I first noticed something different a couple of months before I learned how things were going to be different between Kelly and me. Kelly wanted more aggressive and kinky sex, and I tried to accommodate her. That lasted until she sat me down and said that our sex life had to change, kind of. It was Wednesday when she told me.

“Dave, you’ve tried, but it’s just not working, for me at least. I need more and different sex. And you just can’t give it to me.”

I tried to interrupt, but Kelly just talked over me.

"No, Dave, let me talk. Say what I need to say.”

I stopped trying to interrupt, and she continued, "I'm not looking for a divorce or to run around on you behind your back. Instead, I’m telling you I’m going to have lovers. lovers that can give me different kinds of sex. I’m not asking you for permission, and I’ve decided on him. I still love you, but sexually, I need more.”

I started feeling sick to my stomach, but this was Kelly. She’s direct and to the pointI knew if she brought it up like this, she was serious. I kind of wilted, and I couldn’t say anything.

“I’m going to involve you in what happens, but in a subordinate way. Thorne and I have only talked so far, but I’m intending to meet him this Friday. I want to be alone with Thorne for the first time, at least. Instead of Throne and me going to a hotel, you’re going to the hotel. You can go directly from work and come back Saturday morning. He’ll be gone before you’re back if you come home after nine in the morning.

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I need it. Expect to see marks on my body on Saturday. I’ve told him I want to be marked with ownership marks. At some point, you’re going to submit to him too. Exactly what that’s going to look like, I’m not sure, but it will be up to me and him.”

I am paralyzed. I can hardly move, and I can’t say a word as I'm absorbing what she said. She wants me to be her submissive cuckold. I never expected this, but maybe I should have. There isn’t any question about who dominates our marriage. It’s Kelly.

Am I submissive enough? God, am I willing? My cock is getting hard; what the hell does that mean?

I started to tear up as I saw her adamant expression. She was going to cuckold me; she was going to fuck someone else. Throne? Is that his name? I can’t believe it, but I actually do. I close my eyes because I can’t look at her. Instead, I see Kelly naked on our bed, letting some out-of-focus man put his cock in her.

She wants it; she wants his cock. Are those bruises on her breasts?

I couldn't stay, so I had to leave. I fled outside to my car, crying, and barely could get inside, start the car, and leave. The vision of Throne was repeating in my mind. It was in slow motion and close-up as I saw his cock approach her vagina, slowly separating the folds and entering her. While I was seeing that,. I could also see Kelly's face, anticipating the completion of cuckolding me. It faded into a vision of bliss, as his cock was completely inside her.

I had to pull over and stop before I ran into someone. All I could do was cry, as I realized I was probably going to let her do it.

What kind of man can allow his wife to do that to them? He's not a real man, that’s for sure. Even worse, what kind of man gets off thinking about it? It hurts thinking about it, but. Just but.

I am that kind of man.

I got home a couple of hours later and found Kelly in bed waiting for me. “I love you. And you’re a wonderful lover, and I enjoy it. But it doesn’t change what I said earlier. Thorne and I are going to fuck Friday night because I need to be fucked, fucked hard. I need someone to dominate me when he fucks me, at least sometimes.

"We make love together, and I still want you to make love to me; it's different. Thorne is going to fuck me. Whatever he says happens. God, I’ve wanted this forever—to be his slut, to not think or decide; I want to submit.“

She kissed me and stroked my cock. “We've talked about it. Me being his slut. Yes, his slut. It's what I'm missing." She kissed me again, continuing, "I need to be treated as his slut; that means he can fuck me any way he wants. That includes everything and anywhere, Dave. I've agreed that he can fuck me in my cunt—yes, my cunt—because he insists that I have a cunt. My mouth and ass are available to him too. He can cum wherever he wants, too. God, Dave I said he can cum in my ass, my mouth, on my face, anywhere."

