Cuck's Downfall in Reverse Ch. 01

The following story is relayed in reverse-chronological order. Maybe it sounds ludicrously over-the-top at first, but it'll make more sense as we uncover the backstory.

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Timmy had fallen into a stupor again. The rule was that he shouldn't spend more than about 10 seconds dusting at the same location, but I hadn't seen him move for at least a minute now. He was just absent-mindedly brushing the same trophy now, like he'd dissociated himself into a state of denial and semi-consciousness. And that wasn't allowed. It wasn't any fun for any of us if he wasn't painfully aware of his unfortunate predicament.

So I lolled my head over to look at David and got his attention by lightly nuzzling his neck. He pulled his attention away from the TV and I motioned towards the maid. He rolled his eyes, dutifully pulled his phone out, and started thumbing for the relevant app. I watched Timmy twitch and emit a muffled squeak through his feather duster gag as two mild electric shocks nipped the base of his balls and the top of his penis - a little wireless reminder that his only purpose in life was to amuse us.

He quickly shimmied over to the other side of the display, and stooped down to reach a framed photograph on the lowest shelf. I could just barely hear his shaky breathing through his nostrils, a frenzied combination of rage, shame, arousal, and panic. All of those emotions made sense, given that he was now watching a small reflection of himself gently cleaning a picture of his wife on a date with another man. We'd taken that photo especially for Timmy, making sure to smirk as devilishly as was appropriate, given that we'd asked the waitress to snap it for us.

We had three shelves worth of artefacts like that, covering one of the walls of the living room. Most of them were photographs of David and I, either on a date or engaged in depraved sexual acts. Others depicted Timmy in a variety of compromising situations that I'm sure he'd rather have forgotten by now. Custom-designed trophies and plaques filled in the gaps, engraved with a variety of dubious honours that reminded my husband of his new position in life. I thought those were a little cringy, but David thought they were hilarious. There was also one solitary photo of our wedding day, a merciful token of tenderness amid a museum of mortification. The maid spent a couple hours per night ceremonially dusting all of them while we relaxed.

I snuggled up next to my boyfriend and tried to focus on the tail-end of the show we were watching. Eventually the credits rolled and he switched it off. We smirked at each other. He whipped out his chastity app, dialled up the strength to 10 and set it to auto-pulse. The room filled with the sound of quiet whimpering as he and I kissed. Timmy got the message and scampered over to kneel before us, doing his best to keep quiet even as the pain raged in his imprisoned genitals.

David honked my breast and I broke away, giggling. He grinned widely at me and then pointedly turned to survey his prey. Our little maid was squirming and huffing, distraught. I rested my head on David's shoulder and gave my husband a sympathetic smile.

"Have you finished your chores, Timmy?" David asked. Timmy nodded hurriedly, his duster flapping fruitlessly. He was well used to answering to that name by now. We'd picked it specially - a thirty-five year-old man with a young boy's name was bound to feel particularly powerless and emasculated.

"You want the pain to stop?" Some more desperate bobbing affirmations. David switched it off and his cuckold visibly sagged in relief. He leaned forward and untied the gag from hubby's face, and threw it across the room.

"Thank you Daddy, thank you very much!" Timmy fitfully exclaimed, and immediately began appreciatively rubbing his face against the man's inner thigh, sending tiny sparkles of pleasure through his jeans. I chuckled in bemusement as I drank in the pathetic display. Steven - I mean, Timmy, really hadn't been the same for the last week and a half, ever since David's last "intervention". For most of the last few months we'd had to drag the coy sissy kicking and screaming into this sordid arrangement. But now at last, it seemed that he was finally willing to admit to himself and to the two of us how much he'd always enjoyed this horrendous treatment.

We kissed for a long time again and then shared a knowing look. We'd been talking for the last couple of days about how to administer one final psychological test on the cuck. After all, we wanted to be completely sure that he was actually into all this, and not just suffering immensely under some kind of internalized duress. The poor boy had been through hell and back, through devious mind games and crushing humiliations and outrageous injustices. He certainly wasn't the same person he was 5 months ago. Our hope was that he was happy with who he was now.

"You're a horny puppy tonight, aren't you?" David said, as he tousled Timmy's hair.

"Mmmhmm," Timmy replied in a high-pitched squeal.

"You want your face painted?"

"Yes please Daddy!"

