Kysa's Cuckolded Husband
by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com
When I was young I was a fool. When my future wife
to be refused full sexual intercourse before the marriage day, I assumed this
was quite normal, respectable behavior on her part, the natural reaction of a
nice, middle class girl true to her upbringing. Only later did I discover that
Kysa wasn't 'respectable' at all! At the time though I couldn't see past the
smooth curves of her ample breasts, tightly constrained beneath her thin,
skin-hugging tops, or separate my gaze from the marvelous mounds of her perfect,
round and inviting buttocks.
Kysa loved to encourage me to play with her breasts. She'd laugh at my nervous,
still almost adolescent, fumbling attempts to 'touch up' her tits, but she
almost always allowed my wandering hands to find their way under her stretched
woolen jumper. How I loved to feel the weight of her globes in the palms of my
hands. Touching and stroking the incredibly taught smooth nylon of her bra cups
made my stomach turn flip-flops! Even today I get a kick out of thinking back to
how my unsteady finger-tips would gradually work nearer and nearer to the
engorged, protruding firmness of her nipples. Kysa liked me to work her large
and prominent nipples between my fingers, rolling them around through the thin,
silky material of the brassiere. Of course I'd get a huge erection, but I was
never allowed to relieve myself in her presence in any way, never mind actually
fuck her.
"Wait until we're married darling, then I'll make you happy" was her watchword.
She'd keep me pleasuring her divine, feminine orbs for ages, with my balls
getting bluer by the minute, and my pre-cum wetting my underwear, but I never
dared risk upsetting this goddess by suggesting going any further. Every night
in bed I'd jack off silly thinking of her. Just imagining being allowed to
actually suck those huge nipples was enough to make me cum with huge gushes of
wasted cum spurting into my hand.
The day finally came when Kysa consented to marry me. I walked down the isle
with a penis like an iron rod in my trousers, thinking about getting Kysa into
bed at last on the honeymoon, but fortunately I was able to arrange my clothing
so that it wasn't too noticeable. In any case, everybody was looking at Kysa,
resplendent in layers of virgin white, rather than at me. The honeymoon first
night went off reasonably well. I came too soon of course, in fact before I'd
even managed to get Kysa undressed. Yes, just sucking on those gorgeous nipples
did it! Fortunately Kysa took a very understanding view of this episode. Within
no time she'd got me hard again, and before very long the marriage was
successfully consummated.
What (even at the time) struck me as being - surely - rather unusual, was that
for the rest of the honeymoon I wasn't allowed to repeat the success of that
first night. Kysa kept me at arm's length, claiming that she felt sure it wasn't
"normal" for a husband to want to molest his wife too often, not if he really
"respected" her. Well respect Kysa I certainly did. She saw to that. Having had
my first fuck of my life with her I was hooked. She was my goddess. I was
infatuated with her. I'd do anything for her. She was always kind and sweet to
me, pulling down the zipper on my trousers, reaching inside and stroking me into
a fervid state of ball-bursting desire whenever she had me alone... only to then
leave in search of a drink or a swim in the pool. I followed her everywhere like
an obedient dog, waiting on her every whim, hypnotized by the slinky sway of her
hips and gentle bounce of those irresistible tits.
Before long I found myself masturbating alone to relieve the tension. Even I
couldn't believe this. I was on my honeymoon with the most gorgeous woman on
earth, yet I was being forced to jack off like some teenager to stop myself
going insane with lust. Unable to possess Kysa I found myself reduced to
stealing her sexy, silky panties. I spewed huge amounts of creamy white cum into
her shiny panties, imagining myself pushing my prick up her like the one and
only time I'd been permitted that luxury. Then I'd hide the used panties in the
laundry basket, hoping no-one would look too closely!
When Kysa made it plain that in the evenings she fully intended dancing with
other men after dinner, as well as me, I took it in my stride. Kysa could do no
wrong, and I was determined to take a broad-minded, liberal attitude to this. At
first it was just disco dancing. She never actually touched her other partners.
But then as the two weeks of the honeymoon wore on, and it was plain I wasn't
going to insist on either my conjugal "rights" or possessing her as an exclusive
dancing partner, Kysa began staying on the dance-floor for the slower numbers
too. This really did churn me up inside. I was forced to watch as my new wife
allowed herself to be held tightly by handsome men who all seemed more confident
and experienced than me. I sat at a side table guarding Kysa's drink, whilst she
smooched with some hunk. I watched in agony as the man's hands would reach
around her back and press her soft body to him.
One evening towards the end of the honeymoon I sat at my side table as a new
Latin-looking stranger (and yes, he was - quite literally - tall, dark and
handsome) caressed my wife's bare back, pressing her sacred breasts to his broad
chest. Then I noticed that he was maneuvering Kysa gradually towards the darkest
part of the disco. I strained my eyes to follow their movements. I could hardly
see them through the throng of bodies, but to my absolute horror I thought I saw
him kissing Kysa full on the lips. I was in agony. I couldn't be sure of what
I'd seen, and tried to tell myself that either I'd imagined it, or Kysa was very
drunk. I thought about fighting the man... and decided I couldn't do it. He had
looked big and muscular, and for all I knew if I tried to come between him and
"his girl" he might produce a knife or worse. I was terrified for my new
marriage, and scared of confronting the situation. In the end I sidled alone on
to the dance-floor, and danced pathetically, with strange, agonized, nervous
jerks, over in their direction.
