From Cucked Husband to Sub Wife Ch. 03

When he took the probe out, it had no trace of shit. He held it to her nose, no reaction. "Your faggot husband is better at giving enemas than you. One point. Now let's check the cunt." He took a new probe and just shoved it a foot deep into my wife's pussy. It was pretty much dripping the whole time so it was well lubed, but it still took her breath away. He yanked it back out with as little concern as he had shoved it in there and he grimaced and yelped.

He shoved the probe in her mouth and asked, "how does that taste, bitch?"

"Okay, Sir?"

"Fine, I can't really gauge that, 2 points, Cucky." He said, then did a kind of accounting of where we were so far. "Okay we are about 17, so far, let's round up to 20 on personal grooming, and add another five for presentation, the outfit was slutty, but unimaginative, and dinner was okay, but the fish was dry. That is score 25; so, I will strike you each 50 times. Faggot, an extra five for you, for conniving. We'll start in a moment, but let me check your cage first, cucky"

"Yes, Sir." I said and switched places with my wife, but stood facing him. He had me sit on the edge of the coffee table and spread my legs. He lifted my caged clitty, with two fingers as if holding up a soiled diaper. He examined it carefully, mumbling something under his breath. I couldn't quite make it out, but I the words I picked out were "too tight," "blue," and "circulation." I could tell from his face that he had some concern.

"Slut, how did you even get it on?"

"I used ice water, Sir."

"Well, Slut, get some ice water, you have to get this off, it's on too tight." This reaction made me believe, he was not intractable, after all. He would never apologize, or accept blame with us, or worry about our comfort. There was a kind of sound logic in that. If we were to be totally submissive to him, and were willing to suffer for his pleasure, he needn't worry about it. But this reaction was giving me ideas about making my new obsession come true. If he could somehow be moved, then I had chance to someday plead my case for taking his cock in my ass.

Lori got back with the ice water, and his concern had morphed into impatience. This whole incident was delaying his desires, and he did not really deal with that very well. Seeing this, I wanted to offer to keep my clitty in the cage regardless of the risk (not even sure what they were), so he wouldn't be inconvenienced in getting his desires met. But remembering the earlier warning about making propositions I might not be able deliver, I hesitated.

As my wife began positioning the bowl under my swollen caged peenie, I thought of just how to make my proposal. "Would you prefer to leave it on, Sir? I don't mind the risks, if it would please you."

He smiled wickedly, as he seemed to consider what I had proposed. "I really would like that, Sissy," he finally said, "but let's save your castration for another day." This both alarmed and somehow reassured me.

My wife unlocked the cage and dunked the whole thing in the water. The swelling from my being in constant state of excitement went down pretty quickly, but my peenie was still swollen. It took her some time to pull it back out. When she finally got it out, it looked "huge," for me. I felt somewhat proud to have an almost average dick, even momentarily.

When the ordeal was done, my little dicklet was bruised, swollen and painful, but no permanent damage, and I was already getting used to the pain. I couldn't believe what a painslut I turned out to be.

"Alright, Slut, that's and extra five whacks for fucking up. You shouldn't have put it on, if you had to use ice." It was clearly not Lori's fault that he bought a cage half the size of my peenie as a joke, but we agreed to a system that was arbitrary by nature. And, if my wife looked like she would welcome the five extra lashes as way to prove her submissiveness to him and his marvelous cock.

"Please, Sir," I pleaded, nonetheless, "it was my fault, Sir, if I could have controlled my stupid tiny clitty, it would have been okay. Please, punish me instead, Sir."

"Okay, sissy, but I have to punish both of you, in that case." He said sternly, but I thought I could detect a note of compassion in it nonetheless. I think he saw through me, but chose to give me what I wanted. I made a note of it and hoped to use it to achieve the obsession that was eating my brain, his big giant cock in my ass causing all kinds of damage. My ass muscles spasmed giving my plug a tug and sending shivers up my spine. My little willy was rock hard again.

Noticing my excitement, he said, "Slut, get your cuckhold husband some panties. I don't want to see that." She jumped to attention, ran into our bedroom and came back with the frilliest pinkest panties she owned, though I did not recognize them. She could not have chosen better. They were somewhere between a thong and a bikini. With just a triangle in the front to cover the mound and a string up the back.

