Southern Belle Cuckold

by Derrin Hart

  I thought for sure this was the start of something big. But Catherine was still not nuts about dildos and toys. She liked the realness of a cock. It pissed me off, actually. She had come three times. What the fuck more did she want?

  We hit a few more Mandingo parties in the coming fall and winter months. There was a Halloween costume ball, a Christmas party, and New Year’s bash. Catherine had her fill of Mandingo guys like Roland, Barry, Charles, Sam, and a few new ones. She even had a new nickname, Sweet Lips. Her cunt lips were the biggest around and the word spread, just like she spread her legs for these black brothers.

  I, on the other hand, was sick of the Mandingo crowd, and eventually Cat had enough of them, too. She only remained interested in Charles. We dropped the parties and moved on.

  I tried again and again to get Catherine to let me have her virgin tight ass. To no avail. We hardly had sex at all, and when we did, that little butt was off limits. I was still furious about what she had done to me and I wanted revenge.

  At the start of the New Year, I heard a lot of “You’re a good dad,” “a good husband” and whatnot. Naturally I wondered what she wanted from me now. We did more renovations on the house and spent most of our time with family and friends. The sex part was taking a back seat. I got off masturbating to video and photos I had taken of Cat with various men, as well as online porn. After a while I hardly cared whether Cat and I fucked or not. She sort of blew me off anyway regarding any sexual play. However she was very attentive outside of the bedroom. She gave me constant massages and always took the time to make my favorite dishes and snacks.

  She was getting no sex and no substantial extracurricular activities like those parties anymore. It was taking a toll on her and she was uptight at night.

  “Are you okay?’ I asked.

  Catherine, clearly frustrated, complained, “I need sex, you know.” Yes, I knew. “Your tiny little penis is useless,” she went on. “Let’s be honest here, Mike. You don’t have what it takes to handle me. I’m too much for you and we don’t fit well.”

  I offered to lick her pussy and she shot me down.

  “It’s not enough! I need more than that. Your pathetic pee pee won’t get hard and if it does, it won’t last but a few minutes. You know what that does to me? It drives me crazy, honey.”

  We had these conversations night after night. The only new solution I could come up with was for us to place ads looking for studs. Or we hit a bar randomly again and pick up some guy.

  She was not against those ideas but wanted more from me. “We should probably lock you back up, Michael,” she announced one Tuesday evening in bed. “You know how much I like sex and how orgasmic I am, but you always avoid me and I want more from you. You need to want to satisfy me, and be open to anything that gets me excited. When you’re not locked up, you’re jerking off—way too much, I’m sure. I think it’s time to restrain you once more.”

  She had a point. Chastity worked wonders at getting me to want her, or to put it more accurately, getting me to want out so I could get off. It drove me nuts not being free to play with myself and orgasm each day, multiple times if possible. But the device hurt, it was difficult to clean, and it made it a pain in the ass to go the bathroom.

  After several such discussions, we dropped the talks for a while. She started a new routine in bed. I was her toy and she the boss. “Lick my feet, suck my toes, and get me breakfast in bed,” were orders I heard constantly. I was asked to shave her pussy clean weekly and polish her fingernails and toenails every other day. She took me up on oral sex each night and made me buy a new vibrator for her. I was her slave in the bedroom. Without the cage I could satisfy myself just fine, yet I had to behave or she’d lock me up again. That might actually be best in the long run, but for know I was avoiding the idea.

  I was surprised when one evening Catherine asked me to help her with a party for her co-workers and friends. She wanted someone to serve snacks and drinks. Then came the kicker: she wanted me to wear a silly maid outfit. I was aghast and wanted no part in it. We fought heavily and she threatened me with retribution. In the end we agreed that I would wear nothing but boxer shorts and a bow tie. To me this was bad enough; no way was I wearing a maid’s outfit. She had this vision of all the ladies getting a kick out of me, which would make the party more upbeat. She was selling kitchenware, for God’s sake. Who cared?

  At six sharp the house flooded with women. The alcohol flowed. I served trays of shrimp and chocolate-covered pretzels and took bottles of wine and champagne around for refills.

