Three years later ...

John was well within his rights to ask, as it goes in the song, "Well, how did I get here?" Here was, in this sense, handcuffed stark naked to a chair in their spare room whilst his gorgeous wife was being fucked hard by her young black lover in the bedroom - their marital bedroom - next door. He looked down sadly at his fully erect willy and sighed. He simply could not control it anymore. Each creak from the bed, each groan from her lover and each lusty scream or pant from his wife coaxed another sad dribble of cuckold tears from his straining erection.

He looked to his right to see, on the bedside table, his chastity device lying redundant. They'd secured his hands so there was no need to secure his penis. He looked down again at the sticky mess his cuckold tears had made and imagined the teasing and humiliation Jayne would heap on him when her lover had finally finished with her and let her come and see to him. Paradoxically, this caused another twitch and then a dribble.

It was impossible to keep track of time accurately whilst she was with him. Well, by normal means anyway. He could only measure time by the number of orgasms each of them had had. John's best guess was that he'd had three and her at least four, though one or two of the longer ones could have been several strung together. That meant they were near the end. Probably only one more for him, most likely a blow job. Each of Jayne's orgasms forced him to acknowledge that her orgasms with her lover bore absolutely no relation to the little simpering sighs she made on the very rare occasions that they had sex.

At times he tried to avoid listening to what they said but eventually he always found himself straining to hear. Of course, some things were impossible not to hear. The load grunts, the deep groans, the bed noises, the headboard banging, the exhortations and, from his wife, the flurry of yesses that heralded an orgasm. He thought he'd heard her lover getting dressed and ready to go but now he was hearing the short satisfied grunt of a man receiving a bj accompanied by the odd forceful comment such as, "Suck it bitch" or "deeper slut, deeper." John got a great deal of sexual gratification from hearing her called a slut and her being treated like a slut.

John didn't doubt that her lover was genuinely getting ready to go, almost out of the door, but was called back practically every time by the thought of one last sexual act, and that was almost always slipping his big cock out for Jayne to obediently suck. John imagined his sexy wife, sweaty from sex, knelt just inches away on the other side of the wall. She was naked save her stockings, her perfect little boobs pert and jiggling as her head bobbed back and fort, her stiff stiff nipples pointing up towards the ceiling.

He loved for men to cum on those beautiful tits and he groaned as he remembered the first time Jayne became fully invested in cuckolding him in his presence. He had been upstairs, hiding in a bedroom, whilst Jayne was downstairs with one of his friends. They made out and she gave him a topless handjob finishing him over her tits. He was single and younger so came voluminously. She said she needed to clean up and disappeared upstairs. There, she made John clean her completely with his tongue. He would fully admit that he was hesitant at first, despite this being one of his most vivid fantasies, but Jayne quietly, but firmly insisted. She sat astride him and rubbed her pussy over his erection and buried his face in her messy bossom. John cleaned her and messed uncontrollably in his pants. It was at this moment that Jayne realised cuckolding really was something for them both to enjoy and that it would become a big part of their life.

John was brought back to the here and now by the sound of her lover's orgasm. He'd have one hand steadying himself on the party wall, the other on the back of Jayne's head, firmly keeping her on task. Not that she needed any encouragement, but she liked to feel forced. And what Jayne liked, John liked. His cumming grunt was subtly different to the other grunts, more satisfied and drawn out. Half grunt half sigh. Jayne would continue sucking and swallowing until he was completely spent, obviously there wouldn't be a huge load; he'd already cum three times and as good a lover as he was, he was still only human!

When he was completely discharged he'd buckle up and be gone. No hanging about, no small talk. For him it was sex and nothing else. He was here to use Jayne solely for his own sexual pleasure. He cared nothing for her pleasure and that's precisely why she got so much pleasure from it. She wanted desperately to be used like a slut. To be treated as nothing more than a sexual object. Previous lovers had failed to grasp this simple fact and had cared for her desires, not understanding that her desire was for her desire to be ignored. We never understood whether her current lover understood this tautological paradox and acted it out almost to perfection or simply genuinely didn't care whether my wife was enjoying herself or not. Either way, it didn't matter. The fact is it was working and all three of us got from the arrangement precisely what we desired and needed.

Now her lover was gone Jayne would transform with frightening speed from submissive sex slave into dominant cuckoldress. She had struggled to believe this possible when they were still at the fantasy stage. She acknowledged her latent submissive tendency and could not see how, given this, she could effectively dominate John, the cuckold, in the way he wanted. It was only after some internet research, time spent chatting to others in the 'community' and a bit of trial and error that she understood and began to immerse herself in this outwardly complex, but in reality quite straightforward, duality. One person, both sub and Dom but in different situations and with different people.

Jayne strode purposefully into the room now wearing heels as well as her stockings, otherwise she was naked. She was swishing a riding crop back and forth in her right hand and round her neck was a slender necklace with a small key attached. She smiled at him looked at his little erection and shook her head dismissively.

"Just look at you. Excited, hard and ready to go. What have you got? Four maybe five inches and that's fully erect. Do you seriously expect me to fuck that?" With that she pressed the leather keeper of the riding crop against the underside of John's willy and pushed it back towards his belly.

"Ohhhh," groaned John, "I want whatever you want. You know that."

Jayne lifted her left leg and rested her foot on the edge of the chair. That brought her neatly, closely trimmed pussy close to John's face. Her now slightly gaping pussy was clearly leaking thick cum with some visible on her thighs. She had her right arm over his left shoulder and with the riding crop across the back of his neck she pulled his head down towards her sex. John didn't resist and knew what he had to do. He nuzzled into her mound enjoying the smell of sex. His tongue darted out and searched for her cum filled hole. He  loved mashing his face into her spunky pussy and loved the taste of her lovers cum.

