The English Wife by Citizen X

Part 1:

After 17 years of flawless loyalty, I discovered that my wife was cheating on me.  It’s not something that ever occurred to me as being possible.  Certainly, she’s beautiful enough; tall, blond, and athletically voluptuous.   She’s also charming and vivacious and English, which excites a lot of men.  I recall when we first met, being absolutely shattered by her. She steamed erotic beauty, and I recall thinking, when I first saw her in a bikini, that if God would let me have her, I’d never ask him for anything else.

She was very emotional and passionate and jealous.  She is the kind of woman who commits, totally.  And, since we’ve been married, she’s also been busy as a stay-at-home Mom.  That’s been good news for me, because she is so exciting to men, and because I’m gone a lot in my job.  It’s been lucky that Marisa hasn’t had much contact with the world of predatory men.  More importantly, she is a bit shy, and since she was a textbook case of female self-criticism – she sees endless fault where there is none – she doesn’t present a face to the outer world that invites approach.

Me, on the other hand, I’ve always been a predator.  I’ve always had powerful urges and fantasies, which simply couldn’t be satisfied at home, and I confess that I have strayed.  She is by no means stupid, and she has long suspected my transgressions.  But I’ve never been “caught”.  In my own defense, I’ve tried to interest her in my fantasies, which mostly involve female domination, but she hasn’t been interested.  Not in the least, and I’m not sure why that is, since it would only benefit her.

Then, one day, two summers ago, she caught me.  Not in flagrante, but close enough that I had to “confess”.  It was a difficult period, but I thought that we were through it, and in good news, it did change my life.  Since then, I’ve been, at least physically, on the up-and-up.  Yes, I’ve indulged in fantasy, but I haven’t touched another woman.  I’m proud of that – it took enormous self-discipline.  There has been a cost, though, for my crime.  Her sexual drive towards me clearly waned.  As for me, I still found her to be powerfully compelling, and sex was still great for me, but I could tell that she was less enthused towards me.  Mostly, to come, she had to use a vibrator.  It hurt.

About six months ago, I came into some money.  As I say, she has a fantastic body, but her breasts, once perfect, have suffered a bit with children.  So, I decided to go along with paying for an extremely high-grade breast augmentation.  It was her idea, and one which we’ve toyed with for years.  Since we had the money, and since it was her who wanted it (I was careful not to push it, even though I love the idea), she went ahead.

Funny thing about breast augmentations, they’re not the exact science you might think. We’d discussed a C cup for her, and when she came out of surgery, we thought that maybe she’d gotten a C.  Time disclosed that in fact, it was a glorious D cup; firm, and proud and capped with her thick, long, upward pointing, rose-colored nipples.  Here’s another thing about the operation.  Her nipples, always very sensitive, became even more responsive.   They were stiff all the time, and it’s not hard to imagine the impact they had on people everywhere as they jutted lewdly from their new, magnificent homes, through the thin silk shirts that Marisa began to favor.

It would be hard to understate the effect that this breast augmentation has had on her life.  Men are slaves to breasts, and they would have to be blind not to notice her extraordinary chest, especially, as I said, her nipples are almost always hard.  There began to be a back and forth dynamic – as men adored her, her self-confidence began to skyrocket.  As her self-confidence began to skyrocket, men sensed that and became even more crazed. And she began to show off more.  She obviously was getting off on her control over men – the way we’re so easily led by their cocks.

She has a friend at the gym where she works out; Veronica.  Veronica is a tall, statuesque creature who has clearly benefited from her own exquisite plastic surgery.  My wife came home one day and started talking about Veronica, and how she was completely able to control and manipulate her husband, and that wasn’t the case before she’d had her breast work, and how she got off on the power of it all.

I felt an electric current run through me as she was speaking.  I don’t know what was more exciting – the prospect of her realizing the benefits and taking command of me, or of her having a sexually related conversation with Veronica, who is also shatteringly hot, and apparently dominant.  My wife has long known of my desire for domination, and it was a heady confluence of fantasy and real-life conversation.

Part 2:

Two weeks ago, I discovered that she was fucking another man.  I don’t think that it had been going on for long, but it was heart breaking to me.  It’s hard to say why it happened.  There are a million possible reasons:  mid-life crisis; renewed sense of her own intoxicating and self-intoxicating sexuality, my frequent traveling with work; anger at me for the many real and perceived sins of the past 17 years.  Hard to say.  But, it was true, nonetheless.  I discovered it by accident, but as I looked into it further, it was undeniable.  What’s worse was that she was so brazenly doing it.  I was on the road, and she dismissed my suspicions as groundless – in fact, she got explosively mad at me for even suggesting it.  But, as I say, she was spending time with him at all hours, and soon enough she just laughed and said I was crazy when I complained.

