Cuck's Downfall in Reverse Ch. 03

Alcohol is the most effective lubricant. Everyone knows it's fun to get just a little bit tipsy with your partner, and then fool around a bit more dirtily than usual. The asymmetric approach is even wilder: stay sober while your partner gets wasted, then have your way with him. But what most people don't want to admit is that getting drunk and letting your partner stay sober - that's where the real fun begins. And I don't just mean letting your casual fling act out whatever kind of depraved predatory fantasies he secretly harbours, I mean the kind of insane shit you can only get away with when you have a devoted husband, a belligerent boyfriend, and a conscience temporarily cleared with the aid of a mild buzz.

Steven appeared around through the door again, a fifty-dollar bill held delicately in his lips. As always, his eyes quickly darted to see me, then back to the floor. Yes, I'm still here. No, I'm not going to save you. He shuffled over to the two of us, chastity bouncing against his thighs, a painful reminder of the time constraint he was under. Presenting the money towards his enemy, he waited. David didn't take it. Desperately, he leant forward more, glaring, practically begging to be robbed of his cash. David gently grabbed it and flamboyantly stuffed it into his wallet.

"Great, halfway there," he sneered, "Just five hundred more to go!" He reset the timer on his phone and showed the cuck. This was the eleventh time now, and yet it still provoked the most intoxicatingly delicious reaction of rage and despair on Stephen's face. Maybe he'd thought David would call it quits halfway through, maybe he really did think it was just a joke after all. He hobbled away again to fetch another banknote.

"That's not funny," he'd muttered, when David first broached the topic of rent. Actually, at first, he looked cautiously pleased. He'd been relegated to the spare bedroom for a month now while some asshole fucked his wife on his bed, but now it seemed the jerk was willing to pay for the privilege. Once that confusion had been cleared up, they'd devolved into quite an argument. Well, I say argument. It was more of a roast. Obviously it was quite difficult to hold a balanced and civil discussion when one of the parties is heavily restrained and kneeling at the other party's feet.

"It's not fucking happening!" Stephen had eventually yelled, rising to his feet. This was after a solid ten minutes of David's infuriatingly specious logic about how he was the real man of the house now, how the market is unfair but it nonetheless dictates the cost of accommodation, how contemporary courts tend to dismiss squatter's rights. "It's my fucking apartment, you absolute dumbass!" He was shaking. David rose to meet him, grabbed his collar, and pulled him close, making him growl. I leapt to my feet, trembling.

"There's only one of two ways this is gonna go, cuck," David spoke simply. With ease, he dragged his quarry to the front door, expletives all the way.

"David!" I pleaded, as I followed. This was getting way out of hand. He'd told me he was going to play this little rent game with my husband, but I was unsure how far he was going to take it. He grabbed the door handle, and kicked out Stephen's legs from under him, still holding his collar.

"Now," David said shakily, presumably throbbing with adrenaline. "Either I toss you out right now and you find your way to the police station, and tearfully explain to them that I'm a big meanie and it's totally not your fault that you're now guilty of at least twenty counts of indecent exposure," he paused for dramatic effect. It was like he was reciting this, like he'd been practising. "Or, I untie you, you get dressed, and then you go get the rent money you owe me."

From the other end of the hallway, I wrung my hands and bit my lip. My husband's righteous anger had been replaced with fearful hopelessness, wordlessly looking at David, then me, back to David, back to me. This was quite a gambit to be taking. I don't know much about the law, but I was 99% sure that Stephen would be the victor here, if the two of them ever sat before a judge or whatever. But what an excruciating hearing that would be. David didn't have the guts to talk to me about what he'd been through so far, let alone a total stranger.

"Last chance, dumbass," David said, as he opened the door.

"You can't! You- I'll... Stop! Pay the- I'll pay... Sarah..."

"And that's 550!" David cheered, snapping me out my musings. Another timer reset, another silent retreat. I quickly knocked back another drink of beer. Stay buzzed, Sarah, just stay buzzed. Inhibitions will just get in the way, and spoil everyone's fun. I'm having fun, David's having fun, Stephen's having... Take another swig, don't think, just live. I side-eyed David and his shit-eating grin. He glanced back with a mock "The fuck did I do?" face. I frowned and tried again to justify our actions so far.