Jayne moaned softly, lovingly. She threw her head back knowing another orgasm, allbeit softer than those thrust upon her by her dominant lover but no less enjoyable for it, was near.

Jayne looked down between them. John's erection was pointing up straight at her. She poked it down and lifted herself slightly before inserting it into her and sitting down on it. John groaned as he easily entered her, "Oh darling, will you fuck me?"

Jayne rode him ever so slightly. Almost imperceptible movement but both of them knew it would be enough, more than enough. Jayne whispered in his left ear, "I'd love to fuck you, but ... you know I can't. He won't let me. I'm his and his alone." After a pause Jayne continued, "Are you ready?"

"Yesssss, yess," exclaimmed John, desperately trying to hold it off, because however much he wanted to fuck Jayne, he knew the consequences of doing so would be unpleasant. 

With that Jayne abruptly stood up freeing John, his erection springing back and slapping his belly. Jayne stood over him, hands on hips and sneered, "You didn't seriously expect me to fuck that silly little thing did you?"

"No mistress, of course not."

"I've told you enough times. It's only good for two things. What are they?"

"Peeing and wanking miss," replied John without hesitation, knowing any would be used as an excuse to meet out punishment.

"What sort of wanking?" demanded Jayne who had reached out a blindfold from a drawer and was tying it in place, ensuring John was totally blinded.

"Wanking myself whilst thinking of you. Thinking of you cuckolding me. Thinking of you being dominated and used by a better lover with a bigger cock. Thinking of you being completely sexually satisfied in a way I couldn't with my little wanker."

"Yes that's right. Your little wanker. Your pathetic little wanker," teased Jayne. He could sense her walking around him, disorientating him, making him not entirely sure exactly where she was. Was she facing him? Was she on his left or his right? Had she picked something up?

That last question was answered when he felt the leather keeper at the end of her riding crop press against the frenulum of his little wanker. This stimulated him further and his stiffening erection pushed back at the crop but Jayne refused to yield and held him back causing further stiffening. "Do you remember back when all I had to look forward to was a few minutes of this silly little thing pumping away inside me? Half a dozen quiet grunts followed by a sigh, even for you it was more relief than pleasure. Then you'd roll off having left your little squirt inside me."

"Yes darling, I do remember. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realise what you needed and sorry it took me so long to persuade you what you needed."

"So you should be! I'm not sure I've punished you sufficiently for that almost unforgivable oversight." Jayne noticed that John was leaking cuckold tears like a dripping tap and his body language screamed that it wouldn't take much to push him irrevocably over the edge. Jayne had played this game often enough to know the signs and he was very nearly there. In that sense it was decision time. Should she leave him edged and frustrated? Should she get the ice pack to bring him down rapidly and with a deflating crash? Should she ruin him with her hand? No, she had another idea.

She gently pushed his diminutive erection back towards him and in so doing teased a few more drops of seminal fluid out. Thin, clear, insipid drops of cum. "What a sorry sight you are," muttered Jayne under her breath but deliberately loud enough for John to hear."

There was a swish and a thwack as Jayne drew the riding crop back and cracked it upon his erection with not inconsiderable force. John whinced in pain and shock. Whilst he was expecting something to bring proceedings to a conclusion, an edge, a denial or a ruination, he was taken completely by surprise by Jayne's enthusiastic use of the riding crop. He was clearly aware she had it to hand but previously, between the two of them at least, it had been little more than a prop. Perhaps she felt if it was to be used on her, and he'd seen the evidence of her lovers use on her on several occasions recently, she was to use it on John.

There was a split second wait before the second swish thwack and this produced the desired effect. A rope of cum shot up and splattered John's chest and chin. "I just knew it. No control. No use to me," said Jayne, matter of factly. A third hit produced another, smaller spurt and then Jayne finished with a last strike square on John's saggy testicles. He yelped at the searing pain but still managed a little ejaculation. Jayne smiled to herself. She'd read about such a situation on one of her femdom forums. If you edge your sub enough then a physical trauma to the genitals can cause either loss of erection or, conversely, ejaculation.

Jayne released him and instructed him to clean himself up and report next door for a debrief. This would invariable involve having her sit astride his face whilst he was told what a fabulous fuck her lover was and what a useless little wanker he was. Or, even worse, she'd say nothing and just cum on his face.

Whilst John cleaned himself up he reflected on how lucky he was. How lucky they all were. All three of them got sexual satisfaction in the manner they wanted. He recalled the day his life changed  The day Jayne first ruined him. He was in shock and not a little angry at first. Then the look in her eye and some undefinable gut instinct told him that she had been true to him in that she could ruin him but only if in a cuckold relationship. That evening, three years ago, it transpired that she had been 'cheating' on him for nearly two months and it was at her lovers insistence that John be told so they could meet more often and more comfortably. She had met him at a gym class but the last two months they'd spent that hour on a Tuesday evening doing a different sort of exercise!

They'd discussed at length John's cuckolding fantasies and he had made it clear that if the chance presented itself he was happy, no he wanted, for Jayne to cheat on him. She needn't tell him if that made her uncomfortable, how and what she did was entirely her choice. Jayne enjoyed the initial thrill of cheating on him and still did it from time to time. Doing it purely for herself rather than feeding John's fantasy was a thrill in itself. She particularly enjoyed doing his friends and his boss on the sly. She told them he had a small cock and came quickly. That she needed extra marital satisfaction.

In the intervening three years their relationship had moved on, the cuckolding grew increasingly intense and Jayne's desire to be dominated developed to the point she was at now. As he sat on the bed whilst Jayne locked him away in his chastity device he looked at his sexy wife, saw how sexually fulfilled she was and he knew not what the future held. But he was excited by it. And he knew he was a very lucky boy!