I tried to be reasonable, but she was simply unsympathetic.  She was in complete control of the situation, and knew it.  She had unlimited adoration from men, and with half my money, could easily afford to leave me.  She was angry, too, and reveling in my pain.  And, dear god, she was magnificent; powerful, sexy, cruel – as I said, in utter control.  She told me that her boyfriend was just a plaything, but that she was tired of me, and that she wanted to enjoy her new power over men, without the fetters of me.  I continued to plead with her, I talked about the family, the children, the fact that I loved her.  She was unmoved.

Yesterday, I came home from work, knowing that the kids were at school, to make one more desperate try to convince her to reconsider.  To dump her boyfriend and come home for good.

I came into the bedroom, unannounced, and I discovered her just out of the shower, with Victoria Secret, and Fredrick’s of Hollywood bags spread out on the bed.  She’d been shopping, and didn’t care about the cost.  In addition to her new breasts, she’d been working out like a machine, and her freshly hard body deserved to be clad in only the finest undergarments. She actually told me that.

I never wanted her so desperately.  She was standing there, wearing only a short, blue, paper-thin, silk robe which clung lovingly to every exquisite curve.  It hung open in the front, and her breasts jutted lewdly out, framed by the silk, nipples long and stiff with disdain of me.  Her belly is perfect, flat, but not too flat, it has an erotic curve to it, and it ends in a gold and red bush, even though she keeps her lips smoothly shaved.  I stared hungrily.  She didn’t try to hide her body, she knew it was making me desperate, and I could see she liked that.

I began to plead with her again, mustering all my resources, hoping to convince her, but as I talked, she appeared to be paying no attention.  Instead, she put on a pair of tall, elegant spikes, with ankle straps.   She leaned over the bed and began to sort though the bags.  Ultimately, she selected a black g-string which she stepped into and slid up her legs.  She pulled it high onto her hips.  It was barely there, and the patch of material only covered her shaved pussy lips, leaving her golden flame of a bush almost fully exposed.  She paused, still seeming to ignore me, and posed in front of the huge mirror we keep along the bed-side.  Shoulders back, ass pouting out, she turned, and admired herself.  I stopped talking and stared.

She let the robe fall off her shoulders and inspected herself approvingly in the full length mirror.

“Are you through begging?” she said, and as if jolted, I continued to whine for her.

I began to think that maybe she was dressing to fuck me.  Next she pulled on a black bra, which only covered the underside of her tits, not that they needed any lifting.  Her dark, stiff nipples protruded hotly above the material.  Finally, she cinched a black, very thin belt around her waste.  It accentuated her tiny waste, which had the effect of making her magnificent breasts and perfect, round, firm, lush ass and voluptuous hips look even more pronounced.  Again she inspected herself.  I couldn’t stand it, and I walked to her and stroked her ass.  She turned and slapped me, saying, “This isn’t for you, anymore.  It’s for my boyfriend.  He’s coming over when I call him.”

Part 3:

I fell to my knees and began to cry, now humiliated beyond belief, and embarrassed by my stone hard cock, which simply wouldn’t go down.  I again began to beg.  “Mistress…I mean Darling…please, I’ll do anything, anything at all to get you to stay.  I can’t live without you.”  She leaned over, stiff-legged and stroked my face, with a smile on hers.   “I do find your tears and begging to be amusing, I don’t think you mean that, you pathetic slut.”  Yes, I assured her, I did.  And she stood before me, hands on cocked  hips, long, crimson nails tapping on her lush, tanned flesh, considering.

“Peel off those clothes, but don’t attempt to touch me then, slut.”

I stripped like a man on fire, and stood before her, hard and trembling.  “Go lay on the bed,” she intoned and I did as she commanded.  Out of another bag she pulled a series of ties and she tied me loosely, to the bed.  It was an interesting arrangement; my arms were tied so that I could actually get my hands to within about two feet of each other.  And my legs were also tied, but I could actually pull my knees up a bit.  I was in a semi sitting position, too, propped up by pillows.  I was securely bound but comfortable.

She sat on the bed next to me, steaming control and eroticism.  She stroked my body and ran a red, manicured fingernail up the underside of my raging erection.  “Look, I’m done with being monogamous with you.   I may not leave, because of the children, but our roles are going to shift.  All that bullshit you used to give me about wanting to be dominated, if I stay, it’s all going to come true.  You’ll be nothing more than a slave, and you won’t have a say as to what I do.  Understood?”