My worst fears were confirmed. Up fairly close, even in the semi-darkness, I
could see the man's right hand snaking up Kysa's mini-skirt and caressing the
wonderful, round globes of her ass. As he stroked Kysa's bum he pulled her hips
onto his, and with mounting horror I suddenly saw the vague shape of what could
only be the massive bulge of an erect cock in his trousers. Soon he had Kysa's
crotch rubbing against his clearly excited phallus as they swayed to the slow
music. She must be able to feel his cock rubbing against her? What on earth was
she thinking? Why didn't she break off? What was I to do?
I remained almost frozen with indecision. Then the man's strong looking face
bent down to Kysa's again, and they began a long, deep kiss. Oh god, I thought,
he's putting his tongue into her! If he was, then Kysa was clearly not
resisting. The kiss went on and on. The man could be clearly seen working his
fingers inside Kysa's panties now, and with mounting tension and horror I
realized he was thrusting his fingers between her legs from behind, forcing her
mound onto his engorged cock at the front, whilst all the time keeping his mouth
clamped on hers. My wife was being frigged off by some Latin male in front of my
very own eyes! I felt my body tense up with sheer shock, but at the same time I
noticed my own prick expanding. I watched transfixed as Kysa was practically
fucked on the dance floor and thought of my own desires to shaft her. It was all
too much. I was so confused. I wanted so desperately to fuck my wife, but if I
couldn't do it I still wanted to see her getting fucked. The thought of my wife
opening her legs for this man, and being filled with powerful spurts of his
semen as he somehow turned her into a 'proper' fuckable woman was almost too
much to bear.
Kysa hadn't seen me, but suddenly her partner did. He plainly noticed me
staring, but his only reaction was to say, quite loudly, to my wife: "I'm going
to put one finger up your ass now, and then you're going to follow me to my
room!" I watched as the shadow of his forefinger made gentle thrusting movements
inside her panties. Kysa groaned, a deep, hungry, sexual groan of desire. He
held my wife's body to him as she wiggled her ass, impaled on his finger. Kysa's
lips curled open, looking thick and sensual, as she threw her head back, clearly
in ecstasy. Whether she was quite cumming or not was not clear, but to my shame
I did! I was conscious of the biggest erection of my life in my pants and a
superb sensuous feeling in the knob-head of my cock as it pressed against the
tight elastic of my pants' waistband. Then I was cumming helplessly. My cum
flooded out soaking my trousers, right there on the dance floor. It felt so
good, but I almost collapsed with the joy of release. Even after cumming my
shrinking dick moved slickly through the thick sliminess of my cum, and it still
felt great.
My mind was in turmoil though. My wife was by now heading off to her lover's
room, without ever having noticed my presence. I was helpless with jealousy, but
also overwhelmed by sexual release and sheer physical pleasure. If this was what
being cheated on felt like.... I was interested in knowing more!
Seeing my wife of just under two weeks leave the disco with her lover brought me
out of my state of shock somewhat. I was embarrassingly conscious of my
semen-soaked trousers, and whilst I was pretty sure nobody would see anything in
the poor light of the disco, I headed back to our honeymoon room trembling at
the knees with excitement at what I had experienced. As I cleaned myself up and
got ready for bed I thought about what the stranger in the disco would now be
doing to Kysa, my wife. I couldn't get the thought of his huge cock opening her
up out of my head. I visualized him on top of her, sucking her perfect tits into
his mouth, and pushing his magnificent manhood slowly into her gently yielding
love box. I imagined his rough lips on hers, rubbing away her pink lipstick with
his passion, as his tongue forced its way into her mouth. Then I thought about
his cum coming out of him, and jetting upwards into my wife, and her loving
every minute of his penetration of her body. How would she react when she found
me still awake in bed when she eventually returned, assuming that she did come
back tonight at all? Would she be calm, as if nothing had happened, all the time
walking around the room with that man's load inside her? I couldn't sleep and
waited hours for her, waited with a throbbing cock I didn't dare attend to.
Eventually, about five o'clock in the morning, I heard a key turn in the hotel
room door. I didn't say anything, but listened intently as Kysa's silent outline
made its way to the side of our honeymoon bed. She was obviously trying not to
wake me, but I needed to talk to her and see what kind of state she was in. I
felt nervous, angry, self-pitying and hot for Kysa's body all at the same time.
Steeling myself to some kind of confrontation I turned the bedside lamp on.
Kysa froze. She was just about to get into bed beside me, and looked startled.
Other than surprise though she didn't look too unkempt; she'd obviously had time
to groom herself after satisfying herself on that other man's cock. This was the
first time I'd seen Kysa looking somewhat less than confident, and emboldened by
her worried, surprised look, I built up courage to act the part of the outraged
husband.
