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. My Cuckold Man Cave

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Throne, Aug 2, 2018.

. My Cuckold Man Cave 4.6 5 7votes
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  1. Throne

    Throne Well-Known Member Author!

    My life might have never gotten so bad if I hadn't tried to stand up to my wife Rita. She had been dominating me for a year, since our whirlwind dating period and hasty marriage. We moved into a ranch house she owned, that she inherited from some distant relative. The place was old and uncared for but she didn't mind. It was also out on a secondary road, in the middle of a cluster of similar homes. All of the residents were low income types, which made me uncomfortable, but living there was cheaper than renting in the city.

    Anyway, what I did that got me into so much trouble was to suggest that we turn the spare bedroom into a man cave for me. After all, it was just being used for storage and Rita had piles of boxes in there. When I confronted her she hadn't had her morning coffee yet. That timing was stupid of me. My wife is short tempered to begin with but, until she has that initial cup of coffee, she is even worse. We were in the kitchen. All she had on was one of her short nightshirts. It was plain that she didn't have a bra on under it. Her massive tits were wobbling as she moved, nipples clearly pressing against the thin material. Her wide hips and supersize bottom were also temptingly discernable. The garment ended near the tops of her full thighs and seeing her legs bare, especially her large firm calves, was hypnotic for me.

    She scowled at me and said, "That's the stupidest idea yet from you, Dicky. I mean, you're not even good in bed, with your miniature dick and the way you finish almost before you start. So why would you need a MAN cave? How about a LOSER cave?"

    Her broad face, with its high-cheekbones and plump lips, was made over by a snarling expression. Then, just as my heartrate had accelerated so much that I could feel it beating, she relaxed.

    "But I'll tell you what," she went on. "I'll go along with your dopey wish. Let me make a call and we'll find out if getting the work done is practical."

    I started to say something but she shushed me. Well, I wasn't going to give her a fight after she had agreed to go along with my wish. If Rita wanted to handle the details herself, I could accept that. So I just went and got her mug, put some cream in the bottom, and filled it almost the to brim, the way I always do for her. She sat her wide bottom on a kitchen chair and I set the coffee in front of her. She took a sip, waited a moment, and then leaned against the back of the chair.

    When I got home from work, she was beaming. By then she had changed into a short robe and I was surprised to notice, because it wasn't belted very tightly, that she wore nothing under it. Maybe we were going to have sex for a change.

    She told me, "I called a builder one of my girlfriends recommended. He doesn't usually take small jobs like making over one room, but he said he'd do it for me. Turns out he liked my voice over the phone. I got a little flirty to make sure he followed through."

    "Flirty?" I said, concern entering my thoughts.

    "Sure. Don't you want to get your precious man cave?"

    "Well, yeah, but I don't like the idea of you acting like that with some carpenter or whatever he is."

    "He owns the company," she pointed out. "And I guess he is a carpenter, because he already did some work."

    "Wait. He got started on the room?"

    "No. I told him about how you were being such a pest about your precious 'private space', so he created a space for you to use while you wait for the real job to get done."

    "I don't understand."

    "Than let's go down into the basement and you can look for yourself."

    I followed my full figured wife, eyeing the way her inner thighs brushed against each other as she walked. The basement was unfinished, with the washer and dryer off to one side, and a spare toilet across from them, in a small curtained off area. But now the minimal lavatory was surrounded by new uprights with sheets of drywall nailed to them. Not understanding, I examined the changes and saw the guy had created a cramped enclosure. For some reason there was a door on the side. He had also put on the hardware for a padlock, as if there was something inside worth being protected. And the lock was hanging on a hook, with its key protruding from the end.

    Shaking my head, I told Rita, "This must be some kind of joke."

    "No," she assured me. "Marlon wanted you to have somewhere to relax while you wait for him to create a man cave upstairs."

    "Why would I want to be in there? Right next to the freaking toilet?"