She teared up. "I'm sorry, but I need to feel like a slut for him. Um, I promised I could make you do things too. Ah, like, clean his cum off me. With your tongue and mouth. Um, and his dick too, sometimes. Dave, I refused to let him control when you and I make love. I need you too. I need to feel you love me." She hesitated before finishing, saying, "One last thing is that I said he could share me with other men too. Dave, thinking about being that kind of slut makes me wet."

It took some time to completely understand what she meant by his slut. She was being direct enough that I was gradually understanding.

We made love for the last time that night as equals. From Friday on, I was going to be her cuckold. Even while we were making love, she emphasized that what she was going to receive from Thorne was different from what we did.

Friday, as we left for work, we kissed for the last time before she cuckolded me. I kept thinking about tonight while we were kissing, and I tried to undress her and make love, but she refused. "No, Dave, we made love last night. Today I’m starting as Thorne’s slut. It’s an epithet I’m going to wear proudly. From today on, you are my cuckold, and you’ll be submitting to me. Eventually, you’ll be submitting to Thorne too.

“We’re his cuckold couple, and I want to be clean for him. He insists on it.”

We kissed one last time before I let her go to him.

I was in agony, and I hated myself for tacitly agreeing to let her do this to me.  She's so different in slut mode; whatever she intended, she was emasculating me. I hated leaving her to go to work and then inviting him to our house alone. She’s making it clear that she wants this and that she’s going to enjoy it too. Hell. Am I a man? The obvious answer is no.

I want to work and accomplished most of my work, but as the clock came closer to quitting time, I could hardly move or think. Kelly made a reservation for me at a nice hotel and had an overnight bag for me in the car. As I drove to the hotel, I was on autopilot the whole way. I checked in, went to my room to drop my bag, and went to the dining room for dinner. I was there, drinking a glass of wine and finishing my meal, when I saw Kelly wearing a dress I’d never seen before. She was with a guy who was two to three inches taller than me, well-built, and very dominant-looking.

Her dress said sex and more sex. It was obvious that she was dressed for sex, and the guy was going to give it to her. They were holding hands as they entered, and he kissed her as they got to their table, very much a prelude to sex. Her attention was one hundred percent on him and their kiss.

Why did they come here, where I might see them? Was that the reason, so I could see them? God, they had to come here so I might see them, so I could picture them together. Which one of them decided to make it real that Kelly was going to be fucking him and that his cock would be taking her? Was it Kelly or Thorne?

I felt my cock harden, and it was soon leaking. My pain went from pain to agony as I watched them. I quickly finished and left. I was trembling as I got in the elevator. She hadn’t warned me she was going to show me my replacement, a man who could give her the type of fucking she wanted.

Seeing them together like that made the entire thing real. The pain, the self-hatred, and the emasculation I was feeling overwhelmed me. I wanted to close my eyes, but whenever I did, the image I’d seen before was there, except this time the guy wasn’t hazy. I could see his face, a clear vision of his body, and his tremendous cock impaling Kelly.

My vision changed; I saw Kelly with his cock in her and heard her scream his name as it was happening. As he moved off her, the bite marks and welts on her breasts—god, no, they weren’t breasts; they were tits, his tits. His tits that he owned now. At best, they were shared by me and Thorne.

Several agonizing hours passed before I fell asleep, drained of all emotion.

I woke after nine, and I slowly showered, dressed, and checked out. It was ten in the morning when I finally drove up.

Do I still belong here? She said he would be gone by nine, but is he? Does she want me to continue to live here? Well, I’ll find out. I was so sorry for myself. I was pathetic.

I went to the front door, rang the bell, and waited. When she finally came to the door, she asked, “Why did you ring the bell, Dave?”

She was walking gingerly; god, he must have been rough-fucking her. I can't even imagine doing that to her.

I stayed on the porch and asked, “Did you enjoy last night? You do know I saw you in the dining room, don’t you?”

“Why are you standing there? I told you to come after nine, and I’d be alone.”

I looked at her. “I wanted to be sure I am still welcome here.” I looked away, waiting, noting she hadn’t answered my questions.

