CUCKOLD MARRIAGE CONTRACT AGREEMENT
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Cuckold In Panties by Throne
"But Ginger," Mason said tremulously, "I don't want to wear these
panties."
"What are you talking about?" his wife wanted to know. She looked
attractive in a simple blouse-and-slacks combination. "I thought your
problem was that you didn't like the cotton ones I put you in. So, I got
you these satiny red ones that look like a bikini bottom."
"No," Mason said. His cheeks were getting flushed and he was fighting
back tears. "I don't want to wear ANY panties."
"When did that start?" She stood there calmly. Her pretty face was
inquisitive. Her trim figure maintained a casual stance. She brushed
her honey blond hair back over one shoulder.
"I never wanted them."
"But you've always acted like such a wimp, that I had to make you wear
them. And to make you get rid of that little bit of body hair you had.
Now you look on the outside, like you are inside."
He stamped his bare foot and pouted. "You can't keep doing this to me.
It's not fair."
She laughed. Ginger always got a chuckle out of it when he claimed she
was unfair. "It's not about fairness, little man. It's about you acting
like a wuss, which leads to you being dressed appropriately. At least
those sexy panties hide your sad excuse for a penis."
"Well..." His voice was high and close to breaking. "... at least give
me something to cover up more of me."
"There. Now you'll see how considerate I am. I got you a top to wear
with that sweet lingerie." They were in the bedroom. She reached into
the bag, pink and shiny, with attached handles, that had contained the
panties. What she came out with was a dark pink top, with no sleeves and
nothing to cover his midriff. She held it up so he could see that,
written across the chest in curvy letters of a much lighter pink, was the
word SWEET. "See? Your hairless chest and perky nipples will be hidden.
Wasn't this thoughtful of me?"
"But that's for a girl. Not a guy."
"In your case, there's not much difference. Now stop being such a
crybaby and put it on. Show me that you can cooperate without making a
scene."
His lips quivered. He sniffled. But after a moment of futile refusal,
he accepted the shameful garment. Mason got it over his head and had to
tug at it to get it down, it was so snug.
"It's too tight," he complained.
"Oh, boohoo." She shook her head. "You're never happy. At least I'm
not making you face Luke with a bare chest."
"He's... you're going to let him...?"
She intentionally acted like she didn't understand. "What? You're not
worried that he'll think the house is messy, are you? After how I had
you cleaning all afternoon? No? And he certainly won't smell any of
that sweat you worked up, not since I let you take a soothing bubble
bath." She eyed him critically. "Your hair is nice. I like how it
reaches your eyebrows in front, and covers your ears and the back of your
neck. Those touches of make-up flatter you." She put her hands on her
hips. "I can't imagine what you're getting upset about, Little Miss
Snowflake."
"I'm upset," he choked out, "because I don't want that big brute to see
me this way."
"Oh," she said, feigning sudden comprehension. "I get it. My big strong
boyfriend hasn't seen my small weak husband looking all girly before now.
Oops. Should I have consulted you before I invited him over? Hmmm? I
mean, he has seen you in your boy clothes. So he knows what a shrimp you
are."
"This is... it's just..."
She raised her eyebrows quizzically. "It's just what? You already said
unfair, so please don't repeat that. What else is it?"
"It's humiliating."
"Whose fault is that? If you had acted like a man all along, it would
never have come to this. Consider how long I put up with your tiny
pecker after we got married. I didn't start cheating on you for nearly a
month. And when you whined about me having a succession of dates, what
did I do? I settled on just one. Now that it's only Luke taking me to
bed, you're still not satisfied. You certainly don't make it easy on me,
Mason. I hope you'll at least behave after Luke arrives."
"Can I... please... have robe or something?"
"Why? The house is warm."
"It's not because I'm chilly," he insisted emotionally. "I just don't
want him to see me this way."
"But dear," she said reasonably, "it wouldn't be honest for you to dress
up like a man. That's why I bought you that lovely outfit. And I got
Luke some things that are right for the kind of person he is. Doesn't
that make sense?"
Beaten down by her flawed but inexorable stance, he lowered his eyes and
nodded. Mason whispered, "If you say so."
"That's better. Now go wash your hands, since you'll be serving us
drinks and snacks."
"I'll be...?" His voice quavered.
"Naturally, silly. It's not like you could hold up your end of a
conversation with him. I don't think you'd do very well at discussing
sports or his workouts at the gym."
"You don't know much about sports," he pointed out. "And you don't go to
the gym."
