Cuckold Vignette

 

There are many clues for a cuckold to discover that his Wife is in 'the market' for a Black Master. And sometimes those clues can be very easy on the eye.

A ‘happy snap’

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Róisín - Ch. 4

Chapter Four - Talking It Through

I met Róisín in the fashion house reception of at six pm that evening after my meeting with Samuel Jerome. The weather had been warm, so instead of using the Tube to Tottenham Court Road and becoming lathered in sweat, I had made my way to her work by foot; enjoying the moderate physical activity after a very reflective afternoon.

Samuel's words echoed in my brain. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city that I usually enjoy were lost on me as, deep in thought, I recalled Samuel’s words. ‘It’s not cheating if the husband knows,’ he had said.

He had made clear to me that he wanted my Wife as his Mistress, and had tried to convince me that by doing so it would save me the agony of being cheated upon. Much of what he had said made sense. I did know of the Cuckold’s life and the reasons so many pretty, but unfulfilled Wives, looked for affairs with superior men. And not just ‘looked for, but were happily enjoying.

... happily enjoying.

Megan had seen me coming down the street on the external cctv security monitor in the Reception and had called Róisín to let her know I was on my way. By the time I had pushed at the heavy glass revolving doors she was skipping down the stairs to greet me.

She smiled, grimaced, and then looked worried as she said, “Christ! What a face!”

“Oh, it's nothing really,” was my murmured response.

“Yes there fucking is. What is it?”

“I had lunch with Samuel.”

“Samuel Jerome?”

“The guy in the photograph. Him! Yes!” I said, looking directly into her face to see if there was a response from her as I spoke. Her eyes showed a flash of sudden interest and desire that she quickly concealed, so I knew my words had caused a reaction within her. And that Samuel was of interest to her too.

Her next question, I knew, was designed to make me think that she was only curious, but I could feel the tension in her. “What did he want with you?”

‘He wants to date you, strip you naked and slide his big brown rod into you. He wants you as his pretty little Mistress. He wants to own you,’ I thought to myself, before answering. “Can we go home and talk about it later. I'm tired and want to go home.”

We talked in monosyllables on the train back to Colindale, but I could tell that Róisín was holding back her interest in what I had told her. She stayed close to me on the seat and held my hand in a gesture of reassurance, for which I was deeply grateful. We had both realised by then that our relationship was going to be different from that day on, which drew us closer to each other.

We had changed out of our work clothes and had enjoyed a Marks and Spencer ‘Dinner for Two’ with a half bottle of red before she spoke. 

“So what's this all about Michael?”

“He wants you!”

“Who?”

“Don't be coy! You know who.”

“You mean Samuel.”

I felt tetchy and snapped back, “I told you I went to meet him. So who else did you think I was talking about?”

“He wants me?”

“He said he wants to date you. But we both know he's a Black Master, like those guys at your work, so we both know exactly what he means by dating.”

She looked back at me without an expression on her pretty face. She said nothing, but I could see the change of colour on her cheeks. As they turned to a charming dark pink, she licked her lips as her eyes betrayed her emotion yet again. She was aroused, and my experience of my lovely Wife told me that her pussy was wet with anticipation.

“The cheeky bugger!” she exclaimed. “He's got a bloody cheek. I told him I was happily married didn't I?”

“And are you? Happy I mean.”

“Of course I am you silly man.”

I wasn't buying it. I had seen a different happiness in that photo. I had also seen her face change, twice, at the thought of being on a ‘date’ with Samuel. But at the same time I thought it better not to mention that the Black Master had said that one day she would reluctantly cheat on me. I didn't want that and I knew that she wouldn't either.

“So you're not interested then?” I asked my now very red faced Wife.

“....... No! ....... Of course not!”

The pauses in her response to my question told me that she was lying – to herself as well as me. But there was something else Samuel had said just before I left the Savoy. ‘Ask Róisín if she would have dated me if she was a single girl.’

Another fateful moment for me as I spoke the words to ask that very  question. “Can I ask you something Róisín?”

She lifted an eyebrow in response and nodded silently.

“If Samuel had asked you on a date before you met me, would you have said yes?”

Her answer was unambiguous and out of her mouth before she had time to think. “Oh Christ yes! The man's a Black Master. I would have been in his bed that very night.”

"... that very night."

It was at that moment that I also recalled Róisín saying, regretfully, that she would have liked to have been ‘owned'.  Like the other ladies in the fashion house who, along with their cuckolded hubbies, were the contented ‘property’ of their respective Masters. I had seen it, discussed it, more than once with John, Bernard, and Paul, and the concept of being a cuckold was now familiar to me. And as Samuel had also said, ‘And then you can make your decision.’ But do I want to decide?

“Are you thinking about what I think you are thinking,” Róisín asked quietly. “And if you are, think again. I am not going to cheat on you with another man.”

“And what if I said yes? Go ahead! Date the man! That wouldn't be cheating would it?”

“You're serious aren’t you.”

“Yes! .... No! ...... I don’t know,” was my inadequate reply.

“Well that clears up that question,” was her sardonic response to my vacillation. “But no. It wouldn't be cheating if you said yes. But if Samuel and I like each other in that way, then you would be a cuckold. And as we sit here now together discussing this, you are not or have you ever been cuckolded by me. So bear that in mind with whatever it is you are going to say next.”