She looked pretty banged up, even though she’d taken a shower and washed her hair. As I entered, I untied her robe, exposing her tits to me, and I saw the welts and bite marks I was expecting. God, they were almost the same as I visualized.

“So, do you enjoy being his slut? I know what a slut means to a man like him.  it’s clear he enjoys giving you pain What more did he tell you? Kelly, take the robe off so I can see all of you.” I reached over and forcibly removed it, and I could see the extent of how he marked her, not just on her tits but on her ass too. It looked to be painful.

I stood there, looking and waiting.

“It was pretty intense, Dave. But yes. I did enjoy it. I needed it, and this is not going to make me quit. Yes, he’s going to share me with his friends. He’s going to cum on my face; in fact, if you’d been here at nine, you'd have seen his cum on me.

"Eventually, you’re going to watch everything. I want you to see it as it is happening, every bit of it. For now, I want to go to bed so you can hold me. Just hold me."

That night, we slept together. He’d left her in enough pain that I didn’t want to try to do anything. We slept spooned together, with my hands gently cupping her breasts. As I was lying there, I realized that for me, she had breasts, but for Thorne, she had tits. Even now, her body was absorbing his cum. Her body was repairing what he’d done to her. The bruises and bite marks would be gone in a few days, but my memory was indelible.

By Monday, we had made love, and I made every effort to make it as unforgettable as possible. I was hoping it might erase her need to be his slut and make her want to simply be my lover. On Wednesday, after a long, fruitful, and passionate session of making love, she let me know she was going to his house on Friday evening.

“That was wonderful, Dave. Toe curling, in fact. You’re the best lover I can imagine. Um, I love you, but I’m going to Thorne’s house Friday evening. God, Dave, I want to be his slut again. I called him over lunch, and I told him. We decided on Friday and Saturday, so I’ll be home Sunday.”

When she said that, all my hopes crashed, and the familiar pain returned.

Two nights and all day Saturday being a slut for him. Making love to her isn’t important enough to her. What are they going to do? What is Kelly going to be doing? I had to get out.

I redressed and left for an all-night coffee shop. I was crying as I left the house, and I was in agony. I was under control when I got there, mostly. I went in and got scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. I sat there, absorbing what she’d said. I was going to be her cuckold permanently, it seemed. She wasn’t rejecting me yet. She seemed like she enjoyed making love to me, but that hurt; it was agonizing.

When I returned home, nothing was said about it. She was in bed asleep or pretending to be asleep. I undressed and got into bed, but we didn’t cuddle. As I lay there, I tried to force my pain down, and it kind of worked.

Thursday night, Kelly openly packed her clothes for Thorne. I did notice she included one very sexy dress, shoes, and makeup, but she didn’t pack any panties. I was wondering if this was for him, or was this the time he’d share her with his friends?

Why is my cock so hard? I hate this. I do. I want her to not go., so why is my cock hard and leaking too? I can picture her in front of a bunch of guys, and Thorne is undressing her for them. He’s fucking her, and it’s driving her wild. When he cums in her, another guy is undressing and then fucking her. I’ve got to quit this, or I’m going to cum.

When I got home after work, I was alone again, but for two nights this time. Two nights of wondering what they are doing. I didn’t know what they were doing, but I was picturing lots of things that might be going on.

I didn’t even know if it was just the two of them or if he was sharing her cunt with other men. That gave my imagination a lot of room to wander. All of it was erotic and humiliating.

On Sunday morning, she walked in just a bit after nine in a robe—a robe that wasn’t hers—and when she slipped it off, there was cum all over her. It was obviously more than one man could produce. It was in her hair, on her face, all over her tits, and matted in her pussy hair, and I could see where it had leaked out of her—onto her thighs, god, out of her slut cunt.

The only thing she said was, “Lick it off me, all of it. This is your first job as my cuckold. There’ll be more as we go on, but this is your first task.”