"Where the hell have you been?" I barked at her. A quick flash of anger
distorted her beautiful face. Before I could say anything else the open palm of
her hand slapped heavily across my cheek, her long, red nails tearing my skin
like claws. "Never speak to me like that again!" my wife mouthed quietly to me,
barely controlled outrage quivering in her voice. This was the moment which
changed my life. Even then I knew it. Should I attempt to hit Kysa? Should I
show her who was going to be boss in this marriage? Or should I simply get up
and leave? For a moment I hesitated, but deep down I knew what I had to do. I
crawled to her, Kysa my goddess. I implored her forgiveness, and whimpered on
about how I'd learn to control my stupid male jealousy, if only she'd forgive me
and let me stay with her. I'd serve her loyally all my days. I'd work hard and
have my pay-check paid into her account every month. I'd do anything, but -
please Kysa - allow me to stay with you!
As my apologies multiplied I got more and more scared that she really would
leave me, the only woman I had ever fucked! As if to prove my loyalty to her I
literally crawled out of bed and knelt before her. When she said nothing at
first I was afraid, but when she still said nothing I felt encouraged.... she
was listening to me! I tried hard to accurately assess the effect of my every
word on her, stealing glances up at her divine features from my position at her
feet. It was clear she was listening, and was interested. After a few minutes
the acute anger died from her face, to be replaced by something more akin to
contempt and triumph. She had won, and she knew it. A few more minutes and she
was in bed beside me, staring at me, her mood by now almost contemplative.
By now I was telling her that I knew I had no right to question her movements. I
had to trust my wife, and if she wanted to dance with other men, well, of course
I couldn't object. If she wanted to let other men hold her, well, that was OK.
If she wanted to socialize with other men in their rooms, who was I to object?
She smiled. Kysa actually smiled again. I was happy. I loved this woman who
could forgive me raising my voice to her. Laying on her back Kysa spread her
legs apart and motioned me to put my head between her thighs. I did so, rolling
down into the bed beneath the sheet. Kysa took my hair in her hands and pulled
my head up to her feminine mound of light brown hair. Then she pushed my nose
into her labia and held me there. The smell of sex was overpowering. I breathed
in deeply, and my little, shriveled cock began to relax and expand again. Kysa
just held me there. For several minutes she said nothing, though once satisfied
that I had understood that I was not to move, she let go of my hair and began
gently stroking and caressing my head, and running her exquisitely sharp nails
over my bare back.
As the minutes passed my heart rate slowed. I was in heaven. Kysa loved me in
her own strange way, and we were finding a way of living together. I tried to
show my appreciation by licking Kysa's already damp labia, but she tapped me
sharply on the head until I stopped. After a few more minutes though she began
talking to me again, and I learned how things were going to be between us from
now on.
"You don't need to worry about Chris," she told me firmly. "You're my husband
and as long as you're loyal to me, obey me, and look after me, I'll stay with
you. But you may as well know that I didn't choose you to marry me because of
your body! I chose you because of your one key quality: loyalty. I reserve my
right to fuck whomsoever I choose. You'll fuck nobody without my say-so. I might
choose to mate with you occasionally. Then again I might not. Either way you're
going to have to learn to control that nasty masturbating habit of yours. You
needn't think I don't know all about it!"
All the while she was laying down the law Kysa stroked my head and my shoulders.
She held me tight between her wonderful thighs, and every now and again pushed
my nose a little harder against the wet, soft entrance to her hole. "I'll be
laying down lots of rules for you," she continued, "and you'll have to enjoy
obeying them if you want to stay with me.
"This is your first test. You may as well know that Chris and I have been to bed
together." - As if I hadn't already guessed! - "We have made love, more than
once, and I enjoyed it very much. Chris is obviously a very practiced lover, and
really knows how to please a woman. He's better at it than you'll ever be! For
one thing, he's really well hung. His beautiful cock is so much bigger than
yours darling; you could never compete with him. He has the most wonderful
broad, flat chest, fascinating, powerful dark eyes, and balls the size of hens'
eggs. His cock must be at least twice as long and thick as yours. When he put it
up me I almost came straight away, he stretched me so much. When he pumped his
powerful tool up and down me, he took me to heaven and back. He made me cum and
cum and cum. I was his. He waited until I was exhausted by my orgasms, and then
he came inside my womb. It was superb darling. I could feel his massive balls
dangling between my legs, and feel them tightening as he got ready to fill me
with his load. When he ejaculated I was too tired to cum again, but he looked me
in the eyes as his semen gushed out of his giant prick into me, telling me I was
his, and I knew it was true. After he'd finished cumming he made me lick his
lovely tool clean. In between stuffing his cock in my mouth he made me promise
not to allow you sex until he said so, but I know you love me, and I know you'll
enjoy waiting for me darling.
"Now! Prove to me you accept all this by sucking me off. My pussy is full of
Chris's creamy white cum of course, but I want you to suck me really hard all
the same, and no playing with yourself either!"
