. Radio Station Cuckold

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Throne, Dec 13, 2016.

Radio Station Cuckold 4.9 5 7votes
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  1. Throne

    Throne Active Member Author!

    INTRO

    Everything would have been okay, I guess, if I hadn't lost my job at the biggest radio station in the city. Or at least if I hadn't done it the way I did, filing a complaint about the owner, getting called into his office, and having it explained to me that not only was I wrong about him, but that he was in a position to sue me. I lost my job immediately. The broadcasting community isn't that large, so all the other stations knew what I had done and viewed me as poison. Or I should say, almost all of them did. There was one station, specializing in hip hop, that needed someone to sell advertising. Their staff was all Black and they wanted someone to try to pull in some business from white clients.

    I went for an interview and the station manager, Luke, seemed amused by me. I'm short and have a soft body. My face is far from rugged and I wear my blond hair down to my collar. He explained that, along with my sales duties, I would be expected to perform certain 'other' functions, including running errands, sweeping up, and generally doing whatever the other staff members required. I didn't like the idea of being their flunky, but had no alternatives. I had my apartment rent and living costs to think of, along with my young wife, Gina.

    My bride is an Italian beauty. She has dark eyes and a full mouth. Her complexion is light, despite her Mediterranean background. And then there's her figure. Gina is a knockout, with a heavy bust, trim waist, flaring hips and generous thighs. Most striking is her bottom, which is wide and jutting. All of her assets are put together well, shapely, and in proportion with each other. When we're out together I constantly see men eyeing her. I'm sure it doesn't help that I'm so physically unimpressive.

    She took the news about my job change reasonably well. I told her about my co-workers. There was Ty, a DJ, who was tall and imposing, and had played football in college. Chyna was a female shock jock, always ready with some sharp and funny remark on the air. She was athletically built, sexy but strong, with high cheekbones and hair worn natural and short (even shaved down on the sides). Jimmy was the sales rep for the Black market. He looked like a pro basketball player, dressed nattily, and was always literally looking down on me. Everyone was pleasant enough, but my recent screw-up and loss of a job, plus my short stature and unmanly looks, cost me the full respect that I would have preferred. Of course, I'd lost status in previous jobs for being small and sort of wimpy.

    PART ONE

    I did bring in some new advertising revenue. And I thought everything was going to work out. Sure, there were bumps in the road. In the men's room, one time, Ty and I were standing at the two urinals. I glanced sideways and stole a peek at his cock, just out of curiosity. It was huge. I was so shocked that I stood there with my mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He saw that and laughed.

    "What's the matter, paleface? Am I making you jealous?" He openly checked to see my endowment. I'm only five inches hard and, when I'm flaccid, considerably smaller. My penis isn't even thick. And the head is tapered. Ty went on, "With what you've got down there, you SHOULD be jealous."

    He laughed cruelly, made a show of shaking off that last drop and stuffing his monster member back into his pants. Distracted, I had stopped passing water but finally started again. Just at that moment he gave me a hard slap on the back, making me spatter pee on the front of my pants.

    He went on, "Better get right back to your desk. Wouldn't want the boss to think you're slacking off."

    I meekly replied, "Yes." Then, feeling inferior, expanded it to, "Yes, Sir."

    Ty chuckled. "Oh, and my wastebasket needs emptying."

    "I... okay."

    So that was when I started doing janitorial work around the office. And getting coffee for whoever wanted it. Chyna liked to make me go to the break room and check to see what kinds of snacks there might be. Customers sometimes sent pastries or other treats. I would go and see what was there, then report back to her. She would tell me what to go and fetch for her. She also said I shouldn't eat any of those goodies, because I might be taking something she would want later. I was totally intimidated by that confident and attractive woman. Also, she didn't spare her caustic wit when talking to me.

    "Hey, white bread," she said one time. "The way you walk, taking those little steps and rubbing your hands together. That looks so girly. Do you have panties on under your slacks?"

    When I told her in a small voice that I didn't wear panties, she said that maybe I should get some. Day by day my fellow employees lost respect for me. The few accounts I had picked up were turned over to Jimmy, who got all of them to buy more air time. I went home and grumbled about all that to Gina. She showed special interest when I described Luke and Ty and Jimmy. My wife even asked a few questions and, when I told her that none of those guys had mentioned being married, she smiled.

    I put that out of my mind but then, two days later, before I left for work, she mentioned that she was going to stop in and visit me in the afternoon. At that moment all my bride had on was a baby doll nightie, semi-see-through. I gaped at her, instantly worried about how the guys at the studio would react to see her, even in street clothes. I tried to talk her out of it with some lame excuses, but she ignored all that and said she'd see me there and that I could take her out for lunch. I went away unhappy. All morning I was fretting about the situation. The folks around me must have sensed it.

    Chyna came up behind me while I was at my desk, checking some files on my computer. She reached over my shoulders and let her hands lay on either side of my chest. I took a deep breath and tried not to react. She rubbed up and down lightly.

    In a mock-sympathetic voice she wanted to know, "What's the matter, little boy? Having trouble with something?" She pressed her fingers into the softness of my pectorals suggestively. "Need a shoulder to cry on... crybaby?"

    I was becoming more and more upset and unfocused. She leaned down and blew into my ear. I felt myself getting aroused, which was something I didn't need. I squirmed around on my chair and tried to say something, but my voice failed me. She wet her fingertip and put it into my ear, giving me what they call a Wet Willie. I quivered all over and, without meaning to, moaned. She chuckled at my discomfort.

    Then she said, "Now why don't you go and check the snack room for your good friend Chyna? I saw a messenger guy come in earlier and take something back there."

    "I... maybe... I mean..."

    "What's the matter, baby?" she purred seductively.

