The Willing Cuckold

Linda’s lover seemed to be coming to the house a lot more often after pipsqueak retired to become his wife’s full-time maid. It was hard enough getting used to doing all of the household chores including vacuuming, dusting, polishing, cleaning, laundry, ironing, cooking, washing dishes and constantly clearing up after his wife who had previously always been so tidy but now seemed to delight in just dropping things when she was finished with them. Clothes were the worst. Why did she have to try on half a dozen different outfits before choosing the one she wanted? And why did the outfits she discarded have to be thrown across the room or just dumped on the bedroom or bathroom floor, meaning they had to be ironed again before he could put them away?

It was soul destroying to see a blouse or a skirt he’d taken such care to iron perfectly, carelessly dumped. It was deliberate of course. Linda would stand over him criticising and berating his ironing then dump the perfectly ironed item on the floor before yelling at him and calling him a lazy little bitch because there were items of her clothing all over the floor. It was totally unfair but he could not deny the perverse pleasure he got from being so badly treated by the woman he loved. It was a part of himself he could not begin to understand, but his wife did.

When Sam was there it was worse. How was he supposed to concentrate on doing housework, keeping every room to his wife’s immaculate standards when all he could hear was his wife screaming out her orgasms? It wasn’t as if they kept to the bedroom either. Pipsqueak would often enter the lounge or the dining room or even the kitchen, cleaning utensils in hand, only to be greeted by the sight of his wife and her lover rutting away like animals; on the couch, on the dining table, on a worktop in the kitchen, on top of the washing machine in the laundry. They were insatiable! Poor pipsqueak had to curtsy respectfully and carry on as best he could. He had no doubt they found it easier to ignore him than he did to ignore them. It was supremely humiliating to stand washing dishes or dusting furniture while they just carried on as if he was no more significant than the TV or the vacuum cleaner. Even if they did acknowledge his presence, it was only to laugh at him and warn him, he’d better be doing a good job.

‘If you cleaned as well as Sam fucks,’ Linda had said when pipsqueak once asked if he could please leave the room and do something else until they finished, ‘This house would be spotless! So no, you may not leave. You will stay and carry on. You might even learn something. Not that it would be of any use to you now.’

Then there were the inspections. Every day, no matter how hard or for how long pipsqueak toiled, Linda would find something wrong. A spec of dirt, something slightly out of place or not where she randomly decided it should be. On top of that came the uniform inspections. Despite having to work like a slave, often on his knees, pipsqueak was required to keep his uniform immaculate at all times. Linda gave him a rubber pinny to wear which helped him to keep his uniform clean but he was not allowed to wear it when serving her. If she rang the little bell that she kept with her he had to quickly remove the pinny then check his appearance in the mirror before shuffling off as quickly as his heels allowed to see what she required.

He’d always loved to see his wife in stockings and his favourites were the old-fashioned type with a sexy seam running up the back. Linda always complained that he didn’t appreciate what a pain it was to keep the seams straight. Well, he certainly appreciated it now since Linda had made them a part of his daily uniform. He was required to keep the seams arrow straight, which was pretty much impossible while constantly racing to get through the endless lists of chores he was given every day. Every time his wife rang the damned bell, he had to race to the full length mirror in the hallway to try his best to check and adjust the delicate stockings before mincing off in his heels to see what she required.

‘Are you stupid pipsqueak or have you just lost all respect for me?’ Linda would demand.

‘No Mistress,’ pipsqueak would simper.

‘Then perhaps you can explain why one of your seams is not straight.’

‘Sorry, Mistress, I was… ‘

‘I don’t fucking care what you were just… you lazy little slut! Fetch my crop this instant! And make sure your seams are perfect before you get back here!’

Punishments for failures of either type of inspection were unreasonably harsh, totally unfair and thoroughly dreaded by pipsqueak. An extra week of chastity, a cancelled opportunity for relief, six strokes of Sam’s belt to the backs of his thighs or twelve of the best to his sissy backside with Linda’s riding crop. It was pretty much impossible to get through a full day of service without earning yet more sexual frustration and a bottom too sore to sit on.