I put the panties on and went back to my standard kneeling position, feeling really feminized. For me this was not about gender, per se. I didn't think I was transgendered. I had no desire be a woman, and I am comfortable in my male body (such as it is). I also didn't feel gay, I wasn't attracted to other men. I was still very attracted to my wife. I didn't go around checking out other guys. I had not then yet seen a gay porno. It was entirely about this Man, this Cock. If thought of different cock fucking my ass right now it would be exciting only if I was doing it at his behest, if he was deriving some pleasure by imposing his will on me.

This whole time he was casually taking off his clothes, when he took of his pants, I noticed that tonight, unlike the other two times I had seen his cock, he was not going commando, but had boxers on. Seeing him entirely naked for the first time was awe-inspiring. He looked like powerful god carved into granite.

He positioned us across from each other in front of the coffee table, so that we were both kneeling, bent at the waist with our chests on the surface right next each other, so that our right sides were touching. To my left were the "tools" he had set up earlier: the crop, the cane and the ball gags. To these he had added his belt after taking off his pants. Warning us of the pain, he placed the ball gags on us, saying, "when we can be more private, I will want to her your screams and cries, but we don't want nosey neighbors." and we seemed ready to proceed.

"Okay, sluts," he said almost jovially, "let's have some fun with this. I am going to give you some options as we do this. You are each going to get 50 strokes for your training and then each will get 10 punishment strokes. For the first 20 I will pick where and with what I will strike you, for the next 30, you can choose any combination of tools or body part you want. I will be striking you harder as we progress, so choose wisely. Finally, the last ten (punishment) strokes will be the hardest, and I will choose. Are we ready?"

"Yeath, Thir, pwiith," we slurred eagerly through our gags.

"Who wants to go first?"

"Meee, Thir, pwiith," we answered again simultaneously and he decided to start with my wife.

"Alright, slut, I want to start with those big fucking tits. Let me see your big whore tits," She pop up from the table as if on a spring, and pushed out her teats as proudly as a prized heifer at a state fair.

Next to me, he seemed to be doing an "eenie meenie" with the implements. He picked up the cane and waved it in the air a few times, it made swishing sound. "Your tits are so perfect, so big and beautiful; they may lead you to think you are more valuable than the filthy whore I know you to be. This is going to leave permanent marks, which will help remind you that, after all, you are just worthless fucking whore, here for my pleasure. It would please me to deface your beautiful tits this way, may I, slut?" She nodded her vigorous in assent and pleaded through the gag to be abused.

"I will start gently. I am going to do it ten times, I want you count it off and beg me to strike you harder each time. Ready, whore?"

"Yeath, Thir," she nodded, and I heard the swish and the cane striking my wife's beautiful flawless breasts. As promised, it was not too hard, but I would not describe it as "gentle" either. Instantly a red mark appeared across the top of her tits. She winced and bit into her gag a bit, but promptly said a garbled version of "one...Thank you Sir, please strike me harder."

He reached down and caressed the line he had caused across her titties and at first gently fondled her luscious titties. But soon he was pawing and squeezing like he was milking a sow. He went around behind her and really got into kneading her tits, and frequently catching her bulbous nipples between his fingers and twisting them.

He got back in position and struck her significantly harder this time, creating a parallel line about an inch below the first. The shade of red demonstrated the strength of the blow. The first was a red-pinky welt; the second was definitely red and twice as thick. She screamed into her gag and bit down harder this time, her body trembled a bit. But she got herself together enough to repeat the routine.

He progressively struck her down her breast in roughly parallel lines about an inch apart. At the fifth stroke, he was up her nipples, which were so hard and swollen they looked like large walnuts. He fondled moderately, pinching each between his thumb and index fingers. Then said provocatively, "these will hurt considerably more. Are you ready to accept that kind of pain for my cock, slut? Shall strike them even harder?"

Again, in garbled speech she said the equivalent of, "Yes, Sir. Give me the pain; I am ready. Please strike me even harder, Sir."

"Okay, Slut." And he squeezed her right breast with his giant left hand engulfing most of her magnificent big tit, and forcing her nipple to stick out almost obscenely. Then the cane down with more force than he had yet used. Her eyes opened wider than I have ever seen. The agony she had just felt drew a scream out of her, which had she not been gagged would have had cops at our door in minutes. Even with the gag, it made me tremble with fear for her.

