Led By Her - Special Femdom Marriage Boxed Set (Books 1-6): A Dominant Female Submissive Male Femdom & Cuckolding Tale

by Tinto Selvaggio

  My pulse starts to race at the thought.

  I turn to the iron to make a start on the contents, suddenly very aroused at my wife having put me in this situation. I pull out a dark brown, chiffon blouse with a lace trim. My hands are actually quivering as I hold this fragile item of Becky’s clothing. How crazy is it being a submissive man?

  I look at the rest of the pile, there’s so much to do here. This will take hours of my life. Hours spent getting this woman’s clothes ready for her to wear. Hours I could spend enjoying myself on a bank holiday instead of which I’m it devoting it to helping my wife’s relationship with her friend and making that friend’s life easier in the process.

  Under the chiffon top is a pair of light blue stretch jeans so small that they have to be Becky’s. But there are men’s clothes - Dominic’s, as well.

  Then, for the first time I notice the shelf behind the door on the other side of the room. On it is a little rail decorated with a row of mostly dark underwear: Panties and bras. I try to catch my breath. My heart beats like a piston in my chest.

  I glance through the window to make sure that no-one is looking in here, but they’re far too caught up in their own conversation. I move across to the rail transfixed by the sheer size of the bra cups. They dwarf anything my wife owns. Then my hands are magnetically drawn to a tiny sheer black g-string. Do I dare take these?

  What am I thinking?

  I stare at Becky’s underwear for what feels several minutes, feeling my palms begin to sweat. Then my hands reach out towards them, trying to make up my racing mind when I become aware of Becky standing in the doorway.

  Her head is cocked to one side, her arms are crossed over her ample chest and her eye brows are raised at me.

  “Er, I was just wondering if I was supposed to do these things as well. “ I look down at the floor, my face on fire.

  “Underwear?” Becky’s sighs and her eyes crinkle up as she sceptically examines me. The top three buttons of her dress are undone now and her imposing cleavage swells in front of me.

  “Surely you know not to iron a ladies’ underwear of this kind Stuart. Especially ones as delicate as some of these.” She lifts the g-string from the rail and holds it up in my face. Then she shakes her head slowly at me.

  With her chest taunting me so that I almost can’t bare it, she moves in close to me, leaning across me to lift the rail of panties, bras and underpants from the worktop.

  “I think I’d better remove these….just so that you’re not distracted.” She whispers the last word right into my face. I’m sure she sees my hands tremble as she gives a knowing little smile then disappears out of the room with her underwear.

  I’m still breathing heavily when through the window I catch sight of Lynne pulling her yellow top over her head and stripping to her bikini. Moments later Becky returns to me as I’m laying out the first pair of her skinny jeans on the ironing board.

  Without a word she picks up a bottle of suntan lotion from the windowsill. Then she reaches up onto her tip-toes and pulls the small top window closed and takes hold of the cord on the window blind.

  “We don’t want anything to get in the way of your good work now do we?” She pulls down the blind and once she’s blocked my view of the outside, she switches on the light.

  “You’d better make a start on all that hadn’t you? Otherwise it’s going to be a very long, hot afternoon for you.”

  She raises one eyebrow at me, then with her nose in the air and a little smirk, she turns her back on me and I watch the sway of her hips as she disappears from the room.

  Once the door is closed I hear a key turned in the lock. I’m left alone with her clothes, wishing I’d put on some shorts myself instead of these heavy jeans.

  Becky was certainly right about one thing, this is going to be one, long, hot afternoon.

  Led By Her 2

  A Dominant Female, Submissive Male Femdom Marriage Tale

  By Tinto Selvaggio

  Chapter One

  I wince as my bare back reaches the cool painted wood of our bedroom door.

  “It’s not that cold! Hold your arms up properly.” My wife Lynne laughs and shakes her head making her long blonde hair tumble around her shoulders. I raise my arms and rest my back fully against the door. She’s taller than me in her highest heels and as she leans across me taking hold of one of my wrists, the black lace bra she’s wearing brushes my throat.