    "If you could just wait a few minutes..."

    "No, sweetie. Chyna CAN'T wait. Move it, muscle man."

    I stood up awkwardly, trying to turn enough that she wouldn't spot the telltale bulge, small though it was, in the front of my pants. Just my luck, she saw it anyway.

    Chyna snickered. "Is that a candy bar in your pocket? One of those itty bitty 'fun size' ones? Or are you just glad to see me?" She put her hand lightly on the back of my neck. "And feel me?" Chyna tickled me behind the ear. "And think naughty thoughts about me?"

    A nervous wreck by then, I hurried out of the room with her laughter following me. I could hear Luke asking her what was so funny and, as I entered the break room, her answering him, though I was far enough away by then that I couldn't be sure if she was telling him everything. There was a box of donuts on the table, a gift from some group that was putting on a charity event which we were giving free publicity for. Still feeling unsteady, I went back out to tell her what I had found.

    She said, "Well, bring me about a half dozen. Yeah, at least that many."

    That sounded extreme but I did what I was told. Putting six donuts on a paper plate, being careful to select a variety of them, I returned to her desk and held them out in offering. She glanced at them, made a sour face, and declared that she had changed her mind.

    I said uncertainly, "I... I'll put them back in the box."

    "You will NOT," she responded firmly. "You took them so you have to eat them."

    "B... but, they were for you."

    "Are you arguing with me, baby boy?"

    "I... um... no." The hopelessness of opposing her was clear.

    She told me, "Then go to your desk, take your damned donuts, and eat them. I'll be watching."

    Feeling miserable, I moved to my desk, sat down, and picked up the first donut. It was topped with rich chocolate. I nibbled at it and risked a quick look in Chyna's direction. She was watching me intently. Eating faster, I consumed the entire thing and then, reluctantly, took another. That earned me an amused smile. It was time for her on-air shift to begin, and she went to the booth, but through the big window in front of her spot she could observe me easily. So, as she began her broadcast, I had to stay where I was, under her scrutiny, and force myself to eat all those donuts, cream-filled ones, a strawberry iced one, a pumpkin spice type that was included because it was almost Thanksgiving, until the plate was empty and I was overly full.

    Twenty minutes after my forced feeding my wife arrived. Instead of the conservative outfit I was hoping she would appear in, she had on a slinky dress in electric blue, that hugged her stupendous curves, showed off her deep cleavage, and left her stocking-clad legs more exposed than covered. She strutted over to my desk on a pair of showy heels, bent toward me, and delivered an air kiss. The plate was still in front of me.

    She wanted to know, "What have you been pigging out on? You've got white stuff all over your lips."

    I used the back of my shirt sleeve to wipe my face and then saw powdered sugar on the pale yellow fabric. Before I could explain, or at least try to, Ty came strolling by. He stopped and grinned at my wife appreciatively. She gave him a lopsided smile, a kind of impish one, and pulled back her shoulders to make her fabulous bust thrust out even more dramatically. He sat on the edge of my desk, as if he owned my workspace, and started chatting with her. I pulled my elbows in against my ribs and lowered my eyes. After a few minutes he stood up and went away. I was relieved but the stress, along with those greasy donuts, had left me sick to my stomach.

    Gina said, "He's a nice guy. And good looking. Don't you think so?"

    Nodding weakly, I said, "Maybe we should save lunch for another day."

    She gave me a dark look and announced, "No. I'm hungry NOW."

    "All... all right." I felt my gorge rising. "Just give me a minute to wash my hands."

    When I came out of the lavatory Jimmy, who had been in the booth with Chyna, chatting while she played music, was standing with my bride, talking abut something that made her snicker. They stopped just as I got there. Gina put her arm through mine and led me away.

    She looked back over her shoulder and said to Jimmy, "See you again soon, I hope, Stretch."

    I had planned to take her to a nice little café on the corner, and normally that would have been fine with her, but she suddenly wanted to go to a pizza place across the street. It had been a long time since I had even attempted to contradict her, so I went along without a complaint. When we got to the counter she ordered a large pizza with several toppings: anchovies, pepperoni, onions. She also asked for a coffee, a large orange soda, and a single slice of plain pizza. I was confused as she turned away and led me to a table. When the waitress, a cute young blond, bought our order, Gina indicated that she should put the whole pie in front of me, along with the soda. My wife took the slice and coffee.

    When I looked at her questioningly, she said, "That nice Jimmy told me that you ate a bunch of donuts that were supposed to be for the others. He said Chyna told him that she had to watch you stuff your face. So, if you're in such a hurry to make a pig of yourself, get busy. I expect you to finish that entire pizza. Understood?"

    I opened my mouth to protest. To explain. But it was obvious I would get nowhere. Instead, despite being nauseated already, I started in on the pizza. My wife nibbled her single slice and sipped her coffee. I drank my soda to wash down the pizza, which was becoming harder and harder to swallow. She checked her watch and made an impatient face, so I ate faster. By the time I was done I was totally sick to my stomach. Gina stood up and, even in my wretched state, I couldn't help ogling her amazing contours. She smiled down at me. I got up, my stomach cramping, and followed her out of the shop, back across the street, and to the radio station's offices.

    Once we were back there, Ty made a little small talk with her and then, almost as an afterthought, told me that Luke wanted to see me in his office. I went reluctantly, not wanting to leave that forceful man alone with my wife. But I went, hoping that I wouldn't be long. Unfortunately, Luke was on the phone and just gestured for me to take a seat. Like a schoolboy who has been called to the Principal's office, I sat and waited, shifting my feet and wringing my hands. At last he was done on the phone. His dark face turned to me and his eyes held me fixed. He allowed me to suffer from not knowing what he was about to say.

