cuckold stories by authors

Stories by Wayne C. Rogers





Cuckold BDSM Story: The Edge of Darkness





Sitting at my desk, wearing a long cotton bathrobe and a pair of bedroom slippers, I jotted down notes for the class lecture on consciousness studies that I was to give on Monday morning at UNLV. The subject of my lecture dealt with the different levels of alternate realities that could be experienced by taking psilocyben mushrooms, doing long periods of sitting meditation, and practicing sensory deprivation. All three methods could be effectively used to expand human consciousness, offering its participants an opportunity to understand that reality was based on nothing more than one's own perception. I wanted to instill in my students a strong sense of curiosity and hopefully to open their minds to new possibilities of awareness. These were the two gifts I wanted them to have before the semester was over.

I leaned back in my chair for a few moments and allowed my mind to run free as I listened to the soft music playing the background. It was
Dreamtime Return by Steve Roach. The music combined a mixture of relaxing space melodies with sounds from a dideridu, offering the listener a chance to escape from the hobbles of day-to-day reality and return to what the Aborigines call dreamtime.  

Glancing at the small, battery-powered clock on the corner of my desk, I saw that the time was 2:21 A.M.

Danielle had promised to be home by three o'clock at the latest.

I could already feel the sexual excitement simmering just below the surface of my emotions, and it was all I could do to stop myself from reaching beneath the bathrobe and taking matters into my own hand. My wife had told me earlier to expect a hard whipping when she returned from her date with Anthony. She'd also warned me
not to masturbate while she was away. It was a warning I always took seriously. I knew what she was capable of doing with a rattan cane or a riding crop; and, even after seventeen years of marriage, it still scared me. My wife was the only person who could put the fear of God into me!

I shifted my attention to the left side of the bedroom where my four-posted, single size bed was located. Lying on top of the blue comforter was a long rattan cane that Danielle had placed there before leaving. The cane was twenty-seven inches in length, narrow, flexible, and very well oiled to keep the wood from splitting. My penis was becoming hard at the mere sight of it, not to mention the thought of what was going to happen to me before the night was over. As I started to ease my hand under the bathrobe to grasp the growing piece of warm flesh, I suddenly heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway out in front of the house.

Saved by the bell! I thought.

I stopped what I was doing, rose slowly from my desk, and walked across the bedroom to look out the window into the dark night.

The first thing I noticed was that the darkness had become blanketed in a thick layer of mist. Las Vegas doesn't usually get much fog, but it was early October and the hot days were starting to turn into cool nights. That, plus a cloudless day, would often create a light fog at this time of year. For people who loved
mystery novels, it would be the perfect night for deceit and murder.

The second thing that caught my attention was the inside light of Danielle's red Mustang coming on as she opened the car door to climb out. I couldn't help but wonder how the date with her new lover had gone. Anthony was a graduate student in two of her psychology classes at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas. Danielle usually make it a point not to get involved with her students (though she was a full professor and had tenure, the dating of one's students was still grounds for dismissal), but Anthony had a special quality about him that had touched an inner cord within the confines of her soul. I wanted to believe that her attraction for him was due to something much deeper than the fact that he was only twenty-four years of age, handsome, intelligent, and extremely potent. There had to be some sort of spiritual connection between them that defied any kind of logical explanation. My wife had told me a few weeks before that she felt the two of them had been together in a previous lifetime. Since I also believed in reincarnation, I couldn't very well laugh at her reasoning for wanting to sleep with him, nor argue against the feelings that were soaring through her. Besides, it wouldn't have made any difference. I wasn't in a position to deny my wife the right to take a lover, no matter what his age.

Danielle was the
Mistress of our marriage and home, and I was her servant, submissive to her every need and desire.

It was that simple.