“I will say yes if you promise to never leave me,” I said, as I felt an immediate rush of blood to my little penis.

Her response was immediate. “Samuel has a Mistress in America, who has just had his baby. He wants me as his Pleasure Mistress for his time in the UK, so there is no way in this world that I would leave you for him. I'm your Wife and will be just that for many years to come.”

“And do you think Samuel will ‘like you in that way’?” I asked; already knowing the answer.

“He has already said so. In so many words.”

Róisín was right, he had said so. And she had said so too.

“The big question is Michael. Could you take the emotional strain of knowing your Wife is another man's Mistress. Could you join the ranks of the hubbies who's Wives are ‘Owned' by strong Black Masters. It is your decision my Love. And I shall say nothing more about the matter.”

I needed to talk to someone who understands just what it is to be a cuckolded husband. I had plenty of choices within that fashion house, but I eventually settled on Megan's hubby Paul. I don't know why he was my choice of mentor, perhaps it was because he knew Róisín so well, and so intimately.

I wanted the best for my Wife and if that meant swallowing my pride and seeing her off into the night to have a nice time with a Lover like Samuel then so be it. But I had to be honest with myself. Did I want it too. My erect penis when Róisín had described her feelings and lovemaking pleasures had told its own tale. It turned me on - but would it in reality?

“Swallowing your pride is the first thing you do,” Paul had said as he sipped his pint. “And only then do you even consider this new life you are contemplating.”

I knew that manly pride would be the first thing that Paul would mention as soon as we had met in the pub near to where he worked. I had rung him that morning to request a meeting and he had guessed the subject of our consultation almost immediately. “Is this about Róisín and Mr Jerome?”

This response shook me for a moment, so my response had been tentative. “Well sort of. But why do you ask?”

“Oh Michael! I don't wish to worry you but we have all been astounded that your lovely young Wife hasn't fallen on her back for him yet. They spend all day working together and we can all see the deep attraction between them. Christ mate! It’s a wonder that his big rod hasn't been inside her already.”

“She tells me that she likes him,” I replied lamely.

“Oh she does that alright,” Paul answered. “But is our meeting about, what I think it is?”

“She says that she won't go with him, unless I say It’s okay.”

“I thought so Michael,” he said, “And you want my advice. Right?”

We had met  in the Golden Fleece, near to the bank where he worked. The pub was half empty, it being late afternoon, and I was grateful that Paul had found a more discrete place to sit and talk. He already had a pint of ‘London Pride’ waiting for me on the table.

“So Michael,” he asked, “you are considering the biggest decision of your married life.”

I nodded in response to his question  as I sat at the table. “But I'm not sure what it will do for my self esteem.” That was when he told me what I already knew; that the first thing was to abandon all pretensions of dignity. 

“So you wish to get the cuckold’s perspective. Is that it?”

“I’m not ignorant to the attractions of the Natural Order,” I replied, “and that some Wives are ‘owned’ by Masters. And I fully understand why our beautiful Ladies would want their ....” I made the air quotations sign with my fingers, “.... equipment.”

And I fully understand why ...

Paul smiled and simply replied, “Of course you do. I assume that Róisín has also told you everything about the apartment too.”

“That’s why I have come to you for advice Paul. I hope you don’t mind, but you are the most ....” I paused again, “... practised.”

“So you want me to explain my reasoning and emotions as a cuckold. Is that it?”

I nodded again. He took a deep draft of his pint before continuing.

“Cold, hard, reasoning doesn't come into it, but emotions are the main driver for what we do. And our emotions drive our reasoning; does that make sense?”

I must have looked perplexed at this convoluted explanation, so he continued. “I love Megan more than life itself; she is my everything. She is also very pretty and desirable to other men, consequently before we decided on our present life I had to discourage those ‘others'. Not always successfully.”

“She cheated on you?”

“My Wife cuckolded me. Yes!”

“And you forgave her?”

“There was nothing to forgive.  I was devastated at the secrecy in her affairs, but I could see that she needed more than I could physically or romantically provide.”

“Then you understood that other men's manhoods had been inside her and had erupted their seed into her. How did that make you feel?”

“That's what men and women do in bed Michael. And once I felt certain that she still loved me, I accepted that her Lovers would, shall we say, leave their liquid calling card inside her.”

“ Acceptance,” I said to Paul as he stopped for a moment to consider what to say next, “seems to be the word that most cuckolds use to was describe their life.”

“Oh Dear Boy,” he responded laughing, “there's more stages to being a cuckold than just acceptance.”

“Go on!”

“Suspicion, discovery, confrontation, emotional distress, enduring, and finally acceptance. And the journey through those stages can be very short, or very long.” He stopped again to look me straight in the eyes, to continue. “And the final stages that I and the others in the fashion house have achieved.”

“Achieved?”

“Total submission and pleasure?”

I did not know how to reply to this final definition of Paul's cuckolding. I knew that my next words would confirm me as naive and clumsy, but that was the reason I was sat with Paul in the Fleece, listening to his reasoning, and to take his advice.

“So your Wife opens her legs for other men and you take pleasure in her pleasure. I think I can understand that,” I commented coarsely. “But total submission? What does that mean in this context.”