    "He said you might not want to be upstairs when he's over working in the evenings."

    "Shouldn't he be doing it during the day?"

    "That's when he'll be supervising several big projects his company is handling. But he's coming over here every evening. After he met me he decided he wanted to give the job his personal attention. He'll start tomorrow night at eight."

    It didn't make a lot of sense. And putting up those walls in the basement made no sense at all. But Rita didn't seem ready to discuss it further. Or to change the plan. And I was still hoping the two of us would end up doing something in bed besides sleeping. So I kept my mouth shut. We went upstairs and it turned out that she hadn't made dinner. I was going to say something about how she could have spent less time with the builder -- Marlon -- and done some cooking. Instead, I just made myself a sandwich, put some chips on the plate, and grabbed a cold soda from the fridge.

    Later on, Rita got into one of her filmy nighties. It barely reached past her waist. And she hadn't bothered to put on the matching panties. I was thrilled. Once we were in bed she even let me get my hands all over her stupendous body. My dick got so hard that it hurt. I could feel how tightly my balls were drawn up. Yet when I tried to carry everything to it's logical conclusion, she pushed me away.

    "Not tonight, Dicky." She put her hand between my legs and gave my privates a light squeeze. "Your puny pickle can rest up some more. After all, it's been less than a week since I let you put it in me. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, champ."

    My cheeks grew warm from those insulting words. But I knew that with her, 'no' really did mean no. So I rolled over, not wanting her to see how hurt and disappointed I knew I looked. Hugging my pillow, I promised myself I would get matters sorted out the next day, after work and before that guy showed up to start my real man cave.

    When I got home on Friday I washed up all the glasses and dishes Rita had used during the day, picked up the empty packages from the snack food she was forever eating, and straightened up the house. I had decided to wear nice slacks and a short sleeve, pullover shirt for Marlon's visit. My idea was to look casual but well dressed. A good appearance would give me added authority, I reminded myself. The man must be used to taking orders from clients, so I anticipated everything going smoothly as I told him how I wanted my special room to look. The display case for my action figures would go on one side, with shelves for my graphic novels on the other. There would still be plenty of room for posters of my favorite super heroes.

    Rita must have wanted to make a good impression, too. She got into a red dress that I had never seen before. It was too tight, showed too much cleavage, and left her legs bare. She also wore glossy black heels. I wasn't happy about the way it looked, or the fact that she had put on excessive eye liner and lipstick. Even so, it was me who the builder would be dealing with, so I didn't point out to her that she appeared sort of trampy.

    At a few minutes after eight, there was a loud knock on our front door. When I opened it I got the first of many unwelcome surprises. Marlon was a big man. Tall and broad shouldered. He had on a muscle shirt that showed of his bulging biceps and thick forearms. His jeans were snug enough that they hugged his well defined legs. They also let me see the outline of a walloping big cock. I instinctively retreated two steps from his overwhelming masculinity. He stepped inside. I moved out of his way.

    There was one other thing that caught me off guard. Marlon was Black. Not café au lait. Not chocolate brown. He was as Black as the ace of spades. His hair was worn natural, shaved close on the sides and about an inch long on top. His upper lip and broad jaw were clean shaven but he had a patch of hair under his thick lower lip. The big man grinned down at me. His expression suggested that he thought I was a comical figure.

    From behind me my wife said, "Marlon. So nice to see you again."

    "Yeah," he said with cocky confidence. "Good to get my eyes on you, too, girl. Especially after our get together yesterday afternoon."

    She chuckled and told him, "I got some beer." Rita snapped at me, "Dicky, be a good host. Go and get the man a beer."

    "Right," Marlon seconded. "Step and fetch it."

    It was as if the floor was tilting under me as I went to the kitchen. What had just happened? Why was my wife so friendly with this person? She had only met him a day ago, for a brief chat. At least, I assumed it had been just that. When I returned with the bottle of beer she was on the sofa. I handed his drink to him and he twisted off the cap and tossed it to me. I missed the catch and had to scramble to snatch it off the floor. When I straightened up, Rita was smirking at my clumsiness.

