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. Weak End Away

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Apr 11, 2018.

. Weak End Away 3.3 5 3votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    Had I not fallen for Chris's boss Royston, it would have been easier. It would! I could have had a dirty, sensual and may be secret affair with some lothario met at a bar. But Royston wasn't like that. Royston was not only very very dominant, but he wanted my husband to know that he was fucking me. He wanted Chris to know that when he was required to work late, Royston was driving out to our place in his Jaguar tourer and fucking me. It was part of the complex sexual thinking interplay between men. The dominant male has to rub the also ran's nose in the dirt. He has to not only take the woman off the man, he has to make her a bitch and increasingly unavailable save for on the most humiliating of terms. That Royston bought me things, very expensive things, the Rolex, the Cartier, the Gucci and Prada things, were all about making me look so obviously different, so obviously sexed up. The fact that Chris couldn't afford any of that stuff, any of the posh things, was to Royston's liking. Every time I dressed that spoilt bitch way, that expensive madam look, it was as if he was fucking me in front of Chris all over again. Royston slipped a Piaget watch on my wrist this time, another couple of thousands worth. I wasn't with him for his wealth. I wasn't hooked on the nice things. I was hooked on his cock and if I am entirely honest, his absolute power. It was heady, in every sense of the word, to feel lusted after, taken, by such a terribly powerful man.

    He clipped the watch in place and of course it was perfect. It looked so chic alongside my outfit of expensive leather jeans and the mulberry silk blouse.

    'You denying him sex like I told you babe?' he asked, his eyes catching mine and keeping them as his kiss brushed my lips.

    'Yes' I answered softly. I had told Chris, no more cock sex. Royston said that Chris could lick me...but only after he cam to my cunt when I was wet and sticky from our love making. Chris had to smell and taste what alpha sex was all about. Then, when he accepted that, he could come to cunt, to lick. It had hurt Chris terribly. It had crippled him. I asked him whether he felt disciplined enough to sleep with me and not to attempt to couple me. He insisted that he could. But he faltered. One night, after I had been out with Royston all evening, he tried to reclaim me. He had drunk some whisky and he tried to fuck me. I slapped his face hard and he desisted, cursing. I was so shaken up by the incident that I called Royston and he came around. Royston loomed over him, the vastly superior, black male specimen and he pushed Chris down onto his knees. He made Chris put his mouth to my well exercised cunt and lick me clean. Feeling my husband tongue the thick spunk off my sex made me feel dirty in such a terrible and needful way. I looked down at him, cruel, dismissive thoughts racing through my head. He was just a wipe. I kissed Royston, just to show Chris what I really needed, who I really chose, over and over. Chris licked, we kissed and I ran my sex against his mouth like his face was a sex toy. Afterwards Royston told Chris to fuck off to the plant and do a security check. He was to take three hours over that and then come and sleep in the car outside the house whilst Royston fucked me on our marriage bed. I remember the car head lights arching over the ceiling when Chris returned. I remember how Royston stirred, pushing my legs apart and entering me again. I felt his massive organ push inside me, making those animal slapping noises and I remember, I remember, dear god, feeling so turned on because Royston was controlling Chris so brutally. I climaxed on Royston, so hard because I knew that Chris was outside, listening, cold, tired, defeated, in the little family car.

    I never actually learned to hate my husband, just to dismiss him as irrelevant. Chris was irrelevant. Sexually I had no need of him, save to accent that which I shared with Royston. When he licked me out regularly, it was to evoke only the sweet and dirty memories of my love taking me. I had him lick my cunt to bring something new and sexy to the head sex thing that Royston and I shared.

    'I make him lick my arse' I whispered to Royston as we lay tangled in the bed together one night much later, I make him lick my arse clean.'

    He looked at me that way, the 'do you mean?' way. I nodded, feeling aroused and ashamed that I could be such a bitch. I meant in the toilet way.

    'That shame the fucker?' asked Royston, he is really cruel.

    'He cried the first time...but he does it now darling....he does it naturally' I whispered.

    Royston's fingers slipped between my legs as we spoke. He started to touch me in that sweet sensuous way that he has.

    'You're his goddess' he breathed, savouring the ascendency, the sheer vaulting distance between my rise and my husband's fall in status.

    'Yes' I whispered, as though the realisation really wasn't that surprising. After all, there had been months of rearrangement, the reframing of Chris's mind concerning what he was.

    'You have absolute power over the fucker' Royston growled as he moved his cock between my sex lips. I felt the sudden pressure of his coupling, his thick glans pushing into me.

    'yes' I gasped.

    'You enjoy humiliating him' It was a statement. Royston knew as he stroked inside me.

