Cuckold Stories by Wayne C. Rogers
Cuckold Story: The Cuckold Proposition
It was six-thirty when I finally got home from work on Friday night. Walking through the kitchen into the living room, I saw Danielle’s two children, Elizabeth and Steven (or Lizy and Steve as I called them), sitting in front of the television, watching an Indiana Jones video.
“Is your mom upstairs?” I asked.
Lizy nodded her head and said: “She’s getting ready for her trip.”
“Her trip?” I said, wondering if I’d heard correctly.
“Mom said that she had to fly to California this weekend for business,” Steve announced.
Everything suddenly fell in place.
I went upstairs to the master bedroom and saw my wife sitting on the side of the bed as she put on a pair of black high-heeled shoes. She was wearing a black full slip with spaghetti straps and black nylons. I could tell that she’d already had a bath. Her hair was combed and her make-up was done to perfection. Danielle, as usual, looked beautiful and sexy.
There was also an over-night case with a suit bag lying over it, sitting on the corner the bed.
“The kids said that you were flying to California for business,” I said.
My wife smiled at me. “I had a proposition at work today,” she said, standing up and walking over to the closet.
Danielle was a cocktail waitress at one of the major resorts here in Vegas, and she usually got propositioned at least a dozen times a day by men who were in town for a night or two. Sometimes, if it was a high roller doing the asking and the price was right, she’d say yes to their offer of a good time.
My wife loved men, sex, and money.
It was just that simple.
Though her first husband had been unable to cope with the affairs, I usually didn’t have a problem with them. Not only did I love her enough to accept anything she wanted to throw at me, but when we’d gotten married, I’d promised to give up all of my rights as a husband and to submit to her as a slave. I therefore didn’t have any say so in what she did, or whom she did it with.
Danielle and I had met almost a year ago at a local meeting for dominant women. It was a once-a-month get-together that was held in the home of a professional dominatrix who lives here in Las Vegas. The purpose of the meeting was to bring submissive men and dominant women together so that long-lasting relationships could hopefully be developed. Sometimes the relationships that were formed between a dominant and a submissive led to marriage, as ours eventually did. Danielle had been completely up front with regards to what she was looking for in a husband, desiring a man who knew when to keep his mouth shut and who was capable of obeying her every command without question. She also wanted someone who could accept her many affairs without getting jealous, or feeling insecure within the scope of the marriage. Last, but not least, she needed a person who would be good with her children, treating them with the love and respect that all young people needed to experience.
For my part, I fell in love with Danielle the moment I saw her. It was a Sunday night in the early part of November, and I arrived late at the meeting. It was raining that particular night, and the bus was over an hour late. I remember that I almost changed my mind about attending the meeting, thinking that no one would be there on a night such as this. Since it was a short walk back to my apartment, I was almost on the verge of returning home when the bus magically appeared.
It may have been destiny.
I don’t know.
When I finally got to Mistress Victoria’s home, the meeting had already been underway for nearly thirty minutes. I was cold and wet and not feeling very sociable as I hung up my raincoat in the hallway. Grabbing a hot cup of coffee from the layout of food and beverage that was on the dining room table, I entered the living room and sat in the one empty chair that was still available.
It was right next to where Danielle was sitting.
The first thing I noticed as I sat down next to her was the black leather jacket that was hanging from the back of her chair. I could tell that it was an expensive coat and could clearly smell the scent of leather emanating from it. The smell of leather has always had an arousing affect upon me. Directing my attention to the woman sitting in the chair, I automatically felt my heart skip a beat or two as I took in her beauty. I hate to admit it, but most of the women who attended these meetings were not very attractive.
Danielle, however, had the looks of a model.
She had dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, a nose that was perfectly shaped for her lovely face, and a chin that bespoke of strong character. Her hair was light brown with blondish highlights streaking through it, stylishly cut, and hung to her shoulders. Dressed in a long sleeved, dark blue silk blouse, a black pleated skirt that displayed a great deal of upper thigh, black sheer pantyhose, and black stiletto-heeled shoes, Danielle looked like a woman who was ready to take on the world. I judged her to be at least 5’ 8” in height, and somewhere around a hundred-and-twenty pounds in weight. I noticed that she also had long fingers with short stylish nails that were painted the color of blood red, and that there was a run in her pantyhose along the side of her right thigh.