The pleasure of her fingernail on my cock was making me delirious.  I would have agreed to anything at that point, and I presumed that my fantasies were about to come true.  “Yes, I sighed.  Yes, Mistress, I’m your slave.  Only, don’t fuck anyone else, Mistress…just me, please.”

She slapped me full across the face and stood up.  “ I’m done with you.  You’re obviously not ready to be my slave.  I’ve had other slaves, you know.  I understand what a truly submissive man is capable of, and it’s beyond you.  As if, I would ever lower myself to fuck a pathetic slave who’s only job is to lick my dirty ass clean before I fuck a real man.”

I saw my life and dreams sliding away, and I figured that I would just say anything, and the way her luscious ass jiggled as she walked away…I guess I figured that I’d saw what she wanted, and soften her up as I went along.  And, frankly, the idea of her having experience with slaves, while maddening, was somehow, exciting to me.  “Mistress, I’m sorry, I’ll be utterly submissive for you.  I’ll do anything you say.  I promise to be good.”

“Mmmmm, that’s good.  I like that,” she said, producing a ball gag which she held up to my face.  I knew what to do, opening my mouth, and she put it in.  “You look so natural as a slave, Darling,” she said as she began to pinch my nipples as she stroked my cock.  Again, I nearly fainted from pleasure.  “Now, I think you have some confessions to make, before we can go any further, don’t you?”

Part  4:

She untied me and allowed me to stand up.  Again, she stroked my face, and said, “Are you ready to tell Mommy all of your secrets, you dirty whore?”  Not knowing what she was angling for, I of course agreed, especially since she was letting the swollen red head of my cock rub against her silky belly as she spoke.  Perhaps I was close.

She made me push our heavy bed away from the wall.  It has a massive, cast iron head board, and as it turns out, she lashed my hands to it, so that I was standing up, arms spread.  She blindfolded me, and then she produced, from I don’t know where, a leg spreader which she attached between my ankles.

“Now, tell me allll your sins, Slut,” she cooed into my ear.  I didn’t know what to say, really, so I said, “Mistress, I did cheat on you that one time, and I’m so sorry for that.”  She just laughed and told me that she knew all about that.  She wanted to hear about the others.  I told her that I didn’t know what she was talking about, and the next thing I knew, I felt the burning sting of her lash across my ass.  I screamed in pain and as my mouth was open, she quickly put in, and secured a ball gag.  “Darling, the neighbors,” she laughed, and then began to whip me steadily.  I thought I might faint, with the agony, but I didn’t.  I did cry and snot and writhe on the rack of this, but I didn’t faint across the twenty vicious lashes she gave my ass.

“Now, whore, are you ready to confess?  Let me tell you that I know a lot already, so don’t try to lie,” she leaned in close and whispered into my ear, “your pain is making Mommy’s cunt wet, and I’ll be glad to lash you until you bleed.”  Now, not only was my hard on gone, and my ass on fire, but I was scared.  More scared at the thought of what she’d think or say when I confessed.  So, I began to blurt out the truth about my transgressions.  As I confessed, she pulled on a pair of opera length, kid gloves, which must have cost 300 dollars, at least, and began to stroke my cock.  I don’t know; the humiliation, the excitement, the fear, something…my cock got so hard that it began to drool pre-cum.

“That’s good.  See you dirty whore, the truth will set you free.  Now, tell me all about your sister, Shannon.”

At that, I sputtered.  Philandering is one thing, but persistent, sadomasochist incest fantasy is another.

“Oh, I know, slut, she told me about how you appeared naked before her last time you two got together.   It may interest you to know that her nipples were hard as she told me, and I could see that she was breathing harder.  I think that slut would actually like to fuck her big brother.”

I was nonplussed.  Did I go along with this or remain silent?  It was exciting, I admit – terribly so, especially as she stroked my cock.  But this was too much, especially when you factored in the K-9 aspects.

“Ahh, I see you’d like to think about this, wouldn’t you?  Well, think with this ball gag in your mouth.  I have work to do.”  She replaced it again and as I stood there, she pulled out a strap on and pulled the harness over her lush hips and ass.  She then mounted a two headed cock, one of which she slid into her glistening cunt.  She walked over to me and picked up her weapon, which I saw was a riding crop, and began to mercilessly lash me again.   Again, the pain was exquisite, and unbearable.  After an additional twenty, she stood beside me again and took out the gag.

“Ready to tell me everything, Darling?  By the way, I just came twice while whipping you.  I could torture you all day.”

