Influencers: No Such Thing as Free

Kent looked uncomfortable, or more accurately, more uncomfortable. In truth, he'd been pretty quiet all through dinner.

"It' such a nice night," she continued, "So I thought maybe we should get in the hot tub after dinner."

Kent blanched. Coolly, Colette turned her attention to me.

"Did you bring something to swim in?" she asked.

I could see Kent's face. He hadn't expected any of this, of his wife inviting her hot friend into the hot tub. He was verging on the margins between uncomfortable and outright terror.

"Of course," I answered smoothly, my attention on the woman opposite me, "I can't wait to try the hot tub out."

Kent shuddered and I imagined that he'd just received a squeeze from his wife under the table.

"Honey, why don't you go and make sure it's up to temperature." She phrased it as an instruction rather than a question.

Kent hesitated, then took a mouthful of red wine and got up from the table. The bulge was clearly showing now; Colette had worked him absolutely rigid with her unseen hand.

"He looks fit to burst," I commented once Kent was out of earshot.

"Oh he is. I made him dress me up, so he knows what I'm wearing under this dress. Spoiler alert, it's not very much."

"Yes. I'm surprised you haven't spilled out of it."

Colette laughed, an easy heartfelt sound.

"You're really into this aren't you?"

She nodded, took a sip of the wine, and said, "Yes. I'm beginning to like what I'm doing. I should have done this years ago."

She looked at me and I could see something behind the smile. A longing.

"Tell me something, though," I said, picking up the dessert forks from the table.

I arranged the fork in a triangle, each following the other. Colette frowned.

"I just need to know something for tonight. Ground rules."

I touched a fork.

"Am I here to fuck your husband, while you watch?"

I tapped the next fork.

"Or am I here to fuck you while you force your husband to watch?"

I tapped the third fork.

"Or are you two going to go at it while I drink red wine and look up at the stars?"

Colette's face was suddenly serious.

"I hadn't thought. Uh, I mean, that's not what...."

I waited, letting her pull her thoughts together. Kent would be a few more minutes yet, so I had all the time in the world to let her decide the course of the night.

"Just straight up," she began, "When I invited you over, Eve, I only had in mind that he'd be uncomfortable with two babes in short dresses while he's all locked up."

"And what were you going to do about the cage? Were you going to make him show me?"

Colette began to fiddle with her wedding ring, turning it around and around. We had arrived at the critical question.

"I thought that maybe I would. The hot tub was just to see if he'd get in. It would be pretty obvious but I dunno... making him pull down his trunks to show you is a big step. Not to mention this," she said, indicating the triangle of forks.

She looked at me directly. "I guess I underestimated you, Eve. I didn't know how much you were into all this."

"I'm here to help, hon. I'm not here for sex, unless that's part of what you both want. And maybe tonight isn't the night anyway. But, and this is important, and I don't know if you've realised this yet...."

I took her hands in mine.

"What you're doing is going to be hard for him. You need to talk, and take it in baby steps. Maybe this becomes a thing where you fully cuck him or maybe it never goes past dirty talk in the bedroom, though let's face it, it's already made it as far as the dinner table. It's up to you both to decide how far it goes."

I squeezed her hand, trying to be reassuring.

"If you keep on with this, though, one day it's just going to click in his head. You'll see the change, like a light going on. He's going to see how hot this is making you for him, how much you want him at your whim. He's going to realise that there's no-one else on this earth that can give this to you. That's the point that Reece and Davis and all the guys just become wallpaper. It's all about you and him, about him finally realising that he's the only one for you."

Colette blinked rapidly, and tiny tears splashed down her perfectly-made-up cheeks. She pulled her hand away and retrieved a napkin, quickly dabbing at the moisture so as not to ruin her eye shadow.

"Fuck. I don't wanna look like a panda," she laughed, softly, "Look what you did."

Colette composed herself and then took my hands in hers.

"Thank you. Thanks for doing this. I guess I needed backup."

"Fixing a marriage isn't a one-person assignment," I agreed, "But I got you."

Colette laughed again and took her glass in her hand. She began to relax.

"What about cooking?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Cooking for him, you said."

"No hon, I said cuck him. Cuckold."

