Black Bull 13 Commitments

**** Sunday evening

Now I really was starting to worry. The light was starting to fade outside, the late afternoon giving way to early Sunday evening. Claire was still not back. Worse, she wasn't answering her phone.

I knew my wife had an important client meeting first thing on the Monday. She'd normally be here, with him, bent over her laptop going through her notes. But she was still... out.

I looked at my messages again, hoping to see something. But no, the last thing I'd had had been on the Saturday - "don't expect me back tonight - Samuel wants me to stay round one more night."

Fuck this.

I'd have to go over. I had to make sure she was OK.

I strode out to the hallway, picking up my keys. Fiddling with my phone, about to book an Uber when the door opened, I had to dodge back to avoid the heavy door hitting me on the in-swing.

"Jesus Claire! It's almost five! I know you said you were staying one more night-"

I stopped dead, mid-sentence, as I saw the state my wife was in.

"Fuck! Are you OK baby?!"

Claire managed a small, weak smile. She looked an absolute mess. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but it had frayed considerably, strands dangling out to frame her makeup-streaked face. Her mascara had all run, her lipstick smeared messily across her mouth. As she gingerly pulled her coat off, the state of her dishevelment became crystal clear.

Her dress, already low cut, now had a large tear in the front, what was once a plunging neckline now a gaping chasm, the rip stopping below her belly button. She'd clearly ditched the bra, her breasts visible, the torn fabric now only just covering her nipples. Her blue panties were sticking out the top of her handbag.

She groaned as she reached up to the hook to hang her coat, red marks circling her wrists.

"I'm pretty tired babe," she managed, stumbling slightly as she moved past me, clearly angling to head upstairs.

"Wait, Claire!"

I held my wife by the waist, turning her to look at me. God, she looked exhausted. She just let out a little sigh.

"Jesus Christ, Claire, look at you! What the hell has that man got you into?"

My wife's eyes suddenly narrowed.

"That's mister Akinyemi, remember!" she snapped.

"Fine," I conceded, letting go of her waist and standing back a little.

"But you look like..."

I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"What?!" she barked, "A whore?! That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?!"

She marched up the stairs, stopping halfway to look back over her shoulder.

"I might be your wife. But I'm his whore."

I was left, staring up from the bottom of the stairs as the bedroom door slammed shut.

What the fuck had I done?

****

**** Monday morning

"You needed that rest - you were already fast out when I came up!"

Claire gratefully took the steaming mug I handed her.

"And you were snoring."

I playfully elbowed her in the ribs, trying to bring some levity after last night.

Claire, still chomping down her toast, looked like she was back in the real world again, dressed in her full business battle regalia.

"Look," she started, a contrite expression on her face, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. And I'm sorry about what I said. You know I didn't mean it."

"No, I know," I lied, as much as to myself as her.

Claire leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. She went to leave, her big meeting starting within the hour. She turned just as she got to the front door, a sudden wicked smile on her face.

"By the way, my master said you've been a good boy, so you can watch the videos from last night. I'll text you the code later. Love you!"

The door closed.

I just stood there. Did she just call him...?!

****

**** Monday afternoon

I was seriously considering a career change. It wasn't that I didn't like the work; sure, the admin was a pain, but the work was fun. No, it wasn't that. It was because I seriously wondered how long I could keep the charade up. I wasn't really doing anything, just answering emails, starting then not finishing small tasks; generally procrastinating.

All I could think about were the videos, my eyes glancing down every few minutes at my phone, waiting for a code to come through.

Of course, I thought, any new job is going to have to pay well. My payments to my wife's bull - did she really call him 'my master'?, I wondered again, for the fifteenth time - were coming in at a hefty two thousand, one hundred pounds a month. It isn't cheap, I mused, paying to watch your wife get fucked.

My phone pinged, my cock reacting with a Pavlovian instinct, already tenting my trousers. I clicked to view the message - sure enough, it was from Claire.

"Dear cuckold," it started, as I again felt the same weird sensation of deep arousal and a simultaneous sickness in the pit of my stomach, "my master thinks you'll very much like these videos he made on Saturday night. The first is called 'Claire and Samantha - Turning Other Men's Wives into Trained Fucktoys'."