Paul smiled at this question before replying. “That's the first time I ever heard cuckolding described as a ‘context' (it was his turn to use air quotes). I'll mention that to Megan while she is opening her legs for her two young Masters tonight. She will be interested to know that what she is doing is contextual.”

I took his sardonic riposte in silence, which is always a good tactic when one is out of one's depth.

“But you asked me about total submission, didn't you. So I'll tell you.” We both took another sip of our beer before he continued. “I mentioned the pride thing just now didn't I. Once you have lost all sense of personal pride then everything can fall into place. Your Wife gives herself to other men so you are no longer a real man in her eyes, her Lovers’ eyes, your acquaintances’ eyes, and importantly, in your own eyes. Once this level of emotional emasculation has been achieved, it is just one short and inevitable step, to become a submissive cuckold – if you wish.”

I understood, in theory, the process Paul had just described, but I needed clarification. “And what's your definition of a submissive cuckold,” I asked.

“I am a facilitator of Megan's pleasure. I do everything to ensure that she is happy. I am her servant, both in the bedroom and out. Total devotion.  I am her possession. Or that’s how I like to see myself.”

He said the words without emotion or pause. He was stating the facts, without embellishment or coy concealment of his submissive his way of life.

 “A couple of years ago, John told me about one of the husbands who was also a cuckold. That he would wear a cage on his penis and wear ladies lingerie while his Wife's Black Master was having her. Do you ....”

... while his Wife's Black Master
was having her.

“Yes,” he said quickly, relieving me of the embarrassment of asking him the obvious question. “I do. And more besides.”

“Do you ‘clean’ Megan? Afterwards!”

“Of course! It's my pleasure and my cuckold's duty!”

“And Róisín too?”

“Before she met you. Yes!” 

He was confirming what I already knew. But I had just reminded myself that Paul had not only watched Róisín have happy sex with the same Masters who had enjoyed his own Wife, but had tasted her semen filled pussy many times. It was a curious thought to know that the man who sat opposite me in friendly conversation, knew my Wife's’s naked body as intimately as I.

I felt my cheeks warm as my face flushed red at the thought of the next question. But Paul was ahead of me.  “And I do that too.”

“What?”

Paul looked annoyed. He knew that I knew what he was alluding to. “I'm a ‘Cleaner - Resurrector’. You know what that is don't you?”

“Sorry! Yes! But doesn't that make you .... erm! Gay? Homosexual even?”

I had expected Paul to react strongly to my artless question, but a tired smile appeared on his face. Clearly he had been asked this question before. 

“I want you to consider the following concept Michael,” he said, looking meaningfully at his empty pint glass. “If a husband readily accepts that his Wife will pleasure and show devotion to her Master with her lips and tongue on his member and other regions of his body, why should he reject such sensuous service as a cuckold?”

I was confused by what he was saying and my face must have shown it, so I collected our empty glasses and went to the bar for a refill to think about what he said. However, on my return to our table with two full pints of beer, he continued.

“When you have embraced the life Michael, you are no longer a sexual orientated man. You are a cuckold. Not Hetero, Homo, or Bi-sexual. If anything a cuckold is a slave.” As he said the words, it appeared to me that his use of the word ‘slave’ had released a sudden realisation. “Yes! That’s it. We serve our Wives and their Lovers in whatever way they require. Without denial or reluctance, but with enthusiastic obedience.”

“So you like being a cuckold then?” I asked; already knowing what his answer would be. But was surprised at the fervour of his response.

“Like it? Michael, I love it. All of it. It gives me shivers up my spine to see Megan lie on her back and open her legs wide for a Black Master. Knowing that a better man than I is going to give her what a beautiful loving Woman like her deserves in her life, makes me feel complete ....”

“Complete?”

“Complete? Yes! A True Cuckold. Totally committed to the life we live. And I'm not the only one at the fashion house who thinks that way; as you now know.”

I was no longer in doubt as to Paul's commitment (not that I previously had any), but there was a question I felt the need to ask. “And how do you feel in your inner emotions when you hear Megan orgasm and the Black Master she has spread her thighs for streams his hot seed deep into her young body?”

“When he cums in her you mean?”

I thought it was an obvious question, but I nodded in confirmation. It was plain to see that this was a subject that he wanted to discuss again. His face blushed as he continued.

“It's a primal instinct to mate with one's life partner, so when another man – a more dynamic and handsome man – takes your place and erupts his life making essence into her, one cannot help but feel a profound sense of humiliation,” he said.

It was not the reply I was expecting. ‘Humiliation?’ I thought, ‘Surely he means something else after telling me that he loves being a cuckold.’

“You surprise me Paul,” I said to this man who had opened up his inner feelings to me (and to whom I was grateful), “because I thought you liked being a cuckold. But you are feeling humiliated at these moments of passionate release.”

He smiled again at what was now my routine naivety. “So why do you think humiliation is a negative emotion Michael?”

The question shook me. ‘Of course humiliation is a negative emotion,' was the thought I had immediately; but I instinctively knew that there was more to this matter for Paul, and the other cuckolds too.

“Isn't it? I would have thought it so for most men.”

“Most men maybe. But for me, and other cuckolds, that feeling has developed from a confusing emotion of pain into that of joy. Joy at the knowledge that one’s mate has welcomed the body fluids of the better man into her inner self. Joy at the sacrifice of one’s sense of manliness, and that the values of The Natural Order have been honoured. Honour and joy are my feelings when Megan welcomes a Black Master's semen into her vagina. And I am so damn proud of her when she does.”

