Becoming Mrs. Cockwife Pt. 08

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I could handle the weight and the humiliation of parading around the store with the heavy buttplug inside me. But looking into James's mother's eyes, I knew there was no way out. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Alright, I'll give it a try," I responded, my voice shaky but determined.

I carefully stood up and felt the weight of the buttplug pulling me downwards. It was a strange sensation, to say the least. I could feel the pressure inside me, the fullness and stretch of my ass as I started to walk.

As I took a few tentative steps, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the store on me. Their gaze was a mix of curiosity, amusement, and perhaps a touch of arousal. I could hear the whispers and giggles as I walked by, exposing my naked body along with the heavy buttplug lodged deep within me.

"Look at her, strutting around with that massive buttplug!" one woman whispered to her friend, both of them unable to contain their laughter.

"She must really love being a cockwife," another person smirked, their words dripping with condescension.

I tried my best to maintain my composure, to ignore their comments and stares. But with every step I took, the weight of the buttplug became more apparent. It felt like a constant reminder of my submissive position, of the humiliation I willingly endured for the sake of money.

As I walked past the other customers, I could see a mix of shock, curiosity, and even envy in their eyes. Some tried to avert their gaze, pretending not to notice my nakedness and the heavy buttplug. Others openly stared, their eyes fixated on the way my ass moved with each step under the weight of the plug.

I kept walking, my head held high but my cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. My body felt so exposed and vulnerable, but I pushed forward, knowing that this was the life I had chosen.

Finally, I made my way back to James's mother, who was waiting for me with a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, Mrs. Cockwife, how does it feel to walk around with that heavy buttplug inside you? Are you enjoying the attention?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I took a moment to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "It's... it's challenging, but I'm doing my best. And yes, the attention is... overwhelming," I replied, my voice quivering slightly.

James's mother chuckled, her laughter filled with a mix of amusement and superiority. "Good. Remember, Nisha, as a cockwife, you're here to please James and his family. And if that means enduring humiliation and wearing heavy buttplugs, then so be it. Now, let's get you some more jewellery to wear."

With that, she led me further into the store, my naked body still on full display, the weight of the buttplug a constant reminder of my submission. I couldn't help but wonder what other challenges and humiliations awaited me as Mrs. Cockwife.

James's mother looked at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Nisha, how does it feel to have such expensive gold inside of you? Does it make you feel even more submissive and degraded?"

I felt a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as she posed the question. The weight of the gold buttplug inside me was definitely noticeable, creating a sense of fullness and stretched sensation. But it was also a constant reminder of my role as Mrs. Cockwife and the lengths I was willing to go for wealth and security.

"It feels... overwhelming," I finally replied, my voice hesitant. "The weight and the coldness of the gold... it's a constant reminder of my submission. It makes me feel vulnerable and exposed."

James's mother smiled knowingly. "That's exactly the point, my dear. The gold represents your commitment to your role as a cockwife, to cater to the desires and whims of James's cock. It serves as a physical symbol of your dedication and devotion."

As she spoke, I couldn't help but feel a mix of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the idea of wearing expensive gold inside me felt undeniably decadent and exciting. It heightened the intensity of the experience, taking me deeper into the realm of submission and power play. But on the other hand, it reinforced the fact that I was nothing more than a submissive object, owned and controlled by James and his family.

"I understand, Mrs. Smith," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm here to fulfill the desires and expectations of James and his family. If wearing this gold buttplug is part of that, then I will embrace it."

James's mother nodded, her smile widening. "Good. Remember, Nisha, you are the cockwife. Your purpose is to serve and please. The gold inside you is a constant reminder of that."

With those words, she patted me on the back and turned to lead me towards the counter, where the rest of the jewellery awaited. As she guided me through the store, I couldn't help but feel the stares and whispers of the people around us. They seemed to recognize the submissive role I had willingly taken on.

As I stood at the counter, naked with the gold buttplug still inside me, I couldn't ignore the heightened sense of vulnerability and exposure. Each piece of jewellery that James's mother selected for me further emphasized my status as his cockwife. From delicate chain necklaces to intricate anklets, each piece was a physical reminder of my submission and the power dynamics at play.

Though I felt a mix of embarrassment and arousal, I couldn't deny the sense of empowerment that came from fully embracing my role. I knew that I was willing to endure the humiliations and challenges that came with it, all for the promise of financial security and a life of luxury.

As the clerk handed me the bag containing the jewellery, I looked at James's mother, a newfound determination in my eyes. I was ready to fully embrace my life as Mrs. Cockwife and navigate the world of the wealthy and powerful, even if it meant wearing gold inside me and enduring constant exposure and humiliation.

This was my path now, and I would walk it with pride and submission.

As James's mother and Karen walked out of the jewellery store, I followed closely behind them, feeling the weight of the gold buttplug inside me with every step I took. The contrast between their impeccably clothed figures and my nakedness was striking, drawing even more attention from the crowds of people in the mall.

As we walked through the bustling mall, I could hear the murmurs and whispers growing louder. People turned their heads to get a glimpse of the woman walking naked beside James's mother and Karen, their eyes widening in surprise and curiosity. Some pointed and giggled, while others tried to discretely take pictures.