With that Kysa raised my chin a little and slid down the bed just a fraction.
Before I had time to think her mound was pressing on my mouth. I found my tongue
beginning to work on her, opening her luscious passage way. Inexpertly I fought
to breathe and pleasure my dominant woman at the same time. Then I tasted the
cum. It was true, he really had filled her up. She was full of it. Thick,
stringy blobs of cum plastered my lips, and I was forced to drink it down. The
taste wasn't too bad, but the thought that this was another man's milk I was
sucking from my own wife's cunt had my prick rock hard. How I wanted to get on
top of Kysa and plunge my own weapon into her hole, joining my own liquid to
his. I thought about my own, apparently rather slim and inadequate, penis
sliding through the semen-rich slickness of Kysa's vagina, but I had to accept
it wouldn't be allowed.
Eventually Kysa came and pronounced herself satisfied that I'd proved my loyalty
to her. "This is only the beginning though," she was keen to explain. "I've got
plans to keep my little husband a proper, respectable, chaste little husband,
and I'm sure he'll enjoy them! There are ways for wives to keep cuckolded
husbands happy and faithful which will still allow me to keep my promise to
Federico. They may seem a bit strange at first, but I'm sure you'll come to
thank me for keeping you in a permanent state of sexual tension. You and I may
be going on a little shopping trip tomorrow, so bring your credit cards darling;
I want to spend some of our money on keeping you happy!"
With that I was told to go to sleep now, but though Kysa was soon peacefully
sleeping, and I was totally exhausted from the previous few hours of nervous
tension and lack of sleep, my aching balls just would not let me rest. That and
the thought of what on earth it might be that Kysa wanted to buy me tomorrow!
One thing was clear to me though: I had just let Kysa take charge of my life,
humiliate me in ways which most men would never accept, and yet I felt only a
profound happiness, almost elation, conquering what remained of my infantile
jealousy. Kysa had promised to keep me hers forever if I obeyed her, and that
was all that mattered to me!
The following morning both Kysa and I slept in late. We were both tired after
the events of the previous night, and Kysa didn't even wake up until about 11
o'clock. I awoke with an unrelieved massive hard-on about half past nine, but I
remembered Kysa had said something about me not masturbating, and I was not
about to risk her anger. Instead I lay in bed next to my marital Mistress for
over an hour, absorbing the warmth of her soft, feminine body, and thinking
about her and Chris, her Latin looking lover of the previous evening. I had
decided that I enjoyed obeying Kysa, even when she was forbidding me sex, but I
felt a great deal more uncertain about Chris's role in this complicated
situation. He had said Kysa was not to permit me sex until he said so. Who was
he to say such a thing? Certainly Kysa was clearly taken with his body, but I
was still Kysa's husband, I told myself. It was one thing being made to wait an
indefinite period for sex by your wife, quite another when ordered about, even
indirectly, by her lover.
Yet what could I do about it? Nothing! Time though, I told myself, was on my
side. Our honeymoon trip would be coming to an end in a couple of days, and we
would have to return to England, dreary gray Liverpool skies, and some kind of
blessed normality. At least Chris would be left behind! Kysa would no doubt
continue to assert her newly established right to copulate with whomsoever she
chose from time to time, but I'd be used to the idea by then, and perhaps I'd be
able to figure out ways to deal better with the situation.
When Kysa awoke, she reminded me about her proposed shopping trip, after first
flicking the still engorged knob of my prick with her long, pink-painted
finger-nails and laughing dismissively. "Put little Willy away," she told me. "I
don't want my reputation ruined by anyone spotting my husband's inadequacies!" I
grimaced at the insult, but wisely kept quiet. "Good boy" she reassured me.
"Don't worry. You mustn't play with him, but we'll get some things today which
will make your temporary chastity a little bit easier on you". Kysa always had
enjoyed being mysterious!
After a late breakfast we were on our way to the local resort shopping centre.
"The shops aren't brilliant darling," Kysa pouted at me, "but I'm pretty sure
they'll have what I've got in mind to begin your training". I'd been too busy
enjoying looking at Kysa's carefully made up lips to concentrate much on what
she was saying, but that word "training" grabbed my attention. "Just walk one
step behind me, and don't speak unless spoken to, unless it's really necessary".
I heard her words, but I could hardly believe she was talking to me like this,
and in public! Part of me felt angry, but her treatment of me seemed to be
making my cock stir again, so I just nodded obediently.
Before long we arrived at a women's "lingerie and bridal accessories" shop.
After a brief study of the shop's windows Kysa led me inside. I enjoy looking at
women's underwear as much as any red-blooded male, and my eyes drank in the
mannequins in their tight, stretchy panties and under-wired brassieres. Most had
wigs and had even had the faces made up. They really looked quite fetching.
While my eyes wandered over to a tall, slim tailor's dummy with long legs and
rather large breasts, decked out in sheer black stockings, black satin panties,
and a beautiful lacy Basque, Kysa attracted a sales' assistant. "I'm interested
in a standard, firm-control panti-girdle," I heard her say. "I want something
that's a fairly full design, but in a small size, perhaps a 26/28 inch waist?"
