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!”