She and I agreed at the very beginning of our relationship, almost two decades before, that our lifestyle would be based on the concept of
female domination. It was what worked for of us. That didn't mean I was her outright slave, thought many people might choose to view it in such a way, including me at different times. Danielle and I had a marriage inwhich I freely chose to treat her as a queen. I did the housework, the washing, the grocery shopping, the cooking, and the other countless things that came up on a day-to-day basis, and I did this out of love for the woman I'd married. Danielle was an extremely dominant female who thoroughly enjoyed life, adventure, and the male species to the fullest degree, and I considered myself lucky to be allowed to share this with her.

Outside of the house, however, we were equals in every sense of the word; and, in many ways, our lives complimented each other.

Both Danielle and I had double doctorates and were full professors at UNLV. Her two Ph.D.s were in Anthropology and Psychology and mine were in Astrophysics and Comparative Religions.

While taking a teaching position at the University of California at Berkeley after she finished graduate school, my wife also decided to become a part-time dominatrix in San Francisco, working under the name of Lady Shiva. This was done in order to satisfy an inner yearning she had to dominate the male species physically, mentally and emotionally. Using her skills as a psychologist and as a firm believer in
matriarchy, Danielle wanted to see if she could effectively change the concepts that men held of women. She eventually became one of the top professionals in the country and was able to teach hundreds of men that it was all right for them to submit to a strong woman, as long as they didn't give up their own inner strength. My wife didn't want to weaken men, but rather to increase their attributes so that they could be used to help change the world in a more positive way.

When I finished graduate school, I made the decision to go to Japan for several years and study the martial art of Aikido under its founder, Morihei Ueshiba, and to do sitting meditation in a Zen monastery. I not only wanted to become an accomplished martial artist, but I hoped that the practice of Zen would enable me to gain a greater insight into the nature of humanity and its connection to the universe. Later, after I'd returned to the States and opened an Aikido dojo in Berkeley, Danielle was one of my original students. When we met, it was love (or maybe lust) at first sight for both of us. In the dojo, I was the
Sensei or teacher, and she was the student. Outside of the dojo, my future wife was the teacher and I the student as she began to slowly guide me into the world of female domination. She saw that I was a natural submissive, but only to her. Danielle was the only human being who could bring me to my knees with a simple look in her eyes. Had anyone else tried what she did, it would've been a fight to the death. Needless to say, it didn't take either of us long to realize that we were perfect for each other. Marriage came within a year and then we moved to Las Vegas so that she could be close to her mother, who was dying of cancer. We both took teaching positions at UNLV, and I was able to continue my practice of Aikido by starting a club on campus.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I watched Danielle get out of the Mustang, close its door, and walk to the front door. I could feel my heart starting to race with excitement. The sight of my wife always did that to me. I was still madly in love with her.

Returning to my desk, I sat back down and finished the notes for my Monday morning class. I heard the sound of Danielle entering the house and then a few minutes later coming up the stairs. I figured she'd probably go to her bedroom first to change clothes, but I was wrong.

Danielle entered my bedroom, holding a glass of chilled Cabernet Sauvignon in her right hand and a black purse in her left. My wife smiled at me as she stepped over to my bed and sat down on the edge of it. Laying the purse down on the comforter, she crossed her shapely legs, stared boldly at me, and took a long sip of wine. Her auburn colored hair flared outward and down to her shoulders, while her green eyes twinkled with merriment. She had dressed smartly, but provocatively for her date tonight, wearing a black Kay Unger chiffon dress, black nylons, and a pair of black Anne Klein sling backs with four-inch heels.

She literally took my breath away.

That Danielle was still beautiful at age fifty-one could not be denied. She worked out with weights in the campus gym at least three times a week, while attending my afternoon Aikido classes on Tuesday and Thursday. Though she might disagree with me, I personally felt she was lovelier today than when I first met her. My wife still drew the attention of men where ever she went, not to mention that many of her male students had crushes on her.

"How did your date with Anthony go?" I asked.

"He took me to Romeo's on West Sahara for dinner, then we went dancing at C2K," she answered.

"Is that all?"

"No," she said, her smile growing bigger. "We went back to his apartment and had sex for three hours. Would you like to hear all the juicy details?"


"You know what the price will be, don't you?"

