The Cuck Boy's Worlds
This story is a departure from my usual. It deals with topics and activities that characters in many of my other stories actively rebel against and reject. But these aspects exist in a number of loving Femdom, and other relationships, so I felt that, on a literary level, I needed to explore them. Though some may find them difficult to accept, this doesn't make them any less relevant or real for loving couples that do. This, then, is primarily a story for them. I hope it works
I had worked diligently, even frantically, to complete my full slate of Saturday chores, hopefully to her exacting satisfaction, before my Mistress returned home to our midtown penthouse condo after her afternoon out socializing with friends. I had swept and vacuumed all the floors, dusted and polished all the furniture, scoured and scrubbed both of the bathrooms, washed, dried, folded and put away the week's worth of laundry, and continued to prepare and cook the evening's dinner for two.
When she arrived home I greeted her by the door, taking her coat and the package she was carrying.
"Put those away and meet me in the living room, boy"
"Yes, Ma'am" I replied, hurrying to comply.
'Boy' was the only appellation she uses for me when we are home on these days, though at 46, I am ten years her senior, and am the owner and hard driving director of a highly successful hedge fund in the outside world, an acknowledged Master of the Universe. Despite no longer having any financial need to do so, she continues to work because of her deep pride in having clawed her way up to the highest stratums of the marketing profession. She defines herself as who she wants to be, by her own accomplishments and conquests, not by what others think or expect her to be. She, at times, has benefited from connections my position can provide, but has never taken untoward advantage, as it serves her no good purpose to have she or me be compromised in any way. She is beautiful, elegant, commanding, and endlessly enticing, the perfect accompaniment to my public persona. Our vanilla social life is extensive, varied, and thoroughly enjoyable to us both. We are regarded as quite the power couple. But in our private world, our cherished lives, there is only one power, and she was awaiting my ordered presence in the leisure room.
I rushed to hang up her coat, and put the package on a table in the den, and quickly made my way to stand before her as she sat in her easy chair. As required when we are at home at these times, except when she deems otherwise, I am totally naked but for my chastity cage. She scrolls through her smart phone, occasionally laughing softly before, after several minutes, she looks up at me.
"The place looks reasonably presentable" she begins. "Are all the rest of your chores done?"
"Yes, Ma'am"
"And dinner is being prepared?"
"Yes. Ma'am"
"Good. Then you can help get me ready for my guest tonight."
Tonight, her current favorite manfriend, Andre, was coming for dinner, and then for some fun afterwards. She rose and bid me follow her into the bedroom.
"I'm going in to bathe. While I do, pick out some alluring attire and lingerie and have them ready for me."
As much as I yearned to help her bathe, I knew that this was a privilege rarely accorded to me in such circumstances. As she soaked in private luxury, I went into her walk-in closet, and with trembling frustration went through her voluminous wardrobe, coming to my favorite raiment for her. A deep burgundy colored dress that fell just below her knees, and accentuated her somewhat smallish but delectable breasts with just the perfect amount of cleavage, while also seeming to be practically painted over her divine derriere. I had drooled many times when seeing her in it, which was all I could ever do in settings such as tonight. Pulling it out, I laid it carefully on her bed.
The next items to be chosen were her lingerie. Going through her mahogany dresser, I selected a shimmering black bra, and matching lacy black panties, that would hide just enough of what lay underneath to enflame and invite further exploration. Knowing that she preferred her legs bare, no nylons were brought out. Lastly, I proceeded to her extensive shoe collection, and picked out a pair of dark red, open toed, three inch heeled pumps. With all then in readiness, I stood by the bed and waited for her to return.
Some thirty minutes later she emerged from her ensuite, in her long white bathrobe, wearing her white bathroom slippers, and a white towel wrapped around her wet hair. Beckoning me, I followed her to her dressing table, where she sat down with a small smile and gazed at herself in her mirror with me standing behind her. Unwrapping her head towel, she shook her hair, little droplets of spray falling back upon me. Glancing into the mirror again, she handed back to me her hair dryer and a long -tooth comb. I carefully began to blow and comb out her dark brown hair. When she deemed it dry enough, I then used her hairbrush for countless soft strokes to bring it to a fine and even sheen.
Upon her command I then retrieved her mani-pedi kit. Going down upon my knees, she swiveled in her chair to face me. Offering her fingers first, I removed the old varnish from her nails, then filed any edges that needed it to maintain perfect uniformity. Seeing the color of the arrayed evening's clothing on the bed, she selected a rich magenta as her choice for the new polish.
When I finished with her hands and she set them on her lap to dry, I bent forward to remove her bath slippers. I sat back on my heels, and she propped one of her bare feet on my thigh. After placing cotton balls between her toes, I meticulously cleaned, filed, and then painted each nail with the same color. When that foot was done, she replaced it on my thigh with her other, and I repeated the process. Upon completion she placed that foot down on the floor next to her first and I bent further down to softly blow on them until they were dry.
"You may dress me now" she declared when she was satisfied. She rose from her chair and I from my knees. I followed her to the bed, and help take off her robe. My breath hitched as it always does when I'm allowed to revel, even for a moment, in the splendor of her full naked beauty.
"Don't dawdle, boy" she chided, although I know she enjoys the unmerciful effect she has on me. I picked up her bra, and not daring to touch her breasts, fitted them within the push-up cups and brought the ends around to fasten in the back. I then went to my knees again to help her step into her panties, which I guided up to their final destination. She handed her dress down to me, put her hand on my shoulder to balance herself, and placed first one leg and then the other into it. I rose again and brought the dress up around her, and after she placed her arms in, I zipped up the back. I went down to my knees one more time to place her sleek red heels upon her feet. Her entrancing array complete, she glided back over to her dressing table to apply her makeup, of which she used and needed very little. Just as she was putting on some finishing touches, the doorbell rang. The timing had been impeccable.
"Put on your short apron and go answer the door" she ordered. "Don't keep my Andre waiting."
I scrambled up to do as she enjoined, and within moments I was opening the front door. Andre had been here before, and was not surprised to be greeted by a nearly naked servant, wearing only a frilly pink half apron covering my imprisoned member, which itself also denoted another difference in our status in this time and place, of which he was nonetheless aware and undoubtedly approved. He knew what to expect, and what was expected. He is likely in his late 20s, and I strongly doubt he knows who I am in public. I am sure this is well beyond his range of interest and knowledge, and he isn't the sharpest blade in the drawer. He has other attributes, though, which my mistress puts to her good use. If she wants intellectual stimulation, she always turns to me when that is her desire. It happens far more often than one might think, to our mutual satisfaction and enjoyment, but always only in our vanilla world.
"Andre, my darling. It's so wonderful to see you. I've been counting the hours since the last time." My Mistress glided into the room, lighting it up with her incomparable aura.
"The pleasure, as always, is all mine" he leered.
"We'll certainly have to see about that" she purred, taking him by the arm and leading him into the living room, sitting closely by his side on the couch.
"Boy, get us both a drink before you finish getting our dinner ready" she directed. "What would you like, my sweet?"
