From Husband to Houseboy Ch. 05

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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The next morning, I woke happy but uncomfortable. My usual morning erection was painful -- no wonder, it was straining against a tiny cage. The sun was up and Oliver, my husband and master, was fast asleep. I looked at him and couldn't believe my luck: not only did I marry this wonderful and beautiful man, he's quickly discovering himself as my master as well! This is what happiness feels like, I think, and who cares about the minor discomfort from my morning wood?! It's a small price to pay.

I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. I take a short, and naked, stroll around the island in the first morning sun. There's a boat in the distance and somebody seems to be awake. I briefly wonder whether they can see me naked, but I quickly drop the thought it doesn't matter, I am happy naked and locked. I go back in and start preparing breakfast. I have no idea when he'd wake up but I figure everything should be ready by then. It isn't long before I have it all laid out and I just need to add those things that need to be hot, like the coffee, and those that need to remain in the fridge until the end. It's all on a serving tray and I think it looks beautiful. It is not the just aesthetics of the tray, it's what this breakfast represents: me serving him! I wait to have breakfast myself. If he wants to fuck my face this morning, I want his load to be my first meal of the day.

I decide to explore the dungeon a bit more while Master is still asleep. There's hooks to attach chains or restraints everywhere, there's a fuck bench, a couple of cages of different sizes, a leather swing, a cross, etc. I look over the seemingly endless collection of toys. There's the expected ones: whips, floggers, canes, collars and a rich selection of leather and steel restraints, ropes and tape, all sorts of painful looking clamps, a huge collection of plugs and dildos, as well as all types of gags that I had never even thought of before. For most, I couldn't wait to have them tried out on me. Some, I was a bit apprehensive about, like the electric shock collar, the expanding and locking butt plug, and the impaling frame. The toy that fascinated me most, however, was the funnel gag designed to turn a boy into a human urinal. I had long fantasized about being pissed on and made to drink it, as I crave the humiliation and deep submission in such a moment, but the gag seemed like it would just further up the level of objectification!

I figure I should go back upstairs and make sure I don't miss the moment Master wakes up. My timing was just right, as I heard some stirring in the bedroom. I peeked in and he was just starting to awaken. So, I made the coffee and finished the breakfast, and he was just starting to notice that I was not in bed as I entered with the tray. He smiled as he saw me enter with his breakfast and smelled his morning coffee -- black espresso, just as he likes it. "You're such a thoughtful houseboy," he says. He sat up and I place the tray in front of him. I asked him permission to worship his feet as he had his breakfast. He generously granted me this privilege. I love his feet at any time, but after a sweaty night in hot climate their taste and aroma is even more wonderful than usual. I get completely lost in his feet so much so that I barely even notice that he finished his breakfast.

He asks me whether I had breakfast and I tell him the truth that I held off in case he wanted me to feed me my first meal in the form of his cum.

"You mean you want my dick, don't you boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you think you've earned that privilege, boy?"

"I don't know, Sir. All I can do is serve you as well as I can and accept that whether you want to grace me with your dick or not is not up to me, Sir."

"That's true. And, you know what, boy? You earned it but that doesn't mean I'll give it to you. I decide -- whether you earned or deserve it shouldn't matter. It's just my decision. I wouldn't want you to think that just because you're a good boy, you deserve my dick. Otherwise, you may only behave like a good boy to get dick. That would be selfish, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, Sir! I just want to be your good boy, Sir."

He holds his half-hard dick and contemplates for a second whether he should give it to me. He tells me to go wait for him in the shower, kneeling. I suspect I know what's coming. I am excited and a little nervous. I suspect that this is about to be my first experience with piss play. I know that first morning piss is probably not ideal for a novice drinker -- pungent! -- but the spontaneity of this moment is much more important than what's ideal. I am ready for his piss, no matter how strong!