    Finally, he broke the uneasy silence. "You know, you haven't been performing up to our expectations." My heart sank. "And that could mean letting you go." I felt cold. "But what I've decided, for now at least, is to increase those 'extra' duties that we discussed when we hired you, that you've already started doing. So you can go to the broom closet -- you already know where that is -- grab a bucket and some..." He waved his hand in the air. "... whatever that stuff is that people like you use to clean floors, and go scrub up the men's room. Make sure you get around the toilet. I mean, get down and lean on that scrub brush. Right?"

    Feeling relieved but also stunned, I simply nodded. He gave me a wide grin and waved me away. With my shoulders sagging, I exited his office. When I came out I found my wife and Ty gabbing happily.

    Still in a daze, I said to Gina, "I have to... clean the lavatory. The men's room. But they're going to let me stay here. And keep my job."

    She nodded her head. "Well, then, go and do it."

    For the rest of the day I had to do menial jobs like that one. In my good clothes. When I got home I was dispirited. And still nauseated. Gina, to my surprise, was in an especially sexy bedroom outfit, what I suppose would be called harem pajamas. She gave me a lascivious leer and took me by my necktie to walk me to our bedroom. Was my luck finally changing? We hadn't been having sex as often as I would have liked. I blamed myself, not only because of my small penis, but because I could never maintain control and always finished as soon as I entered her. She would have preferred that I use my mouth on her sex, but that was something I always found to be unacceptable.

    "Let's go," she said, her voice dripping honey. "Get naked and then we're hitting the sheets."

    Overjoyed, despite my indigestion, I hurriedly undressed, making a clumsy performance of it, but at last standing there in the nude. My stomach was actually protruding from everything I'd been made to eat. She had me take off the bottom of her transparent lingerie, and then laid back on the bed. I got between her thighs, with my unspectacular five inch, slender erection aimed at its goal, when she held up her hand to stop me.

    "Here's the way it is," Gina declared coolly. "You nearly got your ass fired. What tilted the balance in your favor and allowed you to keep your job, was me stopping by and hitting it off with those charming guys you work with. So now you owe me a favor. And I've been trying to get you to eat my snatch since we were dating. So now it's time. Slide down toward the foot of the bed and get your mouth on me. And no backtalk, Mr. Piggy-eat-too-much."

    My stomach got worse when I heard that. The last thing I wanted to do was what she was demanding. Still, after the day I had gone through, and not being sure how much her visit had helped me, I wasn't about to turn her down. I got into position, inhaling the musky perfume of her womanhood. My hands went to her wide hips, indenting the warm flesh. As I held onto her there, my erection got harder. I wanted to be inside her so bad it hurt. But that would have to wait. I told myself that, once she was satisfied, it would be my turn. Out came my tongue and in it went. I licked and kissed and sucked, at first following instructions from her, but then managing to do the right things on my own. I had imagined that she would finish quickly but that was wrong.

    It took my bride over ten minutes before she had a wet explosive climax. My stomach felt like it was trying to turn over. Gina relaxed but when I tried to move into position for intercourse, told me to start over again. I lapped her ripe and succulent female fruit to a second orgasm, which took longer to achieve than the first. After that she still craved more, and I had to do it all over again, putting in extra effort to finish her one last time. Then she allowed me to get into the missionary position. I got the tip of my penis against her moist slipperiness, but she said I shouldn't go further yet. Instead, she toyed with my nipples, which drove me crazy with need. Gina snickered, ran her hands up and down my chest, whispered dirty suggestions, and kept me where I was, the end of my organ touching but not entering. At last, when I was in the throes of desperation, she claimed that she was too tired for more, citing those multiple finishes I had given her. She shoved me away, turned onto her side, and told me 'good night'.

    I lay alongside her, feeling like I was going to lose all that food I had been made to eat, or at least that I would start crying. My only consolation, limited though it was, was that I had held onto my job. A second firing, and this one from the only position that had been open to me, would be the end of my work in radio sales. Of course I could take my abilities elsewhere, outside radio, but with the dark shadow of a double dismissal hanging over my head, my chances wouldn't be good. I had to keep that job no matter what. I told myself that the situation would improve, that the next day would be better, and so would the ones after that.

    It turned out differently than I had wished. Gina became a regular visitor to the station. The guys always talked to her. What began as just them being friendly soon expanded into male flirting. She didn't flirt back but she didn't reject them openly, either. I was too afraid to say anything, believing that my employment was hanging in the balance. And I was cleaning both lavatories on a regular basis. The male employees would often enter while I was scrubbing out one urinal and relive themselves at the other. Ty must have talked about when we saw each others' manhood because the men taunted me about my lack of size, and then even Chyna joined in. Gina made some comments to me about Ty and Jimmy and even Luke getting rather personal with her. She warned me that it wasn't going to stop on its own. I was still too timid to react. After two weeks of lunchtime visits, with escalating advances from the guys, my wife became plainly condescending toward me. At the same time, she continued to expect my oral attentions but was unwilling to reciprocate. I was eager for sexual release but too unsure of myself to even bring up the topic.

    Then, one night after I had thoroughly satisfied her yet again, she looked at me while I still had my face above her pussy. (I don't prefer that term, but she told me to use it, saying that it might help to loosen me up, which could help get me back into her good graces.)

    Gina said, "You know, when I'm at the station, trying to spend time with you, and those Black guys hit on me, you don't do a thing about it."

    "B...but, I thought... I mean, I didn't think that..."

    "What? You didn't think you should say something when your wife is having a couple guys, including your boss, pay so much attention to her?"

    "No. I mean yes. It's just... just that... I wasn't sure..."

    "You certainly weren't. Well, I'll be stopping by tomorrow. We'll see what happens then."

