From Cucked Husband to Sub Wife

Mitchell's Journey from Cucked Husband to Sub wife Michelle

Chapter 1 Thursday Changed My Life

I had been married for six years to a beautiful intelligent woman, whom I loved deeply, when I gave her up to be sexually owned by a man who dominated us both, and then my whole universe changed. This whole strange set of circumstances may have been precipitated by something I witnessed after my freshman year in college.

The summer after my first year of college, I had a job as delivery boy in a high-end Manhattan deli. I loved the job; the tips were great and the work not very taxing, packing up and delivering over-priced groceries to well-to-do Manhattanites.

One of my favorite customers was a lady who had standing order at the store. Every Thursday afternoon, I'd deliver a pound of expresso coffee beans, a half-case of Pellegrino water, a jar of extra virgin olive oil, and other miscellaneous items to her penthouse apartment. The building had two sets of elevators, two in the lobby and a service elevator in the back, for deliveries.

Since it was the only apartment on the top floor, the service elevator opened almost right into her apartment. The backdoor faced directly across from elevator in a small entryway. I usually found this door unlocked and walked right in with the groceries. The kitchen was elevated about four steps. Normally, I would see Mrs. Smith at the foot of the steps, by the time I had gotten her groceries put away.

Mrs. Smith was my favorite because she would talk to me, not like a kid, but like a real person, and she would give me a $5 tip each time. But even more than that, Mrs. Smith was really "HOT!" She was what could be described as statuesque; about 5'9" with amazing tits plump, and definitely all-natural. Unlike fake plastic tits, one could tell they had some heft to them.

She was probably in her late twenties (at most 30). She would wear revealing skintight clothes that would expose her assets to best effect. Standing at the top of the stairs, I would always get an eyeful before getting a bit of small talk and my tip. Great times! Her tops often revealed most the top of her breasts, and her cleavage disappeared down her front going on as if forever. One could get lost in that valley.

At first, I would take just quick furtive glances, but they were so spectacular that it was hard to keep to quick glances. It'd feel like a second, but I would find myself daydreaming, and suddenly she would stop talking, and I'd realize I had been staring again. She didn't really seem to mind, and would make some flirty joke about it, like: "Hey sweetie, can I help you find something down there?" but her tone shows it was just playful teasing of a hormone-driven teenager.

One Thursday afternoon, doing the usual: I came in, put the groceries away, and turned around expecting to get my usual show... but she wasn't there. In the nearly three months I had delivered to her, I never ventured very far past the kitchen. We would do our little one-act play at the foot of the kitchen stairs, and I'd be on my way. Immediately next to the kitchen was a dining/living area. I looked around with no real focus, but noticed a picture on a side table. Mrs. Smith stood next to a man, who I guessed to be her husband (I had never seen Mr. Smith or anyone else in the apartment). It was a vacation picture; they stood in front of a beautiful beach with clear blue water--it looked like the Caribbean.

They made an odd couple; he was a small man, and she, as mentioned, statuesque. She had at least three inches on him, and maybe a few pounds too. She wore a bikini which highlighted her incredible body; not only did she have those fabulous titties, of which almost all but her nipples were visible, and their tips could be seen pushing against the top. Her legs, long and muscular, but very feminine, led to wide hips and a narrow wasp's waist.

He, on the other hand, was quite scrawny. He held her hand tightly, as if he might blow away in a stiff breeze. They looked to be about the same age. His legs were like toothpicks and his arms like thin wire. He was wearing nothing but tight speedos, and his "package" looked more like a postage stamp. Mrs. Smith's visible cameltoe made a bigger bundle in her bikini than his "manhood." I smiled, as I thought to myself, "mine may be small, but at least I'm not this poor bastard... and, look at the hot wife he got."

Having delivered the groceries, I could have just left. She would usually pay in cash each week, but had an account at the store. But I was hesitant to leave without a tip, and--to tell the truth--getting another look at those marvelous tits. Summer was ending soon, and I would not have many more opportunities. Still... I had to get back, so I was about to turn to leave, when I heard a faint voice, coming from the very far end of the long hallway past the living/dining area.

I called out, but weakly (like someone who doesn't really want to be heard), "h-h-hello...?" I imagined Mrs. Smith popping out of one the rooms without a top, or something like that... and walked toward the noise. The apartment was huge; the building took up almost a quarter of NYC block, and though the top floors narrowed considerably, it was sill huge.

