Diet Cuck 0 Sugar No Cheating

Diet Cuck (0% Sugar, No Cheating).

After Dickens, 3 Ghosts will save a fat hubby and gift Hope.

FETISH. Chastity cage and cruel Femdom.

TAGS: Femdom, Contract, BDSM, lies, hotwife, cuckold, no-cuckold, masturbation, widow, handcuffs,.

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#### A contribution to the

Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022

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In my humble opinion, the series "The Cuckold Diet Challenge Ch.02" by FinishTheDamnStory (https://www.literotica.com/s/the-cuckold-diet-challenge-ch-02) published almost ten years ago in Literotica is one of the most interesting literary works you can happen to read. I was inspired to write my tale, without legal insights because they vary in different States. All the characters are over eighteen years old.

English is not my native language, so please forgive me for grammar and lexical mistakes ###

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Chapter 1: Dec. 24: Fat Boy, I propose a Points-based Diet: it is an offer you can't refuse...

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"I want your cock locked in a chastity cage while a stud fucks me before your eyes, and then, I want you (still handcuffed) to eagerly swallow all his cum by sucking it out of my sore pussy. You little loser cucky... Obey to your allmighty Keyholder!"

I was alone in the house on the evening of December 24, and I had been masturbating for hours looking at captioned pictures online.

The girl captioned in the picture was a 20-year-old ebony unknown model, but in my ears, her words echoed with my wife's voice, because my dream would be for my wife to say those sentences to me.

When I was young, my masturbation lasted only a few minutes. I was in a great hurry to cum so that I could start again, even five or six times a day. I was thin and strong and very stupid.

Now I am fat (almost obese, too kind doctors tell me), much less strong, and much stupider in all things in life except one: I have a good job (albeit a stressful and sedentary one) and I am highly regarded by my colleagues, especially after remote smart working has become widespread and socially appreciated. I am too fat to ride the subway easily, and the journey by car would be too long, and by cab too expensive.

I was saying, when I was young I used to masturbate to cum fast. Now, however, I have a much slower strategy. I cuff my ankles to the chair with velcro manacles. I read stories, look at dozens of captioned photographs, with plenty of lubricant on my hands, and masturbate for hours edging without cumming, for the pleasure of producing serotonin and forgetting all the problems of life. After hours, finally, I cum, and then for at least twenty minutes I just rest quietly... then I start over again... and again.

Whatever model or actress is in the pictures, whatever horrible obscene filth she says, the voice I hear is always my wife's, Ambra.

Always her voice.

Oh, crap! Now I hear my wife's voice for real, right now!

"Darling? Where are you?" she chirped.

Oh, fuck! Ambra and her friend Patty had gone to the lake house until December 26, deliberately leaving me alone on the 24th and 25th (alone on my birthday!), why did they come back today? And now how do I get the handcuffs off my ankles? And the curtains closed, and the light off...

"There it is! You see, Patty? Just like I told you! My husband Henry is a chronic wanker: a real man would have taken advantage of the fact that his wife was away from home, to bang a couple of chicks in some club, or bring home two whores.

But he's such a loser, he doesn't even think of looking for a woman outside the house.

Look at him! He's even cuffed his ankles to his chair, the lazy and motionless jerk off addicted!"

I was red in the face. My cock was still hard and a drop of precum lit up the shiny knob, but I was ashamed and humiliated by my wife's words to her friend: a notoriously immoral bitch, who was getting fucked by dozens of stallions and who had already collected four divorces (almost always without money, because she only married morons).

But even her bitch friend, allowed herself to judge me with lashing insults: "I see, dear, that your husband is an addicted masturbator.

I suggest, if you agree, that from now on his slave name can no longer be Henry (which is a name fit for a sovereign)."

Turning to me, Patty licked her upper lip viciously, and stared into my eyes, hissing, "I propose here, today, that we rename you «Slave Hank, because you always wank»."

The humiliation elicited a tear from my eye but also aroused a drop of precum on the tip of the knob. Patty laughed mockingly, "Do you see Ambra? He loves being insulted by his two Cruel Mistresses! What a Loser... That's too bad because he has a nice cock under that fat belly: and maybe someday I might even ask you to lean him to me, sometime ... if only to tease him for a long time, and then deny him any release, ha, ha!" The bitch laughed mockingly.