    PART TWO

    That might have been a turning point for the better, except that shortly after I arrived, and had taken care of the one account that was still in my hands, and had moved on to straightening up a storage room, Luke showed up with a scowl on his deep brown features. He wasn't happy with my performance. I was in danger of getting fired... again. He stalked out and left me there, my heart beating fast. Then he left to deal with business elsewhere. When Gina arrived later I was still in a dither, and when Ty began to put his moves on her I was still too shaken up and concerned about my future to intervene.

    Right in front of me she said to him, "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else. Do you think we could use Luke's office?"

    "Yeah, he's visiting with clients all day. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

    My wife had on a snug sleeveless top and shorts that looked like they'd been painted on, plus shoes with three inch stacked heels. She was a picture of sexual invitation. Even as distressed as I was, I couldn't stop stealing glimpses of her dramatic curves and they way they moved. Ty and Gina vanished into Luke's office. I rationalized that, because I hadn't said anything in her defense, she was going to settle the matter herself. After nearly a half hour, I wasn't so sure. When she finally emerged she was straightening her clothes and her hair was mussed. My wife looked straight at me and took a tissue from her purse to dab at the corner of her full-lipped mouth. I got dizzy. What had happened in there?

    The next day she went into Luke's office again, except that it was with him. They came out laughing about something. The day after that she pretty much ignored me, going directly to the stock room (which I had straightened and cleaned so well) with Jimmy. When she came out her clothes were disarranged again. Her lipstick needed freshening. She came directly to me and gave me a long deep kiss, but her mouth tasted salty. My worst fears must be true. Jimmy laughed at me. Luke and Ty wanted to know what was going on.

    He told them, "Oh, nothing. Gina just gave lover boy a kiss. That's all. Just a kiss. Right after she was in the stockroom with me."

    They all laughed uproariously. I felt about five inches tall. The same size as my little dick. (Gina called it a dick, pointing out that cocks were bigger, and insisting that I use the same terms.) My head was reeling. Shortly after Gina left, Ty went into the booth to do his show, and Chyna came out to clean up some work at her desk. Jimmy went to her and quietly said something that made her chortle. She called me over.

    "Hey, boy," she sneered. "Get under my desk and see if I dropped something down there. Move your squishy ass."

    She rolled backwards on her wheeled desk-chair. Uncertain about what was happening, I squeezed myself into the kneehole. There was a modesty board, so I couldn't exit through the other side. To my surprise, with me trying to leave the way I had gotten there, Chyna rolled forward and trapped me where I was. She had on a short skirt and, as she spread her dark legs, I found myself staring at her panty-covered crotch, the mound and center cleft of her pussy clearly delineated. I swallowed drily and cowered there.

    After a minute I said, "Um, Chyna? Dear? I'm still down here." I could smell mild perspiration and the moist earthiness of her... well... her pussy.

    "Yeah," she said bluntly, "well that's where you belong. A wussy like you, who lets his wife come around and suck off all the guys, needs to be kept in his place. So you just shut up unless I talk to you, and stay where you are." She tugged her skirt higher, giving me an eyeful of her well-exercised thighs. "Enjoy the view, pervert. But don't start playing with your little wiener. If you're good maybe I'll let you touch my shoes before I let you out."

    With that she stopped talking to me and went about her work for the next hour and more. I stayed in that cramped space, trying to absorb the news that my bride really had used her mouth on my three main male co-workers. I sniffled. Tears welled up in my eyes. At the same time, being in the presence of Chyna's raw sexuality was overwhelming. In spite of my rattled state, my little dick was tingling. I touched it to see if it was hard. It wasn't, but putting my hand on it made it stiffen. So there I was, a cuckolded husband, stuck under the desk of that gorgeous and physically imposing Black woman, aroused by her, unable to quell mental images of my wife on her knees with a long thick Black cock between her plump lips. I could even imagine the sounds of her moaning with pleasure as she made those men spurt their spunk down her throat. By the time Chyna had me stroke and kiss her shoes, and then freed me, I was a quaking miserable specimen.

    The next day, shortly after I arrived at work, with those unsettling thoughts still filling my mind, I became so distraught that I confronted Luke. My knees were knocking but I held onto the edge of his desk and tried to find my voice.

    "S... Sir," I said. "My w... wife has been coming here and... doing things... with you and..."

    He stood up, came around his desk, pulled my hand off it, and walked me backwards out of his office. Luke snapped at me, "So, boy, do you have a problem with that hot wife of yours coming around, getting down on her knees, and sucking off our cocks, like she was a cheap whore?"

    The others were all watching. "I... it's... she's..."

    He grabbed the front of my shirt and slapped me hard across the face. Right, left, right, left. My cheeks were blazing. I felt tears running over them. "Uh... uh..."

    "Here's the way it's going to be," he said viciously. "She doesn't have any respect for you, not after you let us take her away. And she can come around and take us all the way into her throat anytime she wants. Besides that, today I'm going to bend her over my desk and stick my Black cock into her pussy, and fuck her six ways from Wednesday. Now do you have anything to say about any of that?"

    When I opened my mouth he smacked my face twice more. I said nothing. He let go of my shirt. My tie was askew. I looked down and saw, my mind strangely focused on the detail, that there was a button missing from my shirt. When I looked back up he was still challenging me with his eyes. I lowered my gaze.

    "N... no, Sir. I d... don't have any p... p... problems with any of that."

    "With any of what?"

    Hating that I had to say the words, I nevertheless said, "No problems with my wife s... sucking your cocks. No problems with you b... bending her over your desk and t... taking her."

    "Not taking her," he corrected. "Say it right. Use the 'F' word."

    "I don't have any problem with you f... f... fucking her."

    "That's more like it. When she gets here you're going to tell her the same thing. Aren't you?"