We waited in the hallway while hubby got dressed. David by the door, revelling in his perverted victory, and me across from him, nervously fidgeting with my sleeves. Stephen, in his t-shirt and sweatpants, tried to quietly brush past and I embraced him. He hugged back even tighter. We said nothing.

"I haven't got all day," I heard. Opening my eyes I saw that David wasn't smirking or otherwise gunning for a reaction. He literally just looked unironically bored. I glowered at him from over a shoulder, and hugged tighter still. He rolled his eyes.

Finally we broke away and he tentatively went to the door. David was blocking the way.

"How much are you fetching, boy?"

Stephen made a feeble attempt to open the door, but David grabbed his wrist.

"How much?"

"One... One thousand," the cuck croaked, cowering. I couldn't watch.

"Wow... Look at that," David scoffed, "he's even smaller than usual!"

"David!" I rebuked. He laughed.

"No, I mean, look!" He twisted Stephen's arm, "He's literally shrinking away from me, it's like one of those animal self-defence instincts..."

"DAVID!"

The big man opened the door and shooed the small man out. He came over and gently grabbed my twiddling hands, looked into my eyes, all of a sudden an affectionate, earnest, genuine, and loving boyfriend. How can he just turn on a dime like that? I sighed. I explained to him that he wasn't going to get away with this, he was pushing his luck, and I didn't even know if I liked it. And I had some serious doubts about the "reward" we were planning for later.

"Sarah, listen. He has a safeword. He didn't use it. He likes doing what I tell him to do. Remember last night? Right? Come on, let's have a drink."

Stephen took a long time getting back. Under mild interrogation he admitted that he'd basically just wandered around town for a while, unsure of what to do. And then it took two separate ATM visits to get around the withdrawal limit. David sipped a cold beer and toyed with him a little, threatened to deny him his promised reward as punishment for wasting time. That got his attention. Before long he was stripped naked again, collared, restrained, displaying his locked manhood, and listening to the rules of his master's latest twisted game. His reaction was more subdued this time. David planted the little wad of cash in the spare bedroom. He gave the defeated creature a strong zap to the balls to remind him of the stakes, then started the timer.

About 10 minutes later Stephen arrived with the final banknote. David made another show of not noticing him, enticing him to crawl closer and fervently proffer the money, chin on crotch, eyes wide and wet with the sting of outrageous injustice. The twentieth bill joined the rest in the wallet, and Stephen watched in depression as the bulging piece of leather was folded and slipped into a jeans pocket, lost to him forever.

"Sixty seconds is definitely too much," David opined, "I didn't get to shock you even once. It'll be more like 45 next time..."

"There won't..." Stephen held back a choked sob, "Won't be a... next time... Sarah! Stop..!"

"Nice... Don't worry man, she's just excited for all the expensive hot dates I'm gonna be bringing her on."

I lustfully gazed at David. His jaw was hanging open slightly.

"Sarah!" Came a despairing wail. I was caressing David's crotch, and I didn't even realize it. I snapped my hand away and felt a torrent of guilt washing over me. Not now. I couldn't do that now, not after he'd just paid the man a thousand fucking dollars. He must be dying inside. I was so glad I was drunk, it was a perfect excuse. Wasn't it?

"Hey I thought you wanted to fuck him tonight, but I don't mind," David said, a little bit flustered.

The three of us spent a little more time in our typical evening fashion, the winners watching some trash TV while the loser sat on the floor by our legs, alternately frowning with confusion and fuming with impotent rage. When we untied him, we directed him to the bathroom to clean himself out. At this point I'd had four beers. Enough to have the confidence to go through with what we had planned next, but not quite enough to be entirely rid of my misgivings.

"What if he... Tells us to stop?"

David looked at me. "Then we'll stop, of course," he leered, "What's going on inside your sick little head?" We laughed and I playfully pushed him.

I hadn't pegged Stephen in some time. It was my sneaking suspicion that he actually slightly preferred being penetrated over being the penetrator, and that was almost offensive to me. If only he'd been honest with me from the beginning, before the marriage, then maybe none of this would have happened to him. He reappeared, excitement etched across his face. Even David's flippant taunting didn't do much to spoil his mood. His timid happiness was tearing me apart. We led him into the bedroom.