As I witness this brutal treatment of my wife's breasts and suffered pangs of guilt, jealousy and empathy. But even so, my constant betrayer, my tiny bruised and battered peenie, once again stiffened even more in my panties, and flowed precum like leaky faucet. Observing the breast, I loved so much and treated only with the most tender caresses and the gentlest kisses, be ravaged and brutally injured to ruin, I also felt pride in being able to provide for his pleasure by giving him my wife.

Looking back at her face, I could see that besides the pain, her eyes betrayed a similar feeling. Her face was somehow defiant, like Mrs. Smith's had been back then. I realized I was living out my fantasy, not how I consciously imagined it, but how I must have subconsciously wanted all along.

"Five...Thank you, Sir! That was so painful, just as you promised. Sir, please cane my other nipple harder"--or a version of that. She finally mumbled in a faltering way through the gag, and I had to bite down on my gag and look away, the scene was so incredible, I thought I might come just from watching, with the plug in my ass helping.

He repeated the process with the other nipple probably with the same force as the other, with the same effect. He continued on down her massive titties until he finished with nine and ten toward the underside of her. Her tits were now a work of art; they had always been a natural wonder to me, but this gave them intention. She had nine stripes going down her tits, progressively redder and cruder the bottom three showed evidence of not just being surface, but deep purple bruising. They somehow looked even more magnificent to me than ever. He caressed them gently now admiring his handywork.

"Thank you, Sir, for caning my tits, and for letting me know such deep pain, and suffering for your cock." She mumbled; her eyes though seemed unable to focus.

That done, he turned toward me and said, "alright, sissy faggot, your turn. Stand up.

"Yeth, Thuir." I said through my gag and stood instantly. He positioned me next to the coffee table on all fours, with my front end lower than my ass up in the air. All the movement had my ass spasming on the plug, sending all sorts of messages to my prostate. I began to worry I might inadvertently come; I was already on a hair trigger from before. He had me spread my legs and then squeezed and massaged my pantied butt cheeks roughly. I loved the feelings of his hands on me; his touch just electrified me.

He turned toward the coffee table to pick his tool. I wondered which he would choose. He touched the riding crop, then lingered long on the belt. I was hoping for the belt and speculating if it was the same one he used on Mrs. Smith; the thought was delicious to my mind. But he surprised me; his choice gave me such a thrill that I could hardly stand it.

"I am going to spank you, like the filthy little sissy faggot you are! I am going to give you ten whacks, count them, and beg me hit to you harder each time."

"YES, SIR! Thank you, Sir. Please, Sir may I ask for something?"

"Go ahead, cucky."

"Please, don't start gently, hit me hard right away, Sir."

"Why, cucky?"

"I want to submit completely to you, I want you to hit me as hard as you want from the start to gratify you. Only if it would please you, Sir." This was all true, but the feeling of his touch was so intoxicating that I wanted to experience it at maximum volume. Starting gently would be like listening to Heavy Metal at low volume through a transistor radio. I wanted full volume and quadraphonic sound.

"That would please me, faggot. This will hurt you. Bite down on your gag, so you don't scream." His massive right hand came down on my little ass like a ton of brick. The pain was blisteringly hot. But even in the split second of the whack, I could feel the warmth and the strength of his hand. Also, as his hand came down, it drove the plug deeper in my asshole than it had hitherto been; so that while giving the intense burning pain on my butt cheeks, my prostate was dancing around with the plug causing my little clitty to throb in my panties. My (wife's) panties were already a mess with the massive wet spot that had developed in the front already dripping with my precum. I was definitely in dangerous place, if I were to come.

Lost in this thought--desire--I finally moaned/mumbled through the gag, "One! Thank you. Please, Sir strike me harder." And, he did, though not too much harder. He had a great control of how much pain he was inflicting and when to turn it up or down. Despite how much pleasure I was having as he pummeled my little ass, I was in state of desperation about my potential sissygasm. After the fifth spank, I knew I could not last through another, and I nervously asked, "Pwuith, Thur, Muoui khum?"

"What was that, you Fucking Faggot!??!" and he yanked the ball gag out of my mouth.