"No, dear. That's true. But he and I do have one topic we never get
tired of. Which reminds me that I have to change into something more
revealing." She sent a broad wink toward her husband and then shooed him
out of the room. "And fix your hair again. Putting that top on got it
all mussed." She thought for a moment and added, "There are some
delightful slippers in the bottom of that bag. Take it with you and put
those on, too, after you freshen up."
He left disconsolately. In the bathroom he washed is hands. The scent
of his bubble bath still hung in the air, though not as strongly as it
clung to his skin. He tucked his below-average genitals back and down,
the way his wife liked them. As he did it, he felt how smooth his crotch
was. Mason was beginning to suspect that, after the laser hair removal
treatments she had gotten him, his modest pubic bush would never grow
back. He sighed as he dried his hands. Then he inspected his hair.
Using his fingers, he fluffed it up. There was enough spray in it from
earlier to keep it in place. The pink gloss that made his lips shiny was
partly worn off, so he applied a fresh coat. His insides fluttered.
Luke was such an alpha male, always asserting himself. He made a display
of holding and kissing Ginger. And the few times he had come inside in
the past, he always found some excuse to shove or jab Mason. The bigger
man did it playfully, but the unspoken message of his physical
superiority was always clear. The victimized husband tried to untense
but had limited success. Why couldn't Ginger let him go to some other
part of the house and hide, while her passionate paramour was present?
Mason took the slippers, which were covered with sequins, out of the bag
and donned them. He sat sullenly on the edge of the bathtub, feeling
sorry for himself. It had been bad when his wife began denying him
intercourse. Worse when she made him perform cunnilingus to make up for
his penile inferiority. He hated having to use his mouth on her pubes.
But then she went further, beginning her serial infidelities. Her
promiscuity was astounding in its degree and variety. Even so, all those
one-night stands and limited affairs had been preferable to her having a
regular boyfriend. Now there was the threat of her dumping Mason
altogether, if her affection for Luke grew into something stronger. As
unhappy as the husband's marital situation was, he never gave up hoping
that his fortunes would reverse themselves. Maybe she just needed more
time to get these wild impulses out of her system. Of course, the way
she rhapsodized about Luke's endowment, his stamina, and his varied
techniques, that wasn't likely to occur anytime soon.
"Honey," she called to Mason. "Come and see what I'm wearing. Tell me
if you think Luke will like it."
He returned to the bedroom, expecting to find her in a slinky dress, like
he was used to seeing her put on when she went out with Luke. But
tonight, they were staying in, and she had on a mesh bodysuit that barely
hid anything, with cut-outs in strategic locations that left some areas
fully exposed. All Mason could do was stand there and gawk. It ignited
his libido but, at the same time, horrified him because she had put it on
for her lover. She did a slow-motion 360 to let him feast his eyes. The
sides of her breasts and all of both buttocks were exposed. He wanted to
say something but by then was too psychologically beaten down. Being in
his abbreviated top and brief panties didn't help.
He said, in a small voice, "I'm sure he'll like it, dear."
She smirked. "I just hope he doesn't rip it off me. Thanks for paying
for it with your charge card, May-son." She separated the syllables of
his name in a taunting way. Ginger liked to remind her husband whenever
he was financing her wanton dates with Luke. At least in the past they
had gone to the hunk's place and given Mason some time alone. It was
difficult to stay home and imagine what the two of them were doing
together. But it would be much worse to have it happening right there,
under their roof. She threw him a kiss, turned her back, and wagged her
hips. It was so difficult when she visually teased him, without the
accompanying sexual relief that he so desperately wanted. Soon Luke
would be seeing her in that stretchy one-piece. Mason pictured his bride
doing a lazy striptease for her rapacious muscular bedmate. It made
Mason shudder.
She stepped close to him and traced the cursive writing on his top with
her fingertip. As she followed the flowing script of the word SWEET, she
made sure to brush over both of his nipples, which were very receptive.
He gasped and then whimpered with need. His mental state was so fragile
that he began to unconsciously make sad snuffling sounds. That was when,
with the worst timing of which he could have conceived, the front door
opened and in strode Luke. He was tall and had on a muscle shirt that
showed off his impressive biceps. His tight jeans were molded to his
powerful legs. There was a bulge at his crotch. A wide leather belt
encircled his narrow waist. On his big feet were heavy work shoes.
"Hey, handsome," Ginger said. She held her arms out to the sides. "Do I
look okay?"
"You look good enough to eat," he said gruffly, this voice thick with
lust.
"Well, Mason is the one who eats me. You get to ride me long and hard."