I was touched deeply by Paul’s recounting of those private moments between his Wife and her Lovers and his face showed a happy radiance as he spoke further about their moments together in that apartment. He had told me of his journey from naive cheated husband to a fully committed penis cage, lingerie, neck collar wearing, and semen slurping cuckold; and how each step had required a lessening of his sense of manliness. And how each step had been embraced enthusiastically. But would I be as enthusiastic as he?

We had finished our second pints of ‘London Pride' and it was time to go home or, for Paul, to the apartment below the fashion house.

“And now Michael,” he said as we stood up to leave, “I hope I have been of some help to you. And the question of your pride.”

“Róisín told me that she would have liked to have been owned by a Black Master,” I said.

“And that man would now be Samuel Jerome I assume.”

“Yes!” was my response. “I thought I had made that clear.”

“You did Michael. But there is a world of difference between a Wife who has the occasional overnight liaison with a Lover, and one who is ‘Owned' (more air quotes from Paul).”

I sat back down again, closely followed by Paul. “In what way?”

Paul remained quiet for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Megan enjoys liaisons with different Masters most nights at the apartment. Different men have her, enjoy her body and use her for the pleasures that she willingly gives. She is that Master, or Masters, bed mate for the night, but in the morning, after some fun in the shower, she is my Wife again; without commitment to him or them.”

... some fun in the shower, ...

“I get that,” I said, needlessly. 

“But for Róisín to be owned requires a total commitment to Samuel from you both. She will become his Woman in all but name. She will be a Mistress with a hubby attached. The cuckolded hubby, you, would be expected to be totally submissive to both of them and join her in her total devotion to the superior man. Mistress and hubby are expected to focus entirely on pleasing their Black Master in all respects, at all times, and wherever he chooses.”

I thought I already knew the basics of ‘Ownership’ from John, Bernard, and even Róisín, but what he said next was something I had not even considered.

“And, of course, every good owned cuckold always supports his Wife, and their Master, when they decide to make a baby.”

I stared at the man sat opposite me in the pub: it was a moment before I spoke again. “When they make a baby? How?”

“With enthusiastic assistance Michael. By making it known to both Master and Mistress that he understands his lowly position.  A true cuckold, in fact.”

“Christ?” I exclaimed loudly. “That demands a whole lot of submission, don't you think?”

“It does. And it's a whole lot more common than you think.”

Why was I so surprised. Had Róisín and I not attended Mark’s wedding to his heavily pregnant fiancée Penny. And had her Master, Deven, not proudly claimed to be the father of the child growing in her tummy, as Mark had stood beside him.

“I  think I understand now Paul,” I said as we both stood up again to leave the pub. “Being a cuckold is for life, isn’t it.”

He smiled and put on his coat.

“And one more question, before we leave please Paul.”

He nodded.

“Has Megan ever been ‘Owned’? And if she has, how did you feel about it?”

He paused. Smiled at the thoughts in his head. “Every time my Wife spreads her thighs for one of the Masters, she makes it known by her welcome that she belongs to the man who is going to have her. And if it's more than one Master enjoying her at the same time, and I'll leave that to your own imagination, she lets them know that her body is theirs to use.”

“I understand,” I replied.

"Oh yes! One more thing Michael."

"What is it?"

"Samuel has spent a couple of nights with Megan in the apartment. And I can tell you that she was very, very happy with life the following morning."

"Were you there too?" I asked.

"Of course!"

"And?"

"All I can say, is that he appreciates some good submissive cuckold attention to the Lady he is enjoying and to his impressive equipment. If you follow my meaning."

I did follow his meaning and thanked him for the information. Much of which had given me cause to think deeply about the way forward.

“Then I hope I have been of assistance to you. And the decision you have to make,” he remarked breezily.

“You have Paul, and thank you.”

“No problem mate. Now do the right thing by your pretty young Wife. And yourself! Soon!”

That will be tomorrow morning

“Okay Honey! You can go. Now that James is here.”

“Are you sure. Do you think you will be safe with him. He has a reputation you know.”

“Reputation for what little man?”

“For seducing other men’s Wives. For knocking them up and leaving their poor cuckolded husbands to take care of the consequences.”

“No shit cucky! I’m standing here in my knickers and bra while a better man than you undresses himself ready for an afternoon of fun with me. And you think that I didn’t know that?”

“i just thought you should know - that’s all.”

“I know and now you know. So you can leave and do what you want to do but don’t you dare come back in here again until James has left.”

“That will be tomorrow morning then.”

That’s Gerald sorted.

“Promise me! Will you treat my husband with total disrespect?”

“You’ve got it Baby!”

“Will you tell all of his friends that I’m your new Girlfriend?”

“Of course I will!”

“Will you humiliate him by making him wear one of those plastic cages on his tiny penis?”

“That too!”

“Will you call him ‘cucky’ to his face and make him watch us fuck?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent! That’s Gerald sorted. You may now enter!”

“At fucking last!”

Cuckold Vignette

 

Reading his Wife's texts can be a trying moment for a cuckolded hubby, unless he likes reading just what her Lover is going to do with her.

Suitable

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm trying to fathom something out."