"Twenty-five cuts with the cane?" I asked.



She shook her head, the smile on her face growing bigger.

Seventy-five?" I said, feeling a little uncomfortable over what might be in store for me.

"That sounds like a nice round number," my wife stated.

"Jesus, Danielle, you do realize that I have a class on Monday, don't you?"

"I promise not to put you in the hospital, darling."

"Why doesn't that comfort me?"

"Stop whining like a little boy," she said. "I want you to come over here and kneel before me on the floor."

The ritual was beginning.

I rose from my desk, took off the bathrobe, and stepped out of the slippers. I walked over to my wife and knelt before her with my head slightly bowed.

"Do you still love me?" Danielle asked. She placed the toe of her right shoe under my chin and lifted my head up so that she could look down into my eyes. "I want you to be honest."

"I worship you," I said with utter sincerity.

She ran the toe of her shoe lightly over my lips. "Anthony has asked for permission to be my house slave," she stated. "How would you feel about that?"

"Does he understand that you don't believe in slavery?"

"I explained my philosophy to him," she replied. "Still, it would be nice to have him help out with the duties around the house. It would certainly give you more time to write. I know you'd enjoy that."

"I guess the real question is whether he'd actually be moving in as a house slave or as your lover?"

"What difference does it make?"

"I don't want to be second place to some twenty-four-year-old guy with a perpetual hard-on."

"His expertise in bed is one the things that make him so special."

"Yeah, I know."

"Anthony is also quite brilliant."

"You still haven't answered my question," I said.

"Would it be so bad if my lover moved in with us?"


"You want me to be happy, don't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"I want this, William."

"I know, honey, but—"

want this."

"Okay," I said.

"You're sure?"

"No, I'm not sure," I replied. "But I love you, Danielle, and I do want you to be happy." I thought about the situation for a moment and started laughing at the absurdity of it. "I hope it's not your intention to have me submit to him."

"Both of you will submit to
me and do exactly as I command."

"You're tactfully avoiding that question, too."

"Think of it this way," she suggested. "Whatever I have you do will only add spice to our marriage."

"Did you read that in
Dr. Ruth's column?"

"Don't be facetious, darling."


"I'd like Anthony to start spending the weekends with us before he actually moves in," Danielle said. "It would give me a chance to begin his training and to introduce him to the whip."

"Where's lover boy going to sleep?" I asked.

"Where do you think
he's going sleep?"

"Your room?"

"Of course."

I nodded my head in understanding.

"You haven't kissed my feet today," she continued, changing the subject like a professional diplomat. "Would you like the pleasure of doing that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

I took her shoe into my hand and placed it to my mouth, reverently kissing the soft black leather. I moved my lips over the toe and around the sides of the shoe. Then, working my way up to the instep of her stocking-covered foot, I began to kiss her ankle and leg, enjoying the texture of nylon against my lips and tongue. I heard a soft sigh of delight escape from my wife's mouth. She loved to have her feet and legs worshipped by a man. Whether Danielle would admit it or not, she truly felt that a man's place was at her feet. It brought out the dominant side of her personality like few other things could.

"You've been a wonderful husband to me, William."

"I hope this doesn't mean that you're getting ready to trade me in on a younger model," I said.

"You don't have to worry about that. I've put too much time and effort into training you. Besides, no one could ever love me as unconditionally as you do. You're the rock in my sometimes-chaotic life. I need you more than you could possibly ever imagine."

"That's good," I said. "For a moment it was beginning to sound like I was a well-trained pet or something."

"All women want their husbands to be well-trained pets," she laughed. "But that doesn't mean you aren't loved."

"I suppose you're going to toss me a bone now."

"No, William. I gave you my heart and that was enough."

Her words warmed me as I released her right foot and then bent lower to kiss her left one. I honestly didn't know what I'd do should Danielle ever leave me. Though I felt our marriage was perfect in so many ways, one never knew what the other person was actually feeling. I slowly worked my lips up her left foot and leg, then shifted my attention back to her right leg. When I started to push her dress back so that I could kiss her thighs, she stopped me in my tracks.

