***Author's note. I like to explore how the BDSM dynamic can transform conventional relationships. A good marriage is in a constant state of flux. When you suddenly introduce dominance and submission into the mix, it's fun to watch. This story primarily deals with the circumstances that led to Cum Hole becoming s slave to his wife.***
*****
The slave named Cum Hole knelt in silence beside the bed as his neighbor fucked his wife.
She was on her back, her ankles pushed up almost behind her ears as the man pounded her relentlessly, her pussy sloshing loudly with each thrust. The slave felt a familiar twinge of humiliation. His wife's vagina had never lubricated this much back when he had been allowed to make love to her. Now, she was positively gushing, her juices dripping down into her ass crack and coating the entire length of the man's thick nine-inch cock.
The slave's own limp penis was still leaking feebly in its steel enclosure, following his recent ignominious release. He reached back and adjusted the large steel butt plug in his anus. His sphincter was throbbing from the prolonged ass fucking the man had administered earlier that morning.
The slave's wife screamed out again as she was overtaken by yet another orgasm. Cum Hole had counted at least three such paroxysms so far this morning. It was ironic indeed that his wife had never been able to achieve an orgasm from penetration alone during their twenty-year marriage, yet now this was the only way she ever came when she was being fucked by her lover.
Her lover.
The man's name was Michael Conners. For ten years, he and his wife, Chloe, had lived in the big house next door to Cum Hole's former residence. The slave and his wife had been frequent guests in their home. To all outward appearances, the Conners' had seemed like a conventional, happily married monogamous couple.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
"Oh, god, Mike," screamed the slave's wife. "I'm going to cum again. Oh, god, I can't believe it. Your cock feels so good, baby. I want you to cum inside me now. I want you to fill me."
The man increased the tempo of his thrusts.
The slave's wife cried out as she came, this time actually squirting around the man's cock, some of the warm spray splattering Cum Hole in the right eye as he knelt mutely by the bed, his face just inches away from her quivering sex.
The man groaned, then grunted once. He froze with his cock buried balls deep. The slave watched the man's ass cheeks clench and unclench spasmodically as he ejaculated deep inside his wife.
When it was over, the man collapsed on top of the the slave's wife. They kissed tenderly, her fingers caressing the back of his neck as she pulled him close.
The slave remained kneeling at the bedside and waited in silence. As usual he was hooded, collared and plugged and wore only a black leather corset. His nipples rings gleamed in the slanting morning sunshine. On his feet he worse black patent leather ankle boots with four inch stiletto heels. His flaccid penis was encased in a custom stainless steel chastity cage, which was kept permanently locked.
After a few minutes, the man pushed himself up and slid off the bed. He stood before the kneeling slave, presenting his cock for cleaning.
The slave engulfed the man's softening cock in one gulp, deep-throating its entire length in one soundless swallow. Cum Hole bobbed up and down several times, his tongue methodically cleaning the entire shaft, then sucked the head, groaning when he was rewarded with a final trickle of semen.
The man pulled his cock out of the slave's mouth and absently wiped it dry on the slave's spandex hood. He grabbed the kneeling man by the collar and pulled him toward the woman on the bed.
"Clean-up time," he said gruffly.
The slave climbed on to the bed and crawled between his wife's thighs. She chuckled and opened her legs to accommodate him.
"Come and get it, Cum Hole," she coaxed softly. "This feels like a big one."
The slave eyed his wife's vagina hungrily. Despite himself, he felt his limp penis begin to twitch in its cage as he smelled the scent of their coupling, a tangy, pungent mixture of sweat, semen and her own fragrant effluent.
There was a large dollop of cum, which had already overspilled the vault of her vagina and was running in a thick rivulet down her perineum toward her anus.
Cum Hole leaned in and sucked up the warm, slippery morsel, slurping loudly. He reached up and gently spread his wife's buttocks and ran his tongue up and down the expanse of flesh from anus to vagina several times to lap up any lingering trace of his master's seed.
When the area was thoroughly cleaned, Cum Hole repositioned himself between his wife's legs and turned his attention to her freshly fucked pussy. He licked the outside of her vagina in broad strokes, lapping up the thick patina of semen mixed with his wife's juices.
His wife groaned and spread her legs further, her labia lolling open in lewd invitation.
Cum Hole extended his tongue and inserted its full length into his wife's pussy. He felt her rise against him, taking him even deeper. He curled the tip upward and was rewarded with a large gobbet of the man's semen, which he swallowed greedily. He reinserted his tongue and began to wriggle the tip deep inside. A thin streamer of cum began to trickle into his mouth.
His wife placed her hands on the back of her slave's head, pulling his face into her sex.
"Let me push it out for you, dear," she breathed.
She began to contract her pelvic muscles rhythmically. Over the past few months, with the help of her daily Kegel exercises, she had become quite proficient at expelling her lover's bounty into her husband's mouth.
The slave sensed his wife's movement and began to suck and lick in earnest as the flow of semen suddenly began to increase. Within seconds, the full measure of the man's ejaculate began to descend in wave after gooey wave, a thick, molten tide that cascaded down into the slave's eager mouth. He swallowed steadily, accepting the man's offering in loud, liquid gulps.