    I hesitated and his hand came up again. That made me blurt out, "Yes, Sir. I'm going to tell her. All of that."

    He straightened my collar and tugged my tie down. I did nothing. My face hurt terribly. Luke told me to go and clean the ladies' room. I went and got my supplies and, feeling faint, started the ignominious task. Before long Chyna came in. She stood there with her legs well apart, wearing high boots of gleaming red leather, glowering down at me. I looked up at the image of power above me and whimpered.

    She said, "Maybe you need to practice your lines. Repeat after me, loser. 'I am a wimp asshole. My wife needs big black cocks because all I have between my legs is a tiny white worm. I want Luke to fuck Gina so she can have the good sex she deserves, that I can't give her.'"

    Somehow I managed to mouth all of those self-degrading words. Chyna laughed at my humiliation. I said, "P... please..."

    The domineering Black female said, her voice suddenly soothing, "There's just one more thing, sweetie. I want to hear you say, 'I will eat my wife's pussy, even if it is full of Luke's cum, and I will never ever put my baby dick into her again.'"

    Never have sex with my bride? Never possess that awesome body again? It was unthinkable and yet I heard myself repeating the words back to her, through lips that were now swollen from Luke slapping me. I broke down and sobbed, my nose running, at the nadir of my shame.

    Chyna called to the closed door of the ladies' room, "Did you hear that, honey?"

    Gina stepped in and said, "Sure did. Thanks, Chyna. If I had any lingering doubts about what a complete failure my husband is as a man, that got rid of them. In fact, I think from now on, instead of jockey shorts, he can wear pretty panties like the sissy he is."

    I started bawling, letting my head hang down, my body wracked with violent sobs. The women laughed at me. Chyna made me lick her boots and wipe them with my tie. There was a single knock at the door and Luke walked in. I saw his expensive shoes in front of my eyes.

    He said, "Hey, Gina, it's time. You're finally going to get a real man's cock all up inside you."

    She said, "I've been waiting too long. I want that Black snake in me, pounding me hard, making me squeal, until I can't see straight."

    "No problem," he told her easily.

    They left the room. I grabbed onto the calf of Chyna's nearest boot and pressed my cheek against it. "Pleeeese," I whined. "Don't let this happen."

    "Too late, loser boy. Your miniature white dick is never going to feel the inside of that tight pussy again. Of course, if might not be so tight after Luke's done with it. In about a hour. Bet you never lasted that long." She laughed nastily. "That girl will never want you again, except to lick her down there. Wait until she sees you slurping up the boss's cream. Then she won't even want to kiss your dirty mouth. Now kiss my boots. Lick them some more. Shine them up with that pretty necktie. Show me what an absolute failure you are."

    Still crying, feeling close to a breakdown, I did it. Chyna laughed and laughed. Afterwards I had to do some of my office cleaning chores. I could hear my wife and Luke having fantastic sex in his office. In my mind's eye I witnessed him ravishing her. Chyna made me kneel by the door so I could hear her pledging herself to him, Luke grunting, and then my bride having a long vocal climax. When she finally came out she was visibly sated. She gave him a kiss while I watched, patted me on top of the head like I was a house pet, and sauntered out.

    When I got home she immediately had me strip naked. On our bed there was a pair of panties. She first made me stand in the bathtub and use a depilatory to remove what little body hair I possessed. Then she turned on the shower, icy cold, and I rinsed myself. At last she allowed me to get out, though she stood there with the towel while I shivered and made me wait five minutes while she described how terrific sex with Luke had been, and how well used her pussy felt, before she threw me the towel and let me dry off. Then it was back to the bedroom where she made me slip the panties up my now hairless legs and over my bald crotch. I had to tuck my small genitals down and back, leaving them so well hidden that, as she delightedly pointed out, I looked like a girl down there, like I had been physically emasculated, as well as emotionally. She said that I would be responsible for keeping my body hair from returning.

    PART THREE

    Since then my life has been a hell of mean-spirited torments at home and work, as well as plenty of sexual teasing without any release every night. She stops by the office to have sex with Luke several times a week, though instead of the storage room he had my space converted, setting up cubicle walls and putting a bed in there. Now I'm strictly a janitor. Since there's not enough work for me to do that full time, he has rented me out to several other businesses, all of them Black owned and mainly Black staffed. My shame is endless. I have to wear pink overalls, under which I have on panties and stockings. I am mocked constantly by the staff and the new janitorial customers, especially about my cuckold status and small male equipment. More than once I've been made to expose myself to strangers, so my little dick can be laughed at. Chyna delights in lifting her short skirts, lowering her panties, and making me kiss her firm muscular bottom in front of the rest of the staff at the radio station.

    As if all that wasn't torture enough, the company Christmas party was coming up and Gina insisted on going. It was actually a combination of the radio station and several of those other businesses I where I was known as 'the white clean-up boy', going together to rent a space where they could celebrate as a group. For two weeks I dreaded the upcoming event. Wasn't it bad enough that I had to endure everything else? Was it necessary for me to attend such a public scene? Not that I had any choice in the matter. As the days passed I convinced myself that I could get through the several hours that it would take. Sure. Even if Gina was openly affectionate toward Luke, I could stay in the background and not have to suffer everyone jeering at my cuckold status. By the Sunday evening when it was to take place, I had myself convinced that everything was going to be okay.

    Then I got a nasty surprise. Gina announced that I was going to be serving snacks. And that she had found 'the most adorable costume' for me to wear. Suddenly all the reassurances I had provided for myself collapsed. When I let my reluctance show, she got angry. My wife grabbed me by the ear, gave it a twist, and marched me through the house to the bedroom. She had me get naked. I stripped down, revealing my smooth hairless body, all pink and white. There was a sheet over the top spread on the bed and she slowly lifted it and drew it away with one hand, making a grand flourish with the other. Under the sheet was a green elf outfit with red trim. But it was meant for a girl. Maybe for a stripper.