"Did I give you permission to do that?" she asked with a touch of amusement.

"No, Mistress," I answered.

"I can see it's been too long since your last whipping."

"It's been almost a month."

"Then it shall definitely be seventy-five cuts with the cane," she stated. "That should ease your anxiety somewhat and correct this inexcusable behavior."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"I want you to go down to the dungeon and wait for me," Danielle instructed. "I need to change into something more appropriate for your punishment." She paused for a moment as she uncrossed her legs, offering me a brief glimpse of stocking tops and black garter tabs. "Will I have to bind you to the bench, or do you think you'll be able to take the caning without being restrained?"

"I don't know."

"I'll think about that while I change clothes," my wife said as she finished the rest of the wine. She handed me the empty glass to take back down to the kitchen; then, rising to her feet, she picked up her purse and the rattan cane, and walked out of my bedroom.

Filled with a sense of avid sexual desire and an almost insurmountable degree of love, I watched my wife leave the room, noticing that there was more of a seductive swing to her hips than usual. We'd been together for over eighteen years and still no other woman excited me as much as she did. Even now, I wanted to make love to Danielle more than anything else…to feel my body passionately joined to hers in an act of spiritual union. I also understood that this very special privilege would have to be earned. As in all societies and tribes, both modern and primitive, women will test the male in order to measure his strength and the level of his love. For my wife, the true test of my love was in the amount of suffering I was willing to endure.

I put my bathrobe and slippers back on and went downstairs. Entering the kitchen, I rinsed out the wine glass in the sink, dried it, and placed it back in the cabinet. I then walked down a short hallway to our dungeon.

The door to the dungeon had an electronic lock, and it could only be opened when the correct sequence of seven numbers was entered into the computer console on the wall. I punched in the numbers, opened the door, and stepped into what had once been our three-car garage. I'd spent nine months of my time remodeling the garage, turning it into an attractive, well-equipped, soundproof dungeon. Beautifully varnished oak beams ran across the ceiling and down the walls, which were coated with a textured wall covering that was the color of stone. An electric hoist hung from one of the beams and could support the weight of two men. A thick, soft, dark brown shag carpet covered the entire floor of the dungeon. Danielle's throne, the whipping bench, and the vertical rack were all custom made by some of the finest craftsmen in the country. One of the walls was covered with an array of S&M equipment: riding crops, whips, paddles, leather hoods, wrists and ankle cuffs, blindfolds, mouth gags, dildo harnesses, metal handcuffs, etc., etc. In one corner of the dungeon sat a brown cedar chest (Pandora's Box) that was filled with rubber dildos of various sizes, metals weights and clamps for cock and ball torture, leather gloves with thumbtacks protruding from the palm and fingers, nipple clamps, plastic bags filled with used panties, stockings and pantyhose, bottles of oil, tubes of lubricant, candles for hot wax torture, and a multitude of other things.

Turning the dimmer light up just enough so that I could see where I was going without bumping into something, I stepped over to the vertical rack and removed my bathrobe and slippers, placing them under the rack so that they would be out of the way. Then, moving over to Danielle's elegantly carved throne that was sitting on top of a two-level pedestal, I picked up the plastic cigarette lighter that was lying on the right cushioned armrest and carefully lighted the large black candles on either side of the throne. Each candle was resting in a beautifully carved wooden stand that matched the design of the throne and pedestal. The lit candles added a sense of atmosphere to the dungeon. I placed the lighter back on the armrest and then knelt down in front of the throne, lowering my forehead to the floor, and waited patiently for my Mistress to enter the dungeon.

Though I didn't have a watch on, I suspected that at least forty-five minutes passed before I finally heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. I kept my head to the floor as Danielle came into the dungeon and walked over to where I was kneeling, making her way up the pedestal and sitting down on the black cushioned seat of her throne. I listened to her light a cigarette and then cross her legs.



cuckold BDSM story, part 2



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