I could see that it was true, as when she comes, she gets a red flush high on her chest, and again I surrendered.  Again, she stroked my cock and I got hard as I confessed the depths of my depravity.  I told her everything – the first stirrings that drove me to masturbate at the thought and sight of my nubile, teenage sister’s body; the spying on her and masturbating as I watched her let the dog lick her ass and cunt; my fantasies about being her sex slave; and my desperate measures to seduce her, either by exposing myself to her, or by getting her drunk.  I told her how I perceived her husband Jack to be sexually inadequate, how Shannon was obviously sexually frustrated, and how I would do anything to be her fuck slut.

All the while, she stroked my cock, and I was so close to coming, but if she sensed that I was going to come on her, she simply took her hand away, or squeezed my balls until I cringed.  “There, that’s much better, Darling.  And now you can see why you’re not worthy to touch my silky cunt, can’t you?  You can see how you deserve…how you richly need…to be punished for your wicked lusts and actions, can’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress, you’re right…I’m scum.”

“Yes, you are” she said as she peeled off her gloves.  “Now, Slut, suck my fingers.”  She held her crimson fingers of her right hand to my mouth and I sucked hard on them as commanded.  She pulled them out and started to rub my asshole with them.  In my view, she then reached her hand to her cunt and slipped it inside the tiny string.  When she pulled them out, her fingers were slick with pussy juice, and she likewise rubbed that onto my asshole.

“Beg Mommy to fuck you now, you filthy whore.”

Again I sputtered, because it was a big dildo and I knew it would hurt, but she didn’t let me think.  Instead she produced a pair of nipple clips and put them onto me, and if I wasn’t addled enough by that, she began to play with her own nipples, rubbing more cunt juice onto them, making them slick and shiny and long.  I began to beg her to fuck me, and continued to do so as she untied me and commanded me to kneel and put my face on the bed, which she made me push back into position.   She then tied my hands behind my back and pulled me up by my hair.

“Suck, slut.  I want to see your humiliation…it warms me.”

Knowing what was coming, I did as she said, hungrily slobbering onto her cock.   I could tell that she came again, perhaps from the motion I was causing on the end buried in her pussy, perhaps from the sight of looking at my shame and humiliation.  I think both.

She then moved behind me, and began to push her cock into my ass.  The pain was extraordinary, but watching in the mirror, I was distracted by two things:   a. how magnificent she looked, and b. how hot the entire scene was.  My cock got hard again, but she wouldn’t touch it, and she kept fucking me, harder and harder until she came again.

For the third time, she tied me up…this time back onto the bed as she had on the first occasion.  I was ready for my turn at fucking, having suffered mightily, been agonized and humiliated, and accepted the most bitter submission.  She put the ball gag back into my mouth and slowly doffed her strap on.   She went into the bathroom and cleaned herself, and reappeared, gorgeous and dominant.  Dear god, I was so eager for her to climb onto my cock.

And then she picked up her cell phone and dialed.

Part 5:

“Barry, come over, I want a good fucking.  Do you mind if my new slave watches us?  No.  Excellent…”

Now I was in real agony.  This was outrageous.  One minute I was thinking that I was in control of my life – that she had decided to stay, and that she had decided that her fantasies and mine coincided – and the next, she calls her lover over to the house.  I began to cry again…silently, but she only looked at me with bright, excited eyes.  “Mmmm, Darling, your pain makes me sooooo excited.”

She slapped me again, hard, and laughed as the tears streamed down my face.  “This is what your slavery will be like, you dirty slut.  You don’t get to fuck me, you only get to suffer and be tortured.   But look at you…your cock is like stone, and you’ve certainly earned this, what with wanting to be your sister’s slave, and your cheating ways.  I want you to confess how this makes you happy…Tell Mommy, how you love being torn and humiliated.  Tell Mommy how it makes your cock fat and swollen to be abused mercilessly.”

She took the ball gag out and I slobbered for a minute, confused and desperate, and then the last straw, “Yes, Mommy, I’m your dirty whore and I deserve it.  All I ask is to be your body slut….you’re in complete control.  I’ll do anything you command, Mommy, no matter how dirty or humiliating.”

“That’s my dirty whore.  Now, Barry likes to fuck my asshole, and I want you to get it ready for him.”  With that, she stepped onto the bed and stood over me, her ass to my face.  As I said, I was mobile, even if tied, so my hands could just touch her spread legs, and feel their silky, muscular smoothness.  She bent slightly, which spread her ass cheeks a bit, as if inviting me to probe the musky depths within.   Her ass has always been my weakness.  It’s full and round and firm, but also very lush, and I began to hungrily lick and suck and tongue the crack of her ass, like a baby suckling food.   I could see she was watching in the mirror, her eyes lit by savage pleasure.   She bent further and spread her ass cheeks with both hands, so that I could tongue fuck her exquisite asshole.   I was in utter ecstasy.

