Black Bull 10 Terms And Conditions

**** Tuesday night

We'd taken a cab, the weather outside not conducive to walking anywhere.

I was staring pensively out of the window, watching the busy streets pass us by, watching people sullenly marching, umbrellas out in front of them, trying to get out of the rain.

I felt my wife squeeze my hand. I turned to look at her, seeing the concerned smile on her face.

"You look worried baby. Don't be! There's nothing to be afraid of," she reassured me, her thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

I just nodded, not in any way reassured.

Claire turned away, seemingly satisfied that her words had done the trick; I went back to watching the sodden streets.

I couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that was telling me something bad, something I wasn't going to like was coming. The fact that we were coming back here so soon, the fact that Claire had told me Samuel wanted to 'talk to me', that he'd said 'we'd have words' when we next met - none of this boded well.

I guess I had the option of saying 'no, I'm not going'; hell, I should have said no. But I knew my wife was going to go, come what may - I didn't like the idea of another video call. I was still paying for this, after all, so I was damn well going to get the gratification of being there in person!

We pulled into the side street by the apartment, the cabbie having to beep his way through the ubiquitous gaggle of Chinese tourists. What is the collective noun, I wondered? A 'selfie'? A 'blockage'? I settled on a 'nuisance'.

Claire tipped the cabbie, him wishing her a nice night. She smiled, knowingly, "You too."

The same receptionist was still in place, apparently deciding that what her grand work really needed was a vast epilogue, judging by the ferocious pace she typed at.

She looked up, saw my wife and smiled, warmly, stopping her keyboard pounding, "I'll let Mr Akinyemi know you're here."

****

Samuel ushered us into the penthouse, politely taking our coats; back to 'gentlemen', mode, apparently. He offered me a brandy, which I gratefully took, swigging too much of the fiery liquid in one go, making me cough.

"You need to savour it," he smiled, seemingly amused at my discomfort.

The big man was dressed as if he were going to a business conference, resplendent in a navy blue suit with thin white pin stripes, black brogues and a white shirt. He'd even added a tie - something I realised I'd not seen that many of nowadays, even in Claire's swanky Mayfair office - and had a fuschia pink hanker-chief poking from his suit's breast pocket.

Sitting himself down in the middle of the sofa, Samuel looked at my wife, smiling, and patted the space to his left.

Claire, beaming, immediately sat down next to him, shuffling up so their sides were pressed up against each other.

He looked back up at me and smiled, casually placing his left hand down onto the very top of my wife's right thigh, pulling it back slightly so that her dress's hem rode up, her black panties peeking out.

Claire just sat, looking up at me as I stood, nervously, in the middle of the room, unsure if I should take a seat that had not been offered to me.

Jesus, he wasn't wasting any time. My eyes grew wide as I watched, stared as the man's hand moved back some more, pushing the front of her dress up more so that the delicate lacework of her knickers were fully visible.

I felt my stomach do a giddy little jig as I saw Claire turn to look at Samuel, a look of total adoration written across her face as he just sat there, wearing a large satisfied grin, just smiling at me, smiling at me as he pushed his hand underneath the top of my wife's delicate lingerie, onto her pubis and carried on down.

I knew I should have done something. I was paying for this, which was fine the other night, when we were all on board, but not now, not like this. He was taking liberties, pushing boundaries that shouldn't have been pushed. But the roles we'd all previously adopted just seemed to be, seemed to fit - not an act, a manifest reality. He was the big, strong, confident bull, taking what he wanted, what was his to take. My wife was just a plaything, a toy for him to use, to assert his masculinity. I felt unable to counter it, to do anything, because it just seemed... right. Hell, it was all still so fucking hot, I don't know if I wanted it stopped!

Not that any of this seemed to matter to Claire. I heard her take a sharp intake of breath as I stared at his big hand, the outline of his fingers obvious, barely contained underneath her flimsy panties. I could actually see his digits shift, spreading her wet lips, finding the little pleasure button of her clit, rubbing it, pushing it, toying with it. He just kept smiling at me while my wife moaned, leaning into him, putting both her arms around his bicep, holding him as he pleasured her.

She looked up from him, at me, looking down to my trousers to see the obvious sign of my arousal, looking back into my eyes and just... smiled.