  I inhale deeply but smell only the faintest trace of her familiar perfume.

  “Mmm, you look so hot” I tell her as her hair caresses my face.

  Her big blue eyes look above my head as she reaches up to the nylon straps of the door jam restraints. Her hands are soft and cool on my skin as she wraps the first cuff around my left wrist. She tightens it then I hear the sound of Velcro as she pulls and fastens it. It feels nice and secure. She takes hold of my second wrist and I have to rise to the balls of my feet to help her attach me to the other cuff.

  “Are you alright like that?” She stands back to admire her handiwork, one arm across her chest and a hand over her face.

  I nod my head, my eyes travelling up and down the length of her curves in her lingerie and heels. She takes her hand from her mouth and comes back towards me. She smiles at me and extends both arms towards me, palms facing down. Her long crimson fingernails make contact with my collar bones. Then she tilts her head to one side and still smiling, slowly lets her nails trace their way over my chest, lightly grazing my nipples and raking down my stomach.

  I want to cry: “Harder!” but I stop myself.

  She brings her nails to a halt at the waist of my shorts. Then while I’m still panting heavily, she takes her fingers off me and turns away, walking over to her bedside table. I watch the roll of her plump ass, revelling in the fact that my young wife could do something like this to me.

  “I didn’t tell you, I had lunch with Becky and Dominic today.” She pulls her hair back away from her eyes and sits on the edge of our bed looking through one of the drawers in the cabinet alongside.

  My insides surge with excitement. Not just the mention of Becky’s name -, but the thought of my pretty young wife being in the company of her friend’s lecherous older husband as well.

  “How were they?” I try not to sound too enthusiastic.

  “Oh Becky was fine. Just a little stressed out. She’s hosting a dinner party for some of Dominic’s clients on Saturday night and she’s panicking she won’t have everything ready in time.” She continues to rummage through the drawer.

  “And Dominic was just his usual hunky self.” She smiles over at me and wiggles her eyebrows.

  I feel the familiar throbbing between my legs at her tease before my thoughts return to Dominic’s young wife. There are moments when I wonder whether those ‘occasions’ with Becky actually happened. Did I really do what my wife asked, kneel in front of her glamorous raven-haired friend and take her high-arched little feet into my hands? Did I honestly stand ironing this woman’s clothes while she and my wife lounged outside half naked in the sun?

  Of course I know it did happen because I’ve hardly been able get the events out of my head since. My bed feels like a prison most nights after Lynne falls asleep. Endless waking in cold sweats, the thought of how I’ve been humiliated in front of this other woman saturating me.

  “Here they are!” Lynne grins over at me and holds up the black sleep mask and small silk purse in one of her hands.

  “I love Becky to bits but I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her.” Lynne closes her drawer and makes her way back over to me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before I left them in the mall to go back to work I went with them to one of the shoe shops. Becky needed to take a pair back because the heel had come loose and I thought I’d have a quick look at some shoes myself. The shop assistant; she tried to suggest Becky must have damaged the shoes herself.” Lynne shakes her head and my pulse rises as I’m reminded again of Becky’s fe
et.

  “I guess the woman made the mistake of assuming that just because Becky’s so beautiful she must be either a bimbo or a pushover. Big mistake. Dominic saw it coming. He walked away to the other side of the store as soon as the woman tried to argue with Becky. The assistant didn’t know what had hit her.”

  I move my head forward so my wife can get the blindfold on me more easily and I realize my balls are tightening as much from the mental image of Becky losing her temper as they are from what my wife is doing to me.

  “Becky demanded to see the manager and ended up getting a full refund. And a voucher off her next shop. Well, he was a man. It was obvious what was going to happen from the way he was looking at Becky - but trying not to look at her if you know what I mean.”

  I know only too well what my wife means. How many times have I jerked off just remembering the way Becky looked down at me when I was on my knees, or even when she locked me in her laundry room? Gray-blue eyes full of cold intent above her turned-up nose. So very different from the warm, appreciative looks my wife gives me whenever I do something like massage her feet.