James's mother held her head high, basking in the attention and enjoying the spectacle she had created. Karen, following in her mother's footsteps, wore a smirk on her face as if reveling in my humiliation. And there I was, feeling simultaneously exposed and humiliated, yet also strangely empowered by the weight of the gold inside me.

"Look at her, with that gold buttplug! She must be desperate for attention," someone whispered nearby, their voice filled with judgment.

"Can you believe she's walking around like that? What a disgrace," another person chimed in, their disapproval evident in their tone.

But amidst the criticisms, there were also whispers of fascination and intrigue. Some whispered amongst themselves, speculating on the purpose and significance of the gold buttplug. Others simply stared, their eyes transfixed on the gleaming jewelry peeking out from between my buttocks.

As we made our way towards the exit of the mall, I could feel the air of superiority radiating from James's mother and Karen. It was a stark reminder of their position of privilege and power, and my role as the submissive cockwife.

Finally, we stepped outside into the parking lot, the brightness of the sun hitting my naked body. James's mother hailed the waiting Rolls Royce, its sleek black exterior exuding luxury and wealth. The chauffeur quickly opened the door and James's mother and Karen glided into the backseat, leaving me to follow suit with my bare skin exposed for all to see.

As I settled into the backseat, I could feel the gazes of the onlookers lingering on me, their whispered comments still ringing in my ears. The chauffeur closed the door behind me, cutting off my view of the outside world, but not the lingering sense of exposure and humiliation that stayed with me.

As the car pulled away, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the tinted windows. There I was, naked and adorned with gold, a symbol of submission and decadence. And though I felt a mix of emotions -- humiliation, arousal, and a burgeoning sense of power -- I knew that this was the path I had chosen as Mrs. Cockwife.

As we settled into the backseat of the Rolls Royce, Karen turned to me with a wicked smile on her face. "Nisha, you know we're hosting a little cocktail party this evening, right?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of mischief and excitement.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. I was aware of the evening event, but the details had been kept from me until now. I had a sinking feeling that Karen was about to divulge something that would further expose and degrade me.

"Well, darling, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to be a living display piece," Karen continued, her eyes gleaming with a hint of sadistic pleasure.

My breath caught in my throat as her words sank in. A living display piece? The thought of being exhibited like that, paraded around as a submissive object for their friends to admire and toy with, sent a mix of excitement and fear coursing through me.

"Karen, I... I don't know if I can handle that," I stammered, my voice betraying my apprehension.

She let out a dismissive chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure you'll do just fine, Nisha. Besides, it's not like you have much choice in the matter. As James's cockwife, it's your duty to fulfill our desires and whims, no matter how degrading they may be."

Her words cut deep, reminding me of my place in this twisted arrangement. I had signed up for this, willingly subjected myself to humiliation for the promise of financial security. And now, it seemed, there was no turning back.

As the car glided through the streets, I couldn't help but visualize the upcoming cocktail party. The thought of being paraded around, naked and adorned with gold, in front of James's friends, made my pulse quicken and my pussy tingle with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

"What will I be required to do, Karen?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's smile widened, revealing her delight in my eagerness to please. "Oh, don't worry, Nisha. We'll start with a simple procession, perhaps a walk around the room so that everyone can get a good look at you. You'll be their living ornament, their prized possession for the evening. And who knows what other whims they may have?

As she described what was expected of me, my mind filled with images of being touched, teased, and used by their friends. The thought both thrilled and terrified me. I was an object to be admired and humiliated, a toy to be played with for their amusement.

A mixture of anticipation and anxiety welled up inside me as I realized that this was just the beginning of a life filled with debauchery and submission. As James's cockwife, I had signed away my autonomy, my dignity, but in doing so, I had also awakened a part of me that craved the thrill of degradation and the ecstasy of serving.

I knew that the cocktail party would push me further into the depths of my desires, testing my boundaries and embracing my submissive nature. And as we arrived at our destination, the mansion where the party would be held, I braced myself for the whirlwind of emotions and sensations to come.

As we sat in the car, Karen and James's mother discussed the details of the cocktail party ahead. I couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement as the anticipation built up within me.

"I think we should go for an elegant and sophisticated theme," James's mother suggested, her voice filled with confidence. "How about a black-tie affair? That way, everyone will be dressed to the nines, while Nisha here can be our unique centerpiece."

Karen nodded in agreement. "Yes, that sounds perfect. We can have the guests wearing their most luxurious gowns and suits, with Nisha wearing nothing but the gold buttplug. She will be the epitome of submissive beauty and servitude."

As they continued discussing the party details, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The thought of being the center of attention, surrounded by elegantly dressed guests, while I remained completely naked except for the gold buttplug, sent shivers down my spine.

I imagined the guests walking into the opulent mansion, their eyes widening in shock and intrigue as they caught sight of me. The women in their perfectly tailored gowns and the men in their sleek tuxedos, all casting glances in my direction, whispering amongst themselves.

Would they look at me with desire? Disgust? Curiosity? I couldn't help but wonder how they would react to the sight of a naked woman, adorned with gold, being displayed like a piece of art.