  The ladies giggled and made comments about how subservient a husband I was. A few pinched my ass—or smacked it, actually—during my runs to the kitchen and back. Catherine was all smiles. The women bought all her kitchen offerings and got tipsy if not wasted as the night went on.

  I was standing there in front of all the guests when Catherine announced it was time to wrap things up. “Well, everyone, I want to thank you so much for coming to my fun party. It was so awesome having y’all at the plantation.”

  The ladies all laughed and one added, “I must say, having your hubby serve us has been such a glorious good time.”

  Another guest, a tall woman in a purple wide brimmed hat, added, “Oh yes, such a good man he is, and you’re very lucky Catherine.”

  Then Cat did the unthinkable. She looked as if she was going to agree and hug me, but shockingly she pulled down my boxer shorts in front of all eleven guests. “Are you sure I’m what you call lucky girls?” she blurted out as I tried to get my boxers back up.

  The women were shocked, too. “Oh dear!” one proclaimed, while another said, “Yuck!” Yet another said, “My God, he’s a tiny one.” The rest sat in silence for a moment; then the entire room erupted into laughter. As I turned to get the hell out of the living room, I heard more comments: “I’m so sorry for you, Catherine,” and “I’ve never seen a man so small.”

  After the final guest had left Catherine met me in our bedroom. I was furious and ashamed. “How in hell could you have done that to me?” I said.

  My wife said nothing. She slipped out of her skirt and blouse and stood before me, naked. “Do you like my body, Michael?” she asked. She paraded about in a circle, her nipples hard, her cunt lips showing. “Get over here and kneel before me! Eat my pussy and make me explode. Be the man you have to be. Make me happy, husband!”

  I did as she ordered.

  Two weeks with no sex later, Cat invited her bald stud Charles to our home. The girls were sent away and the three of us sat at the kitchen bar. Catherine wore a silver button-down blouse opened halfway with her lacy white push-up bra partially showing. She had slipped into a very tight pair of white dress pants and silver spiked high heels. Charles arrived in dress jeans and a lavender button-down untucked long-sleeved shirt, a gold chain around his neck and gold watch on his wrist. We only chitchatted for a few minutes before they got down to business. They hadn’t spoken since that night when he didn’t show up after leaving with Sether.

  “Get us some drinks honey,” Cat told me, as she and Charles edged closer and closer, cheek-to-cheek, lips to lips, cock to cunt. I obeyed. All the while I had been charging up the video camera.

  Catherine dragged Charles upstairs to the bedroom, with me trailing behind. She had a lot of pent-up energy from all the weeks of doing without, and Charles was not just any lover; she actually felt something for him. I hoped it wasn’t love.

  Cat stripped down to a new bra and panties set with a zebra-like print. Not many women could pull off those boy shorts, but she had the perfect ass for it.

  She urged both of us on and my heart sank. All I wanted to do was watch, and I feared some new humiliation. “Come on, my boys, come to your kitten,” she said playfully. “I want you to get naked. I want you both right next to me. Let’s party!”

  Slowly I undressed as did muscular, coal black Charles. I was no slouch for my age, but his body was in a different league. We stood in front of her wearing not
hing but our underwear. Catherine slid our shorts down and knelt between us. The size difference was crazy. He was thick, long and had this massive penis mushroom top. I was small, thin, and my penis head barely existed. Tiny was out-classed and I could not get hard for the life of me. Catherine made fun of my cock and marveled at her hung lover’s giant tool.

  “Well let’s see, what do we have here? Little boy penis and big guy cock.” She teased and stroked us both. She sucked both our cocks and his sprung to life. “My darling husband … I guess now you see; you just don’t compare, my love. Go play with yourself in the corner. I have great sex coming my way—something you don’t ever give me. Better yet, lick Charles’ asshole and make him think you’re worthy!”

  Oh no, not again! I ran to the corner.