And then Barry slipped in the door.

Part 6:

Barry looked like me, only a bigger, more outdoorsy version.  I’m six feet tall and weigh 190.  Barry is probably 6’3” and weighs more like 225.  He’s also got shaggy golden hair and a dark tan.  He’s in construction.  No future and no drive.  That’s him.  But, clearly, he was going to fuck my wife, because he stripped down to a huge hard on and stood watching the show.

“Well, you’ve got your idiot husband trained, I see.”

“Yes, it really is quite easy, he’s a filthy degenerate, and it’s really what he wants, isn’t that right, slut?”  As she spoke she stood up and stepped down, leaving my hungry tongue bereft of the exquisite delight of her asshole.

“Isn’t that right, slut?” she said, again slapping my red and sore cheek.  “Yes, Mommy, it’s true, I’m your dirty whore.”  They both laughed and she walked over to him after fixing my ball gag back into my mouth.  Then my cruel and domineering wife turned into a brazen whore in front of my eyes.  She fell to her knees and began to suck his huge cock, making sure that it was all at an angle that was ideal for torturing my sight.  As she sucked, he reached down and grabbed her by her hair, pumping her perfect mouth onto his cock, and using the other hand to roughly pull at her nipples.  He was grinding, and I thought that he was going to blow his load any second, but then she stopped her own sucking and stood up.  He tried to grab her, but she stepped away.  “Now, Barry Darling, please show my whore of a husband who’s in control here.  Be a good slut and beg me to fuck my ass.”

To my complete shock, Barry knelt, immediately before her and put his face on her foot, licking and sucking on her foot and ankle.  “Mistress, I beg to be given the opportunity to fuck my Goddess’ ass.  If it pleases you to do so, I also beg that you beat me beforehand.”

She laughed and looked at me.  “See slut, I have power over many men, now.   It’s so pathetic how needy you all are.”  She reached down and grabbed Barry by his shaggy head and pulled him up.  “I’m a bit tired today, Barry…I don’t have the time to whip you right now, just do as I say and fuck me, like the dirty little whore you are.”

With that, she walked over to the chaise lounge that sits in our bedroom and leaned over it, pushing out her perfect ass.  Barry knew what to do and in two quick steps he was over to her and pushing his cock into her asshole.  She arched like a cat in heat.  She’s never let me fuck her ass before, so I was surprised and horridly aroused as I watched her ass consume that huge cock.  Her nipples were hard, she was flushed, a sheen of perspiration covered her as she pumped her fine, juicy ass onto his huge cock.  I could see by her breathing and the hooded look of her eyes that she was about to come, and as she did, she clenched her ass cheeks and said, “Come now, slut.”  On command, Barry did, his entire body going into a hard clench.

My wife pulled her ass off his cock.  “Now clean up your mess and get out.”  Barry fell to his knees and hungrily began to eat his cum out of her asshole.   My wife appeared amused by this scene and was casually rubbing her clit as she watched me, and my straining, desperate cock.  When Barry was done, he stood up and she grabbed one of his nipples, pinching it savagely, and merrily intoning, “Get out, whore.”  Without a word, he picked up his clothes and left.

Part 7:

Now she walked to me and untied me.  “You don’t sleep here, anymore.  If you’re obedient, I’ll let you sleep on the floor, at my feet.  But, if you’re any trouble – if you balk at anything, or question anything, I’ll get a dog cage for you.  Understand?”  She removed the ball gag and I nodded mutely and pathetically.

“Poor bitch, I almost feel sorry for you.”  And she kissed me deeply, sucking my tongue into her hot mouth.”  But then she spit it out, and spit onto my raging cock and laughingly said, “Almost”.

She untied me and told me to stand, then she went into the bathroom and I watched her as she showered and dressed again, this time in a paper-thin, 3 sizes too small, men’s tank top t-shirt.  She came out and said, “Here dog…come here to Mommy.  Show Mommy, what a good whore you are.”  I walked to her, she grabbed my cock and pulled me close to her and said, “Jerk off into my hand, dear.”  I began to pump my hips into her fist, and I came almost immediately.  I came so hard that my knees buckled and I nearly fell.   “Good boy…now clean Mommy’s hand,” and she held my hot cum to my lips and now, knowing my place, I hungrily ate my Darling bride’s offering.

Since then, I’ve been endlessly humiliated and tortured and used in the most cruel and abject ways, but as Mistress says, I’ve earned it, and I’ve never been happier.

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