"Oh what's that Dear? Clearly you have a problem. Is it with me?"

"Maybe!"

"Just come out with it. Perhaps you will feel better if we can clear this up."

"Okay My love. When you got ready last night for your interview with your Boss for the new position, you had put on some very sexy lingerie. Was that suitable for an interview, and you didn't come home until ten o'clock in the morning."

... suitable for an interview ...

"I just thought it would be appropriate for the position he is is offering me. It means lots of staying overnight at his place to make sure that the business runs properly."

"I see! And what is this new position?"

"Mostly horizontal Dear."

Dating Wives Q&A

Cuckold, Derek Grant interviews:

Mrs Erica Eastham of Aberdeen, Scotland

DG: HI Erica! Thank you for giving me this interview. In the interests of integrity, do you understand that my questions may be of an intimate nature.

EE: How intimate Derek?

DG: When I contacted you initially I did say that I wanted to talk about your love-life. I hope I didn't mislead you.

EE: Oh no! That's okay, but I can't talk about my work. I work for the government you see!

DG: I understand. But perhaps you could talk to me about your husband and your dating of other men; and how that works out for you.

EE: Well up here in Aberdeen there are lots of young men who work the oil rigs at sea and like to date a pretty Woman when they are ashore. I'm just one of a number of Wives who have this arrangement with their hubbies.

DG: Do you have a Boyfriend, Erica?

EE: Please don't think badly of me Derek, but I have two.

DG: Two? You will be busy then. Do they both know they 'share' you.

EE: Yes! They are on opposite shifts on the Piper. When one is on shore the other is at work, so I have a Lover whenever I want one, and they are good friends who are happy to share.

DG: Piper?

EE: An oil rig.

DG: Of course! Can I ask how your husband feels about you having two different Lovers?

EE: Eric is a very special hubby. He's very understanding.

DG: Does Eric 'play away' like you, or is he a good cuckold?

EE: He's such a Dear little man. He loves being a cuckold. He wears his little cage all the time now and he told me just the other day that his penis has shrunk to almost half its original size due to being locked away for nearly five years.

DG: And does he participate in your liaisons, or does he sit at home while his Wife invites another man into her body?

EE: Participates? Definitely! My Eric is very much the 'hands on' cuckold ...

... amongst other things.

i do ‘need’ my answer

I can always tell when my Wife Barbara is going to a party that i am not invited to. It’s those little details that tell me that there may some big handsome Black Men there. But i am a cuckold, so i know better than to ask the obvious question, because when she finally gets home the puffy blue marks under her eyes will give me the answer i need. And yes i do ‘need’ my answer.

Where did you get that from?

“Where did you get that from?” 

“Oh! This old thing. I just picked it up at the local jewelers.”

“Horse shit! That’s three thousand quid’s worth of gold and chain. And we’re not that well off. What did you have to do for him to get that?”

“I just made him a promise. That’s all!”

“So my pretty Wife earns herself three k’s worth of jewellery from her Big Black American Lover on just a promise. He must be expecting something pretty special.”

“Or as you say my little cucky hubby. 'Expecting' is such a loaded word don’t you think?”

Cuckold Vignette

When his Boss tells him that he has a new Lady in his life and regularly in his bed, a True Cuckold knows exactly who he is talking about.

Such is the life of a sissy cuckold

When i see my Wife Barbara walk hand in hand with her Black Lover Jerome down the beach and go out of sight behind the rocks, i am always glad that i have taken precautions against any embarrassment. It’s just that wondering if Barbara has taken any precautions of her own may cause me to be embarrassed anyway. Such is the life of a sissy cuckold like me.

Róisín - Ch. 3

 Chapter Three - Róisín's Hobby

After Róisín had come clean (an unfortunate phrase – or perhaps not) about her premarital ‘hobby’, I had wanted to know more. I was not so stupid as to pester her with daily recollections of her times with all of those Masters, but I did ask questions. At first they were general enquiries about her feelings and how it all started at the fashion house, and each time she would give me honest answers. And each time, she would attend to my ‘little stiffy'.

My more notable request for information was, just how she felt when she first started. Her reply opened my eyes to just how powerful the Natural Order can be. “Michael,” she had replied – her soft Irish brogue trembling slightly at the sustained interest in her previous love-life, “you’re a bloke, so I shall keep it simple for you, okay.”

I nodded and waited to be educated.

“I had been with white boys before that wonderful first night. In fact I had just finished with a really handsome rugby player from the Wasps and was feeling sad, when John asked me if I wanted to help out Megan in the apartment downstairs.”

“Did you know that all the girls had Black Lovers?”

“I did! Yes!” she confirmed. “And I knew just what the Natural Order was about too. Including the cuckolding culture .”

“Were you ever tempted before that?”

She bristled at this question. “I'm a good Catholic girl Michael. We don't fucking cheat.”

“Sorry!” I managed to stutter in the face of such a cutting response.

“But yes,” she continued, “of course I was tempted. But it wasn't until Jason and I parted company that I even thought about it.”

“So you took up the invitation to go down to the apartment,” I said, prompting her to continue. “How did that go?”

“I was nervous of course. But Megan and Paul had arranged for one of the more gentle Masters to be my man for the night.” She stopped to look at my reaction.

“Go on!”