I walked past a small bathroom and many other doors to the very end of the long corridor. The door was about three quarters open, and I could see clearly into the room. What I saw froze me to the spot in shock and arousal. There... was Mrs. Smith, on her knees, naked, except for high heels, and a man (not the man in the photo) stood before her, fully-dressed with his crotch maybe five inches from her face.

Although I could only see him in about 3/4 profile from behind his left shoulder, I recognized the man instantly as another customer in the same building, Mr. Jenkins. Unlike, Mrs. Smith, he was not a favorite. In fact, I dreaded delivering to him. He was picky, sending stuff back--like if a can had even a tiny dent, or a crinkled label. When I picked out his orders in the store, I would check and recheck them to make sure everything had the latest sale-by-date, that the produce was fresh and never bruised, etc. I wasn't always the one who picked out orders and sometimes I'd have to make two trips because someone else had not taken the kind of care I usually did.

He always seemed in a bad mood and rarely tipped at all, and when he did it was a "keep the change"--as in under a dollar--type of thing. The service door to Mr. Jenkins's apartment was never unlocked, and I often had to wait there longer than any of my other costumers. He would also never let me in. He would go through the bags as I held them out to him in the hallway, rejecting anything he arbitrarily thought was inadequate. He would then take the bags from me, and shut the door in my face, without so much as a thank you.

"Show me how much you want it, slut" he was saying to Mrs. Smith, as I approached the partly open door.

"Please, please, Sir," she begged; her voice aquiver with desire.

"Please...what? Tell me what it is you want?"

"Please, let me suck your cock, Sir," she whispered, barely audibly.

Suddenly, he unbuckled his belt and held it menacingly over her as he said, "speak up, I can't hear you, slut. Do you need......encouragement?" Then he landed a firm blow on her gorgeous tits, leaving an ugly angry red line across the breasts I had idolized for weeks.

"Let your whore suck your big cock; I beg you, Sir, please!" She nearly shouted, as she sobbed.

"Tell me, slut: do you deserve my cock?"

"No, I'm not worthy, Sir; I am just filthy cockslut, but please, I beg of you; have mercy and let me suck it. I need it, Sir?"

"You're going to have to earn it, bitch."

"Please, please, Sir, I'll do anything to earn the pleasure of sucking your big cock, Sir. Please let me suck your beautiful cock. I need it so so bad!" she pleaded.

"Okay, whore, I'll let you earn it. I am going to strike you five times as punishment for your lack of attention just now. But you must want it first. Beg me to punish you." As he said this, his tone was placid and kindly, as if offering a.

"Please, I do need punishment, Sir, I beg you. Make this filthy slut worthy to suck your magnificent cock. I am desperate for punishment, to show my devotion to your Cock, Sir, please."

"That's Good! Whore! I want you to count. You know the rules." Before he finished speaking, he came down with the belt on her beautiful breasts with about twice the force as before, making the earlier warning blow seem like a love tap.

She screamed in pain and sobbed, but amazingly responded, "One!... Thank you for punishing your slut and making her worthy. Please, Sir, may I have another."

"Would it help make you feel worthier, if I struck you harder, slut? Do you want that?" He said in a stage whisper, with a tone mimicking compassion.

"Yes, please flog my tits harder! Strike this worthless whore as hard as you'd like, Sir. I want you to make me worthy to suck your big hard cock. Sir, pleeeease!"

The next strike was impossibly hard. He was a tall, large, muscular man; and he put all his weight and strength behind it, making good on her request. The pain was so intense that rather than scream, she could only grunt lowly, and then fell into a sort of trance or stupor, mumbling incoherently.

She seemed (at least for some seconds) to have lost consciousness, but then summoned all her will and courage, to come to, and said, "Two! uuugggh... owww... Thank you, Sir, ughhhh another please!" This response was punctuated by sobs and groans. He eased off some on the next two, but nonetheless delivered vigorous swats across her glorious titties. From my three-quarter view, I could see the effects of his punishment on her right side-boob; welts, bruising and small cuts began to appear on her beautiful tits. Her grunts, sobbing and quaking were a constant now.