The sales' girl promptly disappeared under the counter and returned a few
seconds later with several packages.
"This is the Berlei, Madame," she explained. "It has an extra firm control panel
at the front. 79% nylon polymide, 21% elastane, available in black or white
only." I was inwardly cringing. Kysa meant me to control by male appendage by
crushing it, it seemed! Still, I liked the black. "The white will do fine," Kysa
decided. "I'll take two, one in a 26 inch, one in a 28." I kept quiet, not
daring to express an opinion. Kysa told me to pay, and within half an hour we
were back at the hotel.
"Well done," my wife congratulated me when we were back in our room. "You didn't
protest, which is just as well mind you, because I was going to tell the sales'
assistant who the panti-girdles were for if you had!" In no time she had me
trying on the girdles over my cotton briefs. When I'd got one on, after somewhat
of a struggle with the tight, constricting garment, to my surprise Kysa put her
slim hand down the back of my girdle, reached between my legs, grabbed my
crushed but semi-erect penis, and pulled it hard backwards, so that my knob was
practically sticking up my own bum. Then she pulled the girdle up my legs
another inch. My balls seemed to have almost disappeared inside my body. The
effect was a little uncomfortable until my semi-erection wore off, but from the
front my hips now looked quite feminine.
"You'll wear one of these girdles from now on" I was informed. "I don't think
you'll be chatting up many other women while you've got a panti-girdle on
underneath your trousers, will you darling? And I don't expect you'll be getting
any silly ideas about challenging any of my men friends to a fight or anything
silly either, will you? When you go to the bathroom you'll have to use a
cubicle, and remember, I'll be checking all the time to make sure that nice,
tight, firm-control panel is still in place helping you keep yourself under
control, so no cheating, or I'll never make love to you again, OK? Eventually
you can buy yourself a whole range of corsetry perhaps, but this will do for
now. Wear one in bed as well, whether I'm there or not. It'll help you resist
being naughty and touching yourself up. My little husband must keep all his pent
up spunk in his balls for his wife, mustn't he darling?" she concluded as she
kissed me fully on the lips, deeply and sensuously. My cock hardly stirred so
constricted was it, though I still felt a rush of lust for Kysa's body.
The rest of the day proceeded relatively normally, but when evening approached,
I was informed that my wife had a dinner date with Chris, and that I was not
invited, though "if I behaved myself, one day I might be!" A pang of jealously
ran through me, but then the thought occurred to me that with Kysa out of the
room, I could at least jack myself off if I wanted to. I could always put the
panti-girdle back on afterwards, I told myself, and Kysa wouldn't know anything
about it. Unfortunately Kysa seemed to have the same thought. After a snack and
being ordered to relieve myself, Kysa left for her date with Chris, having first
got my agreement to my wrists being manacled in front of me with my own thin
leather belt. It was quite comfortable, except that I had to flex my wrists
every few minutes to keep the blood flowing to my hands and avoid a bad case of
pins and needles. Although my hands were tied at my front, my prick was firmly
folded away behind me, and I found I couldn't stimulate it at all, no matter how
hard I stretched my fingers! She had done it! I was in a crude form of chastity
belt. It was 100% effective, and I was entirely dependent upon my wife for my
release. I supposed that in an emergency I might be able to work the leather
over a knife, but if I cut the belt Kysa would discover my crime. I was caught.
As the hours passed I could not help but imagine Kysa's romantic evening.
Sometimes as I grew excited visualizing Chris's renewed seduction of my wife I
felt I was almost cumming, but it was impossible. The panti-girdle held my cock
under lock and key, and a pathetic semi-erection was the best I could manage. I
could rub my frustrated knob through the girdle on the edge of a table or other
object, but I couldn't get enough friction to really pleasure myself. I had felt
sorry for myself having to jack off into my wife's panties on my own honeymoon
to gain relief; now I couldn't even do that! Chris would be shafting Kysa before
long I knew, pumping as much spunk into another man's wife as he cared to,
making her orgasm again and again on his massive Latin cock, whilst I couldn't
even give myself a hand-job any more. For a short time I cried, but I felt I
loved Kysa more than ever, and she had hinted that she'd give me some sexual
relief at some stage, hadn't she?
About midnight I got a shock. A key rattled in the hotel room door. I hadn't
expected Kysa back so soon! My panti-girdle and belt were still firmly in place,
so that was OK. I hoped Kysa was OK. She was. And so was Chris. She had invited
him back to our room - I couldn't believe it. Shamed by my bonds I tried to hide
my hands, but Kysa already had the light on and was introducing me! "This is my
husband," she explained. "You said you wanted to meet him Chris... well here he
is, trussed up and ready like you said!" I felt a wave of cold shock come over
me, and collapsed to my knees, my bound arms sticking out helplessly in front of
me. "Stand up darling," I heard my wife's voice floating somewhere. "Don't
worry. Chris won't hurt you. I made him promise. And I want to take your
trousers off so we can see your girdle."