  Then the two of them made love … yes, made love. He kissed her for what seemed like hours, tasted her constantly, and fucked her silly all night. “What a cock!” I heard her yell out over and over. Our bed would never be the same. What a workout! She never got tired or sore. Their favorite position was missionary, which made it possible for them to kiss more. She had multiple orgasms, as did he. I sat in my corner with Tiny in hand.

  The time had come for change on my end. I liked seeing Cat happy. I enjoyed seeing her well-fucked. But I could not get used to the teasing and cruel comments, which wore away at my self-esteem. I either had to let go and learn to deal with it or put an end to it. I decided to get even.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I just wanted to teach her a lesson.

  Late one evening I placed an ad online. I was looking for a guy to take my wife by force. I wanted an intruder to fuck my wife in the ass without her consent. This was a risky move, but I could think of nothing else.

  The ad asked for a very well endowed guy to take my wife. I did not mention details. I added a small picture of Catherine in her bikini taken in Jamaica. The ad received nearly one hundred replies in its first two days running. The third day it was flagged and removed from the site. I had a lot of emails to go through.

  I knew what I wanted. However I found it difficult to find the right person. The replies were all over the place. The guys were too old, too young, too fake, or way too weird. I narrowed it down to ten I thought might fit the bill, or at least be worth chatting with. Each one asked the same thing: was she willing to play along in this little fantasy? That is where things got complicated.

  I explained how she loved sex and could never get enough. Some of the guys dropped out after I’d skirted the issue a few times. I signed up for a messenger program and now was able to chat with the ones who were still in the running. Three of them did not want to sign up for the chat program, so now I was left with five choices.

  I eventually told the remaining guys that this was to be our secret and that they would be “taking” my wife, so to speak. Two more dropped out, leaving me with three. The guy I choose was named Adam. He was a decent-looking outdoorsman who worked in lumber sales, or at least said that’s what he did. He was six foot two and built rugged with a thick head of curly brown hair. From his pictures he had a nice cock too. He said it was always his fantasy to take another man’s wife. We were playing with fire here and we both knew it.

  Our plan was set in motion slowly. We went over detail after detail and then put even more thought into the scenario. Each time I thought we had it planned perfectly, something made me hesitate. The winter blues were kicking in, and I thought February might be the perfect month. Adam and I confirmed a night and I made sure the girls were out of the house. I knew Jenny had a pajama party that Friday evening at a friend’s house, and that Julie would be visiting her aunt in Colorado over the week and weekend. So Friday would be the night.

  I told Catherine I had a last-minute overnight business trip. She had little time to make any plans. I apologized about the short notice but explained it was a big deal that could land us a great payoff. She understood and planned to spend the night in. I told her I’d be back early the next day, maybe even later that night—which left open the possibility that I could jet home in the wee hours of the morning. I had a lot of butterflies in my stomach with this crazy plan but didn’t even consider putting a stop to it.

  Events would proceed as follows: I would leave the side deck door unlocked but also hide a key in case Catherine noticed and locked it herself. I told Adam exactly where our bedroom was located upstairs. At no time would he remove his ski mask. The time would be three in the morning, when not a soul would be in our very sparsely populated neck of the Vermont woods. I did not want him to use a knife. The whole blade thing made me too nervous. We decided on a fake gun—a pellet gun that looked real. He had one, and would paint the orange tip black.

  I told him over and over again not to hurt Cat. To slip into our bedroom and get naked before she awoke. He would then put the gun to her temple and wake her. Tell her to do as he said if she didn’t want to get hurt. Warn her not to scream or fight. When we got to this part, my stomach roiled. This undertaking was risky as hell. I told Adam to tell her that all he wanted was a good fuck. Then he would fuck my wife in the ass.

  On that Thursday I chickened out of this particular version of the plan. Everything was on schedule. The girls would not be home and I was going to tell Cat I had the overnight trip and all, but suddenly I had second thoughts. The plan changed. I couldn’t let Adam be alone with her. I would do it with him. I got my own mask and with the time and night the same, I’d be there to join him when he arrived. Together we’d take my wife. He could have her cunt and I, her virgin ass. After we were done with her, I’d make noise as if I had arrived home. Adam and the other guy, namely me, would burst out and leave; then I’d arrive home and go to Catherine to comfort her. I’d also make sure she didn’t get the police involved.

