My Cuckold Wedding

 

Chapter Three - Education

It was already dark so it was little surprise when Mark pulled into our favourite parking spot and we started to kiss. Within seconds his hand reached up inside my skirt and eased my panties down my leg and instinctively I opened my thighs for him.

 

‘So you want to reclaim your Woman do you,’ I thought as I readied myself for his little penis to slide, unfelt, into my vagina - but I was wrong. As my panties settled onto the vehicle’s carpet, Mark's head disappeared under my skirt.

 

His tongue went straight to my sticky semen-soaked labia. My body was still, little by little, oozing Gregg’s seed out of my vagina while his tongue was busy scooping up the pungent salty cream; my fiancée was humiliating himself and by doing so he was telling me a story that only now was I beginning to fully understand.

 

“That's .... nice .... Mark,” I managed to say to him between tiny shivers of pleasure, “but you ... don't have to ... do this.”

 

His head popped out from underneath my skirt and as he looked up at me, his eyes reflected the perverse sexual pleasure that he was experiencing. “Yes I do Mary.” he replied. “I have to! I need to!”

 

“Why?”

 

His head returned to its place under my skirt so he didn't answer for a minute but remained content to lap at small deposits of Gregg’s semen. Finally he said quietly, “I want to be dominated by you Mary. I want to be submissive to you. If you can do that, I shall always accept that you like to go with other men.”

 

So there it was! The very reason that Mark had accepted Scott and now Gregg’s seduction and my subsequent welcome of their manhood into my body. They were more dynamic men than Mark and their love equipment was appreciably larger and longer lasting than his – and Mark knew it. But was I emotionally ready to be a dominatrix to a weak and willing husband? I decided to try.

 

“There's no going back if I say yes. I can't dominate you one minute and then be your little Wifey the next,” I said while his tongue was away from my labia and he was looking directly at me. “It's forever Mark!”

 

His voice shook as he responded, “I ... know!”

 

I held my breath momentarily and then said to my fiancée, “Lie across the seat and beg me to sit on your face Mark.”

 

To my utter astonishment Mark scrambled quickly out of the foot-well of the SUV and lay down face-up across the wide rear bench seat. “Please use me Mistress,” he said as I noticed, yet again, the little tepee raised on his pants.

 

It wasn't begging, but his reference to me as Mistress told me that he now saw me as his dominatrix and, interestingly, he had rehearsed this moment in his mind. It was time to give my cuckold his heart's desire.

 

He lifted his head to meet my descending pussy as I lowered my groin down onto his face. His tongue went directly to my vaginal entrance whereupon his enthusiasm was rewarded with further globules of Gregg’s seed. And I, for the first time, felt the power of having a Female Led Relationship with my fiancée as I started to press, sweep and rotate my lower body onto Mark's face. And that was when another dark patch appeared on his pants and his tepee deflated.

 

My afternoons with Gregg had become a regular event (but never routine) as had his need for his sexy PA to accompany him on business trips, so it was a surprise when one day he brought up the subject of my fiancée. “Do you think that Mark would wear the cuckold's cage Mary?” Gregg asked me as we drove away from work one afternoon to his apartment.

 

I did not understand what he was saying to me and it sounded quite sinister; so my reply revealed my naivety.  “I'm not sure what it is he's done wrong Gregg.”

 

His laugh at my unworldliness revealed a paternal side to him; because, although we were Lovers, he was more than twenty years older than me. And despite my lack of sophistication I did not feel belittled – he was just a very kind man underneath it all.

 

“It's a little cage he can wear on his penis. It’s locked away,” he told me as an explanation; but I was still confused.

 

“Why?”

 

His reply was said in stages so each item of information was given time to be understood by me. “It's symbolic ..... of his unmanning .... his emasculation .... lots of cuckolded men wear them ..... some permanently.”

 

“Does it hurt?” I asked. “I don't want Mark harmed.”

 

“Harm?” Gregg said. “For most of them it stops them from getting too excited and gives them a sense of safety and emotional comfort.”

"... and gives them a sense of
safety and emotional comfort.”

 “And you think Mark would wear one of these things Gregg?”

 

“Ask him tonight. And then we can have that meeting between the three of us.”

