The Story of Elaine, Jackson, and cuckold james

 

Chapter Twenty Six 

The Day of the Wedding – Part 2

 

The feeling of a little wet tongue working its magic on one's sexual organ can be a most delightful sensation, whether the recipient is male or female – or in this case my best friend Alana. And the ‘worker’ was me with her delicate and tiny penis resting on my tongue like a baby bird snuggled down in its warm nest – safe, secure, and happy.

There is something really beautiful in the unselfish and one-sided giving of pleasure to someone you care for. I had discovered this with Elaine, my new Master – Jackson, and Alana two nights ago. I felt an emotion of profound humbling as I worked the little, but highly sensitive tube of pink flesh that now stood stiffly to attention against my warm and wet tongue.

I nuzzled it, licked it, kissed it, and eventually took his penis deep into my mouth to rest gently against my larynx - and then I went through the whole delightful sequence of affection again, and again. The salty taste of seminal fluid was telling me that Alana’s arousal was rising in response to my pleasuring.

This was not the crude ‘blow job’ that is practised by ‘professional ladies of the night’, or pornographers (or both). It was a demonstration of my affection and understanding for my best friend who had now turned away from ‘manliness' to embrace his feminine side. Like me, he had accepted his cuckolding by his (now pregnant) Wife, and this was his way of addressing his new way of life. And my attention to his little penis was my way of telling him that I understood, and still cared for him.

I felt the first spasm of his tiny member, before I sensed the warm spurt of semen hit my throat. I had taken him gradually to the edge, only to withdraw slightly to calm him down, and then increase his arousal repeatedly. The result was an ejaculation that precipitated a scream from deep within Alana's throat. Pulse after pulse jetted warm salty cream into my mouth that I lasciviously swallowed as I licked my lips to make sure that I took it all. My deed was done, and Alana's hand that stroked the back of my head told me that she thought so too.

My thoughts returned to the conversation Elaine and I had enjoyed earlier in the week. She had told me of Roman slaves who had been used for sexual purposes only – clearly many female slaves were used for pleasure, but she also told me of many male slaves (possibly eunuchs) who had been used as ‘face-sitters' for the Mistress of the house. The very thought of being a ‘slave' to my Wife, Jackson, or even Alana was attractive to me.

‘Not just attractive,’ I thought to myself, ‘but arousing. This is what I want. This is what I was born to be. This is my future, and I need to embrace it.’

We two, very wet, cuckolds had completed the intimate moment between us and became aware the time was pressing. We had a wedding to prepare for.

“What have you two been up to,” Madeleine asked as we vacated the shower room to stand naked before her and her Lover, Bruno.

“We had a wash Mistress,” we replied in unison.

“Of course you did,” she said, clearly suppressing a laugh at two naked grown men shuffling their feet and lying like two naughty children. “Now get into the clothes I have laid out for you both on the bed.”

We turned and looked at the pretty white dress, lacy white underwear, white shoes, and shimmering white stockings draped over the duvet cover. All of this flimsy wear lie alongside a smart black suite, underwear, socks, and black shiny shoes.

“And cj?”

I turned suddenly at Madeleine’s voice behind me. “Make sure that Alana has her little cage on, before you dress her.”

“Dress her?”

“Dress her cj,” she replied sternly, “and make sure she is beautiful before we leave this room.”

“Mistress?”

“And make sure her cage is fitted properly,” she continued, without responding to me.

I looked at the pile of feminine clothing on the bed, and there, buried under some flimsy silk panties was a small velvet bag that I took to be the cage for Alana's penis.

“Yes Mistress!”

Alana stood subserviently with her legs apart as I eased the round saddle underneath her little testicles and adjusted it so the securing mechanism rested on the upper surface of the base of her penis. Her little organ, still soft and small from my previous pleasuring, slipped into the cage without any lubrication required. A quick lining up of the locating lugs, a click as I snapped the little padlock closed, and my best friend was locked away.

... and my best friend was locked away.

“Jump up and down, and wiggle side to side,” I said.

He did so – consequently his little caged penis charmingly flopped around just inches from my nose.

“Comfy?” I asked.

“Yeth!”

Madeleine looked up from putting on her shoes and snapped, “Don't you dare start lisping Alana. You're not gay, so don't pretend you are.”

“Th .... Sorry Mistress!”