"Neil," started Samuel, his tone serious, his smile now gone, "Neil, look at me."

I managed to tear my eyes away from my wife, looking directly at the man fingering her.

"I am very disappointed in you Neil. As is your wife."

Judging from the sounds Claire was making, I wasn't so sure about that...

"What you did was a gross breach of trust. There are going to be-"

"Samuel, look-" I started.

"Do not interrupt me Neil!" roared the big man, his face suddenly contorted in a scowl of anger.

Claire and I both jumped, shocked by the sudden fierceness.

"As I was saying," he continued, his voice and face both relaxing back to their previous stern setting, "there are going to consequences."

My wife cried out, "Oh, fuck!" as his fingers clearly hit the right spot.

"For a start, you are to address me as mister Akinyemi from now on."

Claire just spread her legs wider as she gripped Samuel's arm tighter, her hips writhing, just a little, as he continued to massage her clit, the bottom of her knickers now shining slightly, wet from her excitement as she watched me being dressed down.

"And the monthly payment is now two thousand pounds."

Two fucking grand?!

"But-", I began, shocked as I thought of so much of my income going to my wife's bull.

"You are not to argue with me Neil!" he shouted again, "Two thousand pounds. Effective Immediately. Do I make myself clear?!"

My wife moaned again. Was that from him playing with her, or some sort of satisfaction she took from his display of dominance?

"Look, Samuel-"

"Mister Akinyemi!" he roared.

"Sorry," I stumbled, genuinely scared, "mister Akinyemi, look, that's a lot of money!"

His expression changed in an instant. Gone was the snarl, replaced in a flash with a smug grin.

He turned to look at my wife, her eyes locked on him, his fingers clearly picking up their speed.

"What do you think Claire?" he smiled, looking into her eyes as he rubbed her delicate little clit, "Is that too much money for your husband to pay for you to be married little plaything?"

Fuck! She just moaned, staring into his eyes, almost whispering, "No Samuel, it's not too much - I want to be your married little plaything."

Christ, was my dick hard. The sight of my wife, melting onto the man, submitting before my eyes to the big bull, it was all just so fucking sexy! Two grand? Fuck it, I could afford it.

He turned to look at me, his eyebrows arching up, clearly expecting an answer.

I just bowed my head.

"Yes mister Akinyemi."

I looked up again to see my wife's whole body starting to shake, a strong orgasm obviously building in her, her feet starting to shimmy; she let out an excited little squeak.

Without warning, Samuel stopped rubbing Claire's sopping pussy, pulling his hand from her panties and shifting away from her. My wife let out a small groan, slumping forward a little. He wiped his hand with his kerchief.

The man stood up, suddenly, and started walking towards the door.

"Why did you stop?" pleaded Claire.

He turned back to face her.

"Because you must go now. I have another couple due very soon."

He pulled out his mobile.

"Besides," he said, a thin, mean smile playing across his face, "I have decided that you cannot see me anymore. At least, not until I feel that your husband" - he just nodded at me - "has sufficiently suffered for his transgression."

My wife looked distraught, as if the world had just dropped out from beneath her feet. She looked at Samuel, her expression one of desperation and shock.

"Please, Samuel, please don't deny me! You told me I should forgive Neil, so I did!"

The man just kept looking at his phone, thumbing through his contacts. He didn't raise his head to look at her, explaining, "I have thought more on the subject. I feel that this is what must be done. Until Neil has earned back your trust, until he has done his penance," - he looked up at her now, the same cruel grin back on his face - "you may not see me again."

I got the feeling that this was not the first time the big bull had pulled this trick. What was that saying I heard from Ram? 'Treat 'em mean'... It seemed that was how he was going to play things with her.

Was that part of the appeal? Sure, he was big, strong, dominant and, if the other night were anything to go by, pretty fucking well-versed in the art of taking a woman to heaven and back. But maybe this was all part of it too? I wondered how many other married women he'd played this game with, how many more he'd dangled his hook in front of, enticed them, then pushed them away again, all so that they'd do anything for him, just so he could use them...

He pressed the dial button on his mobile, clicking it on speaker.

"Is your wife ready for me Harry?" he intoned, still smiling at my wife.

"Yes mister Akinyemi," came the tinny reply.

"Good. You can leave now. You know the arrangement."

