She ignored her caged husband kneeling on the floor beside her bed, as she reviewed the texts from his tormentor at the gym. Her phone buzzed in hand as a new text arrived.
Reading it, she smiled to herself and put the phone down.
Looking down at her husband, she could see he was clearly upset. He was pale, and his normally semi-erect cock was flaccid in its prison.
She looked at him and asked softly, "Did he hurt you?"
"No ma'am," he murmured.
"But you feel violated?" she offered.
"Yes, a little," he stammered "...but..." he left his answer hanging
"But what?" she asked.
"But," he hesitated, and after a second he added quietly, "I betrayed you."
"Oh honey," she said, "You were forced by a much stronger man. It's clear you had no say in the matter. You didn't lead him on in any way, did you?" she asked, cocking one eyebrow.
"No ma'am," he said "I was just working out and he jumped me in the change room."
"How have you betrayed me?" she asked.
"I..." he stammered, "I ... was hard." He confessed. "At first I was scared," he went on, "But when he forced me to my knees, and pushed his cock in my mouth, I got hard. And the deeper he forced his cock down my throat, the more I wanted to serve him, to please him, and the harder I got."
As he spoke, her hand moved down under the covers and she began to play with her soaked sex.
She looked down at her husband's caged cock, and could see it had grown again, filling up its tube.
"I'm not a faggot." He declared, softly.
"No, honey," she comforted him. "You're not gay, you're a highly conditioned submissive male. I have spent the last few years helping you discover your true place. I doubt you could have refused to service any dominant, male or female."
Inside, she was thrilled. All her efforts to take control of her male were paying off.
Continuing to finger her wet pussy, she said, "tell me exactly what happened"
As he recounted the attack, in detail, from his emerging from the shower, to licking his cum off the floor, she drove herself to multiple orgasms - he never noticed her quickening breath, or her slight shuddering as the came again and again, imagining the view of her slave husband being used by muscular god.
As he finished describing the incident, she pushed her pajama bottoms off under the covers, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, offering her swollen pussy to kneeling husband.
"Hands, " she said.
He responded by putting his hands behind his back.
"Come and worship your Queen," she smiled.
Worshipping his mistress' glorious pussy was his highest reward, something he was allowed to do when he'd been on his best behavior, or when she was feeling particularly benevolent.
She knew that having him worship her now, would reinforce the positive outcome of his experience with Damien. She was eager to have him accept that she welcomed his servicing males of whom she approved.
Still on his knees, he dove in, burying his nose in the fine hair of her bush, and began to expertly work his tongue and lips on her clitoris and labia. He derived pride and pleasure from feeling her passion rise from his expert ministrations.
Gripping him by his collar, she pulled his head tight against her sex. As he worked, she lay back, feeling the pleasure build. She'd long wanted to see him suck another man's cock as she sat, dispassionately and watched.
In her fantasies, she sat and watched while her husband, facing her, caged, on all fours, presented his ass to a young stud. She reveled at the vision of being able to see both their faces as the stud mounted and fucked her husband. She knew what her husband would look like; she'd seen his face reflected in the mirror as she fucked him. She longed to see the face of his lover has he plowed his bitch again and again, approaching climax and finally blow his load into her husband's ass.
The idea of orchestrating and directing a scene where two males both acquiesced to her whims, and were both pleasured for her amusement, filled her with a sense of power that thrilled her to the bone.
As she approached her own climax, she gripped his head hard between her legs, capturing her male and forcing him to continue pleasuring her until she was done. As her orgasm rose and exploded, she slowly lay back and released him.
She looked up at him, kneeling before her, collared, caged and hands behind his back.
"Thank you, honey," she said. "Now it's getting late, and I need my breakfast, and you need to get to work. No need to fret about this." She smiled. "Chop chop."
He rose and left to prepare breakfast. She rolled over, found her phone and re-read the latest text. She smiled, thought for a moment, and then replied.
The next couple of days were fairly routine. He didn't see his tormentor at the gym in the mornings; he felt a pang of guilt as he recalled his desire when a real cock filled his throat and ass. His cock stirred in it's cage as he showered, and he was a little disappointed when stepping out of the shower, his new master was nowhere to be seen.
For her part, she was excited that they'd entered a new phase of the relationship. She'd long considered offering her husband to another man or woman to use as they wished. She'd also read about and thought about cuckolding.
She was less interested in having sex with another male, but the idea of subjugating him further and deepening his submission by flaunting her freedom, while at the same time whoring him out for her amusement excited her. His experience at the gym appeared to have provided her exactly what she needed to move forward with the next steps in his training.
For the next few days she kept him off balance by being both tender and loving, appearing before him in softer, sexy sundresses and heels, kissing him gently and caressing his naked body during the day when they were together. She followed her tenderness later in the day by literally raping him with her dildo without warning, foreplay or post coital contact. In both instances, she left him hard and dripping, longing for more.
Friday started as a regular day. He hit the gym, brought her breakfast in bed and was rewarded with a long session of worshipping her pussy as she finished her coffee and watched the morning news. She then dismissed to clean the kitchen and get ready for work.
He had a couple of videoconferences and a late afternoon networking event, so he would be allowed to be fully clothed, as long as was in his office and out. She insisted that he share his location with her on his phone so she could track his whereabouts when he was out, and to text her when he would be getting home.
Following his instructions, he texted his wife as he left the event, indicating he'd be about twenty minutes.
He entered the house through the garage and headed straight to his office to strip and put on his collar, then attend to his wife, who, he assumed, was in her bedroom.
His wife met him in his office. She leaned against his desk, wearing a lacy black thong and matching bra, stay-up black stockings and high black pumps. Around her neck she wore a tight black ribbon chocker.
He stopped in the doorway, unable to speak and drank in the vision before him.
She slowly rose and moved like a cat toward him, a predatory smile on her lips.
Reaching out, she gripped him by his shirt collar and pulled him close, forcing him to push her against the wall.
Tilting her head up, she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. At the same time, she began to unbutton his shirt with her right hand.
He leaned in, returning her kiss and pinned her to the wall. As she opened his shirt, her hand caressed his chest, searching for his nipple. When she found it, she pinched it, softly at first, then increasing the pressure.
The effect was as if she turned off his brain except for the region that focused on her. He sagged against her as she released his nipple and ran both hands down to his belt.