Where had that come from? Was that his/her attempt at being ‘feminine’? If it was it was pretty well wide of the mark. His transition was in an opposite direction completely to the ‘gay' sexuality. His transformation was an effort to cope with his cuckolding, in the same way that my efforts had been directed towards total acceptance and subservience. It annoyed me, and I told him so in no uncertain terms.

“For f*ck's sake Alan,” I exclaimed, “you’re a f*cking cuckold, like me, not a gay-boy. So stop pretending you're one.”

“Sorry!”

“That’s okay,” I replied as I reached for the white lacy suspender belt resting on the bed nearby. “Now hold still while I clip this on for you.”

I wrapped the stretch of material around her waist, clipped it closed and then moved it around so the fastening was around the back. Looking up, I noticed that Alana had picked up two silk stockings from the bed.

“These next,” he said – but it was more of question than a statement.

“Of course them - dummy,” I shot back, snatching one out of her hands. “Now lift your right foot up.”

I had rolled the stocking into a doughnut shape in the same way that I had seen Elaine do just a few hours before, and then pushed it over Alana's proffered foot and rolled it up her leg.

“I think you know how this works,” I said to her.

“Of course I do,” she replied as she daintily clipped the stocking top to the dangling straps. She had done this before – clearly.

“Other foot!”

Once again, I slipped the stocking up her other leg, and again she clipped it expertly to her suspender belt.

‘Why the f*ck am I doing this,’ I thought, ‘she's been doing this a long time.’

“Panties?”

“Sorry?”

“Will you put on my panties?”

I stood up and looked her in the eye. “I don't wear panties.”

“For me – stupid!” she replied. A mischievous smile on her face as she offered me the panties that had been lying next to the stockings on the bed.

We laughed together, in the same way as we used to laugh when we were (men) friends, and it felt good – and sad. But those days were gone and we had both changed for good, but one should never turn away from love, affection, and friendship – so we did not. That morning Alana and I reset our friendship in a different, and more understanding way. We both knew it and were glad of it, and I was still smiling when she stepped into her panties - and I lifted the material up her legs to fit nicely over her little penis cage.

“Now help me with my wedding dress.”

Maddie, already in her similar pattern dress, cut in quickly and said, “Not yet Dear. Let's do your hair and make-up first.”

And at his Wife's command, Alana shuttled over towards the mirrored table, leaving me alone, naked, and on my knees. But only for a second.

“cj,” Maddie said, “your clothes are on the bed by me. Come over and get that nice expensive suit on.”

She was right. It was a nice suit. It was the same colour as Bruno's that he had put on just before he left to help set up the hall for the ceremony.

There were black silk socks, black shiny shoes, an expensive white cotton shirt, a white silk bowtie, a beautiful white flower for the black jacket button hole; but there was something missing.

“There's no pants Mistress,” I said.

“Oh! Sorry cj,” Maddie replied, turning away from arranging Alana's hair. Reaching into a small drawer she pulled out a pair of pink see-through panties. “Try these on. I wore them when I first fell pregnant. They might just have enough room for your little cage.”

“They're panties Mistress,” I exclaimed indignantly. “I know that I am a cuckold, but feminization is not something I had envisaged as part of my new life.”

“Oh get over yourself James,” she responded, “what's a little ‘femming up’ between friends. Besides! You've told Elaine that you want to be her submissive slave, haven't you?”

“Yes Mistress,” I answered lamely.

“Then be a good slave, and put those knickers on.”

Maddie, in full flow, was not someone to whom you said ‘No'. She had a distinctly powerful character and was loved and admired by many – including Alana, Bruno, Elaine, and – yes – me. And she always got her way.

The panties scratched a little as I pulled them up my legs, but she had been right – they fitted my bottom and my little cage like a glove. And felt light and soft when fully adjusted into place.

“Very fetching,” Maddie said with a smile; while Alana's face in the mirror was as if it was made of stone.

“Not something you envisaged eh?” Alana snapped as Maddie started to check for freedom of movement. I didn’t respond. It wasn't my idea, and I had had no choice, unless I went ‘commando'.

... to check for freedom of movement.

The suit fitted me perfectly. The lovely Madeleine had done her homework and I suspected that Elaine and her had planned this whole thing weeks (months?) before. Alana's dress and corsage must have been arranged long before my visit to the beach last week. When my new way of life had confronted me in such an erotic and outrageous way. From day one of my journey into cuckoldry I had suspected a high degree of manipulation, and this was now proof.

