I am submissive to my wife, Helen, who is an evil genius. She enjoys experimenting with ways to display my submissiveness to other women for her amusement and to humiliate me. She is extraordinary and I love her completely. Over the past year she has instituted periodic "Share the Wealth" evenings during which I am to seduce a strange woman and then submit to her or, if necessary, teach her to dominate me. The purpose, Helen says, is to help more women grasp their superiority and form appropriate ambitions. Last week Helen announced it was time to Share the Wealth again this Friday night, but then something unexpected came up.
Let me explain first how STW works. We are both fit and in our early forties. We live in a city that often hosts large business gatherings. Helen has a friend who works in marketing at one of the hotels downtown, so she always knows where and when events are booked. Helen reserves a hotel room the during some convention or other and we join the attendees either at the hotel bar or one nearby. I am allowed to pick out my clothes for STW nights, though Helen must approve them and reserves the right to specify underwear. We split up before entering the bar. My first job is to attract a free woman, which is not terribly difficult. If no one begins flirting naturally, I am to begin buying drinks for women until one of them joins me and we settle into conversation. I have limited control over who talks to me. For example, if no one does (my preference), I can pick a woman I would like to buy a drink for. But if someone approaches me on her own, Helen's rules kick in right away.
There are three simple rules. First, I must answer every question I am asked candidly and truthfully. Second, I must be polite and deferential, saying "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," "thank you ma'am," and so forth, without fail. This deference must be genuine and sincere, not humorous or sarcastic. Finally, whenever the woman says (and they always do, eventually), "What's up with all the yes ma'ams?" I must tell her that my wife requires me to be respectful and submissive to women. Then I am to hand her a letter from Helen. It says, more or less:
The man who gave you this note is my husband, William. As you have just discovered, he is submissive and will obey any order I give him. Tonight, as a gift to you, I will order him to service you in any way you like, within limits. His penis will be useless to you, as it is to me. It is locked up and I have the only key, so if you were looking forward to sex with a 'manly' man, you will have to keep looking. Fortunately, however, William has other talents. You may borrow him for two hours to do your bidding. If you are interested, please instruct William to call me and then hand his phone to you and we can discuss the details. If you are not interested, please return this note to William so that he may seek another woman to serve this evening.
Kind regards, Helen
I get butterflies watching a woman I've only just met read this note, with her dawning realization that the man before her is not whatever she thought I was. Her eyes widen, sometimes she covers her mouth or suppresses a smile, and she stares at me -- trying to fathom what is happening, I suppose -- after finishing the note. They always ask if this is a joke or a prank. I answer truthfully, "No ma'am, it is not a joke." Usually they ask me other questions, but pretty soon they say OK, call your wife and let me talk to her. Only one woman so far has chosen not to (but even she snapped a photo of the note before she called me a perv and gave it back to me).
When Helen gets them on the phone, she explains some basic limits and assures the woman she will be safe -- that we can use either the woman's room or mine, as she likes, and if necessary, I can fetch a kit from my room that includes among other things, cuffs, a gag, and a blindfold. [Helen once wryly observed that if I was naked, caged, cuffed, gagged, and blind I could hardly pose much of a threat, could I.] She also reveals that she herself is in the hotel and will fetch me after two hours. To prepare the woman's attitude, Helen will sprinkle in disparaging comments about me, saying things like his tongue is bigger than his penis, that I'm her little cuck, or that unfortunately I'm a bit of a sissy. She also offers to join me and the woman, should she wish her to, so she can demonstrate how to obtain good service. If she doesn't join us, Helen will insist on having a key to the room we are in. Helen believes, in short, she is not just sharing (and humiliating) me but, more important, spreading the good word about no-nonsense female-led relationships. Performing a public service, and putting her money where her mouth is, so to speak. Naturally, not every woman accepts the offer, but I assure you almost all find it tempting.
