Cucked And Controlled

CUCKED AND CONTROLLED By Throne I married Gerta even though she was much older than me. Why? Well, at 22 I was still a virgin. Somehow it seemed to me that an experienced woman like her, in her late 40s, would be the perfect mate for me. Besides, I was powerfully drawn to her style of clothing, glamorous and showy, the exotic shoes and boots she favored, her garish make-up, and even those elaborate, heavily sprayed hairstyles. And I have to admit, I was especially interested in her full figure and generous curves. We went out a few times, to fancy restaurants and cocktail lounges, and I felt very comfortable with her. On our third date she drove me to her two-story home in a ritzy suburb. Gerta explained that she had been married twice, to wealthy men, and gained most of their money in divorce settlements. She even mentioned, in passing, something about both of them being left 'not only broke, but broken'. I didn't get what she was saying at the time, but since then I've come to understand. You see, I had a fabulous trust fund waiting for me on my 25th birthday and had told her about it. Anyway, once we were inside she had me hang her mink coat on a padded hanger and place her matching shako neatly inside a hatbox. Then I mixed us drinks, under her supervision, and we sat down on an ornate antique couch to relax. When I was almost done my drink and feeling a bit tipsy, never having handled alcohol well, she suggested that I fetch a box that was on top of a high bookshelf across the room. I couldn't reach it, being quite short. She had to come over and retrieve it for me. A bit ashamed, I nevertheless carried it back to the couch. She sat and told me to open it. Still standing, I lifted the lid. Inside were a pair of boots, shiny black leather, with four inch spiked red heels. She told me, "I've noticed how attracted you are to my footwear, Chucky." My name is Charles but I ignored the new form of address. "Why don't you take off what I'm wearing and put those on me?" Suddenly dry mouthed, I knelt and reverently removed the boots from their bed of tissue paper, setting them upright. Then I gently worked the pair she was wearing off her feet. Under them she had on gunmetal grey stockings. My fingers brushed the back of them, feeling not only the seams that ran down the rear, but her firm calves as well. I eased the new boots onto her feet, smelling the fresh leather, very aware of their sleek finish. By the time I had them on her I felt strangely excited. When I started to rise she leaned forward far enough to place a restraining hand on my shoulder. "Stay there, Chucky," she said softly but with authority. "You'll enjoy being so close to those boots you love, won't you?" Unsure of myself, I took the easy route and agreed. I was very aware of her superior position above me and the peek of bare thighs and garters I was getting from where I sat. She crossed one leg over the other, increasing my view -- and my interest. She peered down at me inquisitively. "Dear, I have to ask you a question, and I expect total honesty." Her tone was reassuring. "It's something I need to know before we carry this relationship to the next stage." I nodded mutely. "You haven't had much experience with girls, have you?" I felt my cheeks flush and managed to tell her that was true. "Are you a virgin, Chucky?" I mentally cringed but again answered in the affirmative. How had she known? "And from the lack of any sort of bulge in the front of your pants," she went on matter-of-factly, "I assume you are not endowed with what it takes to satisfy a women." I almost gagged, trying to get out an answer. Humiliated, I told her, "No, I'm awfully small -- um -- down there." "Well, I have a vast amount of experience with men, strong Alpha males, and will be happy to guide you. The only thing is, Chucky, that I will expect you to do exactly as I tell you, with no fussing, and definitely no questioning. Are we agreed?" It was all happening too quickly. I meekly told her that would be fine. I even thanked her. She stood regally and told me to follow her to the bedroom. In mild shock, I obeyed, my eyes never leaving her undulating bottom cheeks, the way they moved under her tight dress, the impressions her girdle made on the fabric. She sat on the bed and told me in an even voice to strip. Very uncomfortable but wanting to please her, and remembering my promise not to question anything, I did as I was told. When I was done, my clothes neatly folded and laid on the seat of a ladder back chair, she was still fully dressed. That made me shift nervously as I stood there with my immature genitals and near absence of pubic hair uncovered. Gerta opened a bedside drawer and took out a pair of opera length leather gloves, which she slid up her curvaceous arms. "Come closer, little one," she said, looking significantly at my crotch. "So I can touch you." When I was directly in front of her she reached out and put her leather covered fingers on my nipples. I gasped. She lightly teased both of them and all at once I got a firm erection. Unfortunately, it wasn't impressive at all. She eyed it sadly. "Oh, my. You really