"Yes mister Akinyemi," the voice replied again, its tone flat, resigned.

"You must leave now," said Samuel, moving to open the door.

"But," he said, over his shoulder, "if you have your husband subscribe to my premium site, you can watch me deal with other couples."

He opened the door.

Claire and I both gasped. Sat, kneeling on the doorstep, her hands cuffed behind her back, a black silk blindfold covering her eyes, was a naked woman.

****

The cab ride back was a dead angry silence. I tried to talk to Claire, to hold her hand, but she was having none of it.

I just stared disconsolately at the world outside, the weather now blasting down sheets of heavy rain, bands of it being swept through by the strong winds. I heard a rumble of thunder off in the distance, then counted. "...3, 4,-". The sky lit up, the storm seemingly heading straight for us. The weather matched my wife's demeanour perfectly I thought, ruefully.

I was left to tip the cabbie. The man seemed to be one of the good ones, able to read his customers' moods and helpfully not try to chat to them.

The front door to the house slammed shut.

"Oh-uh," said the driver, unable any longer to stop himself stating the obvious, "I don't think your little lady is too happy with you."

I just ignored him, fishing my keys out to let myself back in. I heard the bedroom door slam next; my shoulders slumped. I went to the second bedroom to grab a pillow and some sheets.

****

**** Wednesday afternoon

"No Sanjay, it's not going to work."

The face on the screen stared, blankly. I sighed, explaining, "If we don't have the subscriptions in the right zone, we can't use their services. We need to get these all moved to the US East zone."

A sudden flash of understanding.

"OK Neil, I think I follow. I'll submit the change requests. Have a good evening!"

The call ended, leaving me to reflect on just how unlikely it seemed that that little bromide was going to be true.

I closed the machine down, then hoicked my personal laptop up onto the desk in front of me, firing up the browser. If Claire was going to watch the videos on the bull's website, at least I could get there first and have some mastubatory fun myself.

I found the site, clicking onto the 'member's area' section, and pressed 'Subscribe'.

Fuck! This man was going to bleed me dry! I'd already upped the standing order to wire through two grand a month; now, to subscribe, I'd be adding another £100 on top.

Well, in for a penny... or several thousand...

"Secure token sent to number," read the screen.

I waited, staring at my mobile, awaiting the chime of a message. Nothing. I looked back on the site, suddenly realising that the mobile number provided previously was my wife's, not mine.

Bugger.

****

**** Thursday evening

The doorbell rang. I hurried through the kitchen, glass of wine in hand, to get it. I put the drink down on the little table by the door, reaching into my pocket to fish out the gold coins for a tip.

"Evenin'!" chirped the delivery woman, handing over the bags.

"Oh, cheers!" she said, eagerly pocketing the money I proffered as means of thanks. She put her motorbike helmet back on and turned.

"Food's here!" I shouted, trying to sound as chipper as possible, walking back to the kitchen with the bags practically steaming.

I'd tried to mount a charm offensive since Claire got back from work, offering her a massage (declined), giving her a bouquet of flowers from the little market in town (binned) and now this, ordering in her favourite takeaway, steamed dumplings, pork and vegetable, from the reliably good Chinese.

I placed the bags on the centre of the table, Claire still staring coldly at me, arms crossed. I was doing his best to cheerfully ignore the daggers she was staring at me.

****

We finished the meal in a grim silence, my prompting to ask about my wife's work going down like a lead balloon. Given that was the root of this, that might not have been the best topic of conversation...

Claire finally broke her monastic vow as I cleared the plates away, telling me, acidly, "I received a code for Samuel's website today. I think I'll go and login myself. Alone."

She took the laptop from the breakfast bar and walked quickly out of the room.

Resigned to another sofa night, I went to get the blankets again, hearing the bedroom door slam shut.

****

Tricky... I really wanted to see what she was watching! But it wasn't like I could gracefully sidle up next to her and take a peek...

So - and I know it was dishonesty that got me into this mess in the first place, but hey - I did manage to take a look. But not then, mind you, not when Claire was watching. Indeed, it wasn't until several days later that I actually managed to have a gander myself. By that time, I think I already knew what they showed; I think I was all too painfully aware. Still, I wanted to see it for myself.