With that Kysa hauled me to my feet, loosened the belt in my trousers, pulled
down the zip of my fly, and let my trousers fall to the floor. Of course the
panti-girdle was still there, making me look like a pansy. I couldn't believe my
nice, normal, middle-class Kysa was doing this to me. "Now sit in the chair
darling" she continued. "Chris wants to fuck me on our bridal bed, and he wants
you to watch". I struggled to obey, and saw Kysa fall on the bed with 'Chris'.
Quickly he was at her, one hand manipulating a gorgeous breast through her
blouse and bra, whilst the other held her head to his as he tongue kissed her.
Having got things under way 'Chris' then appeared to want to take things slowly.
Before my very eyes my wife's clothing was removed, ever so slowly, item by
item, until she was naked before him. First her thin, almost transparent blouse
went, then her tight, short skirt was unzipped from the side and allowed to
fall. Kysa was wearing a suspender belt and very expensive, sheer stockings. Her
panties stayed on for a while as this hunk of a Latin male rubbed two powerful
fingers over Kysa's crotch. She allowed him to masturbate her. His lips sucked
her tits through the shiny material of her bra, making her nipples stand out.
Kysa's hips ground backwards and forwards on his hand as her eager mouth sort
his.
Next her panty-briefs were removed, and Chris turned sideways on the bed for a
few minutes to give my wife a good tonguing between her legs. I could only watch
in horror as she ground her cunt into his face. Then came the stockings and
suspender belt. The stockings were flung in my direction, and I maneuvered them
to my face, smelling Kysa's female scents as her more virile lover continued to
prepare her to receive his liquid. Finally Kysa's brassiere was removed, leaving
my wife stark naked before the still fully clothed Chris. Now Kysa sat up a bit,
and unzipped the man's fly. I followed her every movement as her hand went
inside his trousers and pulled out that gigantic cock. I could see his balls
now, huge and round, protruding from his clothing. Kysa bent her face to his
cock and proceeded to suck him into her mouth, at least as best she could. Her
pink gloss lips worked themselves up and down his bulbous knob, as well as as
much of his massive shaft as she could manage.
I wanted to cum desperately, but could do nothing, except watch, fascinated. In
a few more minutes Chris was nude also, and I knew I was about to watch my wife
get well and truly fucked by another man's cock. Chris's huge tool protruded
like a flag-pole from his body. I couldn't help but stare at its length and
thickness, calculating it to be at least twice the size of mine. I began to feel
really seriously inadequate. No wonder Kysa preferred other men. Perhaps I
couldn't really blame her for going to real men for sex. How could I even dream
of filling her up properly after she'd been stretched open by a monster cock
like that? I felt that if I were a woman, I'd probably want a proper man's cock
too!
Kysa now grabbed her new man's penis and guided it to her lips again. Her
beautifully painted, sexy, feminine lips curled around his knob. Then she was
licking it, up and down, up and down, whilst gently manipulating her lover's
balls in her hand. Next those balls disappeared into Kysa's mouth, one after the
other, as she sucked hard on her male's scrotal sac. Chris was in ecstasy,
groaning wildly as Kysa's tongue played with his testicles. After a few minutes
of this, during which - to my amazement - Chris's cock seemed to lengthen and
fill out yet another inch, Kysa lay down on the bed, opened her legs, and guided
her man into her body. I watched paralyzed with lust as the gigantic male member
nudged open my wife's cunt, and then began to disappear from sight inside her.
Suddenly Chris seemed to lose control. He began to rut like a desperate animal,
thrusting his weapon again and again up Kysa's slippery hole. Faster and faster
he fucked her. Kysa looked elated. "Yes, yes. Do it to me. Fuck me. Make me cum.
Spunk me Chris, I want you," she moaned. Within seconds Chris was doing as
invited and ejaculating his spunk into my wife. He really shoved hard at Kysa as
he came, holding her shoulders down on the bed as he delivered his load into
her, her tits wobbling and rippling with each male orgasmic thrust. In a way it
was a beautiful sight, but I was an emotional wreck, and I could feel my own
little cock trying and failing to grow beyond about three or four inches inside
the imprisoning panti-girdle.
Somewhere deep inside of me a very small part of my ego was still alive and
wanted to fight for Kysa, but mainly I felt crushed and defeated. Chris had
fucked Kysa, but Kysa had fucked my mind, my soul. She had shown me that she
could do anything she wanted to me, humiliate me in any way she liked, rob me of
my manhood, and yet _still_ I would love her, depend upon her, crawl to her. I
felt almost as if Kysa had tricked me into allowing her to cut my balls off, yet
somehow I was proud of her for doing that to me. What a woman, what a goddess! I
had sold my soul to her and I was glad about it. I only wanted to discover more
of life with this wonderful woman. What else could she possibly dream up for our
marriage? Whatever it might be I was going to give it a chance!
