The 12-Step Cuckold Program, Part 2
“The 12-Step Cuckold Program,” Part 2
by c.w. cobblestone
Bob plucked a lint ball from his sleeve and grinned.
“I’m so happy to see you all again. Unfortunately, it looks like we may have scared young Carlton off, but the rest of you are back — plus, I see a new face, so this is much a better turnout than I’d anticipated. Since our time is limited, why don’t we go ahead and get started by having our new member introduce … um, herself? Miss? Would you care to get things started?”
A sissy in a pink maid’s uniform tugged at his ruffled collar. “Um … hi, I’m Isabella and I’m a cuckold.”
“Hi, Isabella.”
“Tell us about yourself, Isabella,” Bob said. “First though, we don’t want to misgender you, so what are your pronouns?”
“Oh, I’m he/his.” Isabella faked a smile. “My mistress says sissies aren’t women and shouldn’t be referred to as women.”
“Ah.” Bob nodded. “You’re squirming pretty bad, there, Isabella — are you okay?”
“S-sorry. My mistress thought her eggs were runny this morning so she put me in the giant butt-plug for three days.”
“Ouch! I know that feeling.” Bob patted his backside. “I’m plugged, too, although mine’s probably not as big as yours. I’ve had my share of big ones for punishment, though. I’m sure we’re not the only ones who are plugged. Anyone else?”
Chester and Lew raised their hands.
“See? You’re not alone.” Bob smiled at the sissy. “So, Isabella, tell us about your situation at home.”
“Well, my masters Darlene and DeAndre have been together eight years now. They have two girls; Aaliyah’s six and Alecia’s three. They’re trying for a third, so they’ve got me doing the corking method again, since it worked the other two times.”
Bob rubbed his chin. “The corking method? I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Oh, my master came up with it. After he cums in my mistress, when they’re trying to get pregnant he has me press my mouth up against her vagina and form a seal, to make sure none gets out. Whatever seeps out I’ve got to push it back in with my mouth. It’s hard because the natural instinct is to want to lick, especially since DeAndre doesn’t usually allow me to get anywhere near her pussy. So, it’s kind of nice doing the corking thing because I get to be close to my mistress — but it’s hard to stay still like that. Especially when she keeps me there all night when she’s sleeping … that can be a killer on the neck.”
“Yikes, I imagine,” Bob said. “So, tell me about your masters; how did they meet?”
“Oh, man … well, there’s an embarrassing story .. but I guess that’s why we’re here, huh?”
“That’s exactly right.” Bob folded his arms. “Everyone in this room has an embarrassing story, Isabella. We’re all in the same boat. It just helps sometimes for us to get it out … and share it. And that’s what this group is for.”
“Um, thanks. So, yeah, Darlene and I were at a party and this massive black guy was staring at her all night. He was making it obvious, too — she mentioned right after we got there how this guy wouldn’t stop staring. Looking back, I think he was testing me by making it so over-the-top, because he started smiling, licking his lips, blowing kisses, stuff like that. So then, after she sees I’m not gonna do anything to stop it, she starts smiling back. They go back and forth like that for a while, then he finally comes over to the table and asks her if she wants to go for a walk. She agrees and doesn’t even glance my way. He did, though — I’ll never forget the look he gave me when he took her by the hand and led her out of the party. It was all over after that.”
“Ugh, Debra met Ron at a party, too.” Bob shuddered. “I assume DeAndre fucked your wife when he took her on this so-called ‘walk.’”
“Oh, jeez, yeah, and then when they got back, they didn’t even try to hide it.” Isabella shook his head. “They were all sweaty, and her hair was a fucking mess. Her dress was all rumpled. I mean, it was obvious to everyone, especially after she practically sat in his lap the rest of the night. Right at our table, with me sitting right there. People were fucking laughing at me. Either that or looking at me like they felt sorry for me. Man, I wanted to run out of that party so bad, but … ugh. I just sat there. Like a fucking loser.”
“I get it, believe me,” Bob said. “I did the exact same thing, which is to say I did nothing — sat there like a fucking loser, just like you. Ron held Deb’s hand and made out with her the whole night, right in front of me and everyone else, and I didn’t do a goddamn thing. Not a goddamn thing. I sat there with my head down. I mean, really, there was nothing I could’ve done — what, was I gonna kick his ass? Pfft, like that would ever happen — Ron’s twice my size; he would kill me. So, I fucking sat there. That party was probably the worst night of my life, and I’ve had a lot of bad nights.” Bob drew in a deep breath and clapped once. “But we must learn to embrace these things, and be thankful for them, as I say in the book. So, anyway, Isabella, you were saying that your masters have you caring for their two *********? Do you work outside the home, as well, or …?”