    "So here's the deal," Marlon told me before I could say a word. "Your wife has some good thoughts about how that room needs to get done. I made some suggestions, too. I'll be coming around, about this time, whenever I can, to work on it. She wants it to be a surprise, so you can't see it until I'm done. Right?"

    Caught off balance by his definite attitude and the apparent backing from my wife, I just nodded. When I found my voice I said, "I guess that'll be okay." Then I turned to Rita. Probably I wanted to regain some of the authority I felt like I had just lost. Without thinking it through, I told her, "You know, dear, you should have told me if you already had specific plans. I mean, it is going to be my room. A man needs his own space in his home."

    Marlon stood up and glowered at me. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don't talk that way to a woman like Rita. Where's the respect? Maybe you don't deserve a room of your own, with that attitude. And why are you telling her this is your home? Doesn't she own this place?" He took several steps toward where I was standing. "I want to hear you apologize to her, boy. Like right now."

    When I glanced at my wife for help, she just sneered at me. Marlon was so close that he could have reached my with those long arms. I didn't want his big threatening hands on me. I licked my lips and tried to find words that would satisfy his demand, placate my bride, and not make me feel like a total wimp.

    He said, "Let's hear it, candy ass."

    Something about that term, probably the way it impugned my masculinity, set me off. I raised my hands and pursed my lips. "Now listen to me..." was as far as I got.

    His arm lashed out and the palm of one of those broad hands slapped he hard across the face. Before I could recover, he backhanded me on the other side. My cheeks were burning and I staggered back unsteadily. Marlon stepped in and threw a punch at my midsection. He pulled it at the last possible instant, but I was already lurching away from it, and tripped over my own feet. I landed on my back and found myself with my head between Rita's shoes, looking up at her. I was seeing her face upside down, but even that way there was no mistaking the disrespect she was directing at me.

    Marlon came over and planted his foot, shod in a heavy work shoe, on my crotch. He leaned on it slightly. The pressure he was applying wasn't a lot, but as it pressed against my pinned down privates, it was more than enough. My testicles erupted with pain and I had a horrifying mental image of him crushing them, grinding them under his heel, ruining my manhood not just psychologically, but physically. I turned my eyes back up to Rita. She wriggled forward to the edge of the sofa. Doing that pulled her dress up even higher, so that I could see the front of her panties stretched tight over the plump mound of her pussy. My attention shifted to Marlon and he was staring directly at her barely covered femininity. Then he sneered down at me.

    "That apology? Little Dicky?"

    My mouth was dry and my throat was tight. I coughed once and said, the words coming with difficulty, "I'm so sorry, Rita. I didn't mean to speak to you that way. I was completely out of line. I apologize. Please accept my... um... apology. It will never happen again."

    Perhaps emboldened by the way Marlon had treated me, she said with venom in her voice, "You're damned right it won't happen again. From now on I don't want any backtalk from you. And you're going to show me complete respect. I mean all the time. Understood?"

    Marlon's foot used just enough force to add to my motivation as I told her, "Yes, darling. Absolutely. Anything you say."

    "Okay," she agreed. "But you really upset me. So I think you should go away while Marlon and I finalize our plans for the room."

    "B... but where can I go?"

    When Marlon removed his foot from my essentials, I was relieved, but that didn't last. He told me, "You got that nice man cave I made you downstairs, for while you're waiting for the real thing. Remember? So how about you go down there and leave us the f*@k alone while we talk and stuff?"

    Not wanting him to be with my wife while I wasn't there, I started to object. He reached down, grabbed my slender upper arm, and effortlessly hauled me to my feet.

    "Hey," I protested. "You can't do this. I'm in my own home. I mean my wife's home. I mean..."