"Shit!" I exclaimed, my cock practically throbbing as I read. The next message pinged up.

"But my master says you don't get to watch them unless you do as you're told. You have to prove your commitment."

The fuck? I thought, a couple of grand a month ain't enough?!

"You have to send a link to the first video he made - it's on Pornhub - to a female friend that we both know, telling her that you're paying my master to fuck me and including the link to his website."

I sat, slack-jawed, staring at the message on my phone. "She can't be fucking serious!" I shouted out loud.

It had only been a matter of days, and here was my sensible, ball-busting career woman of a wife, telling me to publicly out the both of us, to share our secret.

I had to talk to her, to talk some sense into her. I pressed dial, my mind racing, feeling a strange concoction of emotion: incredibly turned on, hugely angry and plain scared.

"I know what you're going to say already," - Claire had picked up immediately - "and there's no point in you arguing. If you want to watch the videos, this is what you've got to do."

I could hear the sound of other people in the background, my wife keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard.

"Jesus Claire, you told me, 'no Cloud' - now you're telling me there's a video of you, on a fucking porn site! And you want me to share it with someone we know!? Have you lost your mind?!"

I could scarcely believe I was talking with my wife, her rational decision making apparently having gone completely out the window.

"This is what my master-"

"Your fucking master?! Can you hear yourself?! This has gone too far Claire, you need to think about what the consequences will be!"

"As I was saying," - she sounded calm - "this is what my master" - she put extra emphasis on the word; I simply shook my head as I heard her repeat it - "wants me to do. If you want to see, you do as you're told."

Her tone was calm, measured, but forceful too, a terrifying certainty in what she was committing us to.

"I've got a meeting now. If you don't text me before it's done, in half an hour, letting me know you've done it, I'll pack my bags when I get home."

The call ended, Claire killing the line.

My head was spinning. Did she really mean it? Could she really go through with it? This would commit us, out us. I knew our lives would never be the same if I did as she asked. Fuck, they'd changed so much already! But this, this?!

What about the consequences? How could I - how could she - seriously carry on, how could we see our friends if this got out?

I slumped down into my chair, feeling like I'd had the air punched out of me. "Half-a-fucking hour!" I snorted.

I couldn't do it. I knew that. I wouldn't go through with it. If she wanted to leave... well, I'd simply have to cross that bridge when I came to it. But the alternative? I wasn't about to ruin both our lives, no matter what Claire said. She'd see sense eventually. She'd realise she was acting like a mad woman.

"No!" I shouted, picking up my phone, "No fucking way!"

I tapped out the message, my hand trembling.

"I can't do it. I won't do it! You'll see what you're doing is crazy. You'll ruin your career! You'll ruin your life! Claire, I'm begging you, think about this. I love you."

I threw the phone down. I was covered in sweat.

****

I know now. I know now it was his idea all along. I was hooked now, hooked on watching my wife get dominated by her bull. I think he wanted to push me over the edge - that's why she sent me the link.

I clicked play. Again, the shot was a mobile, the narrow portrait view clearly taken from the large bar, propped up to allow an uninterrupted view out across to the main room, the front door centre of the picture.

The top of my wife's head was visible to the right of the screen, facing towards the door. She was sat on the sofa.

In the middle of the picture stood her bull, completely naked. Kneeling in front of him - also naked - was the prone figure of what must have been Samantha, her hands cuffed behind her back. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, Samuel holding the end with his hand.

"Watch Claire, watch how I use Samantha's mouth. Watch how I use her pretty little face. Are you watching Claire?"

He looked up, a strained smile on his face, looking directly at my wife. He was using Samantha's hair as a handle as he loudly fucked her face, the wet slurping sounds clearly audible.

"Yes master, I'm watching. Fuck, she looks hot with your huge cock buried in her married throat!"

"I expect all my women to greet me like this. On their knees, hands behind their backs. Do you want to pleasure me Claire?"

He grimaced slightly, before Claire had a chance to answer, the kneeling woman loudly moaning as she clearly hit the right spot.

"Fuck yes!" he shouted, looking down at Samantha, "You are my favourite little girl to bury my dick into, you know that Samantha?"

I saw my wife flinch. I knew how ultra-competitive she was. I imagined she would not be best pleased, hearing she was not the favourite.