“Oh, no, DeAndre had me quit my job when Darlene got pregnant the first time. He owns a pretty successful nightclub, so money’s no problem. He doesn’t like Darlene working, either, so she quit her job at the real estate firm. Right after she got pregnant with Aaliyah, that’s when my master told me he wanted me to start dressing up as female so I could be the nanny and the maid. A friend of his owns a white couple and turned the husband into a sissy maid and nanny, and DeAndre wanted the same for us — and when my master wants something he gets it. So, I threw away all my male clothes and have worn dresses ever since.”
Bob stroked his chin. “I see. And, you said DeAndre is black; what does your ****** say about your wife having mixed-race *********?”
“Oh, they disowned me, straight up. There was a huge scene in the delivery room with my mom when Aaliyah was born. She ran out crying and never talked to me again. Nobody has. I’m dead as far as they’re concerned.”
“Ugh, I know that nightmare.” Chester grimaced. “My mom and sister were in the delivery room when Jamal Jr. was born. I knew the baby wasn’t mine, obviously, since I hadn’t had sex with Amy in, like, forever, and I tried to keep them from coming. I did everything I could, but it’s this big tradition in our ****** for the women to be there for every birth, and once my mom and sister decide on something, there’s no talking them out of it, you know? Plus, Amy kept encouraging them to come. She never liked them, so I think she wanted to shock them. Well, it fucking worked. I was hoping maybe the baby might be born light-skinned, because sometimes that happens. But no way. You could tell she wasn’t mine as soon as the head crowned. My mom actually slapped Amy before the umbilical cord was even cut. She’s laying in the hospital bed with the cord still attached and my fucking ma slaps her. Then, when I told everyone it wasn’t Amy’s fault and I’d given her blessing to be with Jamal, my sister goes after me, and starts choking me and hitting me, and they had to call security to the delivery room and drag them out. My ma and sister went to jail for assault — the whole thing was a fucking zoo, man.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Isabella sat forward. “So, I take it your ****** disowned you, too, then?”
“Well, fuck yeah, they did. My *** sold the ’66 Vette that was supposed to go to me, and my mom threw away all my stuff she had in storage, including my fucking baseball cards — and I had a Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card in there!”
“No!” Lew slapped his head. “Not a Ken Griffey rookie card!! Dude, that’s fucking cold. What the fuck!”
“No shit,” Chester said, his eyes tearing up. “I fucking hate her for it. My goddamn Ken Griffey card. It was in mint condition, too.”
Bob raised his hand and looked around at the group. “Show of hands, how many of our wives’ lovers are black?”
Isabella, Chester and Chisain raised their hands. Marco raised his, but only halfway.
“Um, Carmen has had black lovers, but white ones and Hispanic, too,” he said. “She says she doesn’t care, as long as they got a big dick. She’s, like, the ultimate size queen. That’s something she’s always joking about with her friends: ‘Marco should’ve known better than to marry to a size queen and bring a four-inch dick to the table.’ I must’ve heard that sentence a thousand times. Like, she’s said that very sentence literally a thousand times, probably two thousand.”
Bob nodded. “They do love to embarrass us, don’t they? Chisain, have you gotten any grief from your ****** because of the racial issue?”
“Oh, no.” Chisain looked at his shoes. “My master … he has sex with my mom and my sister.”
“Oh, really?” Bob clicked his pen. “Tell us about that.”
“Well, you know, James, he has a real powerful personality, and women just melt over him. I mean, they just melt. Jenny’s, like, completely, head-over-heels in love with the guy, and would do anything he told her to do. So, she brought him home one night out of the blue and he laid down the law — he told me he was seeing my wife, he wasn’t gonna stop, and that if I behaved he wouldn’t kick my ass. I mean, he just took over, just like that. Next thing I know, he’s living in our house and I’m sleeping in the basement. I was already on the couch, and he put me in the basement because he said he didn’t think I should sleep on the same floor as them. That’s just what James does — he fucking comes in and takes over. He owns a cleaning service he inherited from his ***, and once things got serious with Jenny he fired the three women he had working for him, and made me quit my job and work for the service doing three people’s jobs. For zero dollars an hour. I put in a lot of 18-hour days. I fucking stay exhausted, man.”
Lew licked his lips. “So, how did he start fucking your ma and sister?”
“Oh, they’re not the only ones he fucks,” Chisain said. “He’s fucking Jenny’s mom and her two sisters, too.”
Lew scoffed. “Jeez, what, does this guy have, like, a 15-inch cock?”