    He gave me a violent shake that make me stop talking. Then he dragged me to the cellar steps. "Are you going to walk down or should I just throw you?"

    "I... I'll walk."

    "And show me some respect. How about you call me 'Sir'?"

    "Alright. Yes. Yes, Sir."

    I descended into the basement, making plenty of use of the handrail. He followed closely and then pushed me several times toward the enclosure he had built. Marlon shoved me through the open door and stepped in behind me.

    "You are a fool, boy," he scolded. "Having a woman like that and treating her wrong. She is so fine. Them big round tits and that phat booty. You deserve to spend some quiet time down here for being such a jerk."

    The space was limited in there, with the toilet taking up about a quarter of it. It was only slightly larger than a restroom stall. Marlon barked at me to sit on the floor, which had been dirty to begin with and now had sawdust and bits of drywall on it, too. I sank down and got myself alongside the commode. He eyed me with contempt and shook his head.

    "This is where you belong, loser," he decided. "Now I'm going to take a piss. You don't mind, do you?"

    I numbly shook my head, afraid of angering him again. He unzipped and took out his organ. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. His penis was eight inches long, thick to match, with a bulbous head. He aimed it at the bowl and let loose. There was a loud splashing and the air was filled with an acrid smell. I drew back, wanting to hold my nose. The stream kept coming and coming. At last it tapered off and he made no effort to prevent a series drops from landing on the rim and the floor. Marlon gave a final shake that caused still more to miss the bowl. He stuffed his massive member back in. I couldn't stop myself from comparing what he had with my meager three inches soft. I only expanded to four when I got erect. How much bigger must that anaconda of his grow?

    He smiled nastily and declared, "You will not flush that john. Understood? Maybe having to be in here with my piss stinking up the place will get you thinking right. Remind you that you aren't the boss of this house. So just stay there and think about how you're going to be super sweet to Rita from now on."

    Hugging myself, I shuddered and told him, "Yes, Sir." Just to be safe, I added, "Thank you, Sir."

    Marlon leered at me. "You're going to have something else to thank me for real soon."

    Without explaining what he meant, he left the small space, closed the door and, to my shock, closed the padlock. I was trapped in there. The reek of his urine was disquieting. My face still stung from being slapped. And my shoulder was sore from when he had yanked me to my feet. I bowed my head and, feeling my self confidence failing, began to sniffle. My lips quivered and I buried my face in my hands.

    For a while I just stayed like that. The acoustics were such that I could hear my bride and the builder conversing, but not what they were saying. Several times they laughed. That was followed by footsteps. They must have moved closer to one of the heating vents, because their words became more distinct.

    "Thanks," Rita said. "You really put Dicky Doo in his place. He needed that."

    "No problem," Marlon assured her.

    "I only wish there was some way I could thank you more."

    "Well..." There was a pause. "First you can grab me a fresh beer from that fridge."

    "And then?"

    "What do you think? With the way your push-up bra is showing off those big white boobs? And after you made sure to bend over and stick that phat booty out at me?"

    He laughed. "You noticed that?"

    "How could I miss it? In that dress your ass is like a red alert signal. Any guy who misses that is ready to turn sissy."

    "Let me get your beer. Maybe I'll just sit on your lap and we can talk about the first thing that pops up."

    I was writhing with jealous anxiety. It sounded like my wife was trying to get him to hold her. Kiss her. And maybe more. That closed space I was in had started to smell even worse. If only I was allowed to flush the toilet. Even though I knew it was locked, I rattled the door. From above I heard what might have been the two of them getting passionate. I thought they had moved again. Maybe to the bedroom. Was that possible? I pictured Marlon's hands all over my wife's body. Imagined him kissing her neck and then her magnificent tits. Saw her undressed, lying back with her legs lewdly spread, and him out of his clothes, getting on top of her. If he put that superior cock of his into her pussy, I would never seem adequate in comparison.