There were some brand-new top-notch restraints waiting for him. An ankle spreader bar to allow for easy access, and some pillory stocks to keep him completely subjugated. He thanked me when I clicked the locks shut. With his face on the pillow he couldn't see me as I wriggled into the strapon, couldn't see the pity and the doubt and the anxiety that was eating me inside. I lubed him up with a couple of fingers, and melted when he softly gasped at the cool sensation. Stealing an uncertain glance at my boyfriend, I grabbed my husband's hips and slowly entered.

Nonplussed whimpers of pain and pleasure and gratitude. Sweat and shame and submission and sin. Wordless, meaningless, pointless sex. Obviously I'm not some kind of fretful puritan traditionalist or anything, but I remain aware of the true purpose of heterosexuality. This was a beautifully satanic inversion, a giant rubber middle-finger defiantly aimed at the god of procreation. Just pure pointless fun. Now, homosexuality, that was a different beast altogether... No. Don't think about it yet. Make sure he enjoys this as long as he can. So I kept pumping, kept milking him. Minutes passed. And I felt David covertly clamber onto the bed behind me.

"I think he needs a taste." That was it. The signal. I was drunk, I could do this.

Hurriedly, I undocked and scrambled around to keep Stephen occupied. Picking him up by the collar, sitting on the pillow, and planting his face down onto my prick, it took about two seconds. He didn't have a chance to say anything. One hand on his neck and one grabbing his hair, I deepthroated him, and he moaned gratefully.

"I love you honey," I panted, as his lips met the base of the strapon, pushing and grinding the plastic into my mound, "Unnngh, be good, okay? I love you, stay right hmmm there, it's going to be... fine. Breath through the nose. I love you..."

David gently took hold of his hips. There was a small confused squeak, and then a brief moment of dawning realization, then yawning dread, then febrile panic. He had no leverage whatsoever, I could keep him right where he was with no effort at all. It was hard to tell if he was even trying to pull back. The muffled whimperings in the back of his throat might have been heartfelt agonized screams for all I knew. Again, hard to tell. I looked at David. No hesitation, no nervousness, no second thoughts. This was happening. There were some final feeble physical protestations as he entered.

A few minutes later I realized I'd been for some time hypnotized by David's enraptured facial expressions. I looked down. Stephen was moaning now. I lifted my hands. He stayed right where he was, slavering on my cock and hissing through his own spit. Holy shit... I tried to get David's attention, tried to signal to him how hot this was. But the two of them were lost in their own world. I tried to call Stephen, gently tousled his hair. No reaction.

I was the cuck now. Should I laugh? Should I be humiliated? Should I storm off? Or should I egg them on? Yes. Goad the two little perverts. Why should they have all the fun? I picked up my husband and wriggled underneath him until we were face to face. Holding him up above me, I recognized the face he was pulling. I'd seen gay porn before. I'd seen the sly coyness, the reticence, the refusal to admit that the pain felt good.

"You. Little. Fucking. Closet-case," I teased, utterly fascinated. He met my eyes for an instant, worried, and the next thrust immediately sent him back into giddy guilty ecstasy. You can't fight biology, I guess. Seeing him rock back and forth above me, I felt jealous. This stupid fucking strapon was in the way of my fun. No time to rip it off. A loud slap echoed through the room.

"You like that? He really owns you now, doesn't he?" I was desperate for his attention now. Just deserts, I suppose. "How does it feel? Tell me. Now. You love it, don't you? Pathetic..." He tried to respond, but only empty syllables came out. F's and S's and Uh's. I just watched. This was quite possibly the most intense experience I'd ever had in my entire life.

There was some grunting, some frenzied repositioning. Stephen was roughly yanked backwards slightly, his eyes widened in panic and pain as David plumbed new depths. I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around him, his head over my shoulder, his hands limp in their restraints, both of us now entwined and enslaved to the top's rhythm. I could feel his tiny cage twitching against my dildo. I smiled at my boyfriend as his mouth fell open and he orgasmed in my husband with a pained yell. I whispered in his ear.

"A good tenant always takes his landlord's load."