My heart fluttered. Not so long ago, Steven would have laughed at the notion that he'd let a man cum on his face. Then he spent two straight weeks with cum caked on his face. Now he was Timmy, and he was begging for the privilege. But did he really want it?

David wriggled out of his jeans and popped his cock out, nearly fully hard. Timmy started to get visibly excited, and was casting furtive guilty glances at me. He'd told me many times that he was profoundly ashamed of this part of himself, and many times I'd reassured him: He wasn't ever going to have sex with a woman ever again, so he might as well have fun in other ways. Hungrily, he leaned forward to start worshipping. David stopped him with a hand on his forehead.

"No." David declared, decisively. Confusion flashed across the cocksucker's face. "Sarah will have the pleasure tonight. Now, go to your cage." Shot down.

He looked like he was going to cry. He looked at the floor, then at me, then back at the floor. I'm not a psychiatrist or anything, but it looked like he was genuinely hurt, genuinely upset that he didn't get to suck the cock that fucked his wife. No pretence, just pure authenticity. He wanted nothing more than to sexually pleasure his owners and make them happy.

"Yes Daddy..." He muttered, and then sheepishly shuffled away on his knees, utterly defeated. I jumped after him and quickly untied his hands. The poor thing found it almost impossible to sleep in his kennel when he was restrained like that, but he wouldn't dare ask for release.

"Thanks Mummy," he whispered. I cringed a little, because I still wasn't used to that title. But David insisted that little Timmy infantilize himself at every possible juncture. Rules were rules.

"Welcome, petal," I whispered back, and kissed him on the forehead. He gave a rueful smile, and crawled away to the laundry cubby.

I relaxed next to my boyfriend as my husband went to "bed". He was gently pleasuring himself and I started delicately kissing him on the neck.

"He actually likes it," I murmured to him. He grunted in affirmation. "You've fucking broken him."

I slunk down between his legs and began showing him a good time. I heard a delicate clang down the hallway that indicated Timmy was constructing his kennel. His sleeping place blocked access to the washer and dryer and so it had to be assembled and disassembled as needed every night and the following morning. Presumably David heard it too, as his cock twitched in my mouth in response. A few short minutes later he was shooting ropes across my face. I stayed there for a while, cock-drunk, and him recovering.

"Let him know I'm happy with him," he said eventually, "and I think it's going to work." I beamed at the man of the house, then I went to tell Timmy the good news.

The unfortunate boy was safe and sound in his cage, crouched and ready for a good night's sleep. I double-checked the lock and everything to make sure it was secure as always. He looked up at me like a wounded dog, cringing as his little dick swelled in its cage, clearly glad to see the mess on his wife's pretty face. Sitting on the cage, I sighed and looked around at my husband's bedroom. It was undeniably sad, sleeping in a cage in a tiny laundry room. For a brief moment I felt bad, then visualized the euphoric look on his face as he prepared to suck his master's cock. The poor guy was completely mindfucked. He loved this. I didn't understand how or why, but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Your Daddy says you get to stay," I told him. He whined nervously. I nearly burst out laughing - this was his apartment, his mortgage - and yet he was beyond delighted to hear that another man had deigned to let him live here. There was a light tickling sensation on my bum, presumably his lips kissing me through the wire bars. David wouldn't have approved of that, but he didn't need to know. I let him have his fun for a few minutes, then told him to stop.

Timmy and I had a short candid conversation about our feelings, about what we'd been through, and what the future held for all three of us. He freely admitted that his brain was basically mush at this point. He was willing and eager to take things even further, and gushed about how much loved both of his owners. I told him that I loved him and if he ever wanted to slow things down, he should tell me. The talk drew to an end and he started kissing my ass again.

"I'm going to bed now, honey. I might send you some light zaps, ok?" He winced and thanked me in advance. I closed the the cubby door and left him to his thoughts. I got cleaned up in the bathroom and joined David in the bedroom. We spooned under the covers.

"How is he?"

"He'll live."

David chuckled and started making some moves.

"Hand me your phone," I sighed breathlessly as he started grinding against my ass. Flushed, I tapped the steamy screen and selected a voltage level of 4. He threw the covers off and grabbed me by the hips, picked me up and threw me onto all fours. I dropped the phone and panted feverishly. "David..." I demurred. I scrambled around to find the torture device as he prepared to mount me. I grabbed it and activated auto-pulse. My boyfriend entered me with a triumphant thrust and I moaned in ecstasy. Before long I forgot I even had a husband.