    'I enjoy hurting him' I answered. I wanted Royston to realise that. I was his bitch. A bitch does bitchy things. Royston thrust rhythmically into me.

    'Would you bin him if that's what I ordered?' asked Royston thrusting easily inside me.

    I felt my breath catch. His fucking was always massive, breath taking.

    'yes' I answered. Royston pinned my hands to the pillows. He pinned them there tight and he fucked me hard. I climaxed, shaking, trying to stick out the ride for longer, but incapable of doing so. I felt him ejaculating into me, deep, generous, arrogant squirts of his seed.

    It was the following Friday that I gave Chris the list of things that he was to pack into my suitcase. I never gave him much notice, it was always about my control not his. Royston was taking me away for the weekend. I watched him pack my jewellery roll, the expensive necklaces, bracelets, rings, watches and ear rings. I watched him pack my evening dresses and the sexy French lingerie. He was quite meticulous and my list was long, so in the end the weekend required two suitcases. If things were creased then he ironed them. If things were folded too tight then I ordered him to rearrange them. he kept staring at my boots, the severe toed, the high heeled, bitch mistress boots. once Chris was licking my bottom, licking dirt off boots was no problem at all. He needed to lick boots, but that could wait, couldn't it? It could wait a good while. I wanted to Chris to ache.

    That night I told Chris to sleep in my bed. I settled myself on his face, queening him slowly. I held pussy just a little high so that he had to crane his neck, to reach a little for licks. The sweet little laps were quite delicious.

    'You do that.....so nicely' I observed and sighed. In my mind I was back with Royston, his powerful hand masturbating me.

    'Do you need this now....physically darling' I asked my husband.

    His face was flushed. His erection made the crotch of his pants stand up.

    'yes' he confessed. He hated that, confessing his addiction.

    'It would be terrible if mistress didn't let you do it?'

    'Yes' he confessed, his eyes squinting. He looked as though he needed a little sob or something.

    As etiquette dictates I moved my botty into place next, to be tongued, to be licked, whilst I thought about Royston. I started to rub my botty hole against his flicking tongue.

    'You're lucky to have a boss like Royston....someone who teaches you what you are' I whispered.

    I raised my bottom an inch or two so that Chris could speak. The answer was directed every bit as much as a dictator's election.

    'Yes....I'm grateful' he whispered.

    Good boy, I thought.

    I settled back on his face so that he could tease my botty hole with his tongue. I liked that. Of course, a proper man, like Royston owns everything, your cunt, your mouth, your ass. So wherever Chris licked there were evocative thoughts to sink into.

    I masturbated myself hard. I pulled and tweaked my clitty whilst Chris licked my rear. I thought about Royston lancing into me, about our weak end.

    'I want you to kiss me tonight, to kiss my open mouth. I want you to imagine Royston fucking me as you look into my eyes Christopher' I instructed, enjoying my climax.

    We did that then. Faithless kissing. Kissing his mouth but not caring how he felt, what happened to him. Kissing with our eyes open so that he felt like nothing to me.

    'What are you thinking about?' I demanded of him as we kissed.

    He blushed. He paused. Then....

    'You sucking his fucking cock' he admitted.

    'Good' I murmured.

    The next morning Royston's Jaguar was outside the house soon after nine. Chris lifted both of the suitcases into the car. I wore the tiniest little leather skirt. It was the sort of skirt that troubled Chris. He freely admitted it. He couldn't get them out of his head. I kissed Royston in front of him.

    'You'd better clean the house whilst I'm away' I told my husband and he nodded.

    Royston got the passenger door and I settled myself in the sumptuous leather seat. Christopher stared as I arranged my shapely legs beneath the dashboard. Cars smell of power don't they, expensive cars. Royston joined me and we set off down the drive way. Reaching the road there was the small removal van and a team of five of Royston's men as he had promised there would be. They looked big and brutal enforcers rather than removal men. I gasped. I knew the plan, but this was happening for real now. Royston smiled briefly and then said firmly,

    'We're moving your things up to my house up on the hill. There won't be problems just as long as Christopher doesn't resist. He's to come up to the big house, to lick his mistress's cunt when I say. Otherwise he's out of a job and will find he's been incriminated in a little fraud as well.'

    'You're ruthless' I murmured, my eyes wide. The detail, the absolute conviction of his plan. 'He'll go to gaol if he is convicted for fraud.'

    'Promise babe, that fucker....he won't go to gaol. He's going to come up to the big house cap in hand. He'll lick nice when we require.'

    [Some women are very ruthless, huh?! Put with a ruthless man.... Lutheran Maid's 'The Intimacy of Three' is available from Amazon, to download or purchase in print.]
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