 

I was pulling my panties up after a particularly delightful afternoon with Gregg, that had been made especially intriguing by the thought of Mark wearing a restraint on his little penis, when the apartment door bell rung – it was Mark – again.

 

“Don't forget to ask him,” Gregg reminded me.

 

I turned, still in my underwear, and kissed my Lover quickly on the lips and said, “I have to go.”

 

He smiled and once again reminded me to ask Mark the question that would define his manliness.

 

“Don't worry,” was my reply, “but I can't guarantee his reply.

 

He smiled again, but I was out the door and down the stairs before he could speak.

 

Mark had settled happily lapping at my sticky labia when, in spite of the delightful sensations coming from my groin, I had an idea. His pants were exhibiting their usual tepee tent from his miniscule erection when I decided to undo his belt, ease his pants and shorts down his legs to expose his little penis.

 

Noises of appreciation came from Mark from under my skirt as I lowered my head down and took his pink prawn into my mouth. Within seconds he groaned and tiny spurts of his man cream jumped into my mouth as he climaxed in sexual frenzy – I had him where I wanted him.

 

“I have a suggestion to make Dear,” I said after we had cleaned up and arranged our clothing.

 

He looked directly at me, and in the darkness of that vehicle I could tell that he was apprehensive. “What is it Mary?”

 

I plucked up the courage and spoke as kindly as I could. “Do you think a little restraint on your penis would help you. It’s not something that you must h.......”

 

“Yes please!”

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“Yes Mary! I want a cuckold's cage on my little man.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes!”

 

I have to admit that I was shocked. It was clear that night that my fiancée had already entered into the world of cuckolding and knew far more about that way of life than I. So all  I could think of saying was, “I guess we'll have to get one ... for you .... if you agree. Which you do – don’t you?”

 

“I already have one.”

 

“What?”

 

“Had it for a couple of years. I've just been waiting for you to raise the matter.”

 

I was crestfallen. I had expected to spend hours persuading Mark to wear a cage on his penis – I had been looking forward to it in a perverse way, but the bloody man already had one and was waiting for me to ask him to wear it. Now that is what is called a very quick education and we were very quiet on the drive back to my home that evening – until he said, “Do you want to put it on me Mary?”

 

“I’m not sure Mark. I wouldn't know how,” I replied – truthfully.

 

“It's pretty simple to fit,” he said, “and many Wives have little problem locking their hubbies away.”

 

I realised at that moment that secretly Mark had been immersed in being a cuckold since we got together years ago as young teenagers. He had read about it, studied it, and was now wanting to enter the life on a permanent basis – and he wanted it with me.

 

“Then you had better let me see it,” I said as I stepped out the SUV.

 

“And fit it?”

 

“I guess so,” I said, trying to stifle a nervous laugh, “Let’s meet at lunch tomorrow.”

 

It was a very simple apparatus, even for someone like me who considered the ‘nut and bolt’ an incomprehensible puzzle. A metal ring to go under Mark's little testes and around his penis, a curved small cage slightly smaller but snugly encasing his penis that was secured to the top of the bar, and a tiny padlock that held the whole contraption together – it was simple and very effective.

 

“You will need more than one,” I commented, as I gazed down on my handiwork.

 

“One on and one in the wash,” Mark replied as I moved his cage from side to side to check that it was a good fit.

 

“Exactly!”

 

“I'll order one tonight.”

 

Mark had collected me from work at twelve o'clock and had found a quiet place to park so we could fit his new cage. I had felt nervous at the prospect of locking my fiancée's penis away because I didn't want to hurt him physically - or emotionally for that matter, but he was calm and, I have to say it, joyful. And it was a perfect fit.

 

“Where did you go at lunchtime?” my naked Lover, Gregg, asked me later as I was removing my underwear while sat on the side of his big bed.

 

“I met Mark,” I replied as I rolled my now nude body onto the bed and opened my legs for the man I was deeply and passionately in love with.

 

“Really?” he said as he positioned himself between my legs.

 

“Mmm!” I managed to exclaim as his big member pushed into my vagina. “He wanted me ...... to fit his ..... new little cage.”