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's at the most extreme end of all of this. You lock your husband up and invite another guy to fuck you while he watches. Some couples get to it, some never go past talking about it. Some couples just like to make the plans, set it all up, but never go through with it. Even to the point of meeting up with a guy. It's all about how real both people want to make it."

"Kent would kill him, then probably me."

"Maybe down the line, you have the conversation. Like I said, it never needs to actually get physical. You can go as far as being naked, on the bed, poised, and then you unlock him instead and go at it like the world's ending."

"What would he get out of that?"

"He gets to watch some man find his wife to be a fuckable, hot, sexy temptress, hear the other guy tell him how lucky he is to have such a hot body on tap. Then he gets to see you make a choice to fuck him instead. He knows that only you decide what's going to happen to you, but that you choose to come back to him."

Colette was silent for a long few seconds.

"Fuck," she breathed. The rouge hid a deeper flushing of her cheeks. I could see her pupils dilate: she was deeply aroused by the thought of it.

"I know someone," I ventured, "He's a really good guy. He knows the ropes."

"You know a guy who does this?" Colette squeaked. Suddenly, this was all a possibility to her, no longer an abstract concept.

"Yeah. Well, he does a lot of different stuff. He's a bit of a specialist. He'd take you through it and I guarantee he'd stop where you want to stop."

Colette was silent again, her hands wrapped around the base of her wine glass, staring at me.

"Wow, Eve, we just covered a lot of ground very quickly. Let me...."

Kent returned. "Heating up, should be another twenty minutes," he said.

He sat down in his chair and I could read his mood. Kent was tense, guarded, waiting for his wife's next move. I began to wonder if he suspected that I already knew his humiliating little secret, the thing he was trying so hard to disguise.

"Just enough time for banoffee pie," Colette replied cheerily, getting up from the table.

She looked at me and then the triangle. She tapped the third fork.

---

The banoffee pie was delicious, and with it, the conversation lifted. Kent seemed to enjoy the break from his wife's constant teasing and almost began to relax. After dinner, I helped Colette to clear the plates away while Kent went to check on the status of the water. We made idle chit-chat, neither of us acknowledging the plan for the rest of the evening, or her husband's growing apprehension.

Kent appeared at the open door leading out into the back yard.

"Hey Col, do you want to come check the water?"

We both looked up and Colette hesitated.

"Eve, just leave the rest. I'll be back in a minute."

I watched her slink out into the dark in her high heels, her bottom wiggling. Unconsciously, she tugged the hemline of her dress, straightening it and pulling it further down over her rear. I put the last of the plates into the dishwasher and observed through the window.

Kent and Colette were standing out by the hot tub, backlit by the yard light, talking. After a while, she reached out and took his hands, tossing her ringlets out of her face, and looked up at her man. The conversation was muted and earnest. I knew that she was talking him through what she wanted.

Colette stepped forward, snuggling up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She lifted his hands up onto her bottom and he cupped the curve of her backside in his palms. I watched Kent bend down to kiss his wife, a long lingering kiss that went on and on.

Eventually, they broke off and Colette walked back towards me, a slinky silhouette, all curves and hips. Behind her, I could see her husband just staring at her body.

"Let's get changed," she called from the doorway.

"What did you say to him?"

"I asked him to trust me."

"Is that all?"

"Yup."

Colette pointed at a door off the hall and said, "You can change in there if you like."

I ducked into the downstairs toilet and pulled my swimsuit out of my bag. I'd opted for the one-piece since I wasn't the main attraction tonight, so I quickly slipped off my high heels and undid the zipper on the back of my dress. For some reason, none of this seemed weird. It should have. My long-time friend had roped me into helping her flip the balance in her marriage and try to take control from her muscle-bound alpha-male husband. I knew that three deployments had taken their toll on his mental health and he'd obviously returned more fragile than when he shipped out, but was this really the way to help him, by quite literally putting him in a cage? I had to trust the judgement of a woman who had been married to this man for fifteen years, but it still left me with the uneasy notion that Colette was feeling her way in the dark. I figured it was my duty to be there in case things went south.