“No, I told you, he has a real powerful personality … and he’s got these piercing eyes. I swear, when he looks at me with those eyes I want to piss my pants. Anyway, one night he came over while my mom and sister were visiting. James didn’t give a shit; once Jenny gave him a key to our house, he’d come barging in any time of day or night. So, he comes over one night and starts running his game on my mom and sister, and I think it was maybe a half-hour before they were all in the bedroom having a foursome. And my master satisfied all three of them, too. The man is a fucking beast.”
“Where were you during all this?” Bob asked.
“Um, I was busy with laundry. The reason my mom and sister used to come over was to drop off their laundry and visit with Jenny while I got it all done. My sister got married, so she has her own slave now, but my ma still brings her laundry over. And James still fucks both of them.”
“Ah, so you were a submissive all along.”
“Oh, yeah. I was raised in a femdom household. In fact, you could say I’m in an arranged marriage — Jenny’s mom is friends with my mom, and she has an FLR household as well. So, our moms set us up.”
Bob blinked. “Did your mom cuck your ***?”
Chisain’s lip curled. “No, the piece of shit only hung around long enough to give me this fucked-up name. Shit-Stain. He split when I was a baby. I think that’s a big reason why my mom and sister were always so mean to me growing up — they took out what my *** did on me.”
“Same thing here,” Monte added. “I always wonder if my mom being so mean to me is the reason I ended up like this.”
Lew nodded. “Throughout my whole childhood, my mom and Caitlyn’s mom used to stand there and laugh while she’d beat me up. One time she poured hot sauce in my eye and everyone thought it was the funniest thing in the world while I was rolling around on the ground crying. So, I’m sure all that had something to do with how I am.”
Bob held up his hand. “Now, if you’ll recall from the book, I discuss my research that shows there is no one template for making submissive cucks like us. Some cucks come from households where their families were abusive, and then others lived in perfectly happy situations.”
“I don’t know. Whatever caused it, sometimes I wish … well, I wish things would’ve turned out differently.” Monte hung his head.
Bob pursed his lips. “Really, Monte? And why is that?”
“Well, I mean, it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? My fucking wife has five kids who aren’t mine, but I do all the fucking work to take care of them. My mistress hasn’t changed a diaper in her life. And Tom? Oh, jeez, don’t even think about asking him to do for his kids. He gets to lay on his ass and play the hero while I kill myself every fucking day. The kids are just fucking rotten, too. Little Tommy shaved off my eyebrows last year and his mom and *** laughed about it. Gina locked me outside in zero-degree weather all night, and her parents fucking praised her. Gee, let’s see … what else? I’ve been in chastity for eight fucking years with ZERO relief — other than when my master loans me to his gay brother, and I cum involuntarily from getting fucked in the ass. I have no money, no assets, no job … all I do, 24 hours a day, is bust my ass taking care of someone else’s fucking kids. And what do I get in return? Ass-whippings. Starvation diets. Little kids spitting food in my face and laughing about it.”
“Ugh, don’t you hate that?” Chester shook his head. “Jamal Junior is 3; he shouldn’t still be spitting food all over the place. But, same as your masters, Amy and Jamal give the kids positive reinforcement; they crack up whenever they spit their food in my face, so of course, they do it all the time. All I can do is wipe it off and act like I enjoy being the butt of the fucking joke. It gets old, bro, so I know how you feel.”
“We all get frustrated sometimes,” Bob said. “What’s important is that we—” He stopped midsentence, and jaws dropped throughout the room as Carlton teetered down the YMCA basement stairs wearing a dress, heels and makeup.
Monte put on a smile. “Hey, bro, glad to see you made it back.”
“Yes, welcome back.” Bob waved his hand toward an empty seat. “So, judging from the way you’re dressed, I take it you finally had ‘the talk’ with your wife and her lover?”
Carlton gulped. “Um, yeah. I even got on my knees.”
“So, um, what happened, bro?” Lew hunched forward.
“Well, Terrance came over as usual and I went to him like you said, and had a list of stuff I could do for him if he’d let me stay around. Angie started calling me a little sissy, and Terrance made me put on one of her nightgowns. He said he’d let me stay as long as … as long as I stopped pretending to be a man. So, now, I have to … dress like this.”
“Well, that’s a nice dress, honey, but you need help with that makeup.” Isabella smiled. “If you want, after the session, I can give you a few pointers.”
“I don’t want any fucking pointers!” Tears fell from Carlton’s eyes. “I fucking HATE this!”
“Now, Carlton, Isabella was only trying to help,” Bob said. “Let’s not yell like that.”