    That was when I heard her cry out. She was yelling for him not to stop whatever he was doing. There were loud words from both of them that I wasn't sure I heard clearly. And then they settled into a steady outpouring of grunts from him and yelps from her. No, no, no. That Black stud was ravishing my bride. And she was loving it. Their noisy mating went on and on. It must have lasted an hour. Twice I heard her making strangled sounds. Was he giving her orgasms? I had no basis for comparison because I'd never accomplished that with Rita. At last there was one more vocal explosion, with both of their voices included. After that there was silence for a while. I huddled in the corner of my undersized cubicle. Eventually I detected them moving around again.

    There were heavy steps on the basement stairs. The padlock clicked as it was unlocked and removed. When the door opened, Marlon was standing there, stark naked, his long cock hanging down, slicked with what could only be his spunk. And Rita's secretions. I felt sick. He leaned down and patted me on the cheek, none too gently.

    "Let's go," Marlon said with a grin. "Your hot wife wants to tell you something. Actually, a few things. And she has a job for you to do."

    He clamped his hand tightly onto the back of my neck and walked me to the stairs and up them. Once we were out of the basement he kept going, steering me ungently toward the bedroom. When we arrived my worst fears were confirmed. Rita was lying on the top sheet, fully undressed, her legs obscenely apart like in my vision. I saw her lightly furred pussy, its lips gaping, glistening inside and out with mixed sexual fluids. I made me gag several times before I regained control of myself.

    Marlon said, "Tell your wuss of a husband how it's going to be from now on, baby."

    She chortled. "I'll be glad to, lover. You see, Dinky Dicky, after the way you mistreated me, you got replaced. And Marlon is so much better in so many ways. Just look at his junk. Now drop your pants and shorts so we can see what you've got. Go on. Do it!"

    When I hesitated, Marlon's hand tightened. I whimpered softly and undid my belt. Then I opened my pants and lowered the fly. I would have preferred to just run away and hide, but that wasn't a possibility. So I let my pants fall. Got my fingers under the waistband of my boxer shorts. Pushed them down over my slim hips. And let them follow the pants down to my ankles. There I stood, with my immature genitals on display. Marlon checked me and his eyes got wide. He laughed out loud.

    "Damn," he exclaimed. "That's the smallest I've ever seen. Where'd you get that thing, boy? It looks like a piece of penny candy."

    "And," my wife went on, "that pink shrimp of a pecker is why you won't be having sex with me any more. From now on Marlon has all the bedroom rights that used to be yours. He'll be coming around most nights. To work on the upstairs man cave. And more importantly, to work on me. But don't worry, Diddle Dicky. You'll still have a sex life. Starting right now, your role in the bedroom will be to give me an extra orgasm or two after he's done. With your mouth. I know you never liked eating my pussy, but maybe you will now. Why? Because my lover filled it up with his delicious cream sauce."

    I mutely shook my head. This couldn't be real. Marlon still has his strong fingers on my slender neck. He pushed me forward onto the foot of the bed. I got onto my knees and he pressed me downward until I was on my belly, looking directly at my bride's well used slit. There was thick cream leaking from it.

    Marlon leaned down and told me in a harsh whisper, "Time for dessert, lover boy. Get your mouth right up against her snatch and lap up all the rich salty protein I left in there."

    My stomach rebelled at the thought of doing that, but the threat of Marlon's wrath if I refused was more persuasive. I wriggled forward, aware of how my bare butt must look to him. My face was an inch from her oozing twat. Out came my tongue and I took a lick. The taste made me nauseous. But something else happened. Being so utterly under my wife's control was somehow erotic. I had always responded to her giving me orders in bed, making demands, and even criticizing my performances. Now that reaction was multiplied several times over. To my shocked disbelief, I was getting hard. I licked faster, not fully understanding why I was doing that. I took the Black man's slime into my mouth and swallowed it. Again and again, until she was completely clean. Just as I thought my job was done, Rita began to pant, hard and deep. She was racing toward another climax. I ran my tongue up and down until she was moaning, then got my lips on her sizable clitoris and sucked. While doing that, I moved my head slightly forward and back, to create a secondary stimulation. It worked. She erupted into a wet, noisy, thrashing finale.