---

When I was done changing, I headed out to the back yard. The night air was cool on my exposed skin, and I felt conspicuous in my plain white, one-piece swimsuit. My breasts aren't big, but they're in keeping with the rest of me, and as I walked over to the hot tub with my glass of red wine, I was very conscious of the eyes of the tub's sole occupant watching me.

"Hey," I said, "You got changed quick."

Kent grunted, and replied, "Force of habit."

I made my way carefully up the steps and slid into the warm, frothing water.

"Ohh. Now this is nice."

I took a sip of the wine and laid back, closing my eyes and letting the jets massage my body.

"I could really use one of these at home."

When I opened my eyes again, I became aware that my breasts were floating just above the surface, bounded by the tight, white fabric. Kent had noticed.

"Where's Colette?" I asked.

"Still getting changed."

Kent didn't volunteer any more information, but I could feel his eyes on me. Not like he wanted to fuck me, though, but more like he was trying to figure out what was going on. I couldn't blame him. He was in a hot tub with a woman he wasn't overly familiar with, trapped in a cock cage with his wife plotting mischief. I'd have been wary.

I could see that he was building up to a question, but before he could speak I heard a voice behind me.

"That looks nice," Colette called.

I saw her husband's eyes go wide, which made me turn around to see what had made him gape.

"Room for one more?"

Colette was standing behind me in a black bikini. Or more precisely, in a minimalist interpretation of a bikini. The twin orbs of her gorgeous, full bosom were bracketed by strips of black lycra. Her erect nipples were clearly visible beneath the tight material. The straps narrowed as they ascended her shoulders to give the impression that her breasts were cupped in two wide, black ribbons in a feat of structural engineering.

But it was the bikini bottoms that drew the eye. A single black band, starting just above her crotch, held up by twin threads that snaked up and over her rounded hips. There was not a trace of pubic hair; given the tiny surface covered by the material, she must have been completely waxed.

Colette took her time ascending the steps, stopping to dip her toes into the water and holding one leg out in front of her while she did so to show off her thigh and shapely leg. Her toenails were painted black to match her outfit. The necklace hung down from her neck, exhibiting the tiny key to her husband's cock in the fold of her cleavage and leaving no doubt as to who was in charge tonight.

"Toasty warm," she said, breaking the silence that had fallen on both of us, and slid down into the frothing water.

She smiled at me, a knowing, worldly smile and scootched over to nestle in her husband's lap. Colette wrapped her arms around his bulky shoulders, suddenly appearing small and fragile in her husband's thick, strong arms. I imagined that her bottom would be settling nicely onto the bulge between his legs but at least her hands were where I could see them. She smiled at me again, and I knew that the show was about to begin.

"Shall we have a toast?" Colette began, "To... oh, wait."

I could see her making a show of looking around.

"Do we all have drinks?" she asked.

Kent's face stiffened. Apparently, you never hear the shot from the sniper rifle, because the bullet is travelling faster than the speed of sound. This bullet, however, was incoming on a high parabolic trajectory. Kent could see it coming a mile off, but there was nothing he was going to be able to do about it.

"Honey, would you be able to get us a refill?" she asked, innocently.

"I'm okay," he responded, gruffly, "Maybe we just have a break from the drinks for a while."

Colette pouted comically, laying it on. "Please. It's the bottle that Eve brought. I was really enjoying it."

Kent didn't move, but I could see he jaw muscles bunching like he wanted to say something, anything, to avoid having to get out of the water and give me a look at the bulge in his trunks.

"I thought you said...," he began but his wife cut him off with a look.

I watched, open mouthed, as I saw her begin to gyrate subtly. Under the water, I could imagine she was driving the soft flesh of her backside against the rigid bars of his cock cage, making sure, if the bikini and waxing wasn't enough, that he was absolutely rigid inside the tiny prison.

"I changed my mind. I really would like another glass of the red."

I watched the standoff developing between husband and wife, as she continued to wriggle in his lap.

"The longer you wait, the thirstier I get," she continued, with just a hint of an edge to her voice. "Besides, you have to get out of the tub sooner or later."

That last phrase seemed to trigger something in Kent's mind and I began to feel a little sorry for him. Of course: now that he was in the tub, she had trapped him with nothing to shield himself from the prying eyes of his wife's friend. It wasn't a matter of if, but a matter of when I would get to see his shameful secret.