I will never understand how it was possible for a saint like my wife to be friends with such a bitch. My wife, patient, sweet, and loving, was the opposite of that damn bitch.

I looked at my wife with tears in my eyes. "Send your friend away, and let's talk, the two of us... I just want to talk to you, I want to explain..."

"Shut up! My friend stays here: I need... a Witness. And don't give me orders: from now on, I'll be the One giving orders to you, Fat Boy. Do you mind if I cuff your wrists behind your back?" She said in a stern tone that allowed no retort.

"ok..."

Ambra took the metal handcuffs that were in the desk drawer. I bought them many years ago, when I was thin and full of energy: but we used them very little because she said once she didn't like them. Today, however, her wicked smile showed that she liked to use my handcuffs on me.

Click.

I was now handcuffed hand and foot to my chair, my cock still hard in front of my wife and her best friend.

No, it was unbearable. "Please send Patty away, I just want to talk to you alone."

"Of course, you just want to TALK, fat man! You're not able to do anything else!

You can't fuck me. You can't make me orgasm!

You don't even go on a diet or exercise!

You make me waste the best years of my life!

You neglect me to jerk off!

But that's enough now!

And first, no more talking!

You will use your mouth only to give me pleasure!

But not now: open your jaws, and I'll gag you!"

My wife had arrived home in her winter clothes, jacket, and pants, but as she spoke she had put on at ease. Our house was very warm in winter, and both she and Patty used to stay in the bare feet house wearing only a T-shirt or a short skirt. Or a dark see-through petticoat, as now.

My wife slipped off her used panties under the thin silk and lace petticoat. She had no bra, so she was now completely naked under the silk, and her nipples were visible through the transparency. She forced my mouth open and slipped the panties over my tongue.

With stern eyes, she ordered me, "Don't spit it out. If my panties come out of your mouth, I will gag you with the biggest gag I can find and leave you there all night, drooling like a slobbering bulldog."

I nodded. I could no longer speak, I could no longer argue, and she had not even assigned me a safeword to utter.

My wife gave a malevolent smile. "Do you like the taste? I masturbated in the car while Patty was driving. I was thinking about you, about what a stud you'd be, if you were thin again, how I'd like it if you weren't the fat slob you are now.

So now my panties are soaked in my pussy, and the expensive perfume I bought with your credit card, was your gift to me."

Ambra giggled at that outrage as well and then began to walk back and forth. As she swayed, I saw her petticoat waving left and right, and my arousal increased despite my predicament.

With studied slowness, Ambra took the little ring that joined the two keys of the metal handcuffs, and she hooked it into the gold necklace she wore around her neck.

All stereotypical gestures, which we had already seen in thousands of captioned Femdom pics, all similar to each other.

Ambra giggled and said, "I could leave the keys here on the table, anyway, you're impotent -- completely impotent, poor cucky -- but since I want to be a good Keyholder for your sake, I'll wear these ugly, but precious keys on my gorgeous tits."

Then, my wife began a long speech, which she seemed to have pondered for a long time because she spoke the sentences at a quick pace as if she had rehearsed beforehand.

"I have decided to save our marriage. You neglect me, you are fat, weak, and useless. You haven't fucked me for months, maybe years. You're always on your pc masturbating.

The only thing you do well in life is to earn your salary with your work, and in that, I must admit, you are still as good as when I married you.

But in everything else, you're just a fat loser. You wanted to be a magician in the theater, and you failed. You wanted to play piano with the orchestra, and you failed.

You are such a loser, always ruining my life, every day. We never go out, and even if we did go out, I would be ashamed to be seen in your company."

A tear appeared on the lashes of one eye.

The eye was mine.

She was not crying, although her voice was very excited. I thought maybe Ambra had been crying all day at Patty's lake house, thinking what a colossal loser I was.

Ambra saw my tears and shook her head, "Loser. Tears are for betas. You have become fat and useless. But I have a solution.

I have been spying on your long masturbatory sessions for a long time and I know very well what stories you read and what movies you watch.

You have the desire to have your cock locked inside a metal chastity cage, submissive to a Keyholder mistress.