 

“That's my girl!” Gregg said as he started to ease his lovely cock in and out of me. “But we can discuss this later.”

 

“Much .... much ... later,” I whispered in his ear as I clung on to his hard strong body and pulled him deeper inside me.

 

Both Gregg and I had realised that the dynamics of our relationship were about to change. We had made love three times that afternoon and after each satisfying session we had attempted to discuss Mark's caged penis but passion had decided otherwise. Finally, fully sated, as we lay in each other's arms it was Gregg who articulated just what that change would be.

 

“You do understand, don’t you Mary, that Mark has now become a part of our story.”

 

My response to this observation was, “He's my fiancée Gregg. I already thought he was part of our little triangle.”

 

He kissed me on the forehead and said, “Yes My Love. Before today, he was just the tolerant weak fiancée, but now he has made a statement about his manliness.”

 

“And?”

 

“He wants to take his cuckolding to another level.”

 

“Another level?” I exclaimed. “I didn't realise that there was a league table.”

 

Gregg laughed at my naive response and then looked thoughtful as he stroked my bare bottom absentmindedly. “We need him to tell us what he wants and to commit to us.”

 

“You've lost me Gregg,” I said, “I am not sure that he knows what he wants or what ‘committing to us really means.”

 

He was smiling down at my face as he slid his large member deep into me yet again. “He knows and he understands what commitment means. Believe me!” he said as I moaned loudly at his very welcome penetration. “And the need for a meeting between the three of us is now very, very essential. There is no time to lose.”

"...There is no time to lose.”

Mark, Gregg and I sat uniformly spaced at a round table set for us in the corner of a very upmarket restaurant overlooking the lake close to Gregg’s apartment. It was beautifully decorated in pine beams, wine coloured red carpet and soft seats.

 

“We could have had an alcove for privacy,” Gregg said to us both, “but I thought a round table would be better for our discussions.”

 

I knew, as did Mark, why he had elected for such an arrangement; we all knew that he was attempting to bring a feeling of equality to the meeting. And it was the first and only time that I knew Gregg to fail - of course he was in charge; he was the Alpha male, I was his chosen mate, and Mark was the submissive cuckolded male whose future was to be decided that night. Mark, to his eternal credit because he is not an unintelligent man, knew it too and seemed eager, enthusiastic even, for the meeting to start.

 

“Thank you for coming,” Gregg said to us both, “and I think that we should all put our cards on the table before we start.” We both nodded in agreement as he continued, “and that we should use direct language. You know! To say it like it is?” We both nodded again.

 

“Mark, I know that you know that your fiancée Mary is now my Mistress and that we enjoy each other's company,” he said, “both in and out of bed. So the purpose .....”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

Mark had taken Gregg at his word and had asked the question that I should have asked weeks ago. But Gregg was not fazed by his interruption and gave him the reply that brought tears to my eyes.

 

“Of course!”

 

Turning to me Mark asked “and do you love Gregg, Mary?”

 

“Yes! Very much so,” I answered truthfully.

 

“And you have told me that you wish to marry me,” he said, confirming our previous conversation, “is that still true?”

 

Again, his question deserved an honest answer. “Yes!”

 

Turning to Gregg again he said, “So I'm guessing the purpose of this meeting is ......,” he paused for two seconds and then said, “.... me!”

 

I saw the change in Greg’s eyes. He now saw that Mark was not a weak insecure little man but someone who knew what he wanted and that he had changed his preconceived ideas about him. So he changed the direction of his conversation.

 

“Forgive me Mary, but I am about to tell Mark about Terri and her husband,” he said, while keeping his gaze unwaveringly on my fiancée. I knew about Terri so I said it was okay.

 

“My last Mistress, Terri, had a husband called Rodrigo who accepted my relationship with his Wife,” he continued, “and you remind me of him very much.”

 

Mark asked the obvious question. “In what way?”

 

“Mary and I have discussed you a lot so, as you may imagine, I think I know what makes you tick,” Gregg said, as Mark's face grew red with disquiet. “And I want you to know that I have a great respect for you, because I know that living the life of a cuckold is not an easy one. Am I right?”

 

Mark looked less worried now, but he was still fully engaged with Gregg's conversation. So he nodded silently in response without speaking.