He walks in, naked, beautiful. I am so lucky to be about to be showered in his piss. As I suspect, he starts pissing on my face and my head, soaking my hair; then he tells me to open wide. I don't hesitate as he aims his strong, fragrant stream into my open mouth. I swallow as much as I can and the rest runs down my chin and over my whole body. It is bitter, but I'm already loving it. I want to drink as much of it as I can and as his stream starts to slow down, he moves closer and I take his dick in my mouth. I now can drink all of it and I look up, looking in his beaming, happy face as he looks down on his husband and servant drinking his morning piss. He's finished and pulls away, but tells me to keep my mouth open. He spits in my face, some of it in my eye, and says 'damn, I missed'; the second try goes in my open mouth. He smiles, I swallow. None of this was the load I was expecting when I made him breakfast, but it is the load I wanted anyway -- and needed.

He taps my locked dick with his foot a few times, just to remind me that I'm locked -- like I'd forget! -- and tells me to clean myself up, and then clean the kitchen and bedroom -- 'Oh, and make sure to eat something; I don't want you to run out of energy'.

I spend most of the morning cleaning. After I finished the kitchen and bedroom, I propose that I should clean the whole house, as it had probably been empty for a while before we arrived. Oliver liked my initiative and mostly lounged around all morning, doing some reading and enjoying having his naked houseboy bending and stretching all over the place slapping my ass or doing some groping whenever he felt like it.

Next was his lunch and this time I finally got to suck his dick as I kneeled under the table. After lunch, he decided he should inspect my work. He attached a leash to my collar and led me around the house, inspecting every little nook and cranny. He was so detail-oriented that he found several spots that I completely missed. I was mortified when he pointed these out. I profusely apologized but he didn't react to or acknowledge my apologies. He just kept finding imperfections. At the end of the inspection round, he caressed my cheek and looked deep into my eyes.

"You're a sweet boy and I like that you took the initiative to go above and beyond, but you still have a lot to learn about being a good houseboy."

I tried to look away, look at the floor in shame, but he told me to look him in the eyes. I answered: "I am sorry, Sir. You are right: I still have a lot to learn, but I am committed to learn and to be the best houseboy I can be for you, Sir."

"And, isn't an essential part of learning, being punished when you don't do well?"

"Yes, Sir," I said hesitantly. Part of me felt it was unfair, since I already did more than he asked me to do. But, then I quickly realized that he was of course absolutely right and that I deserved punishment. No matter how much or how little I do for him, I must always do it to the best of my abilities.

He didn't take me to the dungeon, as he said that for everyday domestic discipline, he should not rely on anything but what he'll always have on him. He sat on the couch and told me to get over his knee. He was about to spank me like I was a naughty child. It was humiliating -- and, so hot! At first, it just stung a little, but it was overall quite pleasant. I've always enjoyed a playful spanking. After a while, however, the pleasant sting started to turn into real pain, and his strikes remained very hard and powerful. He just kept going and eventually, I just couldn't hold back my tears any longer. The tears were a result of the pain, but also of the humiliation of an OTK spanking as an adult by my own husband, and of the disappointment in myself for not having done a better job.

Once I'm bawling, he stops. He holds me and wipes away some of my tears, telling me that "the tears is how you know the difference between a playful spanking and punishment." He kisses me and tells me he's proud of how well I took this punishment. I smile but he tells me the punishment isn't over yet. He points at a corner and tells me the kneel there, facing the wall, and think about what I did wrong. It felt so humiliated. He's treating my like a misbehaving child. Tears continued to roll down my face and I couldn't wipe them as I needed to keep my hands behind my head. My ass must have looked glowing red.

I felt so deeply humiliated and disappointed in not having done a better job. However, I was also proud. I knew that few husbands would accept this treatment, and it would make me a better houseboy as a result. And, I was just happy that He was willing to take the time to correct my mistakes -- isn't that a true sign of love?

I had no idea how long it had been. It had felt like hours and the way the sun had moved suggested that it had been. At some point, he had come bring me a thin cushion the protect my knees, saying 'if you're really naughty, it'll be uncooked rice instead; and, next time I want to try the wooden spoon...'.

To be continued...