My humiliation added to everything else I’d been feeling. When I ejaculated in my pants, I felt even worse. I felt the pain and humiliation, capped by the realization that I was going to do it. I was going to lick it off her; I realized I really was her cuckold!

I started by kissing her all over her face and licking their cum. I moved down to her neck, kissing and licking as I went. When I started on her breasts—no, her tits—I realized that breasts don’t have other men's cum on them; tits do.

I cleaned her stomach and then went to her cunt. Yes, her cunt. I could still see more cum oozing out of it. I led her to the shower, got the water warm, and guided her inside. I undressed and went in and washed her hair and the residue of their cum.

When I was drying her, I asked, “How many were there?”

She thought for a moment, “Um, there were five plus Thorne. We met for dinner on Friday and then went to his house. On Sunday, they were still there, and they all came on me and in me. I felt like such a slut, exactly what I wanted, Dave.”

Yes, I can tell. Oh, Kelly, this is what you want. The question is, can I take the pain and degradation?

Afterwords, we went to the bedroom, and I just held her. I wasn’t ready to make any decisions.

We went along with our regular routine: going to work, living together, talking, but avoiding talking about the obvious issue. A few days later, she did come home late with no explanation and no questions asked. I was living under constant worry: when would the next step happen? What would it entail?

I kissed her each time she came home late and thought, I can tell, Kelly. You really do need it, don’t you? It hurts to see you doing this. Its agonizing—the pain, the humiliation, my emasculation—yet I still love you. There are two Kelly's: one is my wife, and the other is Thorne's slut. Can she stay like this? or will one win out?

We were in our old routine, mostly. I was sure she was still seeing Thorne; she didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. That ended after about three weeks when I got a phone call from Thorne. He told me who he was and told me he was coming over tonight and that Kelly expected him. I was going to watch them together and help. He was direct and matter-of-fact about it. I would undress them both in her bedroom; he called it her bedroom; it was her bedroom. I could sleep there only when he allowed it from now on. I was going to have to undress Kelly, and then undress him and watch as he fucked her. Afterwards, I was going to sleep in the guest room. my room.

Those three weeks had been just a respite until he increased the humiliation and degradation. I had to leave work because of a sudden bout of nausea. In fact, it was real. After the call, I had to vomit.

When I got home, Kelly was there, getting ready for him: shaving, showering, and dressing in clothes I’d never seen before. Slut clothes she’d bought just for him. She’d never been caught dead in them before.

It’s really going to happen; they are going to make me an acquiescent cuckold. A cuckold who isn’t objecting is actually facilitating it. I was getting nauseous; I could feel my hands trembling, and the pain—emotional pain—was agony. At the same time, my erection was intense. I hated it, but I wanted it at the same time.

He came at seven that evening, exactly at seven. When he rang the bell, Kelly made me greet him like a welcome guest. We shook hands, and then Kelly came out of the bedroom dressed for him. She walked up and kissed him. They kissed, and his hands went to her tits, squeezing them like they belonged to him.

He sat in my chair in the living room like he was the master of the house, and then Kelly sat on his lap, continuing to kiss him. He had a smug smile that showed he was enjoying demonstrating his control over Kelly. They acted with no embarrassment, just casually, like he was a normal guest. They were talking about normal stuff, and they even included me in some of the conversation.

I hated it, but I followed suit. It was normal for Thorne to drop by to fuck my wife. “Good to see you, Thorne. I hope you enjoy my wife.” Right! I could taste the bile rising in my throat. 

My cock got harder and harder. It didn't seem to have any problem with what was happening.

Did I want this, or was something else going on?

"Well, David, it’s good to meet you," he started. “Kelly has said lots of good things about you, but there are things you don’t provide, and I’m here to start showing you what you’re missing. Let’s go into our bedroom. It’s our bedroom from now on, Kelly’s and mine from now on. You know that. You will sleep with her in the guest bedroom from now on. Right?” He looked at me, waiting for me to nod that I understood.