I was (quite literally) in a state of shock. I had just been forced to witness
my bride being taken by her virile, Latin lover. Chris had finished with her for
now. Lazily and full of manly confidence he withdrew his still huge and well
lubricated cock from up my wife. I watched intently, noting every thick globule
of spunk on his shiny knob as it reappeared from within Kysa's shapely body.
When he stood up, leaving Kysa prone on our honeymoon bed, his member bounced in
the air before him, still about three-quarters erect, and enjoying the freedom
which my own pathetic cock was denied, being held tightly confined inside the
new, over-small sized panti-girdle my wife had made me buy earlier that day. I
had a sudden horrible thought that maybe the girdle had been Chris's idea, and
probably the belt too, which held my wrists together before me. I was trussed
like a turkey, and almost felt like I'd been slaughtered. Every muscle in my
body felt rigid with shock. I felt light-headed, almost as if I might faint at
any moment.
Kysa moaned quietly in a satisfied, exhausted tone. The noise drew my eyes from
Chris's phallus back to the body of this woman who was legally mine, but whose
slave it was clear I had become. She was laying on her back with her superb,
perfectly smooth thighs spread wantonly apart. As I watched she shifted a
little, and a thread of her man's cum slowly slid from inside her and began to
slither down her cunt lips on to the bed. Chris's eyes had followed mine and he
guffawed loudly. Then, for the first time, he spoke to me rather than Kysa.
"Looks like you've been well and truly put in your place, doesn't it?" he
smirked at me. "I've always wanted to have another man's bride, and now I've
done it. I don't know why women bother marrying pansy wimps like you. Must be
for the money or the security I suppose. Well she'll never be satisfied with
your little prick again now you know. I've shown her what it's really like to be
taken by a man. She won't want your pathetic efforts any more!"
I didn't dare say a word. Chris looked broad-chested, strong and muscular. I had
my wrists tied together. He had just fucked my wife in front of me and I'd done
nothing. I wasn't about to do anything rash now. It was still a shock though
when this potent, nude male walked over to me, lifted me out of my chair, held
me to him, and kissed me full on the lips. I struggled to escape but resistance
was hopeless. One arm was all it took Chris to hold me in his iron embrace. I
felt nothing as his lips fastened on mine, neither stimulation nor
repugnance.... only sheer fright! In a second his free hand was on the crotch of
my Berlei panti-girdle, his strong fingers reaching between my legs, following
the slim form of my sheathed penis. He rubbed my encased knob vigorously for a
few seconds, and then let me go. I fell to my knees. My world was collapsing.
On the edge of consciousness I heard Kysa say: "Leave him alone Chris. You
promised me you wouldn't hurt him."
"I'm not hurting you little pansy, am I now?" Chris cooed at me. "Don't worry,
I'm not a homosexual, and I'm not going to rape you, but you have to show me you
accept my right to shaft your wife any time I like. You know, dominant male,
that sort of thing. No.... maybe you don't, but you're going to learn quick!"
With that Chris got close to me again. His prick had cooled to about half it's
previous maximum size by now. It was dangling loosely in front of what women
would no doubt refer to as his "well hung" testicles. With horror it dawned on
me that having collapsed on to my knees, my mouth was now within about two
inches of his knob. "Suck me," Chris commanded. "Take my knob in your pretty
little mouth and suck me. It's your responsibility as Kysa's husband you know!
You really should see to it that you keep her lover's cock nice and big for her.
Lick my penis, and when it's hard again we'll see what Kysa wants me to do with
it, shall we?"
I started shaking. My nerves had gone completely. "Careful Chris", Kysa said
quietly.
"Look little man," Chris responded, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to
force you to do anything you don't want to. Look, I'll even let you go if you
want." With that he reached forward and, with a sharp tug, undid the belt buckle
imprisoning my wrists. I was free!
"Thank you Chris", Kysa congratulated her man. She stood up now and, after
rummaging in a drawer for a moment, pulled on a pair of lacy red French-cut
panties and matching bra. I hardly dared look at her anymore. I felt as if I'd
lost the right even to ogle my wife's body. "You're still my husband," I heard
her say. "Look at me!" I looked. Tears were in my eyes but I was too emotionally
used up to cry. "Tell me you love me" she commanded. I obeyed, in a
high-pitched, squeaky voice I didn't recognize as mine. "Again!"
"I love you Kysa," I managed. "I'll always love you, and adore you, and need
you."
"That's better," she told me. Then she came over to me, and knelt beside me.
Gently she pushed her breast to my mouth. "Suck me" I was told. "Put your arms
around me. Hold me, and suckle my breast." Hardly conscious of what I was doing,
yet knowing that with every moment that passed I was making myself more
dependent upon her, I obeyed. My arms went around Kysa's shoulders, and she slid
me on to my back like a baby so that she could feed me her tit. Taking my weight
on her thighs, she allowed me to suckle through her bra. Then she slipped the
nipple from under the material and pushed it into my mouth. For a good five
minutes I suckled gently. Gradually I came round a bit. I still felt confused,
but now instead of being frightened I began to experience a sense of being
comforted and cared for. A huge weight seemed to ease from my mind. Kysa did
love me.
