The Cuckold Diet Challenge Ch 02

The Cuckold Diet Challenge Ch.02

FinishTheDamnStory ©

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Chapter 2: It's all about the contract

My continuation of the The Cuckold Diet Challenge by RazorLyt. (2/2/09)

http://www.literotica.com/s/the-cuckold-diet-challenge

When I first read this story, I was stunned. What kind of woman would suggest this? What kind of man would accept it? The writing was well above average, but the story itself was despicable. So of course, it had me thinking...

In the initial telling, Danielle surprises her husband, on the biggest day of his career, with an ultimatum. Sign a contract to lose weight, or she'll divorce him and take the kids. For adultery, since she has evidence of him meeting with a high-priced call-girl. The kicker is, he'll wear a cock-cage, be doled out sexual benefits for credits he earns by losing weight, while she's going to go out and get sex three times a month from strangers until he loses more than 50 lbs.

In exchange for signing, she gives him an incredible night of sex, then the punishment and humiliation start the very next evening. Danielle goes out with her best friend, picks up a stud at the bar with a 12" cock (the original author's size choice, hardly mine), and proceeds to get her brains fucked out, with her friend taping the whole scene. She comes home a mess and makes Rick, her husband, watch the tape, where he's made fun of and humiliated. At the end, she requires him to lick her clean, and he goes along.

Thus the table is set. She has him over a barrel, and he's doomed to be a cuckold until he gets in shape...or is he?

This is a very long continuation. It's a complex situation, with the husband cheating first, and agreeing to a revenge which goes way over the top. There is no violence in this one, maybe a little on the periphery, but not instigated by the protagonist.

There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed. If I find a story that's been left hanging for too long, I'll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don't write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.

For information on how I decide which stories to continue, please check my profile.

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After church, I told my wife that I needed to go shopping. She was right, I had let myself get out of shape, and there was no excuse for that. I was going to turn my basement into a gym.

Why my basement? There was no way I was going to go to a public gym wearing a damn chastity device. No fuckin' way!

I also wanted to get away from her. I'd been caught up in the moment the previous night, and now I felt humiliated and disgusted with myself. I didn't understand how I could get excited watching my wife get used and abused. I couldn't stand to face her or my kids.

She encouraged me to go, even gave me a credit card to pay with, since she'd taken mine away. Shortly afterward I had purchased over $3,000 worth of equipment to be delivered the following day. It only took a little more than an hour, which was important. I had more on my mind than shopping for exercise gear.

Tom took my call, and agreed to see me immediately. He was one of the equity partners, and long time friend. It was he who had opened the firm's door a crack, giving me a peek inside, and I'd made the most of the opportunity. I'd known both him and his wife since college. If I was going to deal with this situation, I would need help. The first person I considered was Tom.

"Rick! Come in, can I get you something to drink?" He waved his open beer at me.

"Only water. I'm trying to lose a little weight."

He nodded. "Probably not a bad idea. You're letting the work and stress get to your waistline."

I followed him into the kitchen, accepting the bottled water. "Actually, that's part of why I'm here. I've gotten myself into a bit of a mess."

I followed him out to the porch, and informed him of my predicament. I'd known Tom forever, my closest friend at the firm. I felt I could trust him implicitly, and I held nothing back. Nothing.

"You

agreed

to it?" he asked.

"Pretty stupid, right