  I set it all in motion Friday afternoon.

  It was a moonless night. After spending most of the evening out of the area, I made my way home and entered our house quietly through the side patio door where Adam was due to arrive. I had my black ski mask ready at my side and sat in a chair, waiting. We had changed the time to one in the morning. At 1:15, I began to doubt the wisdom of the whole thing. I didn’t have a fake gun and she’d know my voice … I sat in the chair and twiddled my thumbs as my anxiety increased. Moments later the door slowly opened and he crept in.

  “Adam right?” I said, glaring at the intruder.

  He nodded and replied in a very hushed tone, “You sure you want this?”

  “I do,” I answered and grabbed my mask. “When we get in there make sure not to hurt her … and …”

  He cut me off mid-sentence. “Dude, I know the plan. Let’s get at it!” He too put his mask on and we made our way up the stairs as quietly as possible.

  Our bedroom was dark, so as we turned to enter I clicked on the hall light so we could see what the hell we’d be doing. There was Catherine, standing there with a gun pointed right at us.

  Adam was out of there so quickly it was almost as if he’d never been there at all.

  “I tried to stop him,” I insisted to my furious wife, “but he wouldn’t back down—”

  Catherine cut me off. “Stop him do what, Michael?” She was ominously calm.

  I groaned, collapsed into a chair and put my head in my hands. “He wasn’t going to hurt you,” I said. “I chose him for you, specially. Then I knew it was all wrong!”

  She had put the gun aside. I didn’t even know she kept a firearm handy.

  There was an odd moment of silence. Her expression was dead serious. “Mike,” she announced, “I’m calling the police, and you’re going to be locked away for a very long time.”

  I was speechless. She grabbed the phone, looking me in the eyes. “You really messed up this time! You’re such an idiot—a fucking loser!” Without thinking I went at her, grabbing the phone from her hand.

  “Honey,” I begged, “please, oh please, don’t do this.”

  She slid her wedding ring off and chucked it direct
ly in my face. It hit me right in the eye and I could hardly see. I dropped to my knees, pleading for my life. “I’ll do anything you say, anything. I’m so sorry. I messed up, I’m stupid, I’m an idiot. I really fucked up.” I grabbed her legs and held on for dear life, begging for mercy.

  Time passed and finally she talked to me. “Don’t move!” She went upstairs and returned with something in her hand. It was my cage, my chastity device. She slapped me hard across the face. “You’re a pig, nothing better. You will wear this from now on. You will do as your queen says, or else. Put it on,” she demanded.

  I quickly stripped and placed the device over my cock. I put the tube over my small shaft, the loop over my balls. She herself locked it and painfully drove the small circle piercing back into the bottom of my skin. I winced, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was now fully secured. She held the key in her hand.

  “If ever you do anything this stupid, or anything for that matter that displeases me, you will never see this key again. Your pathetic mini-penis is mine.” She slapped me once more in the face and commanded that I kneel before her and kiss her feet. I did as I was told. She was now, irrevocably, my Master. I had no choice. She scooped up her wedding ring and brandished it in my face. “I will not put this back on until you have proven yourself.”

  With a snort of disgust, she walked away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following week I did everything I could to make her happy. I installed new wooden blinds in all the rooms, and the process took forever. I bought her a new laptop, one she’d had her eye on for some time. I ran the girls around to various activities and even cooked supper one night. Catherine still barely spoke to me.

  My cock and balls were aching. The device hurt and the piercing was red and swollen. For Christ’s sake, it was killing me. I hunted for the key but found nothing. All I could do was put lotion on myself and try and endure the pain. I could not get off, nor could I even really get a hard-on. My desire to have an orgasm was huge. I’d do anything to have this fucking thing off me so I could get off. My key holder could care less. The very fact that I was now in serious chastity made me ultra horny and I’d do anything to be free, do anything for Catherine.