will never satisfy a woman with that miniscule toy." She chuckled. "So the first thing I must teach you is how to please a female a different way -- with your mouth." I wanted to tell her that the thought of doing that repulsed me, but my promise prevented me from speaking those words. Instead, I stood there as she laid back comfortably on her queen sized bed, still dressed. Gerta instructed me to kneel between her full thighs. Then I had to unfasten the crotch band of her girdle, which fell out of the way, revealing her mound, plump and lightly furred, with protruding lips. Her womanly scent reached my nostrils and I felt myself simultaneously driven away and attracted. The latter reaction won out and my erection grew even harder, so much that it was uncomfortable. "Now, dear, just put your mouth on me down there. Start with a few kisses and then gently begin to lick." Not seeing any alternative, I complied. Her taste was strong and unfamiliar, yet it added to my arousal. I started slowly and followed her directions to suck her clit and probe with my tongue. Soon I had her moaning softly. Gerta made me take my time and a half hour later I was still down there, my own needs ignored, as she rose toward a climax. That was when she told me to work faster. Her orgasm was eruptive and left my lower face wet. I lapped her through a long afterglow and then, when I thought it was finally time to stop, she started me again. Not until I had given her a second and third finish was I allowed to cease. She made me refasten the bottm of her girdle and straighten her dress. Then she sat up once more and had me stand again. "That was a good start," she said calmly. "Now we have to do something about your situation. I assume that you masturbate." When I was too stunned to answer she helpfully added, "You know, jerk off. Pull your little pud. Wank. Stroke yourself." I choked out, "That's not something I want to talk about." "Didn't you agree to go along with whatever I decided would help you? Yes? Well, your red face has already answered the question but I still need to hear you say it. After all, we can't have you behaving like an untruthful little boy, now can we?" "N... no. I guess not." She stared hard at me until I went on. "I have... um... done what you said." The glaring look continued. "I mean, I have masturbated. Jerked off. All those other things you called it." I hung my head. "I'm sorry." "That's all right. We have to work with what we have." She turned her attention to my penis. "Which isn't much. So, show me how you do it." "How I...?" She couldn't expect me to do that. But she did and, recalling the rule about doing as I was told, my confidence further undermined by the way she treated me like a child, I put my unsteady hand on my rigid member. I gave it a few strokes and, when she didn't tell me to stop, kept doing it. Gerta told me that under no circumstances was I to make myself finish. She put her fingers where they had been before, on my nipples. This time, with me manipulating myself, the sensations were twice as intense. I trembled and moaned, unable to control my reactions. "One more matter," she said, unfluttered. "Get down on your knees like you were earlier. That's right. Don't stop your wanking. Now look at my boots, Chucky." I was oddly mesmerized by them. She withdrew her fingers from my chest. "Bend down and kiss my boots. Pretend you're using your mouth on my pussy again." When I did it I nearly spurted. She sensed that and allowed me to stop before I reached the point of no return. Gerta decided, "That's enough for tonight. Your reactions told me everything I need to know. We will get married in one month." The next four weeks flew by, with Gerta having me sleep over most nights at her house, continuing our non-reciprocal sex life, and proceeding with my bedroom education, all of that tangling me more and more deeply in her web. She even had me sign a pre-nuptial agreement. I read it carefully, we had a few glasses of wine, and then I signed. By the day of our modest wedding she had me well under her control. My bride was stunning in a snug wedding dress of burgundy, complete with a matching pillbox hat that featured a full face veil. She wore the black boots with red heels that had figured so prominently into my first visit to her home. The ceremony was brief and at the end she only let me kiss her on the cheek. There was a small reception at her house, with mostly her friends, including four women who looked and acted much like her. After so long without sexual release, and having become more and more attracted to Gerta's type and style, I was drawn to those females as well. My bride made sure I danced with each of them, right there in the living room, and noted how excited that got me. Soon we were left alone. Happily anticipating what came next, I followed my wife to the bedroom, as always fixating on her rolling rump. Once w were there she had me undress first. This time I didn't mind, as I anticipated real sex after so much anticipating without a single orgasm. She couldn't deny me now that we were man and wife. That was when she got something out of the dresser