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. The Cruelty of Clothing

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Dec 13, 2017.

. The Cruelty of Clothing 3.5 5 6votes
3.5/5, 6 votes

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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    Keith hated the shopping trips. He had always hated shopping anyway. But now? Now that Carol was seeing that bastard from down at the gym. Now that she was seeing Jamal. They moved to yet another boutique. yet another expensive women clothing boutique. Keith's face sank and Carol looked tetchily at him. They had only been shopping for just two hours. Choosing clothes wasn't a rush thing. Certainly not. Not now.

    'You don't get it do you? ' she said icily, without reference to his name. She had for some time now dropped addressing him by name, at least, routinely.

    Keith looked miserably blank at her. To be honest he didn't get a lot these days. Not just sex you see, but anything else that helped him realise all the unusual and terrible things that were happening to him.

    'You don't understand how clothes are part of this, where you're heading' she explained, moving quickly to the display of fine calf leather mini skirts. This was one of Carol's favourite shops. Yes, the clothes cost a fortune, but the feel and the smell of leather. Jamal liked leather.

    Keith whispered, 'no Miss'. He wasn't yet used to addressing his wife as his mistress in public. That would come, it would come in due course. Carol was sure of it and now, in any case, she felt the need to educate the pathetic oaf.

    'You think I buy clothes simply to turn Jamal on don't you? You think clothes are a siren call thing?' She waited for him to respond, but knew deep down that he wouldn't. One thing that his training was doing was to erode his self esteem. Keith rather doubted that he knew how to reason. He was starting to accept that Jamal and she reasoned for him.

    'Well, its not just to turn my man on, its not just to get him hard. I chose clothes to hurt you too.'

    The comment was ice itself. It caught Keith unawares and he stared at her. He stared in that way that registered his utter ignorance.

    Carol tried a chocolate brown calf leather mini skirt against her slim figure. It was very appealing. The hem, God, the hem was so high. Keith pictured it worn above one of Carol's many pairs of high heeled, rather severe looking boots.

    'What do you think when you see me wearing tight little skirts like this?' she interrogated.

    Keith knew what he thought of. He thought of her cunt, only inches above the hem line. He thought of her cunt and how likely it was that it was oozing the residue of what Jamal had done with her. He mumbled his answer. Carol shot him a speak up look.

    'Your pussy....er...your mistress pussy' he said, blushing and glancing about him.

    She nodded. There wasn't a smile. He was simply confirming a fact.

    'My cunt, you picture my cunt. I have a cunt Keith, one that Jamal owns, one that he enjoys and one that rules you. You can say the word can't you, 'cunt''.

    Keith fucking well loathed that word. It was like raw meat in your face, a slap with a steak. There was nothing pretty, feminine of considerate about it. The word itself sounded hard, as hard as she had become with him.

    'Your cunt Miss, I think of your cunt' he confessed.

    She nodded. At last. Then, she beckoned him to the changing room. Gwenda, well, she was a friend and understood that a 'husband' was sometimes needed in the changing room to help with niceties. Keith followed her, feeling like an utter pervert. He felt abnormal, different, stupid, and yes, yes, he felt really weak. What Carol didn't understand about him wasn't worth knowing. She seemed to understand everything. In the cubicle at last she said to him,

    'Take down my hot pants'.

    Her hot pants were in leather too. A royal blue, incredibly soft and supple leather, apparel that matched her high heeled designer label shoes and the posh handbag she carried over her shoulder. He edged them down, terrified that he would damage them in some way. Beneath, beneath the expensive pants simply a thong and her carefully manicured bush. It had been shaved and waxed until only the most perfect inverted triangle pointed down to her luscious lips. She didn't tell him to 'lick it' she pulled his face against her sex and he started to lap. He started to lap like it was a programmed response, like it was day following night, minute processing after minute. She teased against his face, enjoying the wet strokes of his tongue.

    'Tiny tight skirts are perfect, they are perfect for your sort' she said sharply, dropping his name once more. 'You are so sensitised to it aren't you, the smell of Jamal on me. You're sensitised to the merest perfume of fucking, to registering his power, fucking me until I ejaculate on him.'

    She watched him on his knees lapping at her, lapping at cunny that had only that morning had a generous filling from the master before he left for work. Now her hot pants were down, the scent of fucking, his mastery, flooded Keith's nostrils and h pressed against her sex more greedily than ever.

    'In a short skirt, I smell of him. I smell of his cock and what it has done to me, ' she whispered, grinding his face in sweet sweet places that she wanted. 'So I wear skirts like that one (she pointed to it, tiny on hits hanger) to hurt you. I wear skirts like that to humiliate you. Every breath you take, every glance that you make, there is always Jamal fucking me isn't there. Always Jamal, bigger and better than you. '

    She pulled is wet face off her cunt. Her lips were engorged with blood now. They pouted outwards as they did when they were aching for Jamal's manhood. She gestured upwards to the new skirt. He was to ease it up her shapely legs and to watch it at last hide the cunt that he was gagging to lick. She heard him sigh, a feint sound of a loss, an ache that she knew racked him. He reached up to the buttons that secured the oh so tempty, teasy skirt in place about her waist. She watched him button the skirt up.

    'Every time you spend a fortune on another skirt, some more boots, some expensive lingerie, ' she whispered to him, 'I am ruining you. I am ruining you by addicting your sad little brain to mistress cunt, reminding you that you aren't fit to fuck me and making me look and feel a million pounds. You do understand that don't you?'

    He nodded. Clearing is face, feeling terrible inside he answered, 'yes Miss.'

    After Carol had checked her just so image in the mirror Keith had begged to wipe his face. carol said no though. Gwenda understood. He wasn't the first white boy to be enslaved. He wasn't the first white husband to be brought to heel. Shopping was different in such circumstances. It was a rite of passage and ceremony humiliation. So Keith paid for the skirt with a wet face and then he followed his mistress out of the store, staring, staring at her her body in that perfect fucking skirt. Carol said that they would go to the shoe shop. There was, she knew, a perfect pair of fabulous brown boots to match the skirt. She wanted those boots and Keith was going to but them for her.

    He walked behind her. He walked staring at the movement of her hips in that tight skirt. He stared at how her shapely legs rose and then hid. Beneath the hem of it. He thought of Jamal fucking her, fucking her hard till she screamed. He thought of his cock ramming in and out of it, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about her cunt clamped on his cock and all because the skirt, that fucking skirt heightened the imagination of it all.

    'Do you understand now' she asked him without even glancing back.

    'Yes Miss' he said quickly, reverently.

    'You have to be humiliated, you have to be hurt, that is part of what Jamal and I share. I don't care what the clothes cost you, I don't care what others suspect when I wear them, I don't care that you are required to wear those ridiculous pink chinos, it is simply necessary.'

    'Yes Miss' again and this time with a prickle up his neck. A prickle that made him realise for the first time what a calculating, what a cruel bitch, his mistress really was.
    jizzelle momo, AllenJ and SissyHub like this.
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