Danielle realized that I was staring at her and turned to look at me. “It’s not polite to stare at someone,” she said in a soft, but firm tone of voice.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that you look exactly like a woman I served as a slave in ancient Egypt.”
It took a moment for what I said to register in her mind.
She smiled at me and said,” That’s one of the most original lines I’ve heard in quite a while. I assume by your statement that you believe in reincarnation.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Are you a tomb raider?”
“A tomb raider?”
“Like Laura Croft,” she said, laughing at me. “The movie with Angelina Jolie in it. My two children love that movie. Elizabeth, my daughter, wants to me just like Laura Croft, and my son, Steven, has fallen in love with Angelina.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not a tomb raider,” I answered. “I can, however, understand your son’s infatuation with Angelina Jolie. She turns me on, too.”
“What kind of slave were you in ancient Egypt?”
“An obedient slave who served his Mistress with absolute love and total devotion.”
“That’s exactly the kind of man I’m looking for,” she remarked.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“How old are your children?”
“Elizabeth is twelve, and Steven is eleven.”
“Are they good kids?”
“Yes, they are,” she answered. “And I love them very much.”
“Why are you here?”
“Victoria asked me to come,” Danielle said. “I know her from the casino where I work. She likes to come in once or twice a week to play the slot machines. Victoria knows that I’m divorced and suggested that maybe a submissive man might be more beneficial to my particular situation.”
“And what situation is that?”
“I can’t be faithful to any man. That’s why my husband left me.”
“How did you manage to retain custody of your kids?”
“My ex-husband has two jobs and doesn’t have time to raise the children. Also, the only two things I asked him for were the house and child support. That made him happy and very agreeable.”
“So, you’re here to find a man who can accept your infidelities and help raise your two children?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Do you think you may have lived in ancient Egypt at one time?”
“I know I did,” she replied. “In fact, I was an Egyptian princess, and I had many slaves who served me with complete obedience to my every command. When a slave disobeyed me, I had him hung up by his ankles, and I personally whipped him into submission.”
“Did you enjoy whipping your slaves?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I enjoyed punishing them.”
“I was probably one of the slaves you whipped,” I said, smiling.
“I thought you served your Mistress with absolute love and total devotion?”
“I did, but sometimes I needed extra attention from her.”
“Do you like being whipped by a woman?”
“It’s one of my greatest passions.”
Danielle laughed at my answer. “What are you doing after the meeting is over?” she asked with an obvious sparkle in her eyes.
“Whatever you want,” I said.
“Do you know where the Peppermill lounge is located?”
“It’s on the Strip, across from the Stardust Hotel.”
“Why don’t we go there for a drink?”
“I should warn you that I don’t have a car.”
“That’s rather unusual in this day and age,” she said. “Why don’t you own a car? Are you too poor to buy one?”
“My wife died of cancer several years ago,” I replied. “After her death, I sold everything we’d owned and took a bus to a Zen monastery in northern California. I stayed there for three years. When I came back to Las Vegas two years ago, all I had in the way of possessions were some clothes, a couple of books on Far Eastern philosophy, and a rather old Japanese katana. So far, buying a car has been way down on my list of priorities.”
“What’s a Japanese katana?” she asked.
“It’s a sword,” I said. “The head priest at the monastery where I studied believed in strong physical condition, as well as mental. When the students weren’t meditating or cleaning the monastery, we were taking instruction in Japanese sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. In this fashion, both the mind and body were developed to the fullest. When I left the monastery, the head priest gave me his own personal sword as a going away present. It had been passed down through his family for over two hundred years.”
“You must’ve really impressed him.”
“I think I was probably the worse student he ever had.”
Danielle laughed, then asked, “Why did you leave?”
“The call of the whip.”