I see.

Be careful what you wish for because your wish might come true--and I might strive to be as cruel as you want me to be, even though I am a good and kind woman: I would do it, for you.

And also you have the fantasy of your wife making you cuckold.

You want your wife to cheat on you, allowing herself, dressed provocatively, to be seduced by studs in bars.

You crave your wife to agree to be escorted into the bedroom by unknown studs.

You desire your wife to be fucked before your helpless eyes; alternatively, you want to be locked in another room, blindfolded, unable to see, but with your ears wide open to hear how your wife moans when she is impetuously fucked by a real Alpha man.

I've seen them, the pics you've filed in the «almost_closed_door_cupboard» folder: all the same captions, with the girlfriends laughing at the caged husband, and sometimes just recounting their accomplishments, sometimes bringing some stallion and moaning loudly to be heard by him, imprisoned in his cage.

And then you'll want to lick the cum, or suck a real man's cum from your wife's soaked pussy? What if a man or two had covered her face, chin, or tits with cum, would you clean it up by swallowing it all like an eager slave? Or maybe you want your wife to get fucked in your absence, and then for her to tell you all about it while she squeezes your balls under the cage?"

It wasn't really a question, because I couldn't answer it, gagged. It was just a pause.

My wife could not help herself from laughing.

"All these options will be available to you if you do what I say. In a nutshell, it's a Points-based Diet.

It will be a «No Cheating Diet»... for you!

Meaning you won't have any «cheat days» allowing you to eat cake or pizza.

But that doesn't mean that no one in the house will be able to use the verb "to cheat"

Me, by myself, I shall might cheat at video games, or lose on purpose at strip poker to cheat you with another man!

Or even with a woman, who knows?! Ha, ha, ha!"

Patty was also laughing along with Ambra. I was seized with the doubt that they had been planning this talk for several months.

"Every Saturday morning you will be weighed... I have already bought a precision electronic scale. If you have lost at least two kilos in a week, you will receive five tokens, which we will put in this fat pink ceramic piggy bank... it is less fat than you, but it will do.

There will be no need to count tokens ... I am sure the tight cage, and the tighter diet, will work as a double reminder for you, every single moment of the day for all seven days of the week.

I am convinced that you will know at every instant how many tokens you have already accumulated--and I bet they will always be very few, ha!

Until you reach the goal, you cannot spend the tokens.

Later, perhaps,and I will be in the right mood, I might (and I emphasize MIGHT), accept a payment in tokens, to allow you some sexual privileges on my body... i prezzi sono scritti nel contratto. Quando avrai tempo ti accorgerai che il prezzo per la penetrazione vaginale è molto alto... potrebbero essere necessari molti mesi di accumulo! Ma così sarai molto motivato, penso.

To withdraw some tokens, no need to break it, there is a little rubber door under the belly of the piggie bank.

A piggie bank for a piggie boy!

You are 1.72 meters tall, so the goal is for you to weigh 82 kilograms maximum. [Metric translation: five feet two inches tall, between 225 and 185 pounds]

Now you weigh 104 kg, so you need to lose 22 kg [40 pounds].

Until then, the chastity cage will never be opened (regardless of any outstanding merits you may have!), and you will have no orgasm... I'm doing this for you, honey, I have to provide you with strong motivation!

You are too fat to perform the chores of the house efficiently, and you are too ugly to look at dressed as a «Not-so-sexy French Maid». That will happen too, but in a few months: right now, I find you sincerely repulsive, and I'm not at all interested in promising you a release just because you used the vacuum cleaner for some minutes.

In addition to these new rules, I read the advice in the book «How To True Dominate at Christmastime Your Husband for Absolute Beginners», by a woman novelist who has been a dominatrix for many years. She recommends that caged husbands be guaranteed at least two releases a year: one at Christmas, and one on the submissive's birthday.

Oh, what a shame! Your birthday is right on December 25, cucky!

So we are obliged to halve the annual releases: from two, it becomes one."

After this news, I pouted.

To me, it seemed very arbitrary for a book to list Christmas Day as its release date: a day when people with lots of friends and lots of relatives have a house full of noise and food, and joy, and people arriving and leaving... perhaps, in general, it would be better to move the fateful date by at least two or three days, also to get rid of the indigestion of food and drink. More importantly, it is my birthday! Could it be that the author of the book was pointing to that very date? Strange sign of fate: Karma does not forgive.