  Lynne adjusts the blindfold and I shake my head to indicate I can see nothing. Then in one movement I feel my shorts yanked down and my erection springs free.

  “Oh, you are excited aren’t you?” she murmurs and I jump as I feel her fingers making contact with my shaft.

  “Are you working from home again tomorrow?” The question is whispered into my ear making me jerk my head with surprise. Then I feel her fingers gently caressing the length of my cock.

  “Yeah,” I gulp, “I’ve got to get that project finished before the weekend- they need it Monday. Squeeze my cock harder babe.”

  “I was thinking…” Lynne moves close into me now, her voice still the merest whisper as I feel the inside of one of her creamy thighs rub against my leg.

  “You could help Becky get things ready for her dinner party,” Lynne’s other hand circles my balls. “Maybe give her a couple of hours of your ‘domestic assistance’ again?” She pinches one of my nipples making me jump with the shock.

  “What, without you being there you mean?” I can feel my heart thumping, my thoughts scrambling to understand.

  My nipple is released and Lynne moves off from me. I hear a sound I recognize as the wooden pegs in the little silk purse.

  “Well, I might not trust you alone with a woman as attractive as Becky, but I do trust my friend with you. I mean, she’s got a man like Dominic for ‘that’ after all hasn’t she?” One of my nipples is squeezed again between fingers. Then while it’s still being held I feel the far tighter, more intense pressure introduced as a peg takes over from my wife’s fingertips. I moan loudly, the pain momentarily unbearable.

  “Too much? Let me move it back off the nipple a little, it’s right on the end.”

  “No don’t, its fine. “ I pant.

  “Knowing Becky, she’ll make sure you’re far too busy with your chores to be able to try anything on with her - even if you were feeling brave enough.” She whispers, and I feel my other nipple being pinched.

  Lynne’s right of course. It would take balls of steel to make a pass at such a self-assured, glamorous woman as Becky. Especially in her own home and when your wife regards her as her best friend. And one thing no submissive husband like me has is balls of steel.

  I let out a gasp as the 2nd peg is clamped into place on the end of my other nipple. I grit my teeth and wait for the endorphins to kick in above the rush of pain.

  Even when it does, I still can’t think straight. My head is spinning, whirling in on itself, adrenalin rushing through me making me breathless. I may not have balls of steel but my cock feels like it’s made of iron at what my wife has suggested and at what she’s doing to me.

  Why does she want me to go to Becky’s?

  “Did Dominic make any suggestive comments to you again today?” I eventually blurt out as I feel her hands cup my tight balls again.

  For what seems an age she ignores my question.

  “You mean about me being with Becky?” Lynne breathes over my face as her body moves against me again.

  “You know, if you really did want me to go with someone else, to ‘cuckold’ you as you call it, you might have more chance of it being a woman.”

  It’s my turn to fall silent. Then I become aware of a creeping ache in my raised shoulders and calves. Before I can dwell on it, my cock is engulfed in wet heat and I realize I’m being sucked. I feel Lynne’s hair around my hips as she moves her head. I throw back my own head against the door.

  “Do you ever think about it, about being with Becky?” I move my groin forward and back in time with my wife’s head. I hear a little unintelligible moan from down below.

  “Do you Lynne?” I whisper.

  Her sucking accelerates as she noisily slurps and mumbles below me. Then she breaks off momentarily, pulling me from her mouth. I look down and can just about see through a little gap at the bottom of the blindfold. Kneeling there at my feet, my wife has a hand between her own legs.

  Chapter Two

  “She said not to knock on the front door. She wants you to go around the back.” Lynne is in her business suit collecting her handbag and car keys as she readies herself to leave for the office.

  My coffee lies untouched in front of me on the kitchen table next to my laptop. I look at the screen saver scene of Lynne and me in a bar on holiday somewhere in the sun. I’ve been up for hours, trying to make a start on the last part of this work project. I haven’t been able to think straight, my stomach is knotted.