    There was a tiny vest and stockings with a snowflake pattern on them. I saw cuffs (with cufflinks) that would go on my wrists. And there were booties with curled up toes, and on the end of each toe was a little gold bell. The topper, literally, was a hat that curled up and also had a gold bell hanging from it, and was trimmed in faux fur. Gina stood there with her hands on her broad hips, smirking at me, challenging me with her eyes to dare to refuse. I had been smacked around often enough by Luke, and even by my bride, to know better than to do that. Instead, with my cheeks warm from blushing, I picked up the vest and slipped into it. There were oversized buttons but no buttonholes, so I couldn't close it. The stockings had elastic tops to keep them up. The boots fit snugly and every time I moved my feet the bells tinkled. I donned the hat, which had a chin strap, and any movement of my head set that bell to ringing as well.

    My hair had been trimmed recently, but still fell over my ears. Gina gathered it on either side and put bands on it, so that I had two mini-tails sticking out under the fur trim of that ridiculous hat. She took rouge and used it to make light red circles, cartoonishly large, on my cheeks. I looked like a complete sissy. But she wanted to make it worse. From under the pillow on the bed she took a red necktie with the word SISSY stitched on it in swirling letters. She slipped it around my neck and tied it neatly, snugging the knot up tight.

    "There," she said with smug satisfaction. "Our swishy elf is all ready to go."

    "B... bu... but..." I said worriedly, the stutter/stammer I'd been trying to lose coming back, "I don't have any pants."

    "Well, of course you don't, silly. I'm doing you a favor." When I was obviously puzzled by that claim she explained, "If everyone can see how hilariously small you dick is, they'll understand why I need Luke and his monster cock to keep me happy in bed. Otherwise, they might think I cheat on your just because you're a jerk, or because I enjoy being mean to you. But now they'll understand."

    I couldn't see how that constituted doing me a favor. I also -- again -- knew batter than to fight back. Hanging my head, I mumbled, "Yes, dear." And then, just to be safe, added, "Thank you, darling."

    She chuckled at my immediate surrender. Her hands came up and she began to diddle my nipples. I'm extremely sensitive there and my penis immediately sprang to attention. She lowered one hand and began to play with its slender five inches, also cupping my undersized balls and rolling them on her palm. I groaned with need. She told me to make the sound higher pitched. When I didn't do it at once she gave my testicles a squeeze. All at once my groan became a girly moan. Gina said I shouldn't let my voice deepen -- not that it's ever been very deep or manly anyway -- for the rest of the evening.

    "In fact," she went on, "just keep it like that all the time. And yes, that includes at work. It suits you better, you lame little sissy."

    Gina stopped her teasing, leaving me in my normal state of sexual frustration. I stood there looking foolish and feeling disgraced.

    Soon Luke arrived to drive us to the party. He had on a Santa hat and for my wife had brought a pair of reindeer antlers on a plastic hair band. She put them on and gave him a deep soulful kiss. His big hands roamed freely over her impressive curves. She ground her hips against him and purred. He gave her a slap on the rump.

    "I love that big ass, baby," he said with a grin. "Bet your husband really loves touching it and pushing up against it when he's fucking you." His brow furrowed. "Oh, wait. He's not allowed to touch that killer ass. Or get his pinky-dick inside your sweet snatch." He laughed. "Which is why he's going to be the sissy server at the party. Serving snacks and... whatever else folks want." He gave me a crooked smile.

    My wife at least provided me with a long coat to cover my exposed parts. But it was a woman's coat, which I learned later she had found at a thrift store, with a leopard print and extra wide sleeves. I got into it and stood there hugging myself. They went out the door and I followed, my bells ting-a-ling-ing. In the car I had to sit in the back. My wife talked dirty to Luke, about his superior cock and how eager she was to have it inside her again. He told her she would get all she could take when they got back to our place.

    What? He had been screwing her on that bed in the office. And taking her to his luxury apartment in center city. But they had never done that in our marital bed. It was one more in a long series of upsets for my male ego, which was in danger of being destroyed altogether. I sat there mutely as we neared our destination. It was a big hall on the outskirts of the city. There was a private parking lot with a high cinderblock wall around it. Luke parked his expensive car in the middle of the lot. We all got out and then Gina told me to lose the coat. I looked around at the other party attendees who were arriving. They would all see me. But my tormenting wife wasn't going to back down. I removed the cheap showy coat in slow motion, handed it to her, and watched as she tossed it disdainfully into the back seat. Then she slammed the door and I was stuck outside, half naked. Already people were gaping at me, at the comic sight I made, at my immature genitals.

    The happy couple started toward the entrance. I hurried to keep up, my bells ringing, which drew more attention. We got inside and the place was decorated festively. Most of the guests were Black, though I saw several other mixed couples like my wife and her lover. Chyna was there with a white guy. He was short and unimpressive like me, and dressed in a demeaning pixie costume. His crotch was unclothed like mine, except that he had his penis in some sort of a male chastity device, a pink plastic tube that was much too small for the average member. My eyes met his and there were a few seconds of silent communication, as we acknowledged wordlessly that we were in the same predicament.

    Gina gave me a hard slap on the rear and told me to go to Chyna so she could get both us sissies started on our duties. With countless eyes on me, I crossed the short distance and humbly spoke my co-worker's name. Chyna sneered at me, shook her head, and told me to follow her. She glowered at the sissy accompanying her and he squeaked his assent. She made us hold hands as we crossed the big room and went into the kitchen, where we were each given a wide round tray laden with snacks, which we were warned not to eat any of. I heard her address the other unlucky guy simply as Pixie and she called me Elfie.