 

“And Mary tells me that you have made an adjustment. To yourself.”

 

“Do you mean my new penis cage?”

 

We fell silent at this sudden unexpected confession of Mark's, so he broke the quietness that had descended upon us by saying, “We did agree to say it like it is. Didn't we?”

 

Instinctively I reached over to touch his arm and smile in encouragement and Gregg smiled directly back at him before replying, “We did Mark. And thank you for contributing in this fashion. I feel that we can make a lot of progress tonight and move this three cornered relationship along to our mutual satisfaction.”

 

It was starting to sound more like a business meeting than a discussion about our futures, so I decided to bring a little more emotion into the meeting. Turning to Mark I said, “We are here because of me Mark and the fact that I love two men. Two very different men. But I love them both equally. I'm passionately in love with Gregg with the pleasures he brings me and those I give him, and you My Sweet for your devotion and permanence in my life.”

 

“I know all of this,” Mark replied a little impatiently, “and I have been sharing you with other men since we were teenagers. I know I am a cuckold so can we now cut to the chase and discuss our relationships.”

 

It was clear to me that Gregg had expected to guide the conversation, but this sudden contribution had stopped that in its tracks. Nevertheless he took it in his stride and prompted Mark to continue.

 

“What's troubling you Mark?” Gregg asked.

 

“I have confessed to wearing a cage on my ‘little man’s, but other than that, I don’t know where to go next.”

 

“As a cuckold, you mean?”

 

“Yeah!” Mark replied, now sounding desperate and confused.

 

“Would it help if I told you how Rodrigo, my previous Girlfriend's husband handled his cuckolding?”

 

Mark nodded his assent.

 

“Everything?” Gregg said to Mark.

 

“Everything!”

 

“It's pretty full-on and personal,” Gregg said, raising an eyebrow in implied warming, “ and you will need to have a very broad mind.”

 

“I think I already have that. Don't you Gregg?” was Mark’s reasonable response.

 

Gregg accepted Mark's mild rebuke with an understanding smile and replied, “You're right. Sorry!”

 

A silence fell over us as Gregg gathered his thoughts and strategized his approach, while Mark and I sat and wondered at what he would say. Eventually he sipped his wine slowly and then said, “Do you know what a ‘True Cuckold' is?”

 

We both shook our heads.

 

“How about the term ‘Cuckosexual’?”

 

“Never heard of it,” Mark replied. “Is it another name for Bisexual?”

 

“Yes and no!”

 

Again we remained silent as Gregg continued.

 

“Firstly, he said, “a True Cuckold is totally committed to his Wife and her Lover's relationship on both a physical and an emotional level. He accepts that he is the lesser man and, in most cases, relishes the thought of the Woman he loves giving her body to another. He is dedicated to them and loves to be involved in their liaisons in a supporting role.”

 

He stopped for a moment to allow this information to sink in before proceeding., “And if you wished for an example of real commitment to a relationship, you should look no further than a true cuckold. They are the men who take pride in their Wives looking desirable for her Lover and will prepare her for dates and stand aside when the other man takes her to the bed of his choosing. He is a husband, boyfriend or,“ he said looking directly at Mark, “the lady's fiancée who understands her needs and is prepared to recognize her Lover's superiority and his right to take her whenever, wherever, and however he wants. He does not complain or make life difficult for them; and neither does he deny his emasculation when asked. His devotion to her is total and neither does he shrink from physical involvement in their lovemaking when permitted to do so.”

 

Gregg stopped to take a deep draught of his wine and then, looking at my fiancée again, asked, “Could any of this apply to you Mark?”

 

His answer was immediate and without prevarication, “Yes!”

 

“Rodrigo was all of this and more,” Gregg confirmed, “and he was one of the happiest men I ever knew.”

 

“Happy?” I asked. “He had given up his manliness. How could he be happy with that?”

 

“Because he was not well endowed or sexually dynamic while at the same time he wanted to keep his pretty Wife in his life. He was also a realist who understood his inadequacy and embraced it by committing himself to a marriage of cuckolding and sexual subjugation.”