‘I’m afraid this is your life now sweety,’ Linda responded when pipsqueak, after an especially difficult day, pleaded with her to be reasonable. ‘There is nothing reasonable about a grown man prancing around in a sissy maid outfit. Nor in him agreeing to be locked in chastity while his wife sleeps with another man. I’m afraid you gave up any prospect of fair or reasonable treatment the first time you put on that ridiculous uniform. You confirmed your position when, without complaint you licked my lover’s cum from my pussy. Then you gave clear and final confirmation when you dropped to your knees and sucked my lover’s cock. To be fair and reasonable to you I would need to respect you. Do you think you deserve my respect?’

‘No Mistress,’ pipsqueak curtsied, having no grounds he could think of to argue… except, ‘I love you.’

‘I should hope so,’ Linda smiled. ‘Now off you go and earn your keep.’

Actually, Linda had a great deal of respect for her now completely sissified and emasculated husband, though she would never tell him so for fear of spoiling the experience for him. The things she had done to him and the things she’d made him do, many of which were way out of his comfort zone, were sometimes for his benefit because she well knew how being pushed into doing things he hated appealed greatly to his submissive nature and had the result of rendering him utterly in awe of her, which was exactly how he wanted to feel. Other times though, they were for her, simply because she got a hugely erotic thrill from being able to treat him so badly without risking the loss of even a tiny part of the love and adoration he felt for her.

On the contrary in fact, he had made it very clear that the worse she treated him the more he loved and worshipped her. Either way she was well aware of the strength and commitment it took for him to continue playing the role of sissy maid husband. It had been and, she hoped, would continue to be, an often difficult but always hugely rewarding journey for them both. A journey she was determined to continue with complete devotion.

Pipsqueak had to bite his tongue as he curtsied once more and humbly shuffled off back to his never-ending housework. He had retired with a substantial pension which he had signed over to his Mistress wife. All household bills were more than covered and the generous amount remaining was Linda’s to spend as she chose. He never saw a penny of it. Some was clearly spent on purchasing ever more uncomfortable, restrictive and humiliating outfits for him. But he had to thank his grinning wife for those, being sure to show genuine gratitude or face more punishments. Even his diet was restricted now, mainly to his wife’s leftovers, in order that he not be a financial burden to her.

‘We need to keep you on a strict diet sweety,’ Linda had decided. ‘If you’re going to develop a nice gurly figure to showcase the lovely outfits I’m so kind as to buy for you, then we have to watch what you eat. I’m sure Sam would appreciate his blowjobs even more if the sissy maid giving them had a nice girly figure.’

The blowjobs Linda referred to were a constant source of humiliation for pipsqueak. He was, by now, accustomed to being required to use his mouth to clean up both his wife and her lover after one of their lengthy sex sessions. Although he still hated having to lick up another man’s cum, his deprived state of mind meant he could still get some enjoyment from serving his wife in this way, especially if he could make her cum. Though, even when that happened, she would usually be lying in the arms of her lover, sucking on his tongue and groaning her pleasure into his mouth. Sucking and licking clean her lover’s huge cock was different though, being at once the most appallingly disgusting and humiliating thing he could imagine yet also, as she often pointed out, the most effective way to show his utter devotion to the will of his Mistress.

An idea came to Linda of how she might further abuse the power she had over her maid when her lover, Sam, complained about her absence one day. He worked in construction and had taken to calling on random occasions during his lunch hour to slake his lust inside his ever-willing married girlfriend’s mouth or pussy. When, one day, he called and Linda had gone out to lunch with friends he was far from happy.

‘I’m sorry baby,’ Linda explained when he called her. ‘But I never know when you are going to call. You never give me any notice. I understand you often don’t know until the last minute if you will be free, but you have to understand that I can’t be a prisoner in my own home on the off chance you might arrive.’

That’s when it occurred to Linda; she might not be a prisoner in her own home but she knew someone who was.

‘If I’m in when you call then that’s fine,’ she later explained to her lover. ‘But if I’m not then why don’t you make use of the maid to scratch your itch?’

‘I’m not fucking gay!’ he replied.

‘Of course you’re not baby,’ Linda laughed. ‘I think that’s a given! But men who make use of a sissy’s mouth to relieve their pent-up sexual tension are not doing anything gay. It’s not even sex, not really! I mean, if you are working on a building site where there is no toilet and you need a pee, you just do it behind a bush or something, don’t you? Well, this is the same. You have a need; your normal sexy outlet, which is me by the way, isn’t available, so you improvise, you make do.’