On our first STW night our "guest mistress" was Julie, who agreed that Helen could join us, though it turned out she didn't need much instruction. Well before two hours had passed, Julie had obtained two powerful orgasms from my tongue and rubbed out a third on my face. Helen generously lent her a strap-on and admired her technique as she pegged me, though Julie shyly insisted she had never done it before. She loved the rhythmic clicking of the lock on my cage as she worked on me from behind. Julie and Helen exchanged numbers and Helen made her promise to stop looking for men to fuck until she first found one to dominate. "Then -- after you find a submissive -- then you can look for cock," Helen advised. Afterwards, Helen raved about Julie, and about what a good idea Share the Wealth was. She assured me there would be more.
On STW 2 the woman who eventually hit on me -- and who became our second guest mistress -- was Lisa, but by the time I handed over the letter, Helen was flirting with some guy on the other side of the room and didn't want to give him up. When I called her and handed my phone to Lisa, Helen quickly went over the rules and asked if Lisa was up for it. When Lisa said she was ('Well, OK I guess, what the fuck,' were her words), Helen said she'd be right over and hung up. Helen patted me on the head when she joined us and introduced herself to Lisa. She said she couldn't go with us to the room right away because she needed a little more time with young Jonathan -- she at least wanted to get his number.
Nearly two hours later, Helen quietly let herself into our room. Lisa was sprawled naked on the bed in a post-orgasmic stupor while I, between her legs, was lapping softly and rubbing her thighs, as I had been for at least 15 minutes. Lisa was startled when Helen came in and considered covering herself and pushing me away, but actually did neither. Helen happily clapped her hands as she took in the scene. "Is our William behaving himself? Doing everything as asked?" Lisa nodded and kicked me gently, "Oh yes. He's been good." Helen sighed, "Lisa dear, I know I should leave you alone, but I could really use a bit of what he's giving you. Would you mind?" She sounded tipsy. Lisa hesitated but then said OK ("like, he's your husband") and scooted over on the bed, pulling a sheet over herself after I got out of the way. Helen removed her skirt and top, tossed them onto a chair, then arranged some pillows against the headboard. She slid into bed wearing a smart bra and thong and leaned back contentedly against the pillows.
"All right. Over here, boy." She patted the mattress in front of her crotch. "You know what to do." As I took up my position Helen turned and confided to Lisa, "Oh my God, I was so close. So close. Sorry, I just really need this now!"
"What?" Lisa said. Helen lifted her hips so I could pull her thong off.
"With Jonathan. I was so close. I mean, he was good and everything, he was big... He was just a little ... quick, you know?" I dropped Helen's soiled thong on the floor and began licking.
Lisa's eyes narrowed. "Wait. What. You mean...?"
"Yes." I was tasting the answer to Lisa's question.
"You already fucked him ..."
"Yes. Well, he had a room..." Helen moaned softly and began flexing to feed me.
"And now ..." Lisa stopped and answered her own question, "And now, he's eating you out. Oh. My. God. Whoa. You guys are out there." Helen merely chuckled.
We stayed long enough for Helen to have a crashing orgasm and for Lisa to indulge her curiosity about parts of our lifestyle. Helen explained that she fucks whomever she pleases, mostly a few proven regulars (she's picky, I give her that); that I fuck no one except her (on extremely rare occasions); and that if I am with her after she has fucked someone (they don't fuck her, you see -- she fucks them), I have two simple duties: to clean her and to give her an orgasm. Helen assured Lisa it was the best of all possible worlds. Lisa declined Helen's offer to have me service her once more before we left. She did not want to be licked by me after I had consumed the unknown Jonathan's leavings. So instead, Helen directed me to place a respectful kiss on Lisa's asshole. "No harm in a cuckold's kiss!" she laughed as she got dressed. She playfully added, "And sometimes you do it the French way, don't you, Cucky." "Yes, ma'am," I murmured. To my knowledge, she and Lisa did not exchange numbers.
Well, the point of this story is STW 3, which just happened Friday, but not in the usual way. Helen had circled Friday on the calendar because an international bank was bringing mid-level managers into town for several days of training. She considered it perfect because there would be plenty of smart, ambitious women (she didn't care whether they were single) and endless stultifying meetings they would be eager to escape and seek diversion from. In short, these were the sort of women who could learn or be taught how to take control outside the office. But then, on Tuesday, Amanda called, and the plans changed.