He chortled. Going to Mason, he patted him on the side of his face.
"You like that, don't you, lover boy? Eating that sweet pussy? Putting
your mouth where my cock goes all the time?"
Mason groaned. Keeping his voice soft, to match his shameful image, he
whispered, "Yes, Sir." His breath flowed erratically through his
nostrils.
Hearing those sounds, Luke said, "Glad you're being honest about it,
Sniffles. Now how about you fetch me a beer, and get my girl whatever
she wants."
Ginger said, "I'll have wine. Red."
He left the room, taking delicate steps. Mason didn't want to break
character and incur their displeasure. When he returned, they were
sitting on the living room sofa, necking like a couple of horny teens.
There was plenty of deep kissing. He waited silently for them to come up
for air. When they did, he moved nearer, holding a serving tray. On it
were Luke's bottle of beer and Ginger's glass of dark wine. The
fragrance of the latter reached Mason, making him salivate. Naturally,
he was not allowed a drink. He asked his wife if she would like him to
go get the plate with cut cheese and other tidbits, along with the bowl
full of crackers.
Luke answered for her, saying, "Let us work up an appetite first." He
twisted the cap off his beer and flicked it onto where the drinks had
been.
"Yeah," seconded Ginger. "Put your tray in the kitchen and then get
right back here. You can stand in the middle of the room, so you'll have
a good view of us."
"And," Luke pointed out, "it'll be easy for us to see you. Damn but you
look like a pansy. A sweet one, like your shirt says."
"Yes, Sir," Mason responded meekly. He could still feel where the big
man had lightly slapped his face. There hadn't been much force behind
it, but the threat of more was implicit.
This time, when the husband returned, Luke had his hand in one of the
side openings of Ginger's single article of clothing, his thick fingers
kneading her breast. She purred and leaned into his effort, at the same
time stroking his solid upper arm. She nibbled his ear. He bit her neck
and made her squeal with delight. Mason stood in the center of the room,
wringing his hands, air hissing through his nose.
"Hey, Sniffles," Luke called to him. "Sounds like you're going to break
down and cry. You going to cry? Getting all stressed out because your
hot wife won't settle for that miniature dick that she tells me you've
got?"
"I... I'm not sure if..."
"Not important," Luke told him dismissively. "Save your sissy tears for
when us two are in bed, and I make her scream like a she-cat in heat."
Ginger arched her back and licked the side of Luke's face, appearing
rather feline. Mason's jaw trembled. Luke tweaked her nipple and she
yelped in surprise, then laughed. Mason thought he might have some sort
of nervous attack, right there in front of them. Luke removed his hand
from Ginger's boob. She massaged his crotch.
"I love the way those jeans and that muscle shirt I bought you show off
your body," she declared. "Now let's go and get you out of them."
In spite of himself, Mason let out a loud sob. He knew instantly that he
had made a mistake. Luke stood and undid the big square buckle of his
belt. He slid the broad length of leather out of the loops of his jeans
and folded it double.
He demanded of Mason, "Are you trying to ruin our mood, Sniffles?"
"N... no, Sir." The husband's eyes were wide, staring at that
threatening belt.
"I say you were. So now I owe you half a dozen swats on your fag fanny.
Do you want to tell me I'm wrong?"
Mason swallowed with difficulty. "No. You were right, Sir. I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have done that. I hope you can forgive me."
"Sure. I'll forgive you..."
"Thank you, Sir."
"... after you take your six licks."
Ginger smiled maliciously. Luke slapped the folded belt against his open
palm.
Barely able to speak, Mason managed to choke out, "Where would you like
me?"
"Oh, how about if you move that wooden chair away from the wall, and grab
hold of the seat."
Mason did as he'd been instructed. It left him bent over at the waist,
his panty-clad bottom a perfect target.
Ginger volunteered, "Okay if I get his pretty panties out of the way?"
"Sure," Luke assented. "It's better on the bare. Pull them down and
I'll give him his eight."
Without thinking, Mason blurted out, "You said six."
"Plus, two for disrespecting me, when you didn't add a 'Sir' after you
asked where to put yourself."
"And another pair," Ginger urged, "for backtalking just now."
"Sounds fair," Luke decided. "Ten it is."
