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

by Tinto Selvaggio

  “I know I’m sorry about that. I had too much to drink. I had to. Dominic’s client was soooooo boring. “

  Part of me is relieved hearing her words. Another is disappointed she wasn’t attracted to him.

  “So there was no possibility for ‘romance’ then?” I laugh.

  “Don’t be silly” she slaps my arm and in one movement I pull her dressing gown open. I groan at the sight of her curves.

  “Wow you shaved yourself completely!” I stare down between her legs then back up to her face in time to see she’s blushing.

  “That’s so hot” I open up my palm and lower it onto the smooth skin around her pussy. She pulls herself closer in around my neck.

  “Mmm, you smell so good” I inhale her neck.

  Two of my fingers gently stroke the outer lips of her pussy, seeking the heat and moisture deep within and she lets out a little moan.

  “So how did it feel being out with another guy? Knowing your poor husband was hundreds of miles away locked in his chastity belt?” My other hand roams across the curve of one of her bare hips

  “Come on babe; take this thing off me for fuck’s sake. Last night drove me crazy. It’s been so long. I’m desperate for you.”

  “I can’t,” she says flatly, then untangles herself from me. She pulls her dressing gown closed and ties it around her waist.

  “What do you mean you ‘can’t’? Tell me you haven’t lost the key!” My stomach tightens at the prospect.

  “No, I haven’t lost the key.“ She laughs and I can taste the relief in my mouth.

  “So can you please get me out of it? Quickly. Even if it’s just for the night.” As the words come out of my mouth I can hardly believe I’m offering myself up for further chastity so quickly. Or maybe I can.

  “I can’t let you out. I haven’t got the key.”

  “Don’t mess about babe. Tell me where it is, I’ll get it”

  “I gave it to Becky.”

  Chapter Three

  “How come we’re both going over to Becky’s?” I ask. It’s not the only question buzzing around my head like a wasp this morning. “And I don’t understand why you gave her the key to the chastity belt.”

  “She and I are going to the mall and getting our nails done this afternoon. She just said she wanted to show me something at hers first.” Lynne is standing in front of the full length mirror in our bedroom in a set of little white lace underwear. She’s blow-drying her hair.

  “Show you what? And why do I need to be there?” I can feel the acid in my stomach starting to bubble inside me. My fingers twist my wedding ring.

  “How should I know?” Lynne snaps, looking across at me in the mirror. “She probably just wants you to do some housework before we go out.”

  “I’ll wait downstairs for you.” I rise from the bed, my mind swirling with whether this is the day Becky puts me out of my misery. When she tells my wife about the pictures she found of herself on my phone. Or the day she reports finding me with my face around her cycle seat and her mattress or that I let her beat me.

  Why does she want us both at her house together?

  “Are you ready then?” Lynne arrives downstairs in the kitchen a few minutes after I do. She looks gorgeous in figure-hugging jeans and little black leather jacket with a matching bag over her shoulder.

  All the way on the short drive to Becky’s - and when I pull up outside; my stomach feels queasy. “Don’t bite your nails, they look awful like that. I’ll get you some of that liquid to put on them while I’m at the mall.” Lynne shakes her head at me from the passenger seat as we get out of the car.

  Our footsteps sound out of synch with one another as we walk up Becky’s drive. There’s quite a chill in the air even through the weak morning sun and I’m suddenly very glad I have my jacket on.

  Before Lynne can ring her bell the door is opened by a smiling Becky. I snatch a fast look and then lower my eyes.

  She’s wearing a v-neck dark purple jumper. It looks like angora wool. Skin tight and low-cut around her enormous, jutting tits. The jumper hangs a little more loosely below her chest. It exposes a sliver of bare tanned stomach, just above her waist. Lower down: black leather jeans.

  It was only a quick glance, but her jeans looked so tight around her figure that I don’t know how she could possibly move in them.