“Yes,” I said. “When I meditated, all I could think about was kneeling in servitude at the feet of a beautiful, dominant woman and feeling the sting of a cat-of-nine tails cutting across my back. The need for it finally grew too strong, and I was forced to leave.”
“So, here you are.”
“A widower who’s studied Zen and learned to fight with a sword; yet, who only desires be a slave to a strong, beautiful, dominant female.”
“That’s me in a nutshell.”
“Well, at least you’re not boring.”
“So, are we on for drinks?”
“I think the real question is whether or not you’ll be able to handle a woman like me?” she said with utter sincerity. “I’m extremely hard on men. I expect a lot from them without offering a great deal in return. I already have a number of boyfriends that I see on a regular basis. Would you be able to deal with something like that?”
“I think so.”
“Then I’ll drive.”
As they say, the rest is history.
I moved in with Danielle a month later, and we were married a two months after that. On our wedding night, she took control of our marriage by having one of her regular boyfriends come over and make love to her while I was in the closet, hogtied and gagged, and helpless to prevent him from using my wife in whatever way he wanted. That evening set the structure for how our marriage would be.
Though I was Danielle’s husband, I was also her slave and would be treated as such whenever she desired.
The paychecks and tokes from my job as a blackjack dealer were deposited directly into her bank account every two weeks; and, being that I was also a writer of erotic novels, the royalties from the sell of my books were turned over to her as well. Of course, my name wasn’t on the account. We’d decided early on that she would have absolute control over the financial aspects of our marriage.
This left me totally at her mercy.
As a slave, it was my job to clean house, wash clothes, and do the grocery shopping on a weekly basis. I was also the perfect babysitter for the kids when Danielle went out on her dates with other men, or the occasional weekend trips out of town. The money made from her liaisons, however, was invested in the two Internet businesses she had going on the side, plus a separate 401K plan.
My reward for all of this was the pleasure I got in listening to all the juicy details of her affairs when she returned home. Since my wife knew I wasn’t jealous of the other men and that I actually found her infidelities to be sexually exciting, she took great pleasure in describing to me in minute detail the facts of what actually transpired, knowing that it would result in a night of unbelievable sex for us.
I watched Danielle step into the closet for a minute and then come out with one of her tailor-designed, yet sexy, two-piece business outfits. This one was a dark charcoal-gray skirt with a matching jacket. She held a light gray, long-sleeved silk blouse in her other hand. My wife wanted to look the part of a professional businesswoman going on a weekend trip. Because she had the two Internet websites going on the side, it was the perfect cover to use for the kids. We simply told them that she had to fly out of town for a couple of days to conduct some business in relation to the websites.
Elizabeth and Steven didn’t seem to mind.
As I got along great with the kids, we’d usually end up spending Saturday at either Mt. Charleston or Lake Mead for a day of fun, or we’d go to the movies and then get some pizza afterwards.
“Well?” I asked.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” my wife said as she laid the skirt and jacket on the bed. She then slipped on the blouse and buttoned up the front of it. “You might not like the idea of what I’m going to have to do this weekend.”
“How bad can it be?”
Danielle picked up the skirt from off the bed. Then, stepping into it, she pulled the skirt up around her waist, tucked in the bottom half of the blouse, and then zipped up the back of it. “I being offered five thousand dollars to entertain three men for the weekend,” she said, turning around to face the mirror on the dresser bureau. “It’s the most money I’ve ever been offered for sex.”
“You’re going to be having sex with three men for the entire weekend?” I asked in disbelief.
“Three men,” I repeated.
“Yes, three men. And they’re going to pay me five thousand dollars. That’s almost a month’s salary for just a couple of nights of sex. I can’t turn something like that down, William.’
“I don’t know.”
“What’s there to know?”
“I don’t feel good about you spending the weekend with three guys,” I said.
My wife lifted up her skirt and slip, and I saw the black-laced panties and garter belt that she was wearing underneath. She bent over and readjusted the garters tabs so that her stockings were pulled taut against the flesh of her legs.