Bless her techno-backwardness - my wife didn't even think to clear the browser history; that's how I got to see them. As I say though, I think I'd already learned a lot about what they showed. I wished I hadn't. But there you are.

The video page that was cached was a series of thumbnails of videos, each with some text below it. It seemed to detail Samuel's dealings with a number of couples, each video having a caption such as 'Harry & Samantha - First Date' or 'Charles & Helen - How to Make a Cuckold Cry'.

Scrolling through the items, it looked like Samuel had four full-time couples on his books, the videos appearing to chronicle the evolution of their relationship with their bull.

Helpfully, the two my wife had watched were highlighted. I clicked the first one, one of the ones showing the name we'd heard Samuel talking to on the phone, 'Harry & Samantha - Wife Training & Cuckold Submission'.

The video was clearly shot on a mobile, the image clipped at the sides. It was taken in the main room of the penthouse, presumably by the aforementioned cuckold, 'Harry'. It did not exactly lead you in slowly...

It started with the woman, Samantha, on her knees in front of the big bull. She was wearing jeans and a small white cami-top, her dark, almost black hair tied back in a short ponytail. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and her eyes looking up, lovingly, adoringly at her bull, his huge dick buried in her throat.

It almost looked as if she was... praying. As if, there, on her knees, gazing up, she was at her altar, her place of worship, this black Adonis stood before her was somehow sanctifying her, blessing her.

I couldn't help but gasp as I watched the big man holding the woman's head, literally fucking her mouth. He wasn't even looking at her - instead, he was looking at the camera, talking to the cameraman.

"When I'm done fucking your wife's pretty little face Harry, you're going to kneel down next to her and kiss her. You're going to give your wife a long, deep kiss, and you're going to thank her for allowing you to watch me dominate her. Do you understand Harry?"

The disembodied voice answered, "Yes mister Akinyemi, I understand sir."

Jesus, he really was dominating them, the pair of them, the wife and the husband.

The video continued for around five minutes, the face-fucking getting progressively more forceful, the wife making nasty wet spluttering and moaning sounds, at one point being told to say 'thank you' to Samuel for fucking her mouth. He buried his big cock into her throat, holding himself balls-deep as the woman made a vain, messy attempt at offering her gratitude.

Once he'd had his fun, he turned to face the camera, beckoning the man over with just a look. The shot started to move more, the husband walking towards Samuel then, with a bit of shaking and odd angles, he clearly handed it to the bull, the view being changed to face away from Samuel, then pointed down at the woman. She looked so incredibly hot, her teary eyes gazing up with adoration at the man holding her head on his dick.

The camera moved slightly to her right, the previously anonymous Harry - a middle-aged man, swarthy, perhaps a touch overweight but, nonetheless, still a pleasing, maybe even handsome face - now kneeling next to his wife. He kissed her cheek, her face still full of her bull's cock, telling her how much he loved her. The big man started to pull his dick out of the woman's mouth, a wet slurping sound clearly audible as he exited, his huge member shining with the wife's saliva.

Samantha, her face a mess of tear-streaked mascara, saliva all around her mouth, a big string of it dandling from her chin, turned to look at her husband. She looked so happy. The pair kissed, the man really going to town, clearly highly aroused, their tongues occasionally visible.

Samuel's voice could be heard, the large man telling Harry that he was a "good little cuck. Now thank your wife."

Harry, his eyes staring deeply into his wife's, began his soliloquy.

"I love you so much baby. Thank you for letting me watch mister Akinyemi dominate you honey."

You could hear the bull chuckling to himself, his large, rock hard cock still clearly in shot, an inch or two away from the married couple's faces.

"Now, Harry," intoned Samuel, his voice once again serious, commanding, "you're going to get into your cage and watch as I fuck your pretty little wife's tight holes until she's begging me to cum in her stretched-out married cunt."

Both of their faces looked up at him, total obedience in their eyes as they simultaneously nodded their compliance. I don't think I'd ever seen anything quite like the looks in their eyes - they were his.

I'd heard a moan from upstairs as Claire had been watching - I think it must have been to this, this part, watching Samuel pick the small woman up, her legs just visible in the shot. He must have hoisted her prone body up and over his shoulder - I could almost imagine the stunned look on the husband's face as the camera moved out of the main room, into the corridor and then into the red room.