In The Cupboard Ch 04

Standing in the cupboard, strapped to the wall by the neck, my ankles steadfastly secured, was surreal experience.

It was dark, mildly warm, and in a way, it was comforting. How did my Mistress know that seeing her fuck someone else would be such a turn on for me? Actually, I'm not sure that it was - watching her with that guy with the humungous cock was excruciatingly painful for me, since my Mistress was also my wife. I could not help but feel territorial or even possessive about her - I had, after all, devoted myself to her, body and mind first, then in heart and spirit later, which gave her complete ownership of me. I could not bear to think there might be another that could please her in a way I could not.

But the size of the guy's prick was undeniable. My own cock was certainly not small, but it didn't compare to the behemoth she stuffed into her cunt right before my very eyes. I cupped my balls with my left hand and gripped my cock with my right as I watched my wife being carried, impaled, then deposited on her hands and knees on our marital bed. I had a complete side-on view of her taut body as she leaned on her hands and knees, offering herself on all fours to the goon whose cock was already buried deep within her cunt. The muscles in her smooth arms flexed as she braced herself; her breasts swayed gently beneath her, the nipples erect and pointing downwards to the bed. Her back was slightly arched, her butt-cheeks round, her thighs white and welcoming. I wished it were me who was about to fuck my Mistress, not that idiot. I knew being fucked on all fours was the way she liked it best.

His hands tightened around her hips as he slowly withdrew his cock from her slippery wet cunt, then began to slide it in and out at a steady pace. I felt my own cock harden immediately - watching my Mistress be dominated like that was such a turn on. I put my hand up to my mouth, spat in my palm twice, then returned it to my rock hard prick, and began to stroke as I watched my wife take that mammoth cock right up her snatch. I imagined what it would like to be that guy right now, every square inch of her cunt dominated by that great galloping prick, her pelvic floor muscles struggling to contract around it, having been stretched beyond capacity to accommodate its girth.

I dropped my mouth open and began to breathe heavily, but it was not easy with a gag in my mouth. Instead I drew air roughly through my nostrils, being careful to keep my head still so I could see my wife through the crack in the cupboard doors. From that position, the guy fucking her was cut right out of view - I could almost pretend he wasn't even there. I tightened my grip on my cock and began to drag my hand up and down the shaft in time with my wife's swaying.

As moans began to slip from between her lips and drifted towards me through the crack in the doors, I saw a thin film of sweat break out along her back giving her a luscious sheen that I would have enjoyed licking off her skin lovingly. I imagined it was me giving her such a thorough fucking - not some guy at the other end of a monster cock, who had no right to be fucking my wife the way he was. Pre-cum oozed from the end of my penis and dangled in a string down to my knees. I worried I would some how flick it onto the clothes in the closet, which was totally against my Mistress's instructions - in the dark I turned my head to the left, and looked downwards, but could not see if the clear fluid had connected with the dress hanging next to me on the rail.

I returned my eyes to the crack in the doors again; my Mistress was being rocked back and forth at a monumental pace, her breasts swinging uncontrollably in time with the pounding against her hips. A hand appeared from behind, gripped her on the back of the neck and forced her downwards to bury her face in the bedclothes. She turned her head towards me, and I could see her cheeks were flushed with the effort, her eyes closed, her mouth open, her hands placed either side of her shoulders, sliding up and down the surface of the mattress, doing very little to steady her body against the rough banging.

I stood perfectly erect within my restraints, my hand sliding up and down my cock at a furious pace. I leaned my head back against the wall, tensed the muscles in my thighs, and felt sweat break out on my forehead as cum spewed forth from my cock. I couldn't help it - I groaned behind the gag stuffed so intrusively in my mouth and secured around my head, and was immediately frightened that the sound I'd made would give my presence away.

But it didn't matter - my Mistress was moaning so loudly at that point, an extra groan in amongst hers would not have been distinguishable. She gave one last moan and I saw that goon fall forward on her back, grip her by the breasts and pause as he obviously dumped a load in her cunt. He rolled sideways onto the bed, and my Mistress turned to spoon herself against him. My eyes feasted on her exhausted, used body - her left breast lay against the bed, the right sloping down towards it. Her hair was moist and tossed back away from her face; her left arm was extended outwards, her right was bent and her hand rested in the curve of her waist. My gaze drifted back towards her face and I was stunned to see her staring intently at me through the crack in the doors. The look she gave me was nothing less than smug.

I couldn't help it. I knew I was a slave to her - a possession to be used as she saw fit. But the look on her face, so self-assured, so self-satisfied made me feel insane with jealousy. I slumped against my restraints in the darkness of the cupboard. My heart sank, heavy with the love and devotion I felt for my Mistress, my wife. Leaden, because I knew she was a woman I could never control. All that I could ever do was her bidding - if I did not I knew she would leave me in a heartbeat. It was in that moment that I came to the realisation that I was truly enslaved.