“I’m … I’m sorry.” Carlton sniffled. “It’s just … it’s just …”
“I understand, honey,” Isabella said. “It was hard for me, too, after Darlene got pregnant, and DeAndre made me go through the transition. But if you stick with it, you’ll get used to it, sweetie. I promise you. Did your masters give you a femme name yet?”
Carlton blinked at his shoes. “Um fff-ff,” he mumbled.
“What’s that?” Bob cocked his ear. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Me neither,” Monte piped in.
Carlton gulped. “Um, it’s Foo-Foo, alright? It’s so fucking embarrassing. Foo-Foo, for chrissakes! That’s supposed to be my fucking name now! It’s like, ever since I begged Terrance to let me stay, they both keep looking for ways to humiliate me. Any little thing they can do …” He started sobbing into his hands.
“They’re so mean to us.” Lew gritted his teeth. “Like you say, they fucking look for ways to make our lives miserable.”
Bob nodded. “Yes, our masters and mistresses can be quite mean sometimes. But as I say in the book, we should embrace the cruel things they do, and try to look at these things as cute little idiosyncrasies — sort of like when your spouse has a funny little snore, has a habit of chewing her straw. Remember: If our masters are cruel to us, that means we’re serving a purpose in their lives. And that means we get to stay with the women we adore. So … let’s go around the group and talk about some of the mean things our masters do to us that we’re going to start thinking of as cute little habits. Monte, would you care to go first?”
Monte shifted in his chair. “Um, well … when Amy lies about me in front of her friends and tells Jamal I disrespected her so her friends can watch her boyfriend kick my ass … well, when he’s done, and I’m laying on the ground crying, it’s cute the way she’ll stick out her bottom lip and pretend-apologize. And it’s so empowering for her to be able to do that in front of all her friends, and show them how much Jamal cares for her and protects her. So, it’s … it’s really GREAT!”
Carlton scoffed. “Bull fucking shit. Come on, already. You can tell yourself whatever you want to, but nothing about this shit is great, or cute little idiosyncrasies, or any of that horseshit. It’s fucked up is what it is. Why do we have to be treated like this? Why??”
“Now, Carlton, you sound bitter.” Bob held up his index finger. “Remember what I say in the book: You can’t just—”
“Aw, for chrissakes, FUCK your goddamn book.” Carlton jumped to his feet, and his ankles buckled in his high heels. “This whole group is BULLSHIT! You’re all a bunch of fucking losers who just accept whatever comes your way.”
“Well, yeah, I AM a loser, Carlton — but so are you,” Isabella said. “You’re never gonna find happiness until you accept that.”
“Happiness? How? By having people fucking laugh at me everywhere I go because I’m wearing this fucking ridiculous dress?”
“Honey, you’ve got to embrace it,” Isabella replied.
“Please stay, Carlton … or Foo-Foo.” Bob gestured toward his empty chair. “We can see you’re in a lot of pain, and every one of us has been there. I think in the long run, this group is going to be good for you. Please, stay.”
Carlton took his seat but didn’t stop crying.
Bob cleared his throat. “It’s difficult for us to turn these cruel things our masters do to us into positives, but I’m telling you, that’s the only path to what I refer to in the book as Cuckold Salvation. As hard as it is, we’ve got to try. Now, Chisain, would you like to go next? What does your master or mistress do that might be construed as cruel — but it’s just the cutest little thing that makes them who they are?”
“Um, I mean, when my master makes me eat whole boxes of caffeine pills so I can keep cleaning offices with zero sleep for days, and it makes me throw up and gives me splitting headaches … well, he takes the money I make for him and he buys all these gold chains. Geez, my master must have 50 gold chains in the bedroom. So, that’s kind of a funny little thing he does, collecting all those gold chains. Is that the kind of thing you mean?”
“Sure, Chisain, that fits,” Bob replied. “How about you, Lew?”
“Well, a lot of times when it’s cold and Caitlyn has me sleep in the car, I can see her and her lover looking out the window and laughing at me while I’m out there shivering. My mistress sure does have a great sense of humor; that’s one of her cute idiosyncrasies.”
“See, that’s perfect, Lew.” Bob smiled. “You’re taking something that could possibly cause you misery if you didn’t process it the right way, and you’ve turned it into a positive. That’s wonderful.”
There was a short silence before an angry voice bellowed from upstairs: “LET’S GO, FAGGOT!”
Bob shrugged at the group. “Sorry, fellas, duty calls. I don’t want to keep my master waiting, so I guess we’ll see you all next week. And Carlton, you hang in there, buddy. Okay?”
Carlton sighed. “I’ll try.”
As the rest of the cuckolds said their good-byes, Isabella hung back for a while in the YMCA basement to give Foo-Foo makeup tips. For the first time in weeks, the neophyte sissy felt a little tenderness.
by c.w. cobblestone
Bob plucked a lint ball from his sleeve and grinned.