drawer. "You should read this," she said crisply. "It is a copy of the pre-nup you signed." "It's okay," I said even though I had sudden misgivings. "I checked that very carefully before I put my name on it." "Not really. I showed you one version, but switched it with another before you signed. You act so childish that I didn't want to have to discuss it then. But we should now. Read." Standing there naked, I went through it, feeling worse with each paragraph. "But, Gerta," I said weakly. "This gives you all my property. My trust fund. And if we ever separated, it would leave me a pauper." "A bit worse than that, I'm afraid, Chucky. It would leave you very deeply in debt -- to me. I own you, little man." When I tried to object, she grew coldly furious. Without loosing her temper she explained how our life was going to be from then on. "Until you grow up, there will be no sex for you. You will continue to serve me in bed. I will allow you to touch my boots, panties, girdles, and such." She took out a cigarette holder, fitted a cigarette into it, and snapped her fingers. As she had taught me to, I got her lighter and lit it. She went on, "I will grant you a small allowance, enough to get you to work and back on public transportation. I will sell your car and keep the money. You will pack your lunches, taking only what I allow. After work you will come home directly." She paused to enjoy a long drag and blow smoke in my direction. "In fact, I will regulate all of your eating. There will be more rules later. Do you understand everything?" "I..." She had me ensnared. I meekly went along. "Yes, Gerta." "No, don't call me that. You behave like a little boy and I have to be the adult. Therefore, you may call me Ma'am." It made me wince but I told her, "Yes, Ma'am." "That's settled then. Now it's time to officially begin our honeymoon. We have an entire week, which we'll spend here at my house. It will give me a chance to work on your training, which you need so desperately." I had to help her out of her gown. Still in girdle, attached garters, stockings and heels, she stretched out on the bed and parted her legs. "You know how to please me. Get busy. And because it's our wedding night I want it to be romantic. Spend the first five minutes just kissing my pussy and saying sweet words to it. Now." "Y... yes, Ma'am." It was utterly demeaning. By the time she had enjoyed a pair of enthusiastic climaxes my male pride had been crushed. Then she hit me with the final indignity. "You know, Chucky, as good as you are at that, it's no substitute for real sex, with a real man who has a big cock. I think I'll find myself a lover. I've had so many in the past that it will be easy for me. In fact, you can be there when I find him." Two nights later, still on our honeymoon, I found out what that entailed. We went to the cocktail lounge Gerta and I had visited on early dates. I sat next to her at the bar drinking seltzer while she sipped a Manhattan. Her dress clung to all of her full curves and the men around us admired her openly, moreso when they saw that I didn't disapprove. Before long one of them came over, middle aged and handsome, to say hello. Within minutes she had explained that I was no one to concern himself about, they exchanged names -- he was Burt -- and they began flirting. She was uninhibited, brazenly touching his thigh. He admired her expensive jewelry and said he knew the perfect item to add to her collection. I was aghast as she showed interest. Then she invited him to our house, except that she called it her house, which is what it really was. As soon as we arrived and were inside they kissed passionately. Gerta laughed and said she had a confession to make. "You see, Burt, this isn't my nephew or anything like that. Chucky here is my husband. And he is a virgin. He is hung like a bunny rabbit and doesn't know how to please a woman except by going down on her, which I make him do all the time. But now I'm ready for a real man, and I want Chucky to know what he's missing." "That's great," Burt said with a toothy grin. "Maybe we can even make him cry. The three of us should go to the bedroom, right now." I was appalled. They preceded me, laughing all the way, his hand on her rump, and as soon as they were there they began undressing each other. Gerta made me remove her boots, telling Burt how perverted I was about them, and how I was also addicted to her panties and girdles and bras and stockings and shoes. Then she made me get out of my clothes. I had to stand naked in front of my wife and her new found lover while they mocked my meager endowment. Then Burt put her on her back on the satin sheets and opened the bottom of her girdle. He got out of the rest of his clothes and my wife saw his cock. "You've got a monster between your legs," she said with a smile. "You're bigger soft than Chucky is hard. Several times bigger." "Is it too much for you?" he asked. "I'll need to be plenty wet." He glowered at me. "Get your tongue inside my woman's pussy and make her nice and juicy for me. I'm sure you want her to have a good time, the kind you can't give her with that miniature dick of yours." In