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Cuckold Stories - Sissy Cuckold Story

  

  

Sissy-story

 

 

1.

 

I can’t believe this is happening to me. Only last week I was a successful happily married man. Now I’m a prisoner, living in a dorm with three other sissies. I mean guys. None of us knows where this place is but it must be somewhere very secluded. It’s like a prison camp with fences and armed guards. There are cameras everywhere and rumors that if you try to escape [censored]. No one has ever escaped, they say.

 

 

 

They brought me here in an unmarked minibus with screened windows and I think they must have given me something to make me sleep. I couldn’t believe it when the minibus pulled up in front of the house and Liz told me I was to get in it and not ask any questions. What could I do? Two huge Black orderlies made sure that I wouldn’t cause any trouble, not that I could have at that point anyway, not after what had happened that weekend.

 

 

 

I was wearing only a skimpy white slip that barely covered my panties and a cheap pair of bright pink rubber flip-flops that Antwan had picked up from a convenience store. Liz laughed when she saw my sad outfit but when I begged for something to cover myself up she said there was no need for me to overdress. I wouldn’t be keeping my clothes long where I was going anyway.

 

 

 

I was terrified and humiliated when the orderlies walked me whimpering down the front walk to the minibus. What if one of the neighbors saw me? Where was I going, anyway? Were they going to kill me? Maybe I shout for help? I was afraid to make my situation even worse. Even worse—how could it get any worse? I was surprised to see at least four other guys already seated inside the minibus—each of them wearing a skimpy throwaway female outfit just like me.

 

On the long drive, I moved in and out of a drugged sleep full of nightmares. Whenever I woke, I wasn’t the only one on the dark minibus sobbing.

 

 

 

2.

 

I guess I should explain how I came to be here—it was, I realize now, my own dumb fault, after all. It was Friday night and we were sitting around the pool, Liz, myself, and my business partner Antwan, having a few drinks and talking. I started shooting my mouth off again about how entitlements and affirmative action were ruining the country and its pursuit of excellence.

 

 

 

“Oh shut up, Brad,” my wife snapped. “No one wants to hear your stupid neocon nonsense.”

 

 

 

Liz had had a couple by now but I was still taken aback by the sharpness of her tone. And in front of Antwan, no less. My partner reassured Liz that he wasn’t at all offended, that he was well aware of my social and political views.

 

 

 

“Brad doesn’t think that the fact that his family we’re already wealthy landowners in this country while my people were still in chains has anything to do with his success.”

 

 

 

I knew that this was a sore point for Antwan, especially since, as an analyst, he brought in the highest percentage of profit than anyone else, including me, even though I owned the company, and I was his boss.

 

 

 

“It’s not that,” I said, pedantically, completely oblivious to the tension in the air, “but there’s a reason why my ancestors grabbed that early advantage.”

 

 

 

“Oh fuck you Brad,” Liz said with real vehemence.

 

 

 

“So,” Antwan said, smiling coolly, and rising in one smooth movement from his beach chair, all six-foot-five-two-hundred-twenty pounds of him, “in your opinion, it’s a matter of might makes right, is it, Brad? To the bigger, stronger, smarter go the victory and the spoils?”

 

 

 

Antwan towered over me. We were all in our swimsuits and I suddenly felt so puny, pale, and weak in the shadow of Antwan’s athletic black body. If I weren’t a little sloshed I might have thought twice about continuing the argument. But as it was I couldn’t back down.

 

 

 

“Well, essentially, yes. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

 

 

 

“According to your theory, then, if I’m strong enough to take what you have, then it belongs to me. Do I have it right?”

 

 

 

The smile on Antwan’s face had gone from cool to coldly chilling.

 

 

 

“Erm…well.”

 

 

 

“Because I can’t tell you how glad I am to learn that, Brad. Since I want your home, your business, and your hot fucking wife.”

 

 

 

“Now listen here,” I managed to squawk before Antwan reached out and literally lifted me off the lounge chair with one large hand wrapped around my skinny white throat. With my eyes I sought out Liz for help, but my bikini-clad wife was laughing.

 

 

 

I was choking, eyes bulging, my bare toes frantically trying to find the deck. Antwan finished the rest of his drink, put down his empty glass, and with his now free hand drove all the air out of me with a single punch to the gut. He let go of my throat and I fell to the deck in a limp pile. As I lay there doubled-over, gasping, choking, trying to catch my breath, Antwan walked over to an unresisting Liz, stripped her of her bikini, and proceeded to fuck my wife bent over the gas grill.

 

 

 

Eventually I managed to struggle to my feet. By then Antwan had taken my wife into the house. As I staggered through the living room, I grabbed the fireplace poker and started up the stairs, from where I could hear them going at it again in the bedroom.

 

 

 

Any illusions I might have had that Antwan was forcing himself on my wife vanished when I threw open the door and saw Liz lying on the edge of our bed, her legs thrown over Antwan’s shoulders. My partner was standing alongside the bed, lifting Liz’s ass off the bed, as he plunged the most enormous cock I’d ever seen in my life in and out of my wife’s gaping pink and swollen cunt.

 

 

 

“Fuck me fuck me hard oh my God I’m going to cum,” my normally demure, frigid wife was squealing.

 

 

 

“You bastard,” I screamed, rushing towards my partner with the fireplace poker.

 

 

 

Antwan turned, his cock buried to the hilt inside my wife. He made a face as if I were some slight annoyance. He unhurriedly pulled out of Liz, who cursed me for interrupting her imminent orgasm, and calmly grabbed my wrist, twisting it so hard I thought he’d broken it, driving me to my knees. He took the poker from my limp hand without any more trouble than if I’d been a child.

 

 

 

There I was, kneeling before this Black man who’d beaten me into helpless submission and fucked my wife right in front of me and I was powerless to do a thing. Antwan’s gigantic black cock was still fully erect, glistening with Liz’s juices, only inches from my face as he stood over me with the poker raised overhead.

 

 

 

“Do it,” Liz screamed, “go ahead. Finish off the pathetic little shit. It’ll be self-defense. I’ll swear to it. We can be done with his faggot ass once and for all.”

 

 

 

This is it, I thought. My partner is going to kill me in my own bedroom with my unfaithful wife giving him her blessing from our marital bed. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow to fall.

 

 

 

“No,” I heard Antwan say, “I have a better idea.”

 

 

  

  

Sissy Cuckold Story  -  Part 2

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