“I’m so happy to see you all again. Unfortunately, it looks like we may have scared young Carlton off, but the rest of you are back — plus, I see a new face, so this is much a better turnout than I’d anticipated. Since our time is limited, why don’t we go ahead and get started by having our new member introduce … um, herself? Miss? Would you care to get things started?”
A sissy in a pink maid’s uniform tugged at his ruffled collar. “Um … hi, I’m Isabella and I’m a cuckold.”
“Hi, Isabella.”
“Tell us about yourself, Isabella,” Bob said. “First though, we don’t want to misgender you, so what are your pronouns?”
“Oh, I’m he/his.” Isabella faked a smile. “My mistress says sissies aren’t women and shouldn’t be referred to as women.”
“Ah.” Bob nodded. “You’re squirming pretty bad, there, Isabella — are you okay?”
“S-sorry. My mistress thought her eggs were runny this morning so she put me in the giant butt-plug for three days.”
“Ouch! I know that feeling.” Bob patted his backside. “I’m plugged, too, although mine’s probably not as big as yours. I’ve had my share of big ones for punishment, though. I’m sure we’re not the only ones who are plugged. Anyone else?”
Chester and Lew raised their hands.
“See? You’re not alone.” Bob smiled at the sissy. “So, Isabella, tell us about your situation at home.”
“Well, my masters Darlene and DeAndre have been together eight years now. They have two girls; Aaliyah’s six and Alecia’s three. They’re trying for a third, so they’ve got me doing the corking method again, since it worked the other two times.”
Bob rubbed his chin. “The corking method? I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Oh, my master came up with it. After he cums in my mistress, when they’re trying to get pregnant he has me press my mouth up against her vagina and form a seal, to make sure none gets out. Whatever seeps out I’ve got to push it back in with my mouth. It’s hard because the natural instinct is to want to lick, especially since DeAndre doesn’t usually allow me to get anywhere near her pussy. So, it’s kind of nice doing the corking thing because I get to be close to my mistress — but it’s hard to stay still like that. Especially when she keeps me there all night when she’s sleeping … that can be a killer on the neck.”
“Yikes, I imagine,” Bob said. “So, tell me about your masters; how did they meet?”
“Oh, man … well, there’s an embarrassing story .. but I guess that’s why we’re here, huh?”
“That’s exactly right.” Bob folded his arms. “Everyone in this room has an embarrassing story, Isabella. We’re all in the same boat. It just helps sometimes for us to get it out … and share it. And that’s what this group is for.”
“Um, thanks. So, yeah, Darlene and I were at a party and this massive black guy was staring at her all night. He was making it obvious, too — she mentioned right after we got there how this guy wouldn’t stop staring. Looking back, I think he was testing me by making it so over-the-top, because he started smiling, licking his lips, blowing kisses, stuff like that. So then, after she sees I’m not gonna do anything to stop it, she starts smiling back. They go back and forth like that for a while, then he finally comes over to the table and asks her if she wants to go for a walk. She agrees and doesn’t even glance my way. He did, though — I’ll never forget the look he gave me when he took her by the hand and led her out of the party. It was all over after that.”
“Ugh, Debra met Ron at a party, too.” Bob shuddered. “I assume DeAndre fucked your wife when he took her on this so-called ‘walk.’”
“Oh, jeez, yeah, and then when they got back, they didn’t even try to hide it.” Isabella shook his head. “They were all sweaty, and her hair was a fucking mess. Her dress was all rumpled. I mean, it was obvious to everyone, especially after she practically sat in his lap the rest of the night. Right at our table, with me sitting right there. People were fucking laughing at me. Either that or looking at me like they felt sorry for me. Man, I wanted to run out of that party so bad, but … ugh. I just sat there. Like a fucking loser.”
“I get it, believe me,” Bob said. “I did the exact same thing, which is to say I did nothing — sat there like a fucking loser, just like you. Ron held Deb’s hand and made out with her the whole night, right in front of me and everyone else, and I didn’t do a goddamn thing. Not a goddamn thing. I sat there with my head down. I mean, really, there was nothing I could’ve done — what, was I gonna kick his ass? Pfft, like that would ever happen — Ron’s twice my size; he would kill me. So, I fucking sat there. That party was probably the worst night of my life, and I’ve had a lot of bad nights.” Bob drew in a deep breath and clapped once. “But we must learn to embrace these things, and be thankful for them, as I say in the book. So, anyway, Isabella, you were saying that your masters have you caring for their two *********? Do you work outside the home, as well, or …?”