“You’re going to have to deal with it,” she stated, lowering the skirt and slip back down. “Just imagine all of the fun you and I are going to have when I get back on Sunday afternoon. If you get excited at the thought of one man making love to me, think about what it’s going to be like with three men.”
Danielle moved into my arms and kissed me. I pulled her tightly against my body and kissed her back, feeling her tongue push its way into my mouth. She ground her pelvis against my groin, and I immediately got an erection. Reaching down with her right hand, she placed it on the front of my pants where my engorged penis was standing at attention. She rubbed her hand up and down it a few times, delighting in her control over my libido.
“I expect you to have a nice hard-on waiting for me when I get back home,” she said. Turning around, my wife went over to the bed and picked up her jacket. She put it on and then smiled at me. “I’ll call early tomorrow night and let you know how things are going.”
“Will you be safe with them?” I asked.
“Yes, I know these guys. They’ve been after me for more than a year to have a foursome with them. It should be fun.”
“Carry my overnight case and bag downstairs for me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
As Danielle walked out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, I glanced down at the front of my pants to make sure my penis was back to its normal size. Satisfied that I was okay, I followed behind her. She stopped in the living room to kiss the kids goodbye, telling them that she’d call tomorrow night. Nodding their heads, they directed their attention back to the movie as Danielle and I walked out to her silver Miata. I put the luggage in the back seat and then watched my wife climb in behind the steering wheel. She gave me an excellent view of her legs and stocking tops before closing the door. Rolling down the window on the driver’s side of the car, she beckoned for me to come closer.
“Give me another kiss,” she demanded.
“I don’t want you to be upset,” Danielle continued. “What I want you to do is to fantasize about me having to satisfy three men for two whole days, and when you’re done with that, think about the fun you and I are going to have when I get back.”
“I’ll see you on Sunday.”
I watched as she started the car and backed it down the driveway. When my wife had the car out on the street, I waved to her and then went back inside the house to see if the kids wanted to go to the movies tonight and see Spiderman. I got a unanimous vote from them. We checked the times for the movie and then headed out.
The movie turned out to be pretty good.
Lizy and Steve liked Spiderman so much that they wanted to stay and watch it a second time. We therefore snuck hesitantly into one of the other theaters that it was playing at in the multi-complex. Naturally, we filled up on popcorn, candy, sodas, and had a great time.
On the way back home, I asked the kids what they wanted to do on Saturday and the general consensus was that we spend the latter part of the morning and early part of the afternoon at Wet N Wild, swimming in the pools and soaking up the rays. They figured that we needed to get there around eleven o’clock in the morning and stay no later than three.
The plan sounded okay with me.
After that, we’d head to a Pizza Hut for some serious carbohydrates.
When we finally got back to the house, the kids finished watching Raiders of the Lost Ark
I worked for two-and-a-half hours on the novel. By the time I finished, it was a little after three in the morning.
It had been an exceptionally long day.
I got up from my computer, walked out of the study, and headed down the hallway to the master bedroom. The house was quiet, and I saw that the doors to each of the kid’s bedrooms were closed.
Entering the master bedroom, I closed the door behind me and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. When that was done, and I was finally under the cool sheets of our king-size bed, I started to think about Danielle. I could smell her perfume on the pillowcases and wondered how she was doing. It was impossible for me not to imagine her with the three men. They might not have faces for me to visualize, but I could easily picture them taking turns with my wife, each one moving between her legs to fuck her while the others watched. I knew Danielle well enough by now to realize that she’d literally be getting off on having sex with three different guys at the same time. If they were any good in the sack, my wife would be having numerous orgasms before the night was over, and I suspected that the guys would be hard pressed to keep up with her. Though I didn’t want to, I found myself becoming aroused by the thought of her fucking each man, not just once, but two or more times. The images soaring through my mind made sleep difficult to achieve, and the urge to masturbate was never stronger. Though masturbation without Danielle’s explicit permission was strictly forbidden, I gave it some serious thought for nearly an hour. Sleep, however, rescued me, and I eventually drifted off into a state of consciousness that always brought a sense of peace to me.
The Cuckold Proposition Story, part 2