From Husband to Houseboy Ch. 04

My story and originally published elsewhere. All characters are of legal age/18+.

This story is about dominance, cuckolding, chastity, being a houseboy, and consensual inequality. If that's not what you're into, move on to another story.

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Still on my knees, in front of him, I was looking down in awe at the cage that symbolized my ever more complete submission to Oliver, my husband and Master. A tear of happiness formed in the corner of my eye. I knew this was the ultimate sacrifice I could make for him. This was the sacrifice I had desperately wanted to make but was too afraid to admit -- too afraid to let go of this much control. Therefore, nothing could make me as happy as the moment when he told me he wanted to lock me.

He lifted my chin and made me look into his eyes. He smiled at seeing the tears of joy: "This is the beginning of a new life for you, boy, for us. I just know you'll love it."

"I know that too, Sir!"

It was such a beautiful moment!

He grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into his still blue-jeans wrapped groin. I took a deep smell. It was sweaty after a long day of travel and our arrival in this southern heat. I buried my face deep, hoped the smell would rub off on my face. I shudder in pure joy -- his masculine musk gets me too horny and excited. With my dick locked now, and the knowledge I won't cum for two weeks, the horniness hits me even harder. I start to lick his groin through his jeans and want to unzip him. He tells me to keep my hands behind my back and unzips himself.

I grab my wrists behind my back to resist the temptation to grab his dick, and I eagerly swallow his mostly-hard dick without using my hands. His dick quickly gets fully hard and he once again grabs the back of my head. He fucks my face rough and hard; I choke, the face fuck is painful and uncomfortable. I struggle not to throw up; I struggle to grasp a short breath from time to time. My face is quickly covered with throat slime. I'm honestly not sure how long I will be able to take this; I keep telling myself that I just don't want to push him off but at some point I will have to breathe.

Then, he pulls my head all the way down. I choked, I couldn't breathe, and the panicked swallowing massaged the head of his dick -- I felt it swell even bigger and then start pumping. I struggled to keep up swallowing all his cum. When he pushed me off his dick, I could finally breathe. I was delighted that I had taken this very rough and difficult face fuck, and resisted the urge to push him off and use my safe word.

My poor, unused, locked dicklet was straining in its new, tight home. Master softly tapped it with his foot. I'm not sure whether it's painful or pleasurable; I find it hard to tell the difference now.

"I'm going to shower and change into something more suited for this climate. You can start unpacking and then getting dinner ready."

I washed the throat slime off my face and spent most of the late afternoon and early evening doing domestic chores: unpacking our bags, laying out towels and clothes for Oliver, looking through the fridge and pantry to think about what I could make for dinner. Naked, collared, and locked, I wonder whether there's anyone who could see me. There's some small boats in the distance, and a few islands far enough away. Certainly, no one could see me with the naked eye, but if anyone use binoculars they probably could. In the end, I feel quite comfortable serving as naked houseboy. Would it even matter if people could see me? Part of me enjoys the idea that there could be someone looking at me and I wouldn't even know. Who knows what that person would be thinking. Would my submission turn them on, give them ideas? Would they be disgusted?

When Oliver finished showering, he approved of the clothes I had laid out and praised my initiative -- 'I didn't even have to ask'. He comes up to me as I wipe down the kitchen surfaces, making sure the kitchen is ready for cooking in it later. He comes up behind me and cups my ass as he softly kisses my neck.

"You're such a good housewife, aren't you boy? I'm so happy that you're my sweet boywife."

I blush and thank him: "I love being your houseboy and boywife, Sir. When do you want dinner?"

"Let's not worry about that for now. Let's relax a little first. Make us two cocktails and join me ouside."

I make two dry gin martinis, which I know he loves, and join him on the little beach. There are two chairs and I wonder whether I need his permission to sit. I hand him his drink and he nods toward the other chair. We just enjoy the quietness and the sun, relax, and have our drinks.

I am naked; he is wearing casual beach attire. It just feels right, somehow. He asks how the cage feels. 'A little uncomfortable," I respond, "but I'm getting used to it, Sir."

He motions me to move closer and I kneel into the hot sand by his side. He gives my cage a little tug -- "nice and secure," he says. Mere playing with my cage has me straining -- "being locked is already making me so horny all the time, Sir."

He licks two fingers and probes my boy pussy, softly massaging my prostate I moan, he kisses me, and the combination of denial and the prostate massage is resulting in a good bit of precum. He runs his finger over the tip of my cage and picks up the precum. He considers feeding it to me, I open my mouth. Instead, he decides to put it in my cocktail and goes back to his own drink. We enjoy our cocktail -- mine with my own precum added to it -- and afterwards I start getting dinner ready.

He enjoys watching me do housework naked as he sits back and relaxes -- "That's how is should be, isn't it my sweet little boywife?" He does order me to put on an apron while cooking, as he doesn't want his pretty boy damaged by burns. I'm of course delighted to be referred to as his pretty boy.

I wasn't as good a cook back then as I am now, though I was OK. It was then that I decided I should start taking classes. If I am to be his boywife, modelled on a 1950s housewife, I want to take that role seriously. I want to be his best boywife I could possibly be. When I told master Oliver this, he smiled and said: "You know I enjoy your cooking, but I think that's a great idea. I love that you want to commit yourself to your submissive and domestic role."

As some of the dishes are taking some time to simmer, I make sure to set the table beautifully candles and everything.