Mason shivered but didn't abandon his pose. Ginger got behind him and
hooked her index fingers under the waistband of his panties. She
unhurriedly eased them down, baring his backside for Luke to see. Her
spouse blushed from this new insult. As soon as Ginger stepped aside,
Luke swung two hard, unexpected smacks across Mason's bottom, left-to-
right and then right-to-left. The bent-over victim yowled and gripped
the chair's seat harder. His body stiffened and then relaxed. Blazing
pain suffused his bottom cheeks. He gritted his teeth and promised
himself he would not cry. The next two blows made him break that
promise. Hot tears rolled down his face. Ginger put herself opposite
him and sank down until her face was level with his, so she could gaze
into his eyes and read the suffering reflected there. She gathered
moisture from under one of his eyes on her fingertip and extended her
tongue. When she touched her finger to the tip of her tongue she sighed
deeply with perverse pleasure. Mason's legs twitched.
Luke landed the next four blows in rapid succession. The last of Mason's
resolve crumbled and he blubbered shamefully. Luke paused to let the
pain sink in and spread. He went to Ginger and embraced her. She clung
to him with fierce ardor and rubbed her body against his, while Mason
struggled to regain control of himself.
"Hey," Luke told Ginger in a hushed bedroom voice. "I got to get back to
work. There's two more swats waiting for Sniffles."
"I know, baby. It's just that I hate for his punishment to end."
"But the sooner it's over, the quicker we get down to the real business
at hand."
She ground her pelvis lewdly against his thigh. "Right," she said
throatily. "But make the final two really count."
"No problem," he assured her as she reluctantly released him and he
retook his former position.
With no warning, Luke swung hard, laying the leather across both butt-
halves at once, and then did it again. Mason jerked each time and
afterwards he gagged on pain. His bottom was bright red, the markings
overlapping, with no untouched slivers of pale skin remaining. Ginger
pressed her palm against the heated flesh and savored what she felt. She
devilishly pinched and twisted the center of one buttock, then the other,
causing Mason to produce close-mouthed groans that threatened to break
out at full volume. At last his ordeal ended.
"Okay," Luke announced, as if nothing extreme had just taken place. "Now
let's try to break the bedframe."
"Go on ahead of us," Ginger told her husband. "Turn the covers all the
way down, and fluff up the pillows."
As he hurried off, his slippers sparkling, the lovers took a moment to
hug and run their hands all over each other. They kissed, this time
softly. Ginger reached down to feel Luke's impressive cock, rock hard,
through his pants. She held it possessively for a few seconds and then
they continued toward their destination. Mason, meanwhile, was folding
the covers down to the foot of the mattress. Next, he plumped up both
pillows. There was a dimmer switch for the overhead light, which he
turned down until the room was nearly dark, but not so much that the
lovers wouldn't be able to see each other. And the space was still
illuminated enough that he would be able to witness everything they did.
He put himself close to the wall, facing the bed he had shared with his
bride so many nights. In the very beginning there had been sex. Then
she cut him off and switched him to performing with his mouth on her
pussy, an act that sickened him. He stood there in his sissy outfit, the
panties still down in back. Mason felt utterly unmanned.
As Mason had anticipated, Ginger stripped sensuously. Next, she began to
undress Luke. They angled themselves so that, when she lowered his roomy
boxer shorts, Mason got his first look at the man's formidable organ. It
was long and thick and had a dark and heavy head. At full erection, it
thrust out from his fit body an enviable nine inches. Mason thought of
his own four-and-a-half length and felt more inadequate than ever. He
nervously licked his lips, tasting the gloss that coated them. Luke
eased Ginger back onto the bed with surprising tenderness. She parted
her legs wide. The powerful man knelt between them and positioned
himself for penetration. As the tip of his massive member touched the
vestibule of her sex, she released a shuddering breath. He eased into
her, triggering a series of short cries of satisfaction. Once he was
fully inserted and had paused to let her relish the sensations, he began
slowly pumping. Ginger mewled happily and wrapped her legs around him.
Mason hugged himself and dropped his chin, but he could not look away.
Ginger sounded possessed as she begged, "Don't stop, Luke. Go faster.
Please, baby."
He picked up the pace slightly and asked, "How's that?"
She exhaled through pursed lips. "So much better than anything I ever
got from my loser husband and his puny pecker."
"Yeah? Maybe you should give him another try."
"That pathetic prick of his will never feel the inside of my puss again.
Ever."
"Let's have a look at it."
Luke ordered him to ease his panties down to mid-thigh. He snorted
derisively at the sight of Mason's penis.
Ginger said, "Like I told you, it's barely there."
"Unbelievable," Luke said. "I guess it never got its growth spurt."
"Yeah," she agreed. "He got shortchanged at the prick bank."
The confident man gave Ginger a few hard strokes and her words were
replaced by rising and falling vocalizations. The series of noises ended
in staccato yips.
