Tales From the Natural Order

My Replacement

I hate sitting in the back seats of a passenger aircraft. The rear seats are behind the main undercarriage so when the pilot rotates at the end of his take off run the passengers in those seats experience (depending how far back one sits) a sudden drop just as the cabin angles upwards and the whole thing lifts into the air. It is very disorientating, so for the very first time in months, years even, I felt unwell. And I had this knowledge in mind when I turned to Susan and said, "I don't feel so good."

When I had originally booked our holiday on the internet I had selected seats at the front but, because our particular plane was stuck in Manchester with a broken engine, a different type of aircraft had to be arranged; hence our seating had been rearranged. I was sat in a left hand aisle seat while Jenni, Susan and Tom had the three seats on the right side of the aisle. Tom, of course, had claimed the window seat, Susan the middle and Jenni rested just across from me - already half asleep even as we had taxied out to Westerly Runway of Heraklion airport.

Susan looked across at me, even as the deep blue colour of the receding Cretan Sea filled the window to her right. I could see the look of disbelief on her face as she replied, "Really?"

It was a one-word answer, but I knew just what she was implying. In just this short answer she was actually saying, 'all week you have been swallowing your Wife's Lover and his Brother's semen. And now you feel unwell?'

It wasn't strictly true. I hadn't paid submissive homage to Master Marcus' hard dark manhood, or clean his manly essence from Clare's delightful labia since Wednesday night. Sadly, the last salty cream that I had willingly consumed was Raoul's musty deposit that had oozed from Susan's vagina on Thursday morning. It was now Saturday afternoon and I was already missing the sexual degradation of my newly acquired cuckold way of life.

I had grown to accept and even enjoy my unmanning on that beautiful island off the south coast of Greece, and I would have given anything to have it continue, but Raoul, Marcus and Clare had flown home, in Raoul's Citation, on Thursday morning.

I had wrongly assumed that our three lovely friends would be with us to the end of the holiday, but it wasn't until Wednesday night when Clare had told me of their impending departure that I realised that this wonderful and fun filled holiday was coming to an end.

As had become our usual practice, I had stood almost naked that evening with the shape of my caged penis visible through the silk panties my Wife had given me to wear. Her glance took in the deflated sissified cuckold before her with his 'Black Owned' chain resting on his ankle bone and a look of compassion crossed her pretty face.

"Oh David! My sweet, sweet cuckold," Clare exclaimed, "all good things must come to an end. And that is what you have been my darling. A really good thing for me and Master."

She saw the look of pleasure appear on my face at hearing her kind words and then continued, "And surely you don't think that this will be the last time that Master and I will enjoy your services. You're a true cuckold now, and we shall be calling on you again."

"I would love that Mistress," I replied honestly, "because serving you and Master Marcus has been an honour and a pleasure."

From somewhere, hidden in her bra or panties perhaps, Mistress Clare produced a long gold chain with a loop on one end and a spring clip on the other. Leaning forward towards me, she pulled down the front of my panties and attached the clip to one of the bars of my penis cage.

"Then come and serve us some more cuckold," she said as she gave a gentle tug on my cage.

She was mindful of my small and delicate caged penis and balls as she tugged me, albeit willingly, into their bedroom where Master Marcus stood naked and waiting for his Mistress and his holiday (temporary?) cuckold.

As I tottered forward, I felt the panties descend down my legs and settle silently on the floor, just as I did upon my arrival before Master Marcus. Clare smiled at her Lover in amusement as I knelt before him to show my complete obeisance; in the unashamed manner of a totally committed cuckold.

I hadn't needed any encouragement or pressure to act in the way I did. All the mental agonies of a husband whose Wife is now bedded and 'Owned' by a superior man had been experienced, thought through and put rightly in their place. The penis cage and the chain on my ankle had consolidated my unmanning into my psyche and the adoption of ladies lingerie had accelerated the transition from cuckold to feminized cuckold. And I was comfortable in my new (albeit pink and almost naked) skin.