  With my eyes still down, I study the pair of low black heels on her small feet

  “Ooh, it’s colder than it looks” Becky crosses her arms over her bust and rubs her own shoulders. It doesn’t matter how much I think I know how beautiful she looks -it always takes me by surprise when I see her. She overawes me.

  Lynne steps up into the house and Becky’s hugs her. I’m about to follow, head down until I become ware of Becky’s arm raised. Her palm is in my face.

  “Excuse me?” She rubs one of her shoulders again and then cocks her head to one side, looking at me with raised eyebrows. Behind her, my wife has stopped and turned to watch.

  “Oh. Right, er, yes, er…sorry.” I look down at her long fingers and talons which are now lightly pressing against my chest.

  “Sorry, yes, my mistake. It’s just that Lynne said you wanted me to come too.” I step back from the doorway zipping my coat up to the neck.

  “I’ll see you later then Lynne?” I call beyond Becky to my wife.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Becky’s delicate nostrils flare and her head cocks at me again.

  “You know you don’t use my front door don’t you? What about my housework Stuart? It won’t do itself will it? Go around the back please.” She closes the door in my face.

  For a moment I stand there startled, before I come to my senses. I walk quickly to her gate and push through it. I make my way swiftly down the path around the side to the back of her house.

  There’s a wind getting up and it makes an empty rotary washing line over on the far side of the patio groan as it turns. I knock on the door and wait. Then I knock again. This is ridiculous and I’m close to losing my temper until I see Becky’s outline eventually appear through the frosted glass. I hear the key being turned in the lock.

  A smug little smile hangs off one corner of her voluptuous lips as she looks down her nose and stands back slightly to let me in. Behind her the kitchen door is open and Lynne sits on a stool looking through at us.

  “Let’s show your wife how well-trained you are here Stuart. Go into the laundry room and get yourself ready.” She nods towards the little door on my left and I see Lynne’s brow knit with Becky’s words.

  Oh my God, I don’t think Lynne has any idea that Becky makes me strip to do her housework. What the hell is she going to make of this?

  Even as my mind spins until I feel giddy about how my wife might react, I know I have no intention of challenging Becky’s instructions.

  I’m shaking both with nerves and the cold of the laundry room as I peel off my jacket, shirt and jeans and put them over a small clothes horse. What if Lynne’s devastated when she sees something as insane as this? Her husband willingly going nude to perform her friend’s housework?

  I peel down my underpants and remove my socks. The tiles are cold on my bare feet. Over on the floor near the washing machine is a crumpled white towel. It’s obviously waiting to be washed but it will be warmer to stand on for a moment.

  Almost without even thinking I pick it up and inhale it to see whether I can detect Becky’s aroma or perfume on the stained fabric. It just smells a little musty. I drop it back onto the floor and step on it.

  Just as I’m wondering whether to go and knock on the kitchen door or wait here in the laundry room, the door opens. Becky comes in, closes the door behind her with her back and then leans against the door with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Did you bring my money Stuart?” Her voice is quiet.

  For a second, her question takes me by surprise.

  “Er, no Becky, I didn’t know you wanted any money today.” My hands are covering my ch
astity belt as I stand before her.

  “Keep your voice down Stuart and take your hands away from your groin.” Her mouth tightens as she speaks.

  “I explained to you last time.” She sighs at me. “You coming here to work means I no longer receive my previous allowance for a cleaner from my husband. I expect you to reimburse me. On a regular basis. Every time you attend from now on -without fail. Is that clear Stuart?” Her voice is soft but clear and her swan-like neck extends towards me as she speaks.

  I’m still nodding my head as she turns. I keep my gaze down but am unable to stop my eyes darting to her shapely, rounded rear as she opens the door and sashays from the room.

  Where am I supposed to find the extra money for her? I hardly have any left at the end of the month as it is. Does Lynne know anything about this? Maybe I should talk it through with her. But what if it provokes an argument or a spilt between her and Becky? Do I honestly want this to end?

  I try to reason with myself that there’s nothing I can do about finding any extra cash while I’m here today so there’s little point worrying at this very moment.