Samuel pulled the woman off his cock, a wet slurp-pop sound emanating from her as his dick glistened with her saliva. She looked up at the man holding her hair.

"I love you master!" she shouted, a desperate edge to her voice.

Her bull smiled, then pushed his throbbing prick back into her waiting mouth, the woman making a muffled gargling sound.

"Yes master!" shouted Claire, clearly keen not to be overshadowed, "I live to pleasure you!"

Samuel smiled triumphantly, directly into the camera.

"Good Claire. Now come over here."

I gasped as my wife threw a huge black dildo over her shoulder and got to her feet. She'd clearly been fucking herself with the thing as she watched another married woman being dominated.

She stood up, now clearly in shot, her small black dress hiked up over her hips and walked towards Samuel.

"Get on your knees Claire. Get on your knees and tongue my asshole whilst I fuck Samantha's face."

I could hardly believe what I was watching. My wife, my domineering, hard-charging wife, immediately got down on her knees behind her bull. She wasn't visible in the shot now, but Samuel's face told the story. His eyes opened wider for a second, then he relaxed, smiling straight at the camera.

"Good girl," he grunted, "get your tongue in there."

I watched, entranced, as the big bull built up a head of steam, the nasty wet slurping sounds now coming from both women. He bunched his eyes tight, Claire's rimming clearly doing the job, and held Samantha's head tight in both hands.

"Fuck!" he cried, "Fuck yes!"

He looked down at Samantha, the woman now bucking on his big prick.

"Hold that in your mouth Samantha! Hold my fucking cum in your married slut mouth!"

He pulled himself off of the woman, reaching round himself with one hand. He looked down and behind himself, a wicked smile on his face, and pulled Claire, by her hair, round in front of him. She scrambled on her knees to shuffle round, a dazed expression on her, her makeup now smeared all over her face.

Both women were kneeling in front of him, looking up at their master. Samantha had her held tilted back, obviously trying to hold her mouthful.

Samuel smirked. He looked down at his two whores, telling them, "Samantha, feed Claire my cum."

The dark haired girl knelt up higher on her knees, sitting up off of her calves. As she turned to face Claire, I could see what a mess her bull had made of her, some of her hair escaped from her ponytail, matted against her face.

Claire simply sat back down lower onto her calves, tilting her head back, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Samantha lent over her, and opened her cum-filled mouth. Immediately, a sticky waterfall began to stream out of her, a long gooey rope of their master's seed momentarily connecting the two women.

"Holy fuck!" I shouted, rapidly pumping my rock-hard prick. I couldn't believe just how much the big man had cum, my wife clearly struggling with the sheer volume of gloopy fluid.

"Good girls," smiled Samuel, as Samantha fed the last drops into the mewling blonde's mouth. He patted their heads.

"Look at the camera Claire."

She did as she was told, shuffling round on her knees to face the phone.

"Now swallow," he commanded.

I came all over himself, my mouth wide agape as I watched my wife noisily - and apparently with great relish - swallow down her master's sticky cum.

**** Monday evening

I was exhausted. I'd watched and rewatched the video of my wife rimming her 'master' - even I now thought of him with that word - then swallowing his cum. It was just so fucking sexy, watching my wife - normally so dominant, so in control - completely giving herself, submitting to the man's every desire.

I'd cum several times myself, but was now just sat back in my chair, trying to work out what to do. I knew what was going to be asked of me...

My wife had texted me again, a few minutes back, telling me she was going to Samuel's straight after work and that I should come too. I'd need to find a cheaper mode of transport than Ubers, I thought, wryly.

"Fuck, what choice do I have?" I muttered, heading to the bathroom to clean myself up. I already knew what was going to happen at Samuel's.

****

The young Irish receptionist didn't even look up. She was still pounding the keyboard and simply said, "Mr Akinyemi knows you're coming - you can go straight up."

I tried to ignore her smirk.

****

"Come in Neil!" I heard the shout from within as I pressed the buzzer, "The door is open!"

I pushed the heavy door and squinted, the low autumn sun blaring in through the glass panels. I almost stumbled as I heard the door shut behind me, blinking rapidly to try to get the sunspots to fade away.

As my eyes cleared, I could make out the large figure of Samuel, the man sat relaxing on the large sofa, like the king of the world.

I gasped as the rest of the scene became clear, my eyesight returning, allowing me to see exactly why Samuel looked so damned smug.

Sat, no, kneeling to Samuel's left was Claire. She was facing the door, looking directly at me, a radiant smile on her face. She was completely naked, the large alligator clamps we'd used before pinching her nipples, the chain dangling down to her stomach. Her hands were behind her back. What really shocked me was what else she was wearing. Around her neck was a thick black leather collar, a large gold hoop dangling from the middle. Attached to the hoop was a length of rope, Samuel holding the end. My wife was just a dog on a leash.

"What the fuck!" I cried, emotions boiling up inside me: frustration, lust, longing. I'd watched - paid! - this man to do things to my wife, to 'bull' her, to give her the sensations I knew deep down I could not. But now, in this moment, the complete and total subjugation of my wife laid out, plain as day before me, my lust was finally overcome by something else. I felt something snap inside me.

I went to step forward, no, to jump at Samuel, my stomach a pit of anger. But my wife just looked at me, her eyes wide, and gently whispered 'no'.

I froze. I wanted to punch Samuel, but my body wasn't listening to my brain. I was stuck, rooted to the spot.

Samuel let out a long, low laugh, his head back, eyes closed. When he bought his head back down again to look at me, any semblance of welcome, of friendliness was gone. I felt himself shrink before them both.

"Neil," he started, his voice low, steady, "I'm glad you could join us. Claire tells me you are having trouble completing the next step, sending a video to a female acquittance of the both of you."

"I... Claire, Jesus Christ Claire, what the fuck are you doing!? I know he's your 'master', but..." I trailed off, unable to think what to say.

Claire looked directly into my eyes.

"May I speak master?" she said.

"Talk to your little husband Claire. Tell him what he must do."

"Neil, I told you I love you. And I do. I always will. But I also told you I was my master's whore." - the word suddenly stabbed at me; I felt myself physically recoil - "I belong to him. He owns me. I can't go back baby, I can't go back to how things were."

"But..."

My head was spinning, my vision seeming to whirl before me as I heard the total conviction in my wife's voice.

"Claire, you're a professional woman! I get that you like the way he makes you feel," - my wife let out a little snort of derision, as if this was the biggest understatement ever uttered - "but this!"

I knew this was an inflection point, a turning point in our lives. I had to do something.

"Well, I won't stand for this! I'll, I'll call the police!"

"And tell them what baby? That my master fucks me so well, so powerfully that I've given myself to him completely?"

I looked at Samuel, feeling the desperation building. The big man was just smirking.

"I'll... I'll cancel my payments to you! You'll lose my money!"

Samuel just kept smiling.

"It's a joint account, remember?" said Claire, "Besides, if you didn't pay, I would."

My wife had clearly thought this all through, had come to her decision. She was committed.

"Neil," smiled Samuel, "your wife is not only mine, mine to do with as I please, but she's also very much in love with me."

I looked at Claire, her face telling me all I needed to know about the veracity of that terrible statement. I felt like I'd been hit by a car.

"You know Neil," chuckled Samuel, "it normally takes me more than just a weekend to make a woman mine, to own her. But little Claire here," - he gave a slight tug on her leash, her head jerking back slightly as she let out a small startled yelp - "she didn't need any more time. She gave herself to me, almost immediately."

"So you have a decision to make Neil. Claire, please explain to your husband."

"Baby, you need to do as you're told. You have to share that video link. With Kate. And you have to tell her what we've been doing."

"Neil," said Samuel, something approaching empathy showing itself on his face once more, the meanness leaving his expression, "you must understand, this is not a punishment," - could have fooled me - "this is a test. A test of your commitment to your wife's new life. You love your wife, I think, very much, yes?" he asked, his eyebrows arching.

"Of course I do!" I snapped.

"Well, this is what you must do. But first I shall permit you to have one last moment of intimacy with your little wife here," - he let go of the rope he was holding Claire by - "I will allow her to blow you."

Despite myself, my dick immediately grew to its full extent, the thought of my wife pleasuring me filling him with a confusing mix of lust and loss.

"But then, once you are done, you must message this other woman. Do you understand?"