    The two of us headed out into the growing crowd with our heavy trays. People not only picked from among the offerings, but also helped themselves to free feels of Pixie's and my bodies. Our butts were especially favored, though hands stroked our arms, backs and narrow chests. One bold guy even took hold of Pixie's chastity tube and gave it a few tugs, which caused the suffering sissy to yelp. I had a heavyset Black woman get behind me and wrap her arms around my chest. She felt around and found my nipples, took hold of them, and began to toy with the sensitive spots. I whimpered from the extreme stimulation. My dick stood up.

    "Hey, look at that," another Black woman said. "It's like a cock, only smaller. Lots smaller."

    "And so pale. With no hair around it, that thing looks like a baby's dick. Haw, haw, haw."

    There were plenty more insulting comments about my lack of size down there. It was as if everyone was competing to say the most humiliating thing. I had to stand and take it, every word, while my weak biceps began to grow sore from the weight I was holding up. I circulated around the room with the indignities piling up. One busty Black woman popped a cracker with some kind of dip on it into her mouth and began to chew. She didn't like it and spit it out onto her hand.

    "Hey, Christmas girl," she said to me. "You brought this crap around, so YOU eat it."

    She squeezed the sides of my face to make my mouth open, then put her hand over my spread lips so that I could retrieve the masticated mess with my tongue. I felt queasy. The people near me all laughed at the ignominy I was bearing.

    "Now don't just gulp it down, Miss Little Dickie," my feeder told me. "Kind of roll it around in your mouth to get all that flavor. Especially cause I got spit all over it."

    When she at last allowed me to swallow, that sadistic game still wasn't over. Three other people took tidbits from my tray, partially chewed them, and then transferred them into my mouth. Not to be outdone, a fourth one chewed up two snacks at once, spit them onto a napkin, and held it at waist level, telling me to eat it. I had to sink down, bending my knees a lot, to get my teeth on the unsavory offering. After I had consumed it I was left to continue my rounds, with the constant touching and insulting going on unabated.

    Gina reappeared, obviously enjoying my tribulations. She gloated over how shaken up I was. Then she took one of those name tags, the kind that say MY NAME IS, which someone had brought in case anybody wanted one, and stuck it on my necktie, below the word SISSY. She borrowed a marker from Chyna, who had reclaimed her sissy and was leading him around, introducing him to tall muscular men. Gina wrote on my label BJ BOI. I looked down, reading the inverted letters, and went cold inside. The two women led us to the center of the room. Luke had gone to where a DJ was playing holiday Soul music, mixed with some Hip Hop, and borrowed the mike.

    He said, his voice filling the room, " hey, people. We have two sissy waitresses here tonight. Cute white ones. And now they're going to show everybody how much they like each other. Go on, faggots, let's see you kiss."

    I couldn't believe it. Even after everything I'd been through, including lapping up Luke's copious cum from my bride's pussy and now being touched by men, I had never done that. Pixie looked equally appalled. We moved closer together and stood there uncertainly.

    Someone said, "Kiss, you queers. Kiss, you queers."

    Other voices took up the chant and hands pushed us against each other.

    Chyna leaned in and said in a loud whisper, "Get to kissing, you fruits. Or Gina and me are going to put you over our lips and swat your little white booties until they're bright red."

    That was all we needed to hear. Pixie and I brought our faces close enough to touch and pressed our lips together. They let us kiss several times with our mouths closed before making us open them and exchange French kisses. We had to separate enough that our tongues were visible running all over each other. Then we had to finger each other's nipples. His chastity tube twitched as his dick attempted to get hard. My little dick stood up and began to leak clear fluid. Chyna gathered the escaping liquid on her fingertip and fed it to Pixie, after which he had to kiss me some more. Then Luke, still on the microphone, made an announcement.

    "Kissing isn't all those sissy sisters can do with their mouths. If any of you guys want to have your cocks sucked, they be thrilled to do it for you. Kind of like being in prison and having your very own sissy cellmate to use and abuse." He laughed harshly. "So have fun and don't spare the sissies."

    We were hustled away by half a dozen tall and powerful Black men. The took us into a room where extra folding chairs were lined up against one wall. I saw a pair of strong Black hands forcing Pixie down onto his knees. He was blinking back tears. A towering Black man clamped his fingers, vicelike, on the back of my neck and drove me, too, to my knees. He told me to unzip his fly and take out his 'tool'.

    "Go on, you wussy fag. Do it, if you don't want to get hurt. I'd be real happy to squash your balls."

    Remembering the strength of his hold on my neck, I didn't doubt he could do it. And his tone told me that he would follow through if I didn't give him what he wanted. With quivering fingers I lowered his zipper and reached into his slacks, finding a cock that more than filled my hand, even though it wasn't hard yet. I worked it out, handling it gingerly so as not to upset him, and stared at its dark seven inches. To keep him happy while delaying the inevitable for a few more precious moments, I began to slowly stoke. His member thickened and gained two inches of length. It was nearly twice the size of mine. I sniffled and opened my mouth.

    I took in the fat knob and gave it an experimental suck. He put his hands on the back of my head and I knew that I wasn't going to be allowed to retreat until he was done. Slowly I bobbed my head, letting more of his meat enter my mouth and the beginning of my throat. I got past my gag reflex and started to fellate him in earnest, at the same time massaging his heavy balls. He dug his fingers into my ears.

    "That's the way, cocksucker. Not too slow but not too fast. I've got a big load for you and I know you want it. Don't you?"