“Oh, no, DeAndre had me quit my job when Darlene got pregnant the first time. He owns a pretty successful nightclub, so money’s no problem. He doesn’t like Darlene working, either, so she quit her job at the real estate firm. Right after she got pregnant with Aaliyah, that’s when my master told me he wanted me to start dressing up as female so I could be the nanny and the maid. A friend of his owns a white couple and turned the husband into a sissy maid and nanny, and DeAndre wanted the same for us — and when my master wants something he gets it. So, I threw away all my male clothes and have worn dresses ever since.”
Bob stroked his chin. “I see. And, you said DeAndre is black; what does your ****** say about your wife having mixed-race *********?”
“Oh, they disowned me, straight up. There was a huge scene in the delivery room with my mom when Aaliyah was born. She ran out crying and never talked to me again. Nobody has. I’m dead as far as they’re concerned.”
“Ugh, I know that nightmare.” Chester grimaced. “My mom and sister were in the delivery room when Jamal Jr. was born. I knew the baby wasn’t mine, obviously, since I hadn’t had sex with Amy in, like, forever, and I tried to keep them from coming. I did everything I could, but it’s this big tradition in our ****** for the women to be there for every birth, and once my mom and sister decide on something, there’s no talking them out of it, you know? Plus, Amy kept encouraging them to come. She never liked them, so I think she wanted to shock them. Well, it fucking worked. I was hoping maybe the baby might be born light-skinned, because sometimes that happens. But no way. You could tell she wasn’t mine as soon as the head crowned. My mom actually slapped Amy before the umbilical cord was even cut. She’s laying in the hospital bed with the cord still attached and my fucking ma slaps her. Then, when I told everyone it wasn’t Amy’s fault and I’d given her blessing to be with Jamal, my sister goes after me, and starts choking me and hitting me, and they had to call security to the delivery room and drag them out. My ma and sister went to jail for assault — the whole thing was a fucking zoo, man.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Isabella sat forward. “So, I take it your ****** disowned you, too, then?”
“Well, fuck yeah, they did. My *** sold the ’66 Vette that was supposed to go to me, and my mom threw away all my stuff she had in storage, including my fucking baseball cards — and I had a Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card in there!”
“No!” Lew slapped his head. “Not a Ken Griffey rookie card!! Dude, that’s fucking cold. What the fuck!”
“No shit,” Chester said, his eyes tearing up. “I fucking hate her for it. My goddamn Ken Griffey card. It was in mint condition, too.”
Bob raised his hand and looked around at the group. “Show of hands, how many of our wives’ lovers are black?”
Isabella, Chester and Chisain raised their hands. Marco raised his, but only halfway.
“Um, Carmen has had black lovers, but white ones and Hispanic, too,” he said. “She says she doesn’t care, as long as they got a big dick. She’s, like, the ultimate size queen. That’s something she’s always joking about with her friends: ‘Marco should’ve known better than to marry to a size queen and bring a four-inch dick to the table.’ I must’ve heard that sentence a thousand times. Like, she’s said that very sentence literally a thousand times, probably two thousand.”
Bob nodded. “They do love to embarrass us, don’t they? Chisain, have you gotten any grief from your ****** because of the racial issue?”
“Oh, no.” Chisain looked at his shoes. “My master … he has sex with my mom and my sister.”
“Oh, really?” Bob clicked his pen. “Tell us about that.”
“Well, you know, James, he has a real powerful personality, and women just melt over him. I mean, they just melt. Jenny’s, like, completely, head-over-heels in love with the guy, and would do anything he told her to do. So, she brought him home one night out of the blue and he laid down the law — he told me he was seeing my wife, he wasn’t gonna stop, and that if I behaved he wouldn’t kick my ass. I mean, he just took over, just like that. Next thing I know, he’s living in our house and I’m sleeping in the basement. I was already on the couch, and he put me in the basement because he said he didn’t think I should sleep on the same floor as them. That’s just what James does — he fucking comes in and takes over. He owns a cleaning service he inherited from his ***, and once things got serious with Jenny he fired the three women he had working for him, and made me quit my job and work for the service doing three people’s jobs. For zero dollars an hour. I put in a lot of 18-hour days. I fucking stay exhausted, man.”
Lew licked his lips. “So, how did he start fucking your ma and sister?”
“Oh, they’re not the only ones he fucks,” Chisain said. “He’s fucking Jenny’s mom and her two sisters, too.”
Lew scoffed. “Jeez, what, does this guy have, like, a 15-inch cock?”