Pipsqueak was a little harder to convince, ‘Please Mistress, don’t ask me to do that. When I do it in front of you, I’m doing it for you. If you’re not even there…’

‘But I will be there sweety, in spirit. Sam will tell me he called and that he used you and that will give me such a rush, don’t you see! I’ll be dominating you so powerfully without even being present! I might even have to cut short my outing and rush home to use your devoted tongue while it’s still coated in Sam’s cum!’

So, it was decided; if Linda was going to be out over lunch time, the last thing she did before leaving was to secure her maid on her knees in the garage. Her wrists and ankles were tied and a fake latex pussy mask was fastened over her face. It was a rather bizarre sight but had been supplied by Sam who found it easier that way. He was fucking a fake pussy rather than getting oral sex from a sissy faggot.

There was nothing easy about it for poor pipsqueak though who suffered a long anxious wait to see if his wife’s lover turned up. If he didn’t, he felt unbearably pathetic to have wasted so much time kneeling there pointlessly. It was as if his time didn’t matter because he was so insignificant. But, if he did, there was the ignominy of being used like some sort of masturbation toy followed by a further period of waiting for his wife’s return, unable to wash the taste of Sam’s thick and potent spunk from his mouth.

If pipsqueak thought things could not get any more humiliating, he was proved wrong twice. The first time was when his wife’s lover, having finished relieving his sexual tension through the fake pussy and into the sissy’s mouth, decided he needed a piss and decided to make the kneeling maid his target for that too. Linda was late back that day, so pipsqueak had lots of time to absorb the taste of cum and the smell of piss as it dried in his hair and on his uniform. When she did return and saw the state of her maid, she immediately called for a uniform inspection which, of course, pipsqueak failed.

‘I spend a great deal of my money providing you with beautiful sissy uniforms pipsqueak. Have you any idea how heart-breaking it is for me when you can’t even make an effort to look after them and keep them clean?’

‘Please Mistress, I couldn’t help it, it was Mr Sam, he… ‘

‘Don’t you dare make this worse by trying to blame someone else! If you weren’t such a little slut, mincing around and shaking your sexy little sissy booty at my boyfriend every time he’s here, then he wouldn’t be coming round here to use you to relieve the tensions you’ve created, would he?’

‘No, Mistress,’ pipsqueak mumbled, appalled at his wife’s totally unfair accusations but knowing better than to argue with her.

‘You’re supposed to be my full-time maid but, out of the goodness of my heart, I allow you time off to laze around in the garage while I’m out, thinking you might appreciate my kindness and maybe at least make sure you are presentable for my return. But you can’t be bothered, can you?’

‘I’m sorry, Mistress,’ pipsqueak was cry now.

‘Oh, here we go with the water works,’ Linda exclaimed, trying to cover her growing arousal with an appearance of anger. ‘Save your tears for the hiding I’m going to give you! Now go and fetch my crop and bring my vibrator too. I’ll show you what happens to ungrateful, dirty little slut maids in my house!’

The penalty for his slovenly behaviour was three dozen strokes of her riding crop, the first to his bottom and the backs of his thighs, the second to the front of his thighs and the final third batch to the palms of his hands. After that he had to write Sam a letter, sitting on a terribly stinging bottom and trying to write with swollen hands, thanking him for his kind visit, while he listened to his wife using her vibrator behind him.

The second time was something Sam, unknown to pipsqueak, had arranged with Linda. When he turned up with a friend pipsqueak thought he would die of shame. Unable to run or hide he could only cry quietly as the two men roughly used his fake pussy covered face, taking turns to choke him with their rock-hard pre-cum-dribbling cocks until they each fired their thick cum into the back of his throat before patting each other on the back and leaving without a word to the sobbing sissy maid.

Linda was a little worried she might have gone too far this time but knew that, for it to work, she had to be strong. So, when pipsqueak told her what had happened, she just laughed, ‘Boys will be boys I’m afraid sweetheart. Men like to share their hobbies with other men. You should be proud that Sam thinks you are worthy of being used by his friend. I’m looking forward to the day he shares me with a friend! Now what’s that on the front of your dress? Is that spunk you dirty little slut? I think we need to have another uniform inspection, don’t we? You really are your own worst enemy gurl!’’