I knew exactly what was required of me and, mindful that it was our last night together between the three of us, I was determined that tonight would be one to remember. Even so, I could sense Mistress Clare's tension in her kneeling position beside me; clearly she was wondering if I would still be her little 'mating assistant' on the last night of her holiday. She needn't have worried.

My lips met the head of his glans in a warm and sensuous greeting that told both of my lovely friends that I was here on the serious purpose of pleasuring, cleaning, the erection of Master's sexual organ, and facilitating Mistress Clare's impregnation. And my lips, tongue and stroking hands on his long dark brown manhood proved it.

It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life. In my sissy cuckold way, I had come to care deeply for this lovely girl and her big and well-hung Lover. What had once been an interesting change to my sexuality was now a part of me and my future, and I would have done anything or allowed anything done to me by that lovely couple. They were making another life and I had been asked to play my part.

Once again, just as the nights before, I had lain under Clare and held her still as Master Marcus had powered his large manhood deep into his pretty Mistress. The trick I had learned just a few nights before, of preventing her from collapsing in sexual fervour as his cock had jumped and spurted his seed, had proved to be a moment of joy for both of them. Being mounted by her Lover 'doggy style' seemed to be her favourite position when her cuckold attends; I guessed that her husband Clive had experienced that same joyful experience many times.

She had a happy mischievous streak in her too. The little chain attached to my cage was especially thrilling; it had played right into my sexual slave fantasy, and she knew it. Being tugged by my private parts into the bedroom and then later to the shower stall by a beautiful Mistress was a delightful humiliation that I would remember always. So when I dressed to leave them to their further lovemaking and to return to my suite I had wound the chain loosely around my balls and tucked it into my panties -- Clare wasn't having that back.

So conditioned was I to my cuckold way of life now, that lying in bed listening to the sounds of passion coming through the wall behind me gave me a an emotional feeling of happiness for Susan. It was their last night together here in Crete, so Raoul and my Wife were going at it like wild animals. Again and again I listened to that familiar voice begging him to be inside her in language I had never heard from her before.

"Come in me Master. Fill me!" "Use me Master. I want you inside me Master." "Do I please you Master? Please tell me I do." "David can't do what you do to me Master."

These words, and more besides, came drifting through the wall as the night rolled on and it wasn't until four in the morning before they stopped and sleep overtook them. As I too dropped off to sleep I finally realised that, not only had my life changed fundamentally, but Susan's had too. And I vowed that it would change even more so when we got back to England -- after I had talked it through with Susan of course.

It was early on the Thursday morning that I sat with Raoul in the Hotel Reception as he waited for his taxi to take Clare, his brother and himself to Heraklion Airport. The agents at the airport would have prepared his Citation for him, so all he had to do was pay his handling bills, file his flight plan and clear Greek Customs. It was an expensive business but somehow I knew he was untroubled by the thought of thousands of Euros flying (sorry!) out of his account.

"Do you think that this is the end of my little fling with Susan," he asked me as we sipped the breakfast coffee we had brought with us from the hotel restaurant.

I knew what he was really asking me, and replied carefully, "Holiday fling -- yes! Clearly! You're flying home."

"And?"

"Something tells me that it is not finished. I'm right aren't I."

Raoul glanced at his Breitling Pilot's Watch and said, "We don't have long so I'll be quick. My guess is that if we allow one day for a possible delay on your aircraft going home on Saturday, one for washing and ironing, another for garden, cleaning and kids etcetera, I think it is reasonable if I come to your house on Wednesday evening and collect your Wife to spend the night with me at my house in Westerham. Does that sound reasonable, cuckold?"

"Do you think we could be delayed?" I asked, - intrigued by his assertion that I would be delayed.

"That company you have booked with keep their planes in the air. It will probably have done three different trips in Europe before it arrives here to take you back to Gatwick. They're renown for being late. Everyone in the industry knows it." was his prescient reply.

Raoul had asked me a question and he needed an answer. It was the only answer a cuckold like me could give. "How would you like me to prepare my Wife for you Master."

He tried very hard not to look relieved, but I knew him better now than I had before, and I recognized the expression on his face for what it was. I was also no longer in doubt that his physical lust for Susan was matched equally by his growing attachment for the Woman I love and to whom I was married. He was wanting more of my Wife, that much was clear, and their tender parting kiss confirmed that she wanted more of him too.