 

Mark's eyes were wide open with excitement and questioning when he asked “Is that what you meant by physical involvement? Is that the definition of a Cuckosexual?”

 

Gregg remained quiet for a moment and appeared to give his answer some thought as he glanced sideways at me. He was clearly judging my reaction to his talk as well as that of my fiancée.

 

“Rodrigo did not differentiate between sexualities,” Gregg said to his two open-mouthed guests, “he often said that he was non-sexual and was prepared to do anything and everything to enhance Terri and my pleasure - in and out of our bed.”

 

I looked across the table at Mark and the look on his face told me that he was deeply affected by what he was hearing. His mouth was open and my experience told me that he was highly aroused by the new world that was opening up to him.

 

“What does that mean Gregg?” I asked, before Mark could butt in with an inappropriate question.

 

“I did say full-on didn't I,” he said - to which we had agreed.

 

“Mostly, Terri and I just kept our loving to ourselves, but once a week, or thereabouts, we would invite Rodrigo to join us as our cuckold so he could enhance the physical pleasures of our love-making,” Gregg said, before dropping the bombshell that made Mark gulp and emit a low groan from deep within his chest, “by acting as ‘Cleaner Reviver’. And he was very enthusiastic and well practised at this cuckold duty.”

 

Mark could hardly speak. He had already guessed what ‘Cleaner’ meant. He had been ‘cleaning’ my labia after sex with Scott and Gregg for years, but I could see on his sweet delicate face that he wanted the meaning of ‘Reviver’ explained to him. I think he had already guessed, but wanted clarification. Gregg had also gauged Mark's trepidation and continued without waiting for his question.

 

“The job of the cuckold ‘Reviver' is, of course, to bring his Wife's Lover back into the action after ....”

 

Mark interrupted. “To get him hard again?”

“To get him hard again?"

 Gregg laughed and confirmed his question with an exaggerated double ‘thumbs up’ gesture to confirm - “Exactly!”

 

“Should I ask how?”

 

Gregg locked eyes with Mark and responded by saying, “I think you already know that Mark.”

 

Mark's face grew more red than before as he responded, “I'm not a homosexual.”

 

“I know that,” Gregg confirmed.

 

“So do I,” I said truthfully.

 

Mark began to look trapped and anxious. “There is one thing I won't do – ever!”

 

Gregg and I both knew that Mark was referring to anal sex.

 

“Me neither!” Gregg confirmed. “Never have! Never will!”

 

The relief on Mark’s face was palpable and, although his face was losing its red colour, he still had something more to say. Gregg and I could sense his emotional turmoil and the life changing decision that he was about to make, so we remained quiet and waited patiently.

 

“I'll need some time, and some training too,” he said eventually.

 

It was Gregg who responded positively. “Starting tomorrow,” he replied, “So let us raise our glasses to our new lives.”

 

We downed our wine and ordered another bottle. Our chatter was intimate and happy, looking at us you would have seen three friends having a happy night out, not the subjugation of the Lady's fiancée. That was the purpose of our evening together - Mark's subjection. But Gregg had more to say.

 

“Tomorrow is Friday Mark. We could start your cuckold tuition, so what I want you to do is to come and join us after work. Can you do that?”

 

Mark's glass was halfway to his lips when he stopped and, with eyes wide open in surprise, replied, “Yes Gregg. What for?”

 

“To attend to Mary's needs of course, cuckold,” he replied, “and to dress her after we have finished.”

 

“Of course Master,” Mark’s replied.

 

I felt a shock of realisation course through me. He had just referred to Gregg as ‘Master’. Why had he done so? I quickly realised that he had embraced his cuckolding. Just by that one word he had confirmed to Gregg and I that he would accept his inferiority as an unmanned husband.

 

Gregg took this revelation in his stride and a beatific smile appeared on his face. He looked at me, took my hand, kissed it, and said, “You do believe that I love you, don't you Mary?”

 

I pulled his face down onto mine and kissed him. “Of course I do,” I replied, “and I love you too.”

 

“And you realise that I can't marry you.”

 

“I do!”

 

“Then I think that Mark should get his wish and marry you – soon!”

 

“If you say so Master,” I replied trying hard not to giggle.

“When?” said Mark.