I stood there, just stood there, and then looked at Kelly. She nodded at me, and I submitted to him again and nodded. Yes, I would do anything he told me to do.

I led them to the master bedroom, which had been Kelly and my bedroom. I felt sick to my stomach as I stood there waiting. I was waiting for Thorne to tell me to undress Kelly for him.

"Okay, David, undress your wife for me. I want you to do it slowly, very slowly. I want to enjoy you giving me your wife to fuck.” He smiled the same smug smile. “When you have her naked, I want you to give her to me. I want you to say it while you put my hands on her tits, and then you put my hands, my hands on her cunt. So I can put my fingers in her.

“When my fingers are in her cunt, she'll tell you what to say. You’ll repeat it to us.”

I could hardly stand up. I thought waiting for her to come home was hard; it was nothing like what I was going to do for them. I was riding an emotional roller coaster between the pain and anguish I was feeling and the arousal I was feeling. Finally getting to this point, the arousal I was feeling was almost overpowering the pain; it came in waves of one and then the other.

I reached and touched her back, grasped the zipper, and slowly pulled it down, just as I was told. I slipped the front down, exposing her bra, and slid the dress down to the floor. I held her so she could step out of it. I paused, then slowly unfastened her bra and slipped it off. I knew he’d seen her naked breasts, tits. But this was different; I’d just exposed them to him. God, it was different.

I hesitated, but I didn’t want him to have to tell me to get on with it. So I slowly pulled her panties down, exposing her freshly shaved pubis and, god, her cunt. There was a whiff of her natural scent rising from her, and I could see a few drops of moisture on her getting ready to drop. 

I can hardly believe what I’m doing, and the worst is yet to come.

I could see the sense of control and power on his face. There was glee in making me submit so humiliatingly. He was enjoying emasculating me, turning me into an emotional eunuch.

All I could see in Kelly's expression was the anticipation of Thorne. She wanted what he offered, and she wanted it soon.

Thorne offered me his hands, and I was trembling when I put his hands on her tits, and he caressed them and then pinched one of her nipples until she flinched. The flinch was accompanied by a smile of bliss. She loved it.

I took his hands to her cunt, where he took two fingers of his right hand and inserted them inside her. He used his other hand to steady her, and his fingers stroked in and out of her.

That smile of bliss just deepened, and she said to me, “Say this after me. I, David, give to Thorne the right to my wife’s tits.” She paused for me to repeat it. “I give my rights to control or have any say in who she fucks or how she fucks.” Another pause: “Whether or not I am present. I also give Thorne the right to punish and mark my wife sexually in any way or manner my wife agrees to. I am giving him total sexual control, including my sexual access to her.”

The last was. new; my wife said she wouldn't do that. I guess Slut Kelly didn't agree.

As I finished, I saw a look of jubilation on Kelly's face and a look of triumph on Thorne’s. I was officially a willing cuckold.

“Go sit on the chair, and don’t interrupt anything we do. Strip naked in your room and return.” He said. “You can jack off if you need to.” He laughed and continued saying, "It’s common for cuckolds to have to jack off; sometimes they just come. I especially enjoy watching that.”

Kelly interrupted, saying, "Thorne, please, I want you to show him what it looks like when a woman is fucked for real. I want you to start now; I can’t wait.“ She didn’t even look at me as she said it, but the look of anticipation and hunger for him was evident. I was leaving to undress, and Kelly was kneeling in front of him. When I got back, she had his cock in her mouth up to his balls. She wasn’t giving him a blow job; instead, he was fucking her mouth. He was controlling the entire thing.

I stood there, just watching, before I remembered to sit down. Watching my wife be controlled like he was doing was erotic—beyond erotic.

What they did was so different from what Kelly and I did. He was rough with her tits, biting and sucking, leaving marks like the first time she fucked him. Watching him treat her like he did reinforced all my pain. I could barely take it.