When, with her free hand, Kysa began gently to stimulate my crotch, I relaxed
even more. There was no chance of cumming unless she removed the girdle from me
of course, but once again lust began to violate my senses. All this time Chris
had remained standing next to Kysa. Now she sat me up again, and reached for
Chris's penis. I was made to face Kysa, who was now sitting cross-legged, on my
knees, with Chris standing almost over us. Once more Kysa made me lean forward
and take her gorgeous, round, feminine breast between my lips, this time through
her bra again. After only twenty seconds or so Kysa reached out with one hand
and grasped Chris's limp cock. I watched open-eyed as she manipulated his
foreskin back and forth only inches away from me. Gradually his manhood began to
expand afresh. Before his shaft could rear up too far, Kysa took her free hand
and held my head to it's nipple sucking task. Then with her other hand still on
Chris she guided his knob towards me. Slowly she rubbed his penis up and down on
the smooth material of her bra, first on the breast further from me, then
transferring his expanding shaft to the same globe I was suckling. Now his knob
was only an inch from my lips, indenting the same bra cup I was sucking.
"Remember," Kysa told me. "Chris wasn't lying. We don't want you to do anything
you don't want to. But I love you, and I want you to suck Chris's cock to show
me how much you love me! It'll be an incredibly erotic sight for me if you do
it. I want to see you suck Chris for me. But I want you to want to do it
darling. It's really quite enjoyable. Believe me, I've tried it. I'm going to
put Chris's cock in your mouth now, so if you keep sucking my tit that means you
agree to sucking his cock, OK?"
I was helpless. I couldn't reject Kysa by refusing to suckle her breasts. I
needed her. I could see Kysa's painted thumb and finger-nails holding on to
Chris's knob. The seconds passed, and I couldn't stop sucking Kysa. She brought
her lover's cock right up to my mouth. Then it was thrusting aside her breast
and I found myself tonguing an erect phallus. Kysa shifted her position slightly
and held my head in her hands. My lips found that a thick, fat cock, slickened
by my own saliva, was thrusting backwards and forwards through them. "Good boy"
Kysa encouraged me. Chris began to enjoy himself. His thrusts got deeper, until
his knob was penetrating the top of my throat each time he pushed hard. I was in
a daze, but when Kysa reminded me to suck and lick her lover's cock, I did so.
Before I knew what was happening he seemed to be getting ready to cum. His
thrusts were bringing his balls to my lips now. Kysa held my head firmly. Then
Chris cried out: "Yes, Kysa, yes. Hold him, I'm going to do him!" Three more
hard, quick thrusts, and then Chris held his cock in position. My jaw muscles
were aching with being forced open so long, but I thrilled as his powerful
phallus began to quiver in my mouth. His knob was blocking my throat and I could
hardly breathe, but dimly I was aware he was cumming. At first I felt nothing,
but when after a minute he withdrew, the salty, musky taste of cum was on my
tongue. He had indeed mouth fucked me. Kysa released my head and turned me
around to look into my eyes. I had been filled with another man's cum for her.
Gently she kissed me on the lips, her tongue snaking out and savoring a real
man's juices. I noticed her nipples were rock hard as she joined her tongue to
mine, both of us tasting Chris's semen together.
When she broke off there was a look of triumph in her eyes. I was rewarded for
my obedience to her desires by having my girdle removed at last. Kysa explained
that this would be a rare treat for me, but that in the circumstances she was
sure Chris wouldn't mind(!). I was given Kysa's panties and told to put them in
my mouth and suck on them. Then I was ordered to masturbate in front of both
Kysa and Chris. This I did, shooting a huge load of pent up spunk into my hand.
I had wanted to use a pair of Kysa's panties to jack off into but was denied
that pleasure. Inevitably my liquid dripped off my hand, so Kysa ordered me to
rub it into my body, and then take a shower, before getting back into a clean
girdle!
For the remainder of that night I slept on the floor by Kysa and Chris's bed.
Chris tied up my hands again "to stop me jacking off in the night". This was
just as well, because in the morning when I awoke it was to the noises of Chris
in rut again, shafting Kysa hard and long. I could do nothing but lay there,
listen, and imagine this man making my wife cum on his cock. I no longer even
dreamt for a moment of trying to make him stop. He had fucked my mouth after
all, ejaculated his manly sperm down my throat, and I probably even still had
his spunk in my stomach! I was as much his as Kysa was. When he eventually left
to go back to his own room I was almost sad to see Kysa's lover leave us. She
was in such a good mood after being satisfied by him, and she allowed me to have
my wrists freed, and to snuggle up in bed with her for an hour before a very
late breakfast. Of course the girdle stayed where it was, but Kysa rubbed my
little prick through the tight, elastic garment a bit, and I felt I was in
heaven! I had been required to prove my love to this woman, and I had done it.
In the future she could do what she liked with me, and I knew I'd enjoy it. What
could England bring after this? What would we tell our friends we did on our
honeymoon? I snuggled up to Kysa's warm breasts and dreamed of a long life of
slavery.
_________________
The End
© Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com