At last the flow began to diminish. The slave kept his mouth open, his lips firmly pressed up against the vault of his wife's vagina. He maintained the seal, keeping active suction until he had swallowed the last salty dregs of her lover's cum.
When he was done, he pulled away and looked up at his wife, his lips slick with the man's drippings.
"Thank you for feeding me masters's cum, ma'am," the slave said softly.
His wife smiled down at him.
"You're quote welcome, Cum Hole," she said warmly, patting his head. "Now kindly tidy me up. I have a party to plan tonight."
The slave leaned forward once again and began to methodically lick his wife's pussy clean, as he had been trained.
As Cum Hole lapped contentedly at his wife's slick vulva, he pondered the strange intersection of events that had led to the formation of the unconventional household in which he now served.
****
In his former life, Cum Hole's name had been Tim Martin. He and his wife, Natasha, had gotten married right out of college. The Martins had enjoyed a comfortable, vanilla, upper middle class existence as the Tim climbed the ladder of academia at the local university, finally obtaining a tenured position as an economics professor ten years ago.
Natasha did not work outside of the home. Instead, she devoted her attention to raising the couple's twin children, a boy and a girl, who were now away at college.
Over the years, Tim and Natasha had enjoyed a cordial, if somewhat distant relationship with their neighbors, the Conners'. Although they were next door neighbors, it could not quite be said that they were friends. Socially, they ran in completely different circles.
While Tim Martin made a decent living as a professor, Mike Conners was a multimillionaire, having founded and sold several companies in the tech sector before turning forty years old.
The Conners' lived in the largest house on the street. The property was actually a gated estate, with a large pool and meticulously landscaped grounds. Tim and Natasha lived in the much more modest home next door, which had actually served as the gate house to the Conners' estate in days gone by.
The Conners' threw frequent lavish parties for their socialite friends. Tim and Natasha were often invited, not out of friendship, but due to the proximity of their two homes. If the Martins attended the party, they couldn't very well complain to the police about the noise later on.
In other words, the Martins came to the Conners' parties for the same reason that Gatsby invited Nick Carraway to his: because they were there.
Mike Conners usually remained aloof from the Martins at the house parties. He would greet the couple and introduce them around, but did not spend a lot of time interacting with them, preferring to circulate among the other guests. This was perfectly fine with Tim, who found the imposing Mike Conners to be quite an intimidating presence.
His wife, Chloe, on the other hand, always went out of her way to give the Martins special attention.
While Chloe Conners always played the part of the polite and attentive hostess, she never let the Martins forget their station. She was especially petty and cutting toward Natasha, often maligning her taste in jewelry or making patronizing comments about her choice of clothing or shoes, all within earshot of her well-heeled guests.
For the most part, Natasha laughed off Chloe's remarks, but Tim knew that inside she was seething. On one occasion, after one drink too many, he had had to physically restrain Natasha from grabbing Chloe by the throat after she had overheard a comment the hostess had made about the Martin's teenage daughter.
"Well, she dresses like a trollop. I wouldn't be surprised if she came home from college with one of those multicultural buns in the oven," Chloe had whispered to the wife of a prominent physician, just loud enough for Natasha to hear.
The conversation that ensued between Chloe and Natasha had been a lively one indeed. Eventually the taciturn Mike Conners had had to step in, apologizing profusely for his wife's rudeness.
Despite the ongoing acrimony between the two wives, the Martins continued to attend the Connors' parties simply because they were extravagant and a whole lot of fun. The gatherings were always the highlights of the social season. The guest list read like a who's who of the the town's aristocracy.
For the most part, Chloe and Natasha stayed in their respective corners and Tim did his best to lay low and maintain the uneasy detente between them.
But the Martins were never allowed to stay for the after-party.
It was always the same pattern. The Conners' would welcome the Martins in to their home and ply them with top-shelf liquor and the finest food. There would be small talk and the usual formalities. Perhaps Chloe and Natasha would spar a bit, shooting daggers at each other over cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.
Then, usually at around ten o'clock, the Martins would be ushered out the door, usually by the man of the house. As he escorted them out, Mike Conners always gave the couple the impression that the party was about to break up, but this was never the case.
In fact, after the Martins left, the party always seemed to kick into a higher gear. There would be the sounds of shouting and convivial laughter, along with the occasional scream emanating from the big house for several more hours, with guests often not departing until dawn.
The Martins spent endless hours speculating about what went on at the Conners' parties after they had left. Each theory was more outlandish than the last. Perhaps the Conners' were inveterate gamblers, hosting high stakes poker parties for their upper crust friends. Maybe they were satanists, Mike having sold his soul in return for his earthly wealth.
Finally, after leaving a party one summer night with a few too many vodka tonics consumed between them, curiosity had gotten the better of them and the the Martins had crept up to the high stone wall that separated their two properties.
Tim had helped Natasha climb up on to his shoulders to have a look.
His wife had peered into the gloom for several seconds before gasping in the quiet moonlight. She lost her balance and toppled backward on to her rump on the soft, forgiving lawn of their yard.
"Holy shit!" Natasha had whispered excitedly.