The Thursday and Friday of our holiday felt a little deflated after the boat trips and fun (inside and outside the bedroom) we had experienced with our friends. Tom and Jenni enjoyed a lot more of their Mother's company than hitherto, as did I. We spoke little of Susan's liaison with Raoul other than me telling her that her new Lover would collect her from our Tunbridge Wells home on Wednesday and take her to his home to make love to her all night long. A thought that produced a happy countenance on her lovely face.

On my part, I retained the small cage on my little penis as an act of good faith. It just seemed right that, having accepted my diminution as a man, I should lock the definition of my masculinity away. Hidden away under panties of the same colour and style as Susan's it was no longer relevant to our marriage and served the purpose of 'peeing' only. And not only, did I retain my restraint in its designed purpose of unmanning me, the little chain that Clare had clipped to my cage now served as a slave chain around my waist.

I had now accepted that Susan no longer saw me as her mate in our marriage. My carnal desires had abandoned me a long time before our holiday and I had known this at least two years before I had suggested that she find a 'Replacement'. So after a brief, but not particularly painful discussion, we decided that I should remain celibate and take the sexual stress out of our lives. To become better friends in fact, and in the years since that tumultuous change in our lives our friendship has grown exponentially.

It was on the Thursday night as we lay in bed reading and talking about our new relationship that a worrying thought crossed my mind. Turning to Susan I asked, "What if your new relationship with Raoul doesn't work out?"

The smile on Susan's face told me at that moment that I would be a cuckold for the rest of my life. She put her book down, and turning to me she told me that Clare and her had already discussed that sad eventuality. "That wouldn't be nice, but in that event I would ring her." She saw my raised eyebrows requiring clarification and continued, "And she guarantees that I would be in bed with a new Black Master with just a few days."

"Just like that?"

"Clare was a Concubine in the White Mistress Order before she went for auction. Marcus knows people in the organisation," Susan replied, in such a 'matter of fact' way, it felt like she was presenting a reason for an expensive shopping bill.

I responded to this information in the only way I thought appropriate. "Of course she does!" And that was the end of my very, very faint aspiration of one day returning to our previous way of life. As a cuckold, I was now a 'Lifer' -- but this sissy had an account to settle, and I didn't mean our bar bill.

Ariana had clearly enjoyed babysitting our kids and had developed a genuine affection for them, which they had returned. It had been, "Ariana said this," "Ariana had done that." "Ariana tucked us in bed better than you." But There had been another side to her, and her mocking of me as I was cuckolded and referring to Susan as a 'lucky bitch' deserved an appropriate response. It was time for me to humble the sneaky little cow.

"Se efcharistó Ariana, ta paidiá mas pérasan ypéroches diakopés chári se séna (Thank you Ariana, our children have had a lovely holiday thanks to you)," I said to the pretty babysitter.

"Ítan chará, kýrie Derek. echo apolafsei ...... (It has been a pleasure Mr Derek. I have enjoyed .....)," she replied, but didn't finish. The look of alarm on her face as she realised that I had just conversed with her in fluent Greek; the shock was then closely followed by a bright red flaming of her cheeks.

"You speak Greek?"

"Aptaista! (Fluently!)"

"Oh Mr Derek! I am so sorry," she exclaimed; clearly undone by the silly arrogance she had demonstrated to me over the two weeks we had been in the hotel.

"Epeidí eímai koúkla, den simaínei óti eímai ilíthios, (Just because I am a cuckold, it doesn't mean that I am stupid)," I told her to her face, which turned an even sharper red at my words.

It was our last night in the hotel and Ariana, suitably embarrassed and chastised had left the room with the fifty euro note I had given her as a tip -- it would have been a hundred, but for her wisecracks -- and Susan and I lay in bed feeling anxious about the following day. Neither of us had wanted the holiday to end, and the time I had spent with the kids while Susan had been getting romantic with Raoul had been the happiest I could remember and had imposed a decision on me that I was still mulling over in my mind. But it was Susan who broke the silence.