“This is such a good fit Mistress. Did Elaine give you my measurements?” I asked Maddie just after she had switched off the hair dryer that had been used on Alana.

She looked up suddenly, the implications of my seemingly innocent question showing on her pretty face. “Erm! Sort of.”

“Sort of? This suit wasn't made yesterday.”

Maddie blushed, and for the first time in her life – probably – she was lost for words. But it was Alana who put the whole question to bed.

“Oh for heaven's sake James. We have all been planning this for weeks. Surely after last night you can't have any doubts about that, and now your Wife wants to be knocked up by her Master,” Alana said.

“I get that,” I replied. “But Elaine and I made love just a few days ago. If that was the case she wouldn't ........ unless.”

I stopped talking and the room fell silent and we all looked at each other as the obvious answer stared us all in the face.

“... you can't get pregnant, if you are already with child,” Alana said – dropping an emotional bomb in the middle of the room.

I had already considered this scenario due to their haste to enlighten me of my cuckolding, but had dismissed it with little thought, but to now hear it expressed as clearly as this, it was obvious. Elaine was carrying Jackson's child. But how had she kept it all a secret. Where was the morning sickness? Where was the strange tastes in food? The secret smile and quiet contemplation of a happy ‘Mother To Be’.

The two of them were quiet now; letting this my burgeoning awareness develop. Alana’s eyes never left my face, but Maddie's looked at the floor; nevertheless it was her who broke  the silence in the room. “Elaine told me she was pregnant with Jackson’s baby last month.”

I felt my innards fall (metaphorically) into my legs, that shook uncontrollably. Of course she was pregnant. Everything had pointed in that direction since that moment she had opened her beautiful legs for Jackson under that watchtower, in the sure knowledge that I would follow and watch him having his way with her. They had even posted a carer (Terry) outside to make sure that I hadn't reacted negatively and to provide support, if needed – I hadn't.

I had always known that I had been manoeuvred into this position for a purpose. I had accepted this and made my own emotional adjustments so I could keep Elaine by my side and, I have to admit, I had started to take pleasure in. So why wasn't I enraged at the thought of another man’s child growing in my own Wife's body? And why, as I thought about her tummy and breasts growing, was my penis restraint suddenly feeling tight? Why was I aroused? I knew the answers to these questions even as I considered them. I was a complete cuckold - a newly cuckolded husband, that was for sure, but ‘complete' nevertheless.

Alana stood up from her seat and came to me and enveloped me in her arms. “Welcome to my world Jim,’ she said as the perfume in her hair assailed my nostrils.

I didn't cry, or fold up like a lesser cuckold would have done. Elaine was pregnant and there was nothing I could or should do, but did I now welcome this new revelation? Hadn't I said so that previous evening when I had knelt before her and pressed my lips to her tummy. I had been given her birth control pills to hand around my neck and paraded my emasculation before everyone.

I patted Alana's soft little arse and said, “Don’t worry about me Alana. It was always going to happen one way or another. I'm fine! Honestly! My Wife is having a baby, just like Maddie.”

She stepped back and looked me in the eye, uncertain if I had just insulted her or had been clumsy with my words. Seeing my face, she was convinced that I was not being sarcastic. She smiled.

“Come and give me away cuckold,” she said as she stroked the left side of my face with her cool hand.

“Lead on cuckold.”

“Lead on cuckold.”

All three of us were laughing as we left the room and walked down the corridor.

Elaine, Jackson, and Bruno were waiting for us in the magnificent Entrance Hall of the Manor. Standing alongside them were the beautiful Jennifer, her cuckold husband John, a smiling medium sized man with short dark hair and thinly growing  beard who was introduced as Reverend Norman Jones. Standing close to the vicar, was a lovely young woman with naturally bright red hair, large breasts and wide ‘child-bearing’ hips. The serenity in her green eyes reflected happiness with her mid-term pregnancy, and the smile on her freckled face was for all, but mostly for the tall young Black Man whose hand she clasped tightly.

It was Bruno who introduced us, and as we stepped forward to shake hands, Reverend Jones gestured to the happy couple nearby and said, “may I introduce my Wife Geraldine and our Master, Bekele.”

I stared at the trio in front of me – the vicar was another Cuckold, like Alana and I. Not only a cuckold, but it was clear that his beautiful, full bodied, Wife was carrying the Black Man's child, or children, in her womb.