“No, I told you, he has a real powerful personality … and he’s got these piercing eyes. I swear, when he looks at me with those eyes I want to piss my pants. Anyway, one night he came over while my mom and sister were visiting. James didn’t give a shit; once Jenny gave him a key to our house, he’d come barging in any time of day or night. So, he comes over one night and starts running his game on my mom and sister, and I think it was maybe a half-hour before they were all in the bedroom having a foursome. And my master satisfied all three of them, too. The man is a fucking beast.”
“Where were you during all this?” Bob asked.
“Um, I was busy with laundry. The reason my mom and sister used to come over was to drop off their laundry and visit with Jenny while I got it all done. My sister got married, so she has her own slave now, but my ma still brings her laundry over. And James still fucks both of them.”
“Ah, so you were a submissive all along.”
“Oh, yeah. I was raised in a femdom household. In fact, you could say I’m in an arranged marriage — Jenny’s mom is friends with my mom, and she has an FLR household as well. So, our moms set us up.”
Bob blinked. “Did your mom cuck your ***?”
Chisain’s lip curled. “No, the piece of shit only hung around long enough to give me this fucked-up name. Shit-Stain. He split when I was a baby. I think that’s a big reason why my mom and sister were always so mean to me growing up — they took out what my *** did on me.”
“Same thing here,” Monte added. “I always wonder if my mom being so mean to me is the reason I ended up like this.”
Lew nodded. “Throughout my whole childhood, my mom and Caitlyn’s mom used to stand there and laugh while she’d beat me up. One time she poured hot sauce in my eye and everyone thought it was the funniest thing in the world while I was rolling around on the ground crying. So, I’m sure all that had something to do with how I am.”
Bob held up his hand. “Now, if you’ll recall from the book, I discuss my research that shows there is no one template for making submissive cucks like us. Some cucks come from households where their families were abusive, and then others lived in perfectly happy situations.”
“I don’t know. Whatever caused it, sometimes I wish … well, I wish things would’ve turned out differently.” Monte hung his head.
Bob pursed his lips. “Really, Monte? And why is that?”
“Well, I mean, it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? My fucking wife has five kids who aren’t mine, but I do all the fucking work to take care of them. My mistress hasn’t changed a diaper in her life. And Tom? Oh, jeez, don’t even think about asking him to do for his kids. He gets to lay on his ass and play the hero while I kill myself every fucking day. The kids are just fucking rotten, too. Little Tommy shaved off my eyebrows last year and his mom and *** laughed about it. Gina locked me outside in zero-degree weather all night, and her parents fucking praised her. Gee, let’s see … what else? I’ve been in chastity for eight fucking years with ZERO relief — other than when my master loans me to his gay brother, and I cum involuntarily from getting fucked in the ass. I have no money, no assets, no job … all I do, 24 hours a day, is bust my ass taking care of someone else’s fucking kids. And what do I get in return? Ass-whippings. Starvation diets. Little kids spitting food in my face and laughing about it.”
“Ugh, don’t you hate that?” Chester shook his head. “Jamal Junior is 3; he shouldn’t still be spitting food all over the place. But, same as your masters, Amy and Jamal give the kids positive reinforcement; they crack up whenever they spit their food in my face, so of course, they do it all the time. All I can do is wipe it off and act like I enjoy being the butt of the fucking joke. It gets old, bro, so I know how you feel.”
“We all get frustrated sometimes,” Bob said. “What’s important is that we—” He stopped midsentence, and jaws dropped throughout the room as Carlton teetered down the YMCA basement stairs wearing a dress, heels and makeup.
Monte put on a smile. “Hey, bro, glad to see you made it back.”
“Yes, welcome back.” Bob waved his hand toward an empty seat. “So, judging from the way you’re dressed, I take it you finally had ‘the talk’ with your wife and her lover?”
Carlton gulped. “Um, yeah. I even got on my knees.”
“So, um, what happened, bro?” Lew hunched forward.
“Well, Terrance came over as usual and I went to him like you said, and had a list of stuff I could do for him if he’d let me stay around. Angie started calling me a little sissy, and Terrance made me put on one of her nightgowns. He said he’d let me stay as long as … as long as I stopped pretending to be a man. So, now, I have to … dress like this.”
“Well, that’s a nice dress, honey, but you need help with that makeup.” Isabella smiled. “If you want, after the session, I can give you a few pointers.”
“I don’t want any fucking pointers!” Tears fell from Carlton’s eyes. “I fucking HATE this!”
“Now, Carlton, Isabella was only trying to help,” Bob said. “Let’s not yell like that.”
“I’m … I’m sorry.” Carlton sniffled. “It’s just … it’s just …”
“I understand, honey,” Isabella said. “It was hard for me, too, after Darlene got pregnant, and DeAndre made me go through the transition. But if you stick with it, you’ll get used to it, sweetie. I promise you. Did your masters give you a femme name yet?”