  “Have a good day babe” I kiss my wife’s cheek, smelling the freshness of her shampooed and showered body and hair as she turns to leave. My eyes might pass across her ass in her tight skirt but my thoughts rest elsewhere.

  “You have a good day too and behave yourself at Becky’s.” she turns and grinning, wags a finger at me.

  Once Lynne’s gone I feel freer to contemplate my situation.

  Last night I lay awake for hours and I’m not proud of it, but at one point I even crept out of bed and went to my phone. Just to look at the photos I have on it of Becky, downloaded from her Social Media accounts.

  It’s wrong, but what am I supposed to do? My insides feel in turmoil. Guilt, nerves and sexual arousal all waging war with each other.

  Going with Lynne to her friend’s house and doing household chores there was one thing. Being there just with Becky, without Lynne as the kind of ‘bridge’ between me and her friend will be quite something else. I still hardly know the girl.

  I shower, and then try on several different polo shirt and trouser combinations in the mirror. Eventually I decide on a bottle green shirt and black jeans along with my black windbreaker jacket.

  Without thinking and as usual before I go out, I splash on some aftershave. Then I realize what I’ve done. Becky might think me ridiculous if she smells it. Like I’m trying to impress her or attract her. I quickly wash it off then check the time on the phone. I’m supposed to be there for 10:00am. Realistically I’ve only got until around 1pm to spare there. I’ll need the rest of the day to get this work project finished before the weekend.

  My hands are sticky with sweat on the steering wheel as I pull the car to a halt outside the detached home of my wife’s friend. There’s no sign of Dominic’s 4x4, just the little sporty red Toyota on the drive. I lower my head towards the dashboard so I can’t be seen spraying my breath with freshener. I inhale deeply then try to look casual as I walk up her drive past her car.

  As instructed I ignore the front door and make my way through the little iron gate that squeaks as I open it, then down the side of the garage. Towards the end of the pathway I pass one large window with Venetian blinds closed before I arrive in large, well-tended rear gardens which have open fields beyond.

  I walk across the patio area where I all-too-briefly watched my wife and her friend relax in the sun while I ironed last time I was here. At the green back door I hesi
tate a moment before knocking. As I wait I look to my left. Beyond the little window of the laundry room where I worked for Becky last time, is a large conservatory and beyond that seems to be the window to another room.

  The back door is ajar but I certainly don’t feel brave enough to go in there unannounced. My hand is unsteady in front of me as I raise it to knock on the widow of the door.

  No reply.

  I knock again.

  Maybe this was all a wind-up? Becky’s (or even Lynne’s) idea of a joke? There doesn’t seem to be anyone in.

  Then, just as I’m convincing myself to leave and go back to the ‘safety’ of my home, I hear a shout. Uncertain what I heard, I knock again. My heart beats so fast I feel it might explode.

  “I said: ‘It’s open!” the high-pitched voice sounds a little exasperated.

  My shoulders are hunched as I turn the door handle and ease into the porch area. There’s an immediate smell of washing powder and at the same time the sound of a washing machine spinning from the little laundry room to my left. My feet pad across the tiled flooring and reaching what I know to be the kitchen door. I knock again.

  “Come in Stuart.” Becky’s voice is clear through the half open door.

  I push the door gently and slowly, as if somehow this will lessen the nerves I’m feeling.

  Right in front of me, leaning over the granite worktop with her back to me, Becky is looking at a magazine. Gray sports leggings cling like a second skin to her raised bottom and her legs. I feel the nerve endings on my sweating palms begin to tingle.

  “Morning Becky.” It’s impossible not to stare at the wonderfully smooth roundness of her behind. At the way the material of her leggings darkens into the valley between her cheeks. Embarrassed even though I’m not being observed, my eyes stagger drunkenly to the backs of her delicious thighs and then down the tapering length of her endless legs.

  On her feet she wears pink Reeboks. Her hair is pulled back behind her and nestles halfway down her slender back. More like the tail of a thoroughbred than a pony. I move my head slightly and see that over her shoulder in front of her, long crimson fingernails are spread out over what I can now see is a fashion publication.