    Around the girth of his member I made a sound of assent. He told me to look up at him while I worked. He gave me a twisted smile and began to work his hips unhurriedly, so that it was a combination of oral sex and having my face raped. I began to shed tears, which he noticed. That got him even more excited. His breathing accelerated. I turned my eyes to the side for a few seconds and saw Pixie getting the same treatment. The guy he was servicing pulled his cock out of Pixie's mouth and rubbed it all over his face. He made the simpering figure lick and suck his balls before taking the ten inch rod back into his mouth and throat. I got the impression that Pixie had been trained out of his gag reflex. Maybe Chyna had forced him to practice on a dildo. I could envision her feeding a thick black artificial cock to the cowering sex slave until he learned to take it all without his throat rebelling.

    After five minutes, the guy I was pleasuring was obviously getting close to ejaculation. He pulled out until only the head was inside my mouth. I was ordered to stroke him. My fingers couldn't fully surround his wide shaft.

    "Make me spurt, sissy. Make me shoot with just the head in there, so you'll get all that rich cream on your tongue. I'm going to choke you, there'll be so much."

    Suddenly he jerked his hips and exploded inside my mouth. He wasn't exaggerating much when he said he would choke me with semen. He came and came, until I was gulping it down desperately, with a blob of it still escaping the corner of my mouth. The other men all liked how well I had sucked my first cock and as soon as I licked it clean and carefully got it back into the owner's slacks, there was another one being shoved at me.

    Half an hour later, Pixie and I were finally done. We both had sperm decorating our lips and running onto our trembling chins. Without letting us up, they made us kiss each other and lick each other's faces clean, had us suck each other's lips and lick each other's nipples, until we were crying and blubbering.

    FINALE

    That was six months ago. Since then I've kept working exclusively as a janitor in those Black buildings. The word went out that I was an unwilling cocksucker, and now a day doesn't go by without me having some guy using me as a cum dump, often as many as three of them, once even six. At home I'm always in panties and stockings, with added touches like a long silk scarf knotted around my neck or a tight corset crushing my midsection. Luke got a posture collar from somewhere and they like to put me in three-inch heels with the collar on, so I can barely stand or walk, and also can't look down to see what my feet are near. I've been spanked by both of them, as well as Chyna, who takes a devilish delight in using various implements on my longsuffering ass.

    And last week they took away what remained of my manhood. The night before that they had enjoyed loud animated sex, with me kneeling at the foot of the bed, not permitted to look away. Then, to my surprise, I didn't have to slurp Luke's spunk out of my wife's stretched pussy. I was grateful but also suspicious. Why would they be even a little bit nice to me?

    I found out the next morning. Gina declared that I was going to clean her up then, after the mess Luke had left inside her had laid there all night. She said that her pussy was now 'marinated' and ready for me to savor. But when I got into position, Luke got on the bed behind me and grabbed my hips and yanked down my panties. As strong as he is, it was easy for him to haul me up into kneeling position. With my nose against Gina's soiled slit, I felt her lover applying something to my asshole. It was lubricant, I realized. But it had an odd smell.

    He must have guessed the question in my mind and explained, "It's leftover bacon fat, the perfect thing to use to fuck a piggy like you up the butt. Not get busy licking my woman's puss and cleaning it up for the next time I want to use it. Meanwhile, I'm going to plug your rump and ride it into the sunset. Ride it hard, sissy-pig. Just the way your kind likes."

    He stopped greasing me, wiped his hand on my back, and set the thick end of his massive cock against my tightness. Before I could say anything, could plead for my anal virginity, Gina grabbed me by the hair and mashed my features against her previously ravaged opening. As I began reflexively to lick, despite the overnight deposit inside, Luke crammed the business end of his blacksnake past my clenching ring. It hurt horribly and I wailed into my bride's used slot. Luke kept feeding inch after bung-stretching inch inside, while my muffled hollers alternated with my efforts to lick my wife the way she demanded. She even angled her hips up and snarled at me to use my tongue on her, in the same place where I was being violated, if I didn't want her to put me in a chastity tube like I'd seen on Pixie and have her throw away the key.

    As my rear end was broken in by Luke's pumping, I got my first taste of Gina's ass, then went back to her unwashed pussy, and had to undergo all of it for the next half hour. She had multiple orgasms. Luke shot one load up my ass and then paused. She encouraged him to do it again, making lewd remarks and saying that it would make her finish again if he would use me like a girl once more. Something in what she said, or maybe all of it, got him hard again. I felt him enlarge while he was still inside me. I whimpered like a frightened bride on her wedding night. Luke was merciless as he again savaged my back entrance, leaving me stripped of the last vestiges of my male pride and reduced totally to their ever-available living sex toy.

    After he was done with me, Luke pushed me onto the floor. He went and got a shower while my wife taunted me about what had happened.

    "What's the matter, loser? Aren't you happy that you're finally a complete sissy? Doesn't it feel good to have your boy pussy reamed like that? While you were eating my slimed pussy?" She cackled wickedly. "Well, don't worry. Luke and I have been talking. We're planning a nice vacation and we've found someone who's very eager to sissy-sit you while we're away. I bet you can't wait to find out who it is or what they're particular kinks are. Let's just say that it involves role playing. And you are NOT going to like all the perverted parts you're going to have to play."

    She laughed at me as I huddled on the floor, wishing the blazing pain in my ass would subside, trying to find some scrap of my former life to hang onto. But there was nothing left for me to cling to. I had to accept my new role and do everything I could to not upset my wife and her Black lover, who I now thought of as my owners. And then there was whatever was going to happen to me during their vacation. I soon found out that it was a three month vacation, to be paid for with my remaining savings, which would leave me penniless and fully dependent on my wife, into whose personal account all of my paychecks were now directly deposited. But whatever is going to happen to me next is another story, which they might make me tell you later.

    **********

    (This story is based in part on ideas by Devin D. Thanks to him for his suggestions.)
     
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