The shake of her hand was firm, as was Bekele's, and her shrewd green eyes took in the dynamics of Alana and my relationship almost immediately. “You both look such a lovely couple,” she said, “but who belongs to who?”

“Sorry?” It was Alana who spoke.

I knew what the big red-head was asking, so before Alana had time to ask again, I replied, “I am Jackson and Elaine’s cuckold, and,” I gestured to Alana, “I am here in support of Alana for today's ceremony.”

I was expecting derision from Geraldine, or at least a dismissive response, but I was wrong; the lady, along with the big breasts, hips, and bottom, had a big heart too. Wrapping her arms around the two of us, she enveloped us both into her ample bosom and exclaimed, to no one in particular, “You are both sooo sweeeet!”

I liked her immediately. She was one of those ‘Mother Earth' types who wear their heart on their sleeve and embraced life full-on. Not for her, half measures and wishing for other things, life for her was for living to the full – this was a Woman with appetites that needed sating regularly. Fleetingly, I wondered if Bekele's stamina was up to her carnal needs, but the look of amusement on his face told me that he was.

“She's a very emotional lady, is my Wife,” said Norman, needlessly, to no-one in particular. But I wasn't the only person in that room who noted the warmth in his voice; it was clear that he adored his Wife even though she had been impregnated by the man with the ebony skin who now had his arm around her waist. This way of life was starting to feel very, very normal now – even after a week.

... he adored his wife, even though

 she had been impregnated by 

the man with the ebony skin ...

 

But Reverend Norman Jones had come to Made Manor for purpose. “So!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together and, turning to Jenny, asked, “What's the arrangement today Jen?”

Jenny Smith stepped forward and said, “Madeleine, Bruno, and Alana you already know, Norman. But Elaine, Jackson, and James here are serving as ‘support’ and witness to the polyamorous wedding and will need one of your little chats, especially cuckold James here.

He glanced at me and asked, “Have you been told what your responsibility is here today James.”

“Not really,” I replied truthfully.

“Each of you are here to support your friend in their embarkation into a new relationship. Unsurprisingly, Elaine is here to support Madeleine, Jackson as ‘Best Man’ for Bruno, and you James,” he said directly, looking into my eyes, “ are here to support, witness, and encourage your best friend in the journey she has elected to take from cuckolded husband to feminine partner to Bruno and Madeleine. This has not been an easy journey for her to take, and I understand that you have only recently been apprised of her transition, which predictably has caused you some confusion. Nevertheless, Madeleine and Bruno assure me that you have accepted Alana’s new gender and have behaved impeccably towards her, consequently I am happy to proceed with the ceremony.”

We walked together into the same large room that the night before had seen our own ‘Engagement’; Madeleine and Elaine arm in arm first, Bruno and Jackson side by side next, followed by Alana and I (hand in hand), Geraldine and Bekele, Jenny and John, and finally the Reverend Norman Jones. We formed a semi circle around a small wooden polished table on which laid a small booklet entitled, ‘Archbishop's Council – Guidance on Future Polyamory Events – Sample Commitment Texts’.

We were not alone, in rows of chairs stretching away to the back of the cavernous room were the same friends whose company we had enjoyed the night before, and many others. Pretty young Women sat between handsome young Black Men, and smaller white males – cuckold couples in their droves had come with their Masters to witness a rare event - a polyamorous wedding with a feminized cuckold.

“Dearly beloved,” Norman said to the congregation, “we are gathered here today to witness and honour the commitment of Madeleine, Bruno, and Alana – formerly known as Alan – to their polyamorous relationship. We have witnessed such commitments before, but this is a special moment in our communal adoption and celebration of the three cornered relationship, and all of its various interpretations.”

There was a murmuring of appreciation from the sea of faces, all of them kind, understanding, and warm with the aura of love that surrounded them. It was then that I realised that the triples who sat together had probably had their own relationships solemnized in this way. It was a seminal moment for me to realise that others had adopted this way of life before we had done so and now lived happily together. And as I looked at my Wife, standing beside Madeleine, I knew that I had something to say to her, so I released Alana's hand for a moment and shuffled sideways.

“I know!” I whispered into Elaine’s left ear.

She glanced sideways at me with a quizzical look on her pretty face. “Know what?”

I didn't answer, but I had a question of my own. “When is the baby due?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she replied, “Maddie is due in about two months. Why?”

“I don't mean her Elaine. I mean you.”