Carlton blinked at his shoes. “Um fff-ff,” he mumbled.
“What’s that?” Bob cocked his ear. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Me neither,” Monte piped in.
Carlton gulped. “Um, it’s Foo-Foo, alright? It’s so fucking embarrassing. Foo-Foo, for chrissakes! That’s supposed to be my fucking name now! It’s like, ever since I begged Terrance to let me stay, they both keep looking for ways to humiliate me. Any little thing they can do …” He started sobbing into his hands.
“They’re so mean to us.” Lew gritted his teeth. “Like you say, they fucking look for ways to make our lives miserable.”
Bob nodded. “Yes, our masters and mistresses can be quite mean sometimes. But as I say in the book, we should embrace the cruel things they do, and try to look at these things as cute little idiosyncrasies — sort of like when your spouse has a funny little snore, has a habit of chewing her straw. Remember: If our masters are cruel to us, that means we’re serving a purpose in their lives. And that means we get to stay with the women we adore. So … let’s go around the group and talk about some of the mean things our masters do to us that we’re going to start thinking of as cute little habits. Monte, would you care to go first?”
Monte shifted in his chair. “Um, well … when Amy lies about me in front of her friends and tells Jamal I disrespected her so her friends can watch her boyfriend kick my ass … well, when he’s done, and I’m laying on the ground crying, it’s cute the way she’ll stick out her bottom lip and pretend-apologize. And it’s so empowering for her to be able to do that in front of all her friends, and show them how much Jamal cares for her and protects her. So, it’s … it’s really GREAT!”
Carlton scoffed. “Bull fucking shit. Come on, already. You can tell yourself whatever you want to, but nothing about this shit is great, or cute little idiosyncrasies, or any of that horseshit. It’s fucked up is what it is. Why do we have to be treated like this? Why??”
“Now, Carlton, you sound bitter.” Bob held up his index finger. “Remember what I say in the book: You can’t just—”
“Aw, for chrissakes, FUCK your goddamn book.” Carlton jumped to his feet, and his ankles buckled in his high heels. “This whole group is BULLSHIT! You’re all a bunch of fucking losers who just accept whatever comes your way.”
“Well, yeah, I AM a loser, Carlton — but so are you,” Isabella said. “You’re never gonna find happiness until you accept that.”
“Happiness? How? By having people fucking laugh at me everywhere I go because I’m wearing this fucking ridiculous dress?”
“Honey, you’ve got to embrace it,” Isabella replied.
“Please stay, Carlton … or Foo-Foo.” Bob gestured toward his empty chair. “We can see you’re in a lot of pain, and every one of us has been there. I think in the long run, this group is going to be good for you. Please, stay.”
Carlton took his seat but didn’t stop crying.
Bob cleared his throat. “It’s difficult for us to turn these cruel things our masters do to us into positives, but I’m telling you, that’s the only path to what I refer to in the book as Cuckold Salvation. As hard as it is, we’ve got to try. Now, Chisain, would you like to go next? What does your master or mistress do that might be construed as cruel — but it’s just the cutest little thing that makes them who they are?”
“Um, I mean, when my master makes me eat whole boxes of caffeine pills so I can keep cleaning offices with zero sleep for days, and it makes me throw up and gives me splitting headaches … well, he takes the money I make for him and he buys all these gold chains. Geez, my master must have 50 gold chains in the bedroom. So, that’s kind of a funny little thing he does, collecting all those gold chains. Is that the kind of thing you mean?”
“Sure, Chisain, that fits,” Bob replied. “How about you, Lew?”
“Well, a lot of times when it’s cold and Caitlyn has me sleep in the car, I can see her and her lover looking out the window and laughing at me while I’m out there shivering. My mistress sure does have a great sense of humor; that’s one of her cute idiosyncrasies.”
“See, that’s perfect, Lew.” Bob smiled. “You’re taking something that could possibly cause you misery if you didn’t process it the right way, and you’ve turned it into a positive. That’s wonderful.”
There was a short silence before an angry voice bellowed from upstairs: “LET’S GO, FAGGOT!”
Bob shrugged at the group. “Sorry, fellas, duty calls. I don’t want to keep my master waiting, so I guess we’ll see you all next week. And Carlton, you hang in there, buddy. Okay?”
Carlton sighed. “I’ll try.”
As the rest of the cuckolds said their good-byes, Isabella hung back for a while in the YMCA basement to give Foo-Foo makeup tips. For the first time in weeks, the neophyte sissy felt a little tenderness.
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