I am happy when he says that he's really enjoying the dinner. I am starting to realize that I enjoy knowing I serve him well. I wonder whether it's the chastity that's already having an effect, making me more submissive and eager to please. Or, maybe deep down I just want to serve my man regardless of the chastity.

After dinner, I clear the table and clean the kitchen as he watches some kinky porn. I catch some glimpses from the corner of my eye and notice that it's a boy in light bondage undergoing some spanking and soft whipping, before getting dicked by his older master. I wonder whether my master is using it as inspiration for later. We haven't had much experience with bondage and whipping, but he knows I'd let him.

As I finish cleaning the kitchen, he invites me to sit with him and watch the rest of the porn with him. I'm intrigued. It's nothing extreme but much of what's going on we haven't tried yet. He sits behind me and wraps his arms around me. He plays with my nipples, knowing it usually gets me really hard. Of course, now it just makes me strain and drip precum.

"Don't stain the couch with that precum, naughty boy," he says as he first kisses and then bites the back of my neck. I know that being here for two weeks, we don't need to worry too much about marks.

He leads me down to the dungeon and once down there pushes me with my back against the wall. He grabs my throat and chokes my lightly. He kisses me and pushes his tongue into my mouth. He's wonderfully aggressive and dominant, and asks whether I want to try some new things, inspired by what we just watched.

He knows the answer is yes, but he wants to hear me say it. I nod and say 'Yes, Sir,' struggling slightly to breathe as he continues to push down on my throat. He kisses me again and reminds me of my safe word and sign (for when my mouth is otherwise occupied).

He grabs my hair and drags me underneath the winch on the ceiling in the middle of the room. He attaches my wrists to both sides of the spreader bar hanging from the winch. For now, I can still comfortably stand. Next, he puts my feet on a spreader bar as well and pushes a button. The winch slowly starts whirring and my arms are getting stretched. I start to feel the pressure in my shoulders, so I stretch as much as I can. Soon, I have to get onto the ball of my feet to prevent pain in my shoulders.

"Just a little more," he says, and I end up on my tippy toes, just about managing to stretch every part of my body enough to prevent the worst pain from hanging from the ceiling. Here I am then, naked, stretched, on tiptoeing, and both my arms and legs spread wide. I feel vulnerable and helpless. All my muscles are so stretched and tense that even the slightest touch from his hand sends shivers down my whole body. A few hard slaps with his hand on my butt have me moaning. I know that's just some teasing, of course, the real thing still has to come.

He looks over the wall with impact implements and picks up a devious looking whip.

"You know, I've never used one of these before," he says right before I feel the painful impact. I scream. The pain was sudden and intense. It feels like my body is getting cut. "I guess I'm a natural."

Just a few lashes on my back in, and I am in tears. I wasn't used to pain then like I am now. He comes round to the front, looks at the tears rolling down my cheek, and says: "Don't worry, I'll make sure to stay far away from your face." I look into his eyes through the tears as he aims the first lash at my front. I scream. He has a sadistic smirk. A few lashes later, he puts to whip aside and comes up to me. He wipes some of my tears and kisses me again.

"I'm proud of how well you've taken this pain so far. I'm not going to use the whip anymore tonight, as I have no reason to punish you, but we'll have plenty of opportunity to test your pain limits these two weeks. For now, I'll play with your pussy."

The variety of dildos, plugs, and beads doesn't faze me like the whip did, but with my body still stretch to the limit, everything still just feels more intense. He also puts a couple of tight, painful clamps on my nipples, with some small weights dangling from them. I get used to the pain in my nipples pretty quickly, after the whipping it doesn't seem that bad.

We end the night with me tied face-down to the fuck bench. The bench is surprisingly comfortable. He pulls the large plug from my ass and makes me hold it in my mouth. His fuck is powerful yet somehow tender. He fucks me balls-deep as he kissed the whip-mark welts that are forming on my back. After all the sexy play, it doesn't take him long before he starts breathing heavily and pushing deep. I recognize the signs of him being close and I am myself feeling close to an anal orgasm after all the playing with my boy pussy before. I know I must be drizzling tons of precum.

He bends over and bites my shoulder as he starts to pump his load in my pussy. My own prostate-sensations start to ebb away. I realize that having a successful anal orgasm is still far away, yet this short fuck was extremely pleasurable -- even more so than usual. We both sweat and breathe heavily as he lays on top of me. I feel his weight and his sweat on top of me, and the whole scene just feels like bliss.

After a few minutes he released me from the bondage and carefully rubbed a soothing lotion on my whip marks. After having served him all day, I feel so privileged to be taken care of by him like this. He tells me how proud he is of having taken my first heavier scene in a dungeon so well. It is such a beautiful moment. I thank him for helping me find my true, submissive, and masochist self alongside him.

That night, I slept in the main bedroom with him. As he embraced me, he made sure to point out that I wouldn't get to sleep in the bed every night: "That's a reward for a good boywife." I smile, knowing I've worked hard to earn this reward, and thank him for being so generous. I do wonder where I'll sleep other nights, however. Before I drift off asleep -- it's been a long and exhausting day, after all -- I think of a plan to wake up early and make him breakfast. Then I'll be able to wake him gently with foot worship and breakfast in bed.

I fall asleep happy, knowing I have a wonderful idea that I know he'll love.

To be continued!