“I only had a loose dress and a pair of panties on, so it took Paul just three seconds to undress and then present me to Noni. That was his name by the way – Noni. We are still friends and have revisited that lovely night a few times since.....”

I was intrigued. “Was this a ceremony of some sort?”

“An introduction more like,” she replied, “And don't interrupt!”

Chastened, I sat still as Róisín recounted her first night with a Black Master.

“As white boys go, Jason wasn't bad between the sheets but Noni, who is Amber's Master by the way, was in a different league altogether. He was stronger, bigger, harder, while at the same time far more sexier than my ex Boyfriend.”

I had met Amber. She was one of an agency’s ‘outsize' models that the house used for their ‘normal’ range of clothing. We had attended her and Noni's maternity party for their second child, and I still have the photograph taken by her husband, Jeremy, on my phone.

... taken by her husband ...

But I had another question for my lovely red-haired Wife. “Bigger? In what way?”

She knew what my question was really about, and with a delicate blush to her cheeks the answer came quickly. “If Jason's was five inches, then Noni’s was twice that.”

My mouth opened in silent amazement. “What did you say? Are you telling me he had a ten inch penis.”

“That's right. And by the way, white boys and cuckolds have a penis. Black Masters have a cock, a manhood, or a member.”

I had been thinking that I would have been happy to have had a ‘five incher' myself, but this sudden distinction between ‘them and us' had me thinking that the beliefs and standards of the Natural Order had given rise to  its own language and definitions. ‘Of course!’ I thought, ‘a way of living’ must bring its own way of defining precedence or hierarchy. And that is why these men are called Master.’ 

“And Noni knew just how to use his ten inch pole,” she said, continuing with her answer to my question. “It was a revelation to me how he could bring me to such intense orgasms with such ease. From the moment I spread my legs wide for him and feel him enter me I was hooked on Black Loving. I have told you just how big and strong they are, but their stamina and recovery are equally impressive. Jason had been a once, or maybe twice a night Lover, but Noni was a machine.”

At these words, my imagination soared. In my mind's eye I could see Róisín lying on her back with her pinkish-white thighs open and her knees pulled back to accommodate his member deep into her body. 

... to accommodate his member ...

Or ankles crossed and resting on the broad muscular dark brown back of one of her many Lovers as her body trembled with orgasm after orgasm. I could visualize her eyes closed in sensual delight as the Black Master thrust his dark cock deep into her strong but pliant young body. But she had more to say.

“That night I learned what it is to serve. Not just me, but Paul too. I was so happy to lay there and feel the wondrous pleasures and give them to Noni in return, but it was Megan's hubby who demonstrated what is meant by serving. No sooner had Noni filled me with his seed and rolled off me, then Paul was between my legs licking my pussy and collecting the warm juices that had been deposited within me. It was an astonishing thing for another man to do, or so I thought. But there was something even more amazing to witness once he had cleaned and soothed  my labia and vaginal entrance ..”

“And what was that?”

“I said don't interrupt,” was her quick response. “While he had been licking me, Paul had been stroking Noni's big member. So once I was clean, he turned his lips and tongue onto that same big roll of flesh that had previously been hard, and inside me. He fellated him back to full strength and size, and even in my inexperience of such matters, I could tell that this diminutive little cuckold in panties, stockings, and penis cage, was an expert.”

“Like Bernard; Jaqueline's hubby?”

“Like all cuckold hubbies who’s Wife is owned by a Black Master,” Róisín confirmed. 

“And then in the shower the next morning, Noni would have me again ..........,” she stopped talking and looked at me. 

... Noni would have me again ...

I knew why she had stopped. She was looking at my trousers and raised an eyebrow. She smiled and asked, “Is this a little too much information for you Michael?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you getting turned on by the stories of Megan and I in the apartment,” she said, pointing at the bulge.

I felt hot with embarrassment and stuttered my reply. “No, ..... of course not. Well maybe! Yes! .... No! ...... Possibly. I dunno!”

Róisín was on her knees in front of me before I had finished my sentence. Her deft long fingers expertly unzipped me and went searching for my little ‘stiffy’.

“Thought so!” she exclaimed gleefully as the little pink head of my penis poked through my underpants. “Let me help you with this Dear.”

He hot breath followed by her warm and wet tongue on my little rod was an exquisite sensation. Her experience of such pleasures was extensive, as I had just discovered, so it was less than two minutes before my little nuts tightened and I spurted by semen into her pretty mouth. 

She swallowed, smiled, and stood up. I had rearranged myself, zipped my ‘little chap' out of sight before she said, “So that’s how it is. Is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway. “I'm only flesh and blood Róisín.” So with that response, my lovely Wife knew that she could exercise a degree of control over my sexuality. It was a benign and affectionate control, but that night would be the very beginning of the journey we were to take months later.

That first time she had recounted in detail the what, how, and why of her erotic activities, my stiff little penis bore witness to my arousal. And without any doubt, every subsequent time she had treated me to her recollections of her loving relationships I had felt a very keen emotional excitement at the pictures in my mind of her with those Black Masters. 

One Saturday night, while in a restaurant, I had asked her how ‘big' her Master Lovers had been. She had understood the my question immediately and her response to my crass and naive question had me swallowing my Pasta Carbonara in large gulps.