As the car continued on its journey, I pondered what I would wear, or rather, what I wouldn't wear, for the cocktail party. I envisioned myself standing in the middle of the room, my body exposed for all to see, while the guests formed a circle around me, their eyes devouring my nakedness.

My mind wandered to the sensations that awaited me, the touch of their hands on my bare skin, their whispers and words of degradation. I knew that I would be subjected to their desires, used for their pleasure, as a symbol of my submission to James and his family.

As the car ride stretched on, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The cocktail party loomed ahead, and with each passing moment, I felt myself being drawn further into this twisted world of power and submission.

I glanced at Karen and James's mother, both of them engrossed in their conversation, their faces alive with excitement and control. And as I sat there, naked and adorned with gold, I knew that my role as Mrs. Cockwife was about to be tested to its fullest extent.

As Karen and James's mother continued discussing the cocktail party, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. They were going into great detail about how I would present myself and show off the gold buttplug, emphasizing my submission and vulnerability.

"I think she should be positioned in uncomfortable poses," Karen suggested, a mischievous smirk on her face. "For example, she could be kneeling on the floor, her back arched and her ass pushed out, displaying the buttplug in all its glory."

James's mother nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yes, and we can encourage the guests to approach her, touch her, and admire the gold buttplug up close. We want her to be a living artwork, a testament to her commitment as a cockwife."

The image of being on display, kneeling and presenting myself in such a vulnerable manner, made my heart race. The buttplug would be fully exposed, gleaming with gold as a symbol of my submission and servitude. I imagined the guests surrounding me, running their fingers along the cold metal, inspecting me like a prized possession.

"And let's not forget to have her bend over," Karen added, a wicked glint in her eyes. "We want to give everyone a good view of the buttplug from behind. Just imagine the gasps and murmurs as they witness her total exposure."

I felt a mix of excitement and discomfort at the idea of bending over, my ass on full display for the guests to see. It was an extreme level of vulnerability, one that would test my limits and reinforce my submissive role as the cockwife.

As they continued discussing the details and logistics of how I would be positioned and displayed, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the cocktail party itself. The thought of being showcased in such an explicit and exposed manner sent a thrill through me, a feeling of both anticipation and fear.

I knew that I had willingly entered into this role as Mrs. Cockwife, embracing the challenges and humiliations that came with it. This cocktail party was just another step on the path of submission and degradation that I had chosen, a reminder of my commitment to please and serve.

But as the car ride continued, I couldn't shake off the nerves that had settled within me. The weight of the gold buttplug pressed against me, a constant reminder of my vulnerability, my willingness to expose myself for the pleasure and amusement of others.

The cocktail party loomed ahead, a gathering that would push me further into the depths of degradation and surrender. I braced myself for what awaited, knowing that this night would be a true test of my submission and endurance as Mrs. Cockwife.

As the car ride continued, Karen turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "You know, Nisha, that gold buttplug is worth more than your entire body," she said, her voice a mixture of amusement and condescension.

I felt a pang of humiliation as her words sank in. It reminded me once again of my position as the cockwife, of the way I had traded my body for the promise of wealth and security.

"You should take good care of it," Karen continued. "After all, it's a symbol of your submission. Treat it as if it were a prized possession, just like James's cock."

Her words stung, but I knew she was right. That gold buttplug had become a significant part of my identity as Mrs. Cockwife, a physical reminder of my role and duties. It represented my commitment to James and his family, and the lengths I was willing to go to please them.

"I understand, Karen," I replied, my voice filled with a mixture of resignation and determination. "I will do my best to care for it, to honor its significance in my role as the cockwife."

She nodded approvingly, her eyes glittering with a hint of satisfaction. "Good. Just remember, Nisha, that your purpose is to serve and please. That gold buttplug is a symbol of your submission and devotion. It's not just a piece of jewelry - it's a representation of your commitment to James and his desires."

I reflected on her words as the car continued on its journey. The gold buttplug took on a deeper meaning for me, reminding me of the sacrifices I had made and the intense submission I had willingly embraced. It was a symbol of my dedication to James, a symbol that I would carry with me at all times.

As the car came to a stop, indicating our arrival at the mansion where the cocktail party would be held, I took one last look at the gold buttplug nestled inside me. It gleamed with a certain kind of power, a reminder of the submissive role I had chosen.

With newfound determination, I prepared myself to enter the party, ready to display my commitment and submission to James and his family, fully aware that the gold buttplug represented more than just a piece of jewelry - it represented my willingness to surrender and endure for the sake of their pleasure.

As we stepped out of the car, I could feel a sense of anticipation building within me. The mansion loomed before us, its grandeur and opulence evident in every detail. I couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement as we made our way towards the entrance.

As we approached the front door, I noticed a few guests already gathered inside, their elegant attire a stark contrast to my own complete nakedness. They turned their heads as we entered the grand foyer, their eyes widening in surprise and curiosity.

I could hear their whispers and gasps as they took in the sight of a naked woman in their midst. Some glanced at me with judgment or disdain, while others seemed intrigued by my unusual presence. I could feel the weight of their gaze on my exposed body, a mixture of scrutiny and desire.