Her lover chuckled. "You like all kinds of stuff." He varied the angle
of this thrust. Slowed back down. Added a rolling motion to his hip
action. Everything he did pleased her.
"You know what else?" she said, her voice thick with arousal. "Mason --
or Sniffles -- was only able to go once a night. And he always finished
too soon. Not that more would have been better, with such a tiny tool.
He was bad in bed every way a guy could be. It's no wonder I had to turn
him into a sissy. He brought it on himself."
As those words sank into Mason's mind, Luke silenced Ginger's speech by
accelerating his tempo. She writhed under him and cried out his name.
When she found her voice, it was to praise him and criticize her spouse.
Luke maintained his control and took her through a trio of animated
climaxes. Not until the third one did he allow himself to finish,
grunting and blasting his plentiful spunk into her depths. She cried out
several times before sinking into a pleasant afterglow.
"Okay," Luke said a few minutes later. "Time for something new. You've
got Sniffles over there trained to eat pussy real good. Now he's going
to learn a new skill. How to clean you up with his mouth after I've
unloaded inside there."
"You mean..." she said disbelievingly, "... make him eat your cream out
of my twat?"
"That's the deal," he assured her. "Eating cream pie. Sucking the
filling from your cannoli. It's the best way to make sure he never again
thinks, even for a minute, that he's any kind of a man. All right?"
She brightened. "Perfect. I'm getting charged up all over again, just
thinking about it. And the idea of you, my big strong stud, making him
do it, for some reason that excites me even more." She took several deep
breaths. "Let's go. I want Sniffles to lap up all that rich thick
white-sauce you pumped me full of."
Luke chortled. "You heard the lady, Sniffles. Get into your usual spot
and fasten that sissy mouth where it belongs. I don't want you to miss a
single slimy drop. Get busy, wimp."
Mason was nauseated. It was like his throat was closing up. But he
moved on autopilot and got his mouth an inch from Ginger's overflowing
slit. The musky scent turned his stomach. The thought of what he was
about to do made him dizzy. Even so, his tongue came out and he got his
first taste of Luke's semen. Mason scooped up a generous portion, to
take it into his revulsed mouth. He made himself swallow and it slid
down his gullet. As he continued to gather up and consume that messy
deposit, the lovers held onto each other and kissed furiously. Ginger
became noticeably overheated and, as he was reaching the end of his
revolting task, she had another, smaller orgasm. It produced fresh
fluids, which the cuckold had to slurp up and gag down as well.
When it was all done, Ginger told him, "I got you something to celebrate
Luke's first sleepover with us. It's on the floor of the closet, in
another of those pink bags, with the handles. Go get it, Sniffles."
He did as he was told, taking the bag and setting it on the dresser.
What came out of it was a filmy baby-doll nightie. Ginger had him
wriggle out of the embarrassing top and remove those satiny panties. He
got the sleepwear over his head and let it slide down, caressing his
hairless torso as it went, teasing his sensitive nipples. He glanced
down and saw his below-average penis was stiff. It poked out, like a
half-size imitation of what Luke sported.
"Looks like somebody liked everything that just happened," Luke observed.
"No," Mason said unconvincingly. "It's not true."
"Your dick doesn't lie," his wife told him. "So now, every time we have
one of these scenes, Luke and I will know that you're enjoying it too."
"It's not possible," he said without conviction.
The pair on the bed laughed. Luke reached down and dragged the covers up
to cover them both. He told Mason, "Start pulling on that minnow,
Sniffles. Keep it up while we take a nap. But don't finish yourself."
"If you hold back until we wake up," Ginger said, getting into the mood
Luke had set, "we might let you squirt then."
"Into the palm of your hand."
"After which you can lick it all up, nice and slowly, and show us how it
coats your tongue."
"Then you can gulp it down."
"And smile."
"Before you thank us."
They snuggled up against each other. The snack food was forgotten.
Mason stood there in only his transparent nightie and those unwanted
slippers. He hated that he had to dress so girly. It was traumatizing
to see his wife in bed with her capable lover. Yet why had he had that
physical response? Was his erection truly a reaction to what he had
experienced? If so, and with them continuing to treat him that way, how
much further could he be taken? What if the unthinkable happened, and he
became a willing submissive sissy, desiring to be dressed in feminine
ways, and craving to be a body slave to his wife and her manly stallion?
And what if those changes were irreversible?
*********
(Such is the fate of a congenital beta male. Please leave comments on
this story and any of the earlier ones you enjoyed.)
Oprah
- 28.09.2021
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