Before administering the last strike, he made her beg for it once more. "Tell me again how much you want to be punished."

"Please, please make me worthy of your cock, Sir. Strike me harder, more, anything you want, but please, please I need your cock so badly! I need the pain to know I've earned it."

He lashed her hard once more; it was somewhere between that one awful strike and the more moderate ones. She seemed to take a minute to catch her breath and to get her head together, but then she said, "Five!... Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your punishment and hope my suffering pleases you. Would you like to strike me some more, Sir?"

"That was punishment for lack of attention. But I would like to strike you again, just because I enjoy hurting those tits. May I strike your tits again just for my pleasure, you nasty whore?"

"Yes, please, please! Strike me as much and as hard as you want. I am grateful to be able to suffer to bring you pleasure. Flog my tits, please! Feel free to use me as you wish, Sir! No limits, I am your property!"

"Yes, you are, whore!" He said and he struck her five more times in rapid succession, without much fanfare, though more moderately.

"Thank you, Sir, for taking pleasure from the pain of your nasty slut, Sir. I am content that as a worthless slut I am able to gratify you with my pain, Sir."

"Okay, now, beg to suck my cock."

"Please, Sir. I need it so much; may I, pleeeease, suck your cock, Sir?"

"Okay, take it out, slut" he said, and stepped forward so that his crotch made contact with her forehead.

She reached for his fly with her head. I realized, just then, that her hands must be restrained behind her, somehow. She nuzzled his crotch with her head and with her teeth tried latch onto the zipper. After a few misses, she got the zipper down, and out flopped the biggest cock I had ever seen in my life. It was a monster cock, if ever there was one. At this point, it was only semi-erect and it was already about eight inches in length, and the girth was just as impressive.

I hadn't seen very many penises; I had noticed a few big ones in the showers after gym, or in the few pornos I had seen, but this magnificent cock put all those to shame. I didn't understand why I was thinking about it this way, but I couldn't keep my eyes off it. I felt my significantly smaller endowment harden and leak precum into my underpants. I would have liked to say the cause was the remarkable scene I was witnessing, but if pressed, would have had to confess my focus was mostly on the massive dick, which mesmerized me.

I had held my position behind the door to this point, but now I began unconsciously to lean in for a better view. Just then, I realized that the hallway was in near pitch darkness, but inside the room was brightly lit--in fact, remarkably so. I calculated that if I stepped behind the halo of light coming from the room, I would be invisible to them. I shifted my position about three steps back and one step to left; so that now, I had more of a side view of both participants and could see the full-length of his still hardening monster. I could, now, also see the leg of a tripod; I assumed to be a video camera. The room was lighted like a Hollywood soundstage.

I settled into a sort of half-crouch and focused my attention on his cock and her tits as the scene continued. I was no more than seven feet away and could clearly and see the details of his magnificent member; the veins, the girth, the foreskin, which had begun to stretch thin as it continued to harden. Her tits were crisscrossed with welts and bruises, cuts and scratches, but they sat up firm on her chest, and she held her back arched and shoulders back proudly, pushing her tits out almost defiantly, if one can be defiant in total obeyance.

"Your tits must hurt after that, slut?" He said this almost cooing, with the tone of someone bringing a wet kitty in out of the rain. He gently caressed her breasts and ran his fingers lightly over her nipples. It was the first time he touched her with any tenderness; as if he hadn't been responsible for the damage done to those perfect tits.

"Oh yes, Sir! They hurt so terribly! The pain is excruciatingly intense, its piercing right through my whole body, Sir. My tits are aflame with throbbing pain, but I am content you are willing to show me such deep pain to allow me to express my devotion to you and your wonderful Cock, Sir! The pain is a gift I humbly accept, to give you pleasure."

"Well. Alrighty! Then...! I bet they could hurt a lot more, if I mauled them roughly right about now? Oh...but I want to, anyway. May I abuse your damaged titties, even it if hurts more? Are you such a worthless fucking cunt whore that you want me do that just to suck my cock? Is that what you are saying, whore?"

"Yes, please, Sir! Abuse my tits; pinch my nipples. I am pleased to suffer to give you pleasure, Sir. Would you like to slap them too? I'm sure that will hurt a lot. Please, Sir, slap and punch them too. Punch my tits hard, Sir."