    I suddenly realized that I was rubbing my erection against the mattress. Marlon must have guessed what I was doing. He grabbed my hair and dragged me up until I was sitting back on my haunches, with my laughably small stiffy jutting out from my sparse amount of pubic hair. I was mortified. When I tried to cover it with my hands he stopped me with a single word.

    Then Rita, seeing the cause of my embarrassment through eyes dulled by near exhaustion, instructed me, "Play with that itty bitty toy, Dicky Dick. Tug it but don't make it pop. It'll be a change to have you not finish after two or three strokes. Just get to jerking it in slow motion. That'll be damn funny to watch. And move a little closer."

    I grimaced as I obeyed and tried to hold back the semen that my balls wanted to ejaculate. My nipples tingled. Marlon got next to her and the two lovers kissed unhurriedly. Instead of overcoming me with the humiliation of being a cuckold, it got me even more excited. What were they doing to my mind? What was wrong with me? Gradually my upset was replaced with acceptance. Some aspect of me wanted this, responded to it. Despite how shameful parts of it were, all of it was also arousing. I was rapidly losing control.

    "Can't hold back," I groaned. "I'm trying but..."

    That was when it happened. I spurted my modest reserve of cream onto my wife's soft tummy. With a sob I sagged forward, hanging my head in disgrace.

    "Look at that mess you made," she scolded. "Lap it up right now, Dick-less. This instant."

    I got my face right over her midsection and sank lower to take a lick. It seemed unthinkable that I was cleaning my own semen off her belly and consuming it. But I was. Lapping at it another half dozen times, I gathered up and got rid every last drop. It seemed like I would never stop tasting the mixture of her pussy, Marlon's spunk, and now my own cum.

    "So," Rita said, "I think we can make this a part of our bedroom fun, too. Though maybe we'll only let you finish once in a while. I think you'll be a better licker if your balls are full. Maybe if you get desperate enough, you'll even offer to clean Marlon's amazing cock in exchange for the chance to abuse yourself while we both watch."

    Since then they have used me at every opportunity as their personal sex slave. Sometimes, an hour before Marlon is due to arrive, Rita will lie face down in bed, naked below the waist, and make me use my mouth on her ass. The idea is to see how hot I can get her for her lover by the time he gets there. Or they'll alternate him screwing her with me licking her, to make everything take longer. She loves to remind me that I'm only allowed to put my tongue in her pussy, while he gets to have his big cock in there any time he pleases.

    Marlon has also made me lick his balls. It disturbs me endlessly, especially when his tool is against my face. He keeps dropping hints that I'll eventually have to suck his cock. I don't know if he's serious but, either way, it keeps me in a state of nervous dread.

    I also spend plenty of time in my basement man cave. The upstairs one is finished. It's full of sports memorabilia and framed pictures of athletes, all belonging to Marlon. He enjoys taking me in there and asking my opinion of his latest addition, or which are my favorite items. But all too often, while he's there on the big leather recliner that Rita bought him with my money, I'm locked away, breathing in the fumes from an unflushed toilet. Both of them use it to relieve their bladders and it never gets emptied until the sickening odor has been giving me the dry heaves for a night or two.

    Just yesterday, Marlon drilled a round opening in the wall of my downstairs prison. He told me it's a glory hole, there in case he wants to use it. Or if he has his buddies over to play poker and they might want a BJ from a tamed white boy. What he said filled me with anxiety. But it also gave me a hard-on so rigid it ached. I don't know where all this is leading but I suppose that doesn't matter -- because I have no choices in my own future.


    (If you also want to read Throne stories with forced feminization in them, check fictionmania.tv., where there's a broad selection of them.)
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