a state of complete surrender to a superior male, I got between Gerta's legs and began slurping, preparing her for the incredibly well hung Burt. Then he grabbed me by the back of my narrow neck and tossed me aside. I landed on the carpet and got back up onto my knees. He was in the missionary position, with the head of his huge tool at the entrance of her pussy. "Tell me you want it," he demanded of my wife. "And tell me why." She said, "I want it more than you can imagine, lover. I want it because my husband doesn't have a real cock, just a little boy's dicky." She looked at me. "Isn't that right, Chucky?" "Yes, Ma'am," I agreed miserably. Hearing that, Burt plunged into her, up to his oversized balls. She cried out with joy and, as he set a rhythm, moved her hips to match it. The man was a sex machine, tireless and perpetually thrusting, varying his strokes, using his entire body. After half an hour of wild screwing he sent her into an orgasm I could never have delivered. At the same time he released his load. My wife was deeply satisfied. "Make us drinks," she told me, still catching her breath. "That was thirsty work." I did as I was told. While they drank she assured Burt I would never be allowed inside her pussy. He suggested that she let me put in just the tip, once in awhile, to remind me of what I was being denied. That's when I started to tear up. They saw my reaction and continued to torment me about my lack of a sex life. When Gerta told him I was a jerk off, literally, I lost control and began to sob loudly, tears running down my red cheeks. They thought that was hilariously funny. "All right," Burt declared. "I want to make sure your wimp of a husband knows his place." He sneered at me. "Get over here and use your mouth to clean up Gerta's pussy. DO IT." Gagging, I got my face in front of her messy snatch. She told Burt it got her hot to have him be so mean to me. He told her that he would be happy to do it all the time. Then he pushed the back of my head, shoving my face into what I later learned is called a 'cream pie'. As I performed the disgusting task the lovers kissed soulfully and murmured words of affection to each other. That was three months ago. Since then, Gerta has treated me more and more like a child. She picks age-inappropriate clothes for me, makes me eat food intended for youngsters, even had me let my hair grow out so she could get me a silly soup bowl haircut. At the office everyone senses the change in me and looks down on me. The women can see that I'm maddened by horniness and somehow know that I don't dare do anything about it, so they tease me endlessly with their bodies. Just yesterday one of them dropped a bunch of paperclips under her desk and kept me down there, picking them up one by one while she refused to move her feet. One of the fetishes Gerta has inculcated in me went to work and my small penis got hard, even spotting the front of my trousers. I can only imagine how much worse my situation at work will grow next week. I do all the housework in Greta's spacious home, in the nude or wearing colorful, cartoon-decorated jockey shorts intended for youngsters and much too small for me. She loves to stand over me and critique every job I do. I'm left with no time for myself. And my sex life? I'm allowed to ask permission to jerk off whenever I like. My wife usually grants it. She also insists on overseeing my efforts. Then I may ask, 'Please, Ma'am, may I squirt?', which is almost always answered in the negative. I average about one orgasm every three and a half weeks. The rest of the time, as much as it humiliates me, I keep asking for permission to play with my 'little dicky' or 'teeny weeny' or 'pitiful peeny' or one of the other names she insists I use for my penis, ever hopeful that the one of my sessions will actually lead to release for me. What can I expect in the future? Remember those friends of Gerta's that she made me dance with at our wedding reception? Well, she has decided that it's a waste for her to be the only one to enjoy my well-trained mouth. So, starting this weekend, every time she and Burt go out, which is several nights a week, one or more of her friends will stay at the house with me to 'babysit'. While they're there I'll have to provide them with all the oral service they demand, or anything else that pleases them. Gerta says they have some kinky tastes and are all insatiable. And when I hit 25, she'll have them stay over for two weeks, in shifts, with their lovers free to visit, while she and Burt take a vacation -- to be paid for with the first of many withdrawals from the vast resources in my trust fund. Gerta has me so primed to respond to giving oral sex, to being around plump matronly women, and to responding to their fetishy clothing and footwear, that although I'm dreading those 14 days... I'm also looking forward to them. My wife owns me, cheats openly on me, will be letting her friends use and abuse me -- and all I can think of is how much I need all that. I'm her property and my only purpose is to keep her happy, even while I'm losing the final vestiges of my independence and self-respect. 16439 1.63/512345