"Sir, please, please, I am about to cum."

Suddenly he was very angry. While he had done some cruel and painful things to us already, and ordered us about, and verbally debased us, he had not been genuinely angry. "NO! you may not fuckin' cum, faggot. I think you are getting the wrong idea of what is going on here. Get on back your knees and let me show you."

"Yes, Sir, I am so SORRY, Sir." Tears began to burst from my eyes. I had been crying tears all night, but those were happy submission tears. Now, I feared having ruined everything. I was full out sobbing.

"This is not about you!" he shouted as he grabbed my wife from behind her by the neck and yanked her from her kneeling position across from me until she was standing. Then, he took the gag out of her mouth. Her abused tits bouncing around vulgarly, as he did so. "This is what it's about... Bitch, do you want my cock?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Sir I want your cock more than anything in the world!"

"More than being married to this sissy faggot panty waste?" As he said this he slapped and mauled her breasts disrespectfully with his free hand.

She squealed, "Oh God yes, Sir! I don't care what I have to give up to get your cock."

"If I took you home right now; kept you locked in cage and fucked you whenever I wanted, leaving this faggot loser here to rot, would you like that?"

"Oh God, yes, Sir. Anything to have your cock in me. Please treat me like your bitch dog, put me in cage, I don't care. I don't give a fuck what happens to that faggot, if I get to fuck your cock, Sir, please." Still holding her up by the neck, he splayed her legs out with his foot, then pulled her upper body back, while pushing her ass forward with his knee, presenting her bald pussy. Without warning he shoved three fingers of his free hand into her now sloppy wet cunt. When he withdrew them, they were dripping with her juices.

"Did that hurt, Cunt?"

"Yes, Sir that hurt terribly Sir, thank you so much."

"Can I do it again, slut?"

"Yes, please," and she pushed pussy out more so he could get better access.

"Do you mind that I treat you like a piece of shit whore?"

"Oh, fuck no, Sir! Please do it again, Sir."

He turned her around, guiding her by the neck. Then forced her to bend in half by punching her in the gut fairly hard. This took her breath away and made me gasp at the violence of it. While she was gasping for breath, he moved to open her butt cheeks before me. I could see into her pussy, which was impossibly drenched. He shoved the same three fingers in there and twisted them around. She had caught her breath from the punch and began moaning and pushing her cunt into his fist.

When he realized she had caught her breath, made her hold open her ass cheeks for him.

"Did that punch hurt, slut?"

"Yes, Sir, it took my breath away." She was still gasping for air.

"Could I do it again, if I want."

"Please, do anything that would please you, Sir."

"Can I fuck you ass, bitch?"

"Oh please, please please fuck my ass. I want that Sir, please." He inserted first one, then two, then three of his fat fingers into her asshole. And began finger fucking her ass roughly. She began to moan almost instantly, and I could tell she was headed for an orgasm as he pushed his fingers in and out her with more speed and thrust, and then pushed his fat thumb into her open cunt.

"Do you want to come, whore?"

"Oh yes, please, please may cum, Sir?"

"No, bitch, you come when I want you to." And he pulled his fingers out her, and she was like a deflated balloon.

"Thank you, Sir, for using your hands on me."

"See faggot? You are inconsequential to this arrangement. I can do whatever I want with her, without letting you suck my cock. Your role is a minor one, you are the faggot cuckold hubby willing to give up his wife for a go at my cock. Do you understand, faggot?

"Yes, Sir, but I just want to submit further to you. I love the humiliation and pain you give me through using my wife like a whore, but I crave it more directly."

"Do you want to me fuck your ass? Is that what you were thinking before?"

"Yes, Sir, I am obsessed with it suddenly. I'm sorry, I know you said you wouldn't, but I can't get it out of my head. I want your cock in my ass, so badly. I want it to rip my ass apart and hurt me badly. I want you to fuck me without lube so that it hurts more! But I only want it from your cock, so I know the pain is coming directly from your beautiful Cock.

I am so sorry Sir; I didn't know this about myself before. If you just took my wife and left be bereft of the hope of your cock, I don't know what I would do. Please, Sir, I would be happy to play my small role and know my place. I don't want jeopardize my wife's happiness with my own desires."