He wasted no time. With both hands he pinched and twisted her nipples, squeezed and kneaded are aching breasts, as if pushing dough through a pastry bag, alternating between them. Then he slapped and punched them around as if they had deeply offended him. At first, she gasped, then squealed, but eventually just bit her lip hard to keep from screaming, so hard that she eventually drew blood. Her face was the picture of agony. Tears welled up in her eyes, which were red and swollen. She had obviously been wearing mascara because her cheeks were streaked with black tears that had the effect of making her look even more pitiable and pathetic.

He continued his assault for no more than a minute or two, but it was brutal. When he stopped, she opened her mouth in anticipation of the proffered cock. But he had leaned over to attack her breasts, and when he straightened up, his cock came close to making contact with her open mouth. With her tongue, she instinctively lapped at the tip of the cock before her. Suddenly, with no warning at all, the hand that had last been assaulting her tits came down sharply on her cheek.

"Did I say you could touch my cock yet? You worthless whore!?"

"No, Sir, please forgive your slut," and she turned her head to offer her other cheek, as if pleading for another slap. Which she got with the same force as the first, leaving a clear red handprint on her face. She thanked him profusely using the usual formula.

"Beg my cock to fuck your filthy whore mouth, slut. Tell it how much you love it."

Her eyes opened as wide as possible despite some swelling and focused intently on the huge cock before her, as she begged it in earnest--as if It was her most important person, "please, fuck my worthless mouth. I love you, Big Cock, fuck my mouth. Please!"

"Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue, you skank ass whore."

She instantly did as commanded, and with that, he pushed just the head of his cock onto her tongue at the entrance of her mouth and let it sit there. He then stood up tall and moved slightly forward changing the angle of her head, so that now it was more inclined toward the ceiling, and her throat parallel to his cock.

"Would you drink my piss, slut, for the privilege of sucking my cock? Is it okay to use your smutty mouth for a fucking toilet? Are you that pathetic and insignificant? You filthy whore!" he snarled.

"Pleathe fill moay throath with your piiith, Thir. I wonna t' tasthe thit, please! Ahh mmhm uh bathethic fwuithy hoooah, Thir." She slurred, with the cock on her tongue and the awkward position of her head.

He lifted his cock off her tongue and said, "What was that, Slut."

"Please piss down my throat. I am a pathetic whore, who doesn't deserve even your piss. Use my mouth as your urinal. Please piss in my mouth, Sir, I want to taste it."

She had no sooner finished, before the stream began to flow into her mouth. Although she seemed to gulp it down as fast as she could, it flooded her mouth and spilled over, down her chin, and onto her battered tits. She flinched as the salty urine undoubtedly stung the cuts and welts on her assaulted heaving bosom. When he saw the effect of this, he pulled his dick out of her mouth and proceeded to piss directly on her tits.

When the piss stream finally slackened, he unceremoniously shoved his entire semi-erect penis into her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and kept his cock balls-deep in her gullet. She began to gurgle and convulse around his cock, now rammed down her throat. He held it there for what seemed an impossible time, until her arms began to buck against the restraints causing her head to jerk violently, her cheeks exploding sporadically as she intuitively gasped for air.

When it seemed like she was about to choke and pass out, he finally, but nonchalantly, drew his cock out of her mouth and inched slowly back a half step, allowing her breath to return to something like normal. She coughed and burped and made other guttural noises, with the weapon that had assaulted her throat still inches from her mouth.

After a bit of recuperation, she said, "Thank you, Sir, for using my mouth as your toilet. Thank you for allowing me to drink your precious urine and for pissing on my filthy titties. It burns in the cuts and welts you gave me, reminding me of the pain. The excretions of your body are more than a whore like me deserves, Sir. I love the taste of your cock, thank you, Sir."

He suddenly went back to kneading her beautiful abused titties and pinching and twisting her nipples, not in the same brutal way as before, but in a desultory, unfocused way. As if he couldn't quite make up his mind about what came next.

Finally, he said, "I want to fuck those big fucking titties of yours before I let you suck my cock, but I feel like I want to abuse them again. I enjoy hurting those big fat titties, so much, I want to strike them with the cane. I promise it will hurt much more. May I do that, whore? Do you want me to hurt your big fucking filthy tits and mark them with the cane?"