“Do you really want to know?” she had asked, smiling mischievously.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Ruben's is nearly a foot long, and Deven’s lovely black rod is a little shorter but  nearly as thick as your wrist,” she continued. “But the most exciting was Jonah's hard  member.”

My hands shook in repressed emotion. “How so?”

“Jonah enjoyed lifting me up in his arms, impale me on his lovely cock and then pump that lovely hard cock into me as I hung there totally at his mercy.”

Jonah enjoyed lifting me up ...

“Impale you? That's extreme!” I exclaimed, and then became concerned. “Did he hurt you? Did you scream?”

Róisín looked wistful at the memory, but her eyes were soft when she answered. “Scream? Oh fuck yes! Moan? You bet! Especially when he stopped hammering me and slowly lower me down his rod. And then he would parade me around the room with the weight of my whole body supported only by the hardness of his manhood. Extreme? Yes! But wonderful and incredible fun. Arousing too.”

After telling me this, it took just three seconds to spurt my jism into my Wife's willing open mouth.

With each of our talks about her enjoyment in the apartment, it began to dawn on me that every time she gave me a little more of the history, the more she looked back on her time serving Black Masters as treasured memories. So it was just a week later that I asked her my last question; the enquiry that was to change our lives eventually.

We were sat together at home on a Saturday night, and I had much of what she had told me was very much on my mind. Róisín sensed this mood in me and, instead of chatting as usual, she remained quiet – waiting.

“Do you regret anything about your times in the apartment?”

Her mouth formed into a thoughtful pout, before answering, “I regret nothing Michael. I've told you everything, so now you know what your Wife has been. A slut!”

“And I told you that you are not a slut,” I snapped back. “But is there anything that you would have wanted to be different?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly, “I would have liked to have been ‘owned’.

Over this period I had begun to realise that all of the Black Men within that fashion house had seen my Wife naked, and had used her nubile body for enjoyment (as she had theirs). This had brought about a profound change in my sense of personal values. I was now very proud that my beautiful Wife had provided sexual services to those real men who had lesser men's Wives as their Mistresses. Róisín, and her friends had shown me the beauty and justified rightfulness of the Natural Order. But I had one final question.

“Then why did you stop, if you liked it so much?”

“I met someone else.”

“What? Who?”

She stood up, and then reached out to gently stroke the side of my face. “He came to check my accounts and then had the cheek to ogle my arse as I left the room. I liked him immediately.”

“Oh you mean me.”

“The very same,” she replied, and then held out her hand for me to stand up and join her in the bedroom.

It was the combination of all of those little conversations I had in mind as I gazed at the photograph of her and Samuel Jerome. It was clear to me that Róisín was happy to be in the Black Master’s private space because that would be a very natural thing for her to do; equally natural would be the instinctive acceptance of the big Black hand resting gently, but intimately, on her pretty rounded bottom. I recognized the Natural Order when it was presented to me, but I did not sleep very much that night.

I was at my desk, at work, on the following Monday when Sheila, our Office Manager told me that she had intercepted an outside call for me. “It's a Mr Samuel Jerome for you Michael,” she said, and then passed the call over to my desk phone. A green light illuminated and I lifted the receiver.

“Mr Jeffries?” The voice was low and strong with a tone that resonated power. It matched the big man in the picture.

“The same! How can I help you Mr Jerome?”

“Samuel - please. Can I call you Michael?”

“If you wish. Is there something you need Samuel?”

“Need?” He responded almost immediately, momentarily sounding unsure. “Well nothing desperate Michael, but I would like to talk something over with you. Perhaps we could meet for lunch. I'm at the Savoy. The view from the River Restaurant is very nice.”

I knew it, and he was right, it does have a nice view of the Thames, but I was in a contrary mood, so I said, “I'm more of a ‘Coal Hole pub' man myself Samuel, but I can posh-up with the best of them.”

“One o'clock it is then. I'll send a taxi for you.” 

“No need. I'm just round the corner,” I said, before ending the call.

The cream leather seats and shiny mirrors of the restaurant did nothing to assuage the nagging feeling of unease as I crossed the carpet to join the big smiling American Black Man. He stood, looked down at me, and held out his hand, and my fingers crushed together as he shook my own. 

We dined quietly on a superb plate of fresh fish, herbs, and  vegetables, washed down with a cold Chablis. We spoke little except for the weather and the financial state of the fashion house and the fashion industry of which I knew very little other than that Róisín had told me.

“Your Wife has an excellent control of the Commercial activities of the house Michael. I was very impressed with her presentation.”

“Róisín is very accomplished,” I replied offhandedly, while realising ‘So this is why I am sitting here with a total stranger eating expensive seafood.’

“And speaking of Róisín, do you mind if I speak more personally about her.”

I was immediately anxious, so avoiding his steady gaze, I replied nervously, “Okay Samuel. But it depends how personal.”

“Of course,” he answered spreading his hands out in a placating manner. He then finished his coffee in one gulp and looked directly at me. I met his gaze.

“Mr McIntosh tells me that you are no stranger to, shall we say, the customs and conventions of the Natural Order.”

I could tell by his look that he required a positive response from me before continuing with the conversation. But my reply needed to be a guarded one.

“I have had it explained to me - yes!”

“By whom?”

The truth was that, not only had John, Marcie, and Róisín told me all they knew and understood about the subject, I had observed the way of life lived by the men and women in that fashion house many times since marrying my lovely red-haired Wife.