  I take deep breaths to steady my heartbeat. Once it feels like it’s returned to something approaching a normal pace, my bare feet pad across the tiles to the kitchen door. I can hear Becky’s voice from inside and I knock for her attention.

  “Come in,” her voice chimes so I open the door but I don’t go in. I stand naked except for my pink chastity belt, just inside the doorway awaiting instructions.

  Both women are sitting on the stools at the breakfast bar sipping coffee from gold-rimmed mugs. Becky stops talking and turns around to face me. Beyond her, one of my wife’s hands shoots up and clamps across her own gaping mouth. Her other hand almost drops her mug and she spills a stream of coffee onto the white granite worktop.

  Closer to me, Becky puffs out her chest and lifts her chin. She looks me up and down with a satisfied smile.

  “Hands!” she shouts at me and I lower my arms to my sides.

  “So what did you think when you heard I had this?” Becky holds up the little silver key to my chastity belt padlock in between the ends of two long fingers and a thumb.

  “I didn’t want you getting round your wife and her letting you out when you got back home last night. You need to be motivated when you come here to work for me.” She puts the key down on the worktop behind her.

  I lower my head, unable to look at either my wife or her friend. My face and neck blaze with embarrassment.

  “Now, my washing needs hanging out to dry Stuart. You’ll find it, along with the pegs, in a large basket behind the washing machine in the corner of the laundry room.“ Without moving from her perch on the stool Becky points beyond me to the door.

  “We’ll be keeping an eye on you through the windows. So don’t be getting get any silly ideas.” Her knowing eyes meet and hold mine.

  ”And don’t take all day over it. Your wife and I are going out later.” She turns to look briefly at my wife before facing me again on her stool.

  “Off you go Stuart. Fetch.” She dismisses me with a flick of her wrist.

  Chapter Four

  My whole groin, from deep inside my balls to the tip of my caged cock aches with longing at being spoken to like a dog by Becky. Unsteadily, I wedge the basket piled with her clothes between the wall and the side of my bare chest as I open the back door to carry her washing outside.

  My nipples stiffen with the cool air and the patio is hard under my bare feet. I hunch my shoulders against the cold, thankful at least that this part of her garden isn’t overlooked from either side and has an open aspect over fields at the bottom.

  I struggle for longer than I expect trying to figure out how to fully open the washing line. As I do, I find myself wondering how Lynne is dealing with what she’s witnessed so far. Seeing her husband belittled by another woman. If she’s unhappy about it she’s not really showing it. But it’s all been her idea hasn’t it - so what did she expect?

  I peg several hand and bath towels to the line then reach back down into the basket.

  My fingertips touch a fine, delicate material and adrenalin suddenly floods me. Frantically I dig further through the pile. First one, then another, followed by several more pairs of Becky’s tiny little panties. Probing further, there are lace bras in matching colors with huge cups almost the size of goldfish bowls. My breathing is heavy. I look quickly to the windows.

  Most of the underwear is black, some is white and one or two crimson. Virtually every pair I handle is either thin lace or sheer.

  My throat tightens as I imagine how incredible she must look for her husband in any one of these.

  I pick out what seems the sheerest pair of panties. They appear fashioned more from a spider’s web than made of lace. My eyes slide across to the windows again. I don’t think I’m being observed too closely.

  Two of my fingertips and my thumb gently and slowly massage the gossamer thin material back and forth. They caress the largest area of the fabric, tingling with the knowledge that this material makes contact with the cheeks of Becky’s behind. Then with my breathing slowing, I do the same with the thicker material of her gusset.

  I know if I had the opportunity - and a pocket, this tiny, feather-light fabric which has pressed so intimately against Becky’s flesh; would be taken. And cherished.

  What is this fucking chastity reducing me to?

  But was I so different before she was even starving me of sex? I think back to when I licked her sweat up from her exercise mat and I cringe.