She stared straight in front of her for close to a minute as the blood drained from her face at my words. She bit her lip and her eyes had glistened as she finally turned her head fully to face me. “How did you find out? Who told .... you?” she asked, moving closer to Jackson as his arm closed around her waist protectively.

“All of this week I have been guided, nudged and encouraged to be the perfect cuckold. Much of it by myself of course, but there has always been a nagging sensation in the back of my mind Elaine,” I said. Her eyes never leaving my own.

“And that is?”

“Why the rush? You could have sat me down and explained the situation and talked me through the reason that you now have a big Black Lover. Did you think I would respond differently and hate you? Or throw you out of the house?” I asked.

“I never thought that.”

“And then, on Monday night, we made love – if you recall,” I said.

She nodded.

“So why would a Wife who was planning to make a baby with her Black Master, and to then state it publicly just a few days later in front of her husband, risk the wrong man impregnating her? So logic states that ....” I didn't finished the sentence, stared into her eyes, and waited. It took three seconds for her to reply.

Her voice quivered as she replied, “The baby is due in May.”

I felt my own eyes water, just as hers had, as I choked back a sob.

“I'm so sorry,” Elaine said. 

“Don't be! I’m a cuckold,” I replied; instantaneously aware that Norman had stopped talking and that all eyes were upon us two. The room had become silent with attention being paid to the mini crisis being played out on the stage by the assembled ‘wedding party’. I felt a cool hand grab my own; it was Alana's and she was not happy with me. I had been crass and unsupportive of her on her big day and I felt ashamed as she pulled me sideways to return to my position by her side. “Sorry!” “Shut up!” Alana snapped, giving me a quick look of sympathy before returning her attention to the ceremony. Norman, still smiling, picked up the pamphlet and spoke. “I have said many times, on all of these joyful occasions of personal dedication that elders of my Church, officially, remains opposed to polyamorous marriages. But among us there are younger clergy who recognize that love in all of its forms should be recognized, and I count myself as one of these. Subsequently, the service that we shall have here today will be one of personal dedication without invoking the word of God. Do you accept that?” He stopped to let the words sink in and looked meaningfully at Madeleine, Bruno, and Alana for an answer. Their united answer of, “We Do!” by the three of them together, indicated to me that this question had been asked before -presumably at a previous interview. It also told me that this marriage was not a sudden ‘bright idea’, but had been long in the planning. Logically, my next thought was, ‘are Elaine and Jackson planning the same for me?’ Content that he had received the answer he sought, Reverend Norman Jones continued, “We are here today to celebrate the love that Bruno, Madeleine, and Alana have for each other, and to recognize and witness their decision to journey forward in their lives together. While you are separate individuals, you walk along one path together. Your every gesture, word, expression, and action, and those you withhold or omit, will determine the quality of your experience together. It is through loving, kindness, caring, and sharing that a successful marriage journey is created. A good marriage takes patience, dedication, humour, and forgiveness. You keep your love alive through the choices you make moment by moment, day after day, and year after year. Through practice, you learn how to love yourselves and each other with devotion, and to cherish the children that result from your attachment.” He stopped to looked up at us. “Jackson, Elaine, and James. You stand as witnesses to this marriage. Do you also stand as support for the happy trio in both good times and bad?” There was no other answer to give than the response we gave. In one voice, we replied, “We Do!” without equivocation or prompting. It would have been unconscionable for me to have replied in any other way for Alana who, I was beginning to realise was meaning more to me than I had thought a week ago. “Then my question for you Madeleine, Bruno, and Alana,” Norman asked, “is do you commit yourselves to this marriage between the three of you?” He looked at Madeleine. “Madeleine?” “I do!” she replied; her voice a whisper. “Bruno?” “I do!” “Alana?” I held my breath. Would my friend make the jump from cuckold to sissy bride to a well-hung Black Master. To be his feminized sissy, and be used for pleasure as and when it pleased him. “I do!” There had been no mistaking the determination in Alana's voice. This is what my ‘best friend’ wanted – and whom was I to stand in judgement. “So I now pronounce you a happy and loving trio!” Norman said in a raised voice so all in that large room could hear. And then, to thunderous applause, he exclaimed loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen. Please stand for Bruno, Madeleine, and Alana.” And that was the end of the cuckold wedding ceremony. There was plenty to drink, food to eat, dancing to be had, and fellow cuckolds to talk to, but for all of that, I felt that a distance had been put between myself and Elaine. For the first time in my life with that lovely Woman, I felt disconnected from her.