"You're asking a lot," Kent grumbled and disentangled himself from his wife's embrace.

Like a rockslide in reverse, he began to rise up from the roiling water. In turn, his perfect abs, washboard stomach, then his swimshorts rose into view and I could see why he was so desperate to stay under the cover of the bubbles. Colette had made him dress in a pair of skin-tight trunks that showed off the finely-honed landscape of his buttocks and his thighs, but also left no doubt as to what was between his legs. Kent stood, mute, waiting for the inevitable comments, a dripping, immobile man-mountain; his face burning with embarrassment.

I could see how difficult Colette was making this for him and I felt the need to head it off. She was a novice at all this; I had no such excuse. Before Colette could speak, I got in first.

"Would I be able to get a top up too?" I asked, studiously making eye contact and avoiding the sizeable bulge directly at my head height.

Kent's huge body lumbered into motion, the obvious package passing between myself and his wife. He hauled himself out of the tub and padded back into the house as I watched his muscled buttocks move under the skin-tight material of his tiny trunks.

"The trunks were a bit much," I said, turning to Colette.

Her eyes were still on her retreating husband's rear, a glassy far-away stare.

"I can see why the marriage is worth saving," I continued into the silence.

"What? Uh, yeah. Sorry."

"No need. If I had that to look forward to, I'd be side-tracked too."

Colette's attention shifted back to me. I could tell that making Kent show himself like that had gotten her horny to the point of distraction.

"How did you ever get him to agree to do that? It's a big step, showing him off in front of strangers."

"I didn't."

"But I saw you having the conversation by the tub earlier. What did you say?"

"I just told him to trust me. If he went along, I promised I would make his dreams come true tonight."

"And what was his cock doing at the time?"

"Oh," she gave a little laugh, "It was fully, uh, listening. I think I've got him so worked up over these last few days and especially tonight that it's just the little brain doing all the thinking. His higher functions have pretty much shut down completely by now."

I gave her a look.

"What?" she asked.

"You really want this, don't you?"

"Like Christmas," she breathed. "In fifteen years, he's always been the one in charge, and now for once I get to be."

My face became serious as I said, "You know this is why it's working, don't you?"

Colette sighed, "Not really," she said.

"He's letting you take charge here because he's in charge at work, and all the rest of the time. He's literally been making life and death decisions for months and he finally gets time to not have to think, to just go with the flow and let his wife take the ropes. This is his downtime, and I suspect he's not had downtime for...."

"Years," Colette interrupted, then began to nod. "I get it."

Kent appeared at the door with the bottle and wine glasses.

"If you want to, I can take the lead for a bit," I offered.

"Sure. You're the expert," Colette replied, then sniggered. "I didn't expect to ever say that."

Kent ascended the steps, leading off with, "Seems like you girls are having a nice chat."

"Yes," I replied, "I was just asking your wife about your trunks."

Kent had stepped down into the tub, but then stopped. The water was bubbling around his thighs, so his package was bobbing just above the water. He straightened up, throwing back his shoulders, and in doing so he presented himself to me, full frontal. After a pause, he began to pour the wine and hand out the glasses. All the while, his bulge was plainly evident before me. I didn't ignore it this time, and I could feel his eyes on me as I inspected him.

"Here," he said, filling my glass and handing it to me.

I held the glass up in the air and said, "Let's toast. To no more secrets."

Colette clinked her glass against mine, then after a second, so did her husband. We all took a hearty swallow.

"Before you sit down," I continued, making eye contact with Kent again, "I'd like to know something."

"Shoot," he replied, remaining in place.

"Is it uncomfortable, wearing that thing?"

It was a standard question, and one I knew the answer to. The question was more to see whether he was going to talk about it; my idea for the rest of the night relied on him opening up a little.

Kent took another generous mouthful of wine, surveying me over the rim of the glass, appraising my threat level.

"Depends. It is at the moment."

"I expect so, given your wife clearly doing everything she can to get you to fill it."

Sometimes, and especially with someone like Kent, it was better to get straight down to it.

"She must have been making your life hell."