“John and Roìsín mainly.”

“So you know what a Black Master is?”

“I do!”

“Please tell me if my questions cause you discomfort. But are you aware of the other qualities us Masters have, other than the obvious?”

This was something new. I had been told of their sexual size and prowess, but clearly my knowledge of such matters was limited.

“Not really Samuel,” I replied, immediately feeling inadequate.

“We can spot an unsatisfied Wife from a mile away.”

I knew exactly what he was saying and went to the point immediately. “Do you include my Wife in that category Samuel?” I knew there was an edge to my voice, but I didn't care.

“I am probably more experienced in these matters Michael, and I would say that Róisín is happy with her life at present. But one day she may cheat on you.”

I felt my cheeks go red as anger took over. “She told me she would never cheat on me, mate!” I snapped, pretending to be angry but devastated at his suggestion.

“Of course,” he responded smoothly. “And I can tell that she would be as hurt as you, because of her religion, .....”

‘How does he know that?’ was my immediate reaction. She had said so herself when she had told me about her introduction to the ‘Reserves'

“...... and I am sure the last thing you want to do, is to cause Róisín any pain.”

“Of course not Samuel,” I responded, trying very hard to sound confident. “But I am beginning to think that there is more to this conversation than my Wife's  commercial acumen and our love-life.”

“Did Róisín tell you that I had asked her on a date,” he asked while locking his eyes onto mine in an intensive gaze.

“Yep!”

“Perhaps I should explain myself Michael, if you would permit me.”

“What's to explain Samuel. I have to admire your honesty, but we both know that you want to bed my Wife. Am I right?” As I said the words I knew that I had hit the nail on the head. I had spoken the unspoken and he knew it.

“Okay! Fair comment Michael. But please hear what I have to say.”

I nodded and sipped my Chablis.

“I already have a Mistress in the USA. Her name is Sherri, and we live in a house in upstate New York. This is us ...”

“I already have a Mistress
in the USA."

I looked at the proffered photograph he had taken from his inside pocket. It was a beautifully presented picture and I said so.

“It looks professional,” I said.

“It's her husband, Arnold’s hobby.”

“So looking at that,” I said, “my assumption would be that Arnold is a cuckold, and that delightful bump on her belly has something to do with you.”

He laughed, and we both relaxed. But I had another question. “Then why are you interested in my Wife, Samuel?” 

“If my Company and John's merge, then I shall be spending a lot of time here in London. We reckon it will be a fifty – fifty split. So we had the idea that I should have a ‘Ladyfriend' over this side of the ‘pond’.”

“Who's we?”

He smiled in recollection. “It was Sherri who said that I should have a pretty English Rose as a companion over here.”

“You know Róisín is Irish, don't you? From County Galway to be more accurate.”

“I know that Michael. But she ticks all the boxes.”

I threw my head back in an exaggerated reaction of surprise. “What is she - a fucking shopping list?”

He laughed loudly at this response from me, and seconds later I was laughing with him. Until he stopped suddenly and stared directly at me and said, “And so do you Michael.”

“What?”

“Tick all the boxes.”

“In what way?”

He placed the tips of his fingers together as an unconscious act of thoughtfulness, before saying, “Nothing that we have discussed here today has been a surprise to you, and you have shown me that the concept of being a practising cuckold is familiar to you. Except for my suggestion that one day Róisín will cheat on you.”

“You are right Samuel,” I agreed, “but I can't believe that Róisín would ever cheat on me.”

“I agree. But you know the old saying don't you?”

I felt another chill up my spine as I replied, “No! What is it?”

“It’s not cheating if the husband knows.”

I had heard that comment by others at the fashion house before; furthermore I understood completely just what this large Black Master was asking of me.

“So you want me to ask Róisín if she wants to go on dates with you?”

“No Michael. I want you to tell her that you would be okay with her dating me outside of your marriage, if .....”

I had my answer before he finished. “She'll say No. For certain.”

“Then ask her this one question Michael. Ask Róisín if she would have dated me if she was a single girl. And then you can make your decision.”

I was getting annoyed now, so my response was pithy as I rose from my seat to leave. “And what fucking decision is that Samuel?”

His smile was placating as he answered. “You already know the answer to that Michael.”

“Don't hold your breath waiting for my answer mate!”

The club has many well hung studs

“It says here that the club has many well hung studs and that they are all Black. So what do you think?”

“I think that would be perfect. Perfect for both of us too I think.”

“It would mean giving myself to them for their pleasure.”

“And yours too, let’s not forget Dear.”

“Oh what a good cuckold you’re going to be.”

“And Oh what a good slut you have been, are now and will be - once you are let loose on all those Black Masters.”

Is that a ‘yes’ then?

“Is that a ‘yes then?”

“Mmm! maybe. It all depends on my husband. Everything I do is with him in mind.”

“So you won’t if your husband says no.”

“Not necessarily.”

“So what depends on your husband?”

“Him not being around as you take me upstairs to bed.”

“So where is the cuckold now?”

“Guatemala!”

Cuckold Vignette

 

Readying his Wife, in preparation for her Black Master's visit and then to resurrect the real man's spent cock is one of those happy duties that a true cuckold enjoys.

The scenery was far from boring

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