After an hour of him abusing her all over, marking her neck, tits, ass, and thighs, I realized that if she liked this, no wonder I wasn’t enough.  He paused with her on her back with her legs splayed as wide as possible, and he said to me, “David, you’re going to help me cuckold you one more way. You come here and hold my cock and actually put it in her cunt for me. Only a total cuck will do it, but I’m sure you’ll love doing it. Won’t you? Tell me that you want to see my cock enter her cunt. Com'on, cuck, tell me.

“Kelly, beg him to do it; plead for him to put my cock in your cunt. I want to hear you beg for my cock. Tell him how much better my cock is than his."

I looked at Kelly; her eyes were closed in anticipation of finally being fucked, and I saw her nod and mouth the word, "Yes, Dave.”

I could see her open her eyes and look at him. “Thorne, god, yes, I want your cock.” She looked at me and said, "Dave, please; I need him. I want to feel his cock as it enters me, and this is your way to help. Ask him to fuck me, and beg him to put his cum inside my cunt. It used to be your pussy, but now I want him in my cunt. Please. Dave. Put his cock in me. That way, I’m not cucking you; he isn’t cucking you; you’re doing it to yourself. I need it; his cock in my cunt.”

This was worse than I imagined possible. I hated doing it, even as I was saying it to him. I was saying it to both of them, and they were both hearing it. My wife was hearing me ask Thorne to fuck her. She was hearing me ask him to cuckold him.

“Thorne, please, I want to see you fucking my wife; actually, see it happen. I want you to take her, release your cum inside her, and hear her as you’re screwing her in ways I can’t imagine.”

I stood up, went to them, and held his cock. God, it was way heavier than mine. I grasped it, and I could rub it within the folds of her cunt and set it up to her entrance.

Kelly whispered, "Thank you, thank you. I need it so much. I need to feel his cum coating my cunt.”

He made one hard thrust and slammed into her, and I heard a gasp from Kelly and then mostly incomprehensible noises. They gradually got louder until I heard, “I’m coming again; it feels so good."

I couldn't tell how long he was actively fucking her, and it looked brutal and took a long time until he yelled, “Now, now.” And he collapsed on her.

I was standing there, watching them both in the throes of sexual ecstasy. I could see that her climax was beyond anything I’d ever accomplished.

He loves doing that—screwing married women. I don’t know how far he can take it with me. God, I begged him to fuck my wife. I can’t believe I did it. Watching her respond to him and the way he was treating her was agonizing I could see the excitement in her eyes as she submitted and the ecstasy on her face when she came. She loves being screwed by him. Thorne, hell!

I escaped to the guest bedroom just in time before I vomited. I hate this, and I hate myself for allowing it to happen. As I slipped under the covers on the bed, I realized I was still hard. I saw that entire thing, and I’m still aroused. My cock must be demented.

I woke up a couple of times to the sound of Kelly screaming as she came again. The second time, I had to hurry to the bathroom to vomit. About five in the morning, I escaped to Denny's for breakfast, and I stayed there nursing my coffee. I then went to the park and sat on a bench, trying not to think about last night. I drove by the house a few times until his car was gone.

I went inside, not sure if I wanted Kelly to be home or off with him. When I got inside, she was cleaning the kitchen—from breakfast, I guessed.

“You were gone when we got up,” she said. “Where did you go?”

“To the park to think, actually to not think, Kelly. I just sat there. What you both did to me at the end was. God, it was humiliating to be begging him to screw you. I did it, and he did it too. It was hard.”

I slumped down in the chair, not looking at anything. 

“It was what I needed, Dave. I’m a sex-starved slut when I’m with him, but I’m a respectable wife when I’m not.” She paused for a moment then said, “When I heard you begging him to fuck me, the rush was unbelievable. And when I felt you move his cock against, um, my pussy and then hold it while it slipped inside, that was my ultimate rush all night.”

She kissed me and said, “Thank you for doing that for me.”

She smiled at me. “I love you!” She said, "Now I want you to make love. I’ve been a slut. Now I want to be your lover."

Kelly is two different woman. Who is going to win? I decided that, in the end, it was me.