time next week everybody, and please make an effort to learn your lines! Singers, you learn your lyrics as well."

Keith got the car and together he and I helped a rather shaky Margaret into it. I told him that I'd have a shower and make my own way home. Luckily, there were always spare clothes hanging around, so I showered, put my foul smelling trousers in a carrier bag, and walked home.

It was way past midnight when Margaret and Keith came home. To my admittedly non-medically trained eye, Margaret looked the picture of health. Keith, on the other hand, looked decidedly ill. When they had taken off their shoes and coats and sat down, I interrogated them both. Keith asked if anyone wanted a drink. Neither Margaret nor I did, so Keith poured himself a large whiskey and came to sit down in his usual chair.

"Are you alright." I asked Margaret. "What did they say? Do you know why you collapsed?"

Margaret grinned at me, and then looked at Keith.

"I want you to tell Daddy my news," she said in the tone of voice that Keith daren't refuse.

Keith cleared his throat. He looked terrified. He fiddled with the drink that he had poured himself.