  I carefully peg up all Becky’s panties and bras then inch my way around all the available area on the washing line. I hang jeans, t-shirts - some too big to be Becky’s, blouses, and jumpers. Then with the basket empty; I return to the house.

  By the time I’m allowed back into the kitchen Becky and my wife are just getting up from their stools having had lunch.

  “At last.“ Becky smiles before it turns into a frown.

  “And where are your socks? You know how I feel about your bare feet on my flooring when you work inside.”

  “Oh, yes of course. …I’m sorry Becky, I forgot.” I mumble, my hands back over my groin, shielding my chastity belt.

  “Go back to the laundry room, put on your socks and do your ‘bits’ too as usual.” She dismisses me with a swipe of a hand towards the door. Her gold-bangles jangle on her wrist as I start to turn. Lynne’s eyes are wide with disbelief but I manage to avoid directly looking at her before I leave the room.

  Back in the laundry room I lean against the wall to pull on my socks. Then I rub a wet wipe over my balls, what I can access of my cock and the crack of my ass.

  When I return and knock again on the kitchen door I can hear Lynne’s hurried whispering from inside the room. Becky summons me in and when I open the door my wife falls silent and lowers her eyes to her mug.

  “Now you can wash the dishes, tidy everything away in here then report to me in the living room.” Lynne’s face is flushing pink as she passes me and follows her friend out of the room. I watch the movement of their asses as they leave and then make a start cleaning up their mess.

  According to the clock on the oven it’s over half an hour later when I finish and am admitted into the living room.

  Lynne and Becky are next to each other on the sofa. Each of them holds what looks like a small silver peg. Across Becky’s leather-clad lap is her pink riding crop. In between them both on the sofa is a small, rectangular dark brown box about the size of a sun-glasses case. The TV on the wall opposite them is turned down low.

  “We’ll do one of these each Lynne” Becky holds her silver peg up to my wife. Lynne smiles with tight lips.

  “Here.” Becky wraps her lacquered fingers around the handle of the whip then raises it before she taps the floor at her feet. Her silvery-blue eyes blaze wildly into mine.

  I take the couple of steps to the spot she’s indicating.

  “Oh for goodness sake, on your knees S
tuart” she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  Out of the corner of my eyes I check my wife. Lynne is either searching for something in her handbag or pretending to. Whichever it is, she giving the impression that she’s trying to put some ‘distance’ between herself and what’s happening here.

  Even with my wife right there, I hardly have a decision to make. Without taking my eyes from Becky, I lower myself onto the carpet at her feet and look up.

  She puts the riding crop down next to her and holds her peg out towards me. Viewed from this close I can see it has black tips on one end and there’s a silver screw through the peg itself.

  “I think these are going to be another excellent way to keep your husband motivated. They’ll also encourage you to get more done in less time Stuart.” Becky leans down to me and her cleavage rolls forward in my face. I stifle a moan. Her chest suspended in front of my sex-starved eyes, demanding my attention like some fabulous monument. The smell of her fruity perfume is in my face and I inhale deeply.

  One elegant finger and thumb extend towards to my bare chest and she squeezes my left nipple. I shudder at her touch and close my eyes. My long-neglected cock pulsates. I become aware of Lynne shifting in her seat next to Becky.

  As Becky continues to lightly pinch my now stiffened nipple, her other hand brings the peg towards it. In one movement she transfers my teat from the pincers of her fingers into the black jaws of the peg. I wince and she lets out a little laugh. Then she moves in closer, her breath washing over my face. Her brow furrows and she squeezes the peg, momentarily releasing the pressure from my nipple. She takes my teat back into her manicured fingertips and then with her little pointy tongue visible in one corner of her mouth, she slowly reapplies the black tips of the peg to the very ends my flesh. This time that the pain is excruciating and I cry out.

  “Oh don’t be such a baby Stuart. I haven’t even tightened it yet.” My whole body stiffens and I grit my teeth. She hurriedly turns the screw so that the tension of the peg is adjusted. The ends clamp ever harder into my tortured nipple.