I also thought that she had not yet granted me a safeword, but perhaps it was written into the contract. I decided to wait: anyway, with her wet panty in my mouth, I could not have uttered words.

Ambra continued regardless of my hesitation.

"However, we caught you jerking off just today, so I cannot delay: I am obliged to make you wear the cage today.

It is a very expensive item, therefore, it is worth both as a Christmas and Birthday present from your dear wife for you.

But only now do I reflect on a coincidence. I did not think of caging you just today. But now it has become inevitable.

But I wouldn't be behaving like a good Keyholder if I released you in a few hours, right? I have seen in your folders and favorite sites that your fantasies always involve a sadistic and cruel wife.

My soul is not as sadistic as you would like, but I will make that effort, to help you fulfill your fantasies.

So your one guaranteed annual release will be exactly twelve months from now."

"At least," Patty corrected.

"At least twelve months. Right. Because you may not deserve it: if you gain more weight, or if you misbehave.

Of course, as you well know from the sites you often consult, the fact that the husband is caged 24/7 does not mean that during all those months the wife will not have orgasms. On the contrary!

If you behave yourself, you will have many opportunities for me to come with your mouth.

I don't like it when you penetrate me with your fat fingers...

You disgust me: I don't like it at all.

You are too fat and disgusting to put a finger of yours in my delicious-smelling rosebud... and your hands are too coarse to touch my sacred clit or enter my pussy.

You have a mouth and a tongue: your chattering is of no use to me; you will have to use your mouth more usefully from now on.

I think in most cases I will not allow you to use your hands: today I only have these old metal handcuffs, but we will buy other kinds of restraints.

For you, I would very much see a black leather armbinder, the kind that closes over the shoulders with a collar around the neck. But... it's just... that you're too fat (right now)... and I think the armbinder wouldn't close in a stylish and sexy way. I choose to wait.

But I can anticipate, that I will often tie you to the bed in a Spread Eagle position, even if you're as fat as you are now, and sit with my pussy on your face.

I need several hours of facesitting because I need to retrieve some TV series and read two or three whole sagas of hot novels.

Very long novels.

Long... novels... that can make me wet... unlike Someone I know. Bah! In time, you'll get better, you couldn't get any worse than you are now.

During the long hours of facesitting, maybe I'll fondle your balls... if it will help to get you aroused.

Or maybe I'll hit them with slaps, if you're not enthusiastic enough down there: you have to lick both pussy and rosebud enthusiastically, without any hesitation."

I nodded.

"Another solution will be, that you will be cuffed wrists and ankles together, and on your knees, you will have to crawl through corridors and rooms to reach me.

I, in those sessions, could wear high heels to get you aroused and walk with my sexiest gait around the house, forcing you to chase me... Then I could stop where I was most comfortable, on the couch with my legs wide open, or in front of the window exposed to the gaze of the whole neighborhood, and force you to make me come, and then I will allow you to eat my pussy while your knees make you ache... while the metal bars will grip your cock harder and harder and more and more desperate.

...You're willing to do ANYTHING, to make your little wifey orgasm, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Sure thing! But that's not enough. A woman has needs.

Since your cock will be in the cage, because of you.

And since with the cage, you won't be able to penetrate me.

I am convinced that you will allow me to turn to other men, for them to give me orgasms with their unknown cocks. Impetuously fucking me in front and behind, like a bitch in heat.

It has always been your fantasy: I have always found it disgusting. But I am willing to make this sacrifice, even three times a week if it is needed to give you the motivation to lose weight.

You'll have a diet to follow and you can't eat anything else outside the list written by the diet doctor...oh, only now I realize that in addition to writing that you can swallow cum from my studs, Patty forgot to write that you can eat pussy ad libitum! Mwawawah!"

The devilish laughter was so well acted that it almost sounded sincere. My wife has always been so loving and good. She is a saint, a goddess.

I'm sure she rehearsed these phrases for hours in front of the mirror, so she could recite them for me: but Ambra doesn't really mean them, she just says them to make me happy.