"David" she said, putting down her (much unread) book, "did you just tell Ariana that you are a cuckold?"

My pondering came to an abrupt halt as I replied, "Yes! What of it?"

"I thought so. You do realise what you have just done, don't you?" she replied.

"What?"

"You just 'came out'."

"What do you mean?"

"You have just told a complete stranger that you are a cuckold haven't you. And you have just crossed a line in your new life. It means that you have totally accepted what you are and don't care who knows," she said, as she ruffled my hair like a Mother would do for her little child.

"She wasn't a complete stranger, and the cheeky cow knew it already."

Susan looked thoughtful for a second before she came back with the defining answer, "Yes Dear, but you were prepared to say it. And that tells me you have totally accepted your new life, and you do not care who knows."

"Maybe so. But we'll have to see what happens when we get back home," I replied unconvincingly.

Susan, as always, was right because I had said the words without thinking about the implications. It had been a statement of fact and the more I thought about it, I had felt a small wave of pleasure at my admitting to my cuckolding. I also knew that confessing it to someone else was another way of acknowledging to myself.

"Maybe I'll wear a sign around my neck saying 'Cucky Boy'," I said to a now sleepy Susan.

"Go to sleep you idiot."

And she was still smiling as she closed her eyes on that final night of our lovely holiday.

Gatwick airport was its usual pandemonium with lost bags and broken carousel so it was gone eleven o'clock before we hit the M23 and were home at Tunbridge Wells just before midnight. It was then just a case of putting the kids to bed and putting our own heads on the pillows of our own 'King Size' haven of peace.

It is always nice to be home but in those first few days back in my home I felt a strong desire to be back on that lovely warm island. I missed the easy sexual intimacy between Clare, Marcus and myself. I pined for those beautiful moonlight nights when I had sat out on our balcony and listen to Susan and Raoul chatting, flirting, and being naked and intimate.

Raoul was right of course, the lawn did need mowing and the first load of clothes were rotating in our washing machine before I received the first text from my Wife's Lover.

'Cuckold, I will collect my Mistress at eight on Wednesday evening and I want you to prepare her as follows: White lingerie, white stockings and suspenders, ankle chain, and Ace of Spades necklace. All other items of clothes are to be loose and easily removed.'

This was unusual; in Crete he had not been that specific about how I had prepared my Wife for their dates. I sent a reply.

'Yes Master. Why white?'

'It will be our first together in my house and in my bed. I thought something virginal would be appropriate. Problem?'

I guessed that Susan did have some white lingerie so my response was very short and to the point.

'None Master.'

We had already arranged for the kids to have an early night and had tired them out with a visit to the local swimming pool. Both were fed and sleeping soundly when Susan and I crept away to get ready for Raoul.

As we showered together I checked Susan's beautiful sun golden skin for any blemishes, or unsightly marks -- she was perfect, as always. A quick application of the razor to both of our private parts and my legs had us both fresh and ready for our own preparations for the night ahead. With my penis cage now back on where it should be, I picked up the pretty lace suspender belt that Susan had laid out for me. I had watched the easy practised way she had clipped the belt together with the delicate fasteners at the front and then swung it around her waist so the join was at the back. Had I not watched her I guess that I would still be trying to reach behind me to get those little clips together to this day.

With the suspender belt on , I reached for the delicate white panties that were little more than a small pocket of white silky material held together with white ribbon -- it was a thong; a pretty thong, but a thong nevertheless. It nestled my little caged penis comfortably and looked delicate and charming; I immediately took to it after having worn Susan's type of 'working knickers' (white cotton mainly) in the few days leading to her date with Raoul.

I sat and watched as my lovely Wife deftly rolled each white stocking into a loose doughnut shape to easily insert her foot into the flimsy ring of silk, then with sensuous ease she turned the shiny material up her long perfect leg whereupon she hooked the top of the stocking to one of the strap fasteners. She did the same with the other stocking and then stood up.

Looking over at me, she said, "Cuckold,! Come over here and fasten the strap at the back. And make sure the seam is straight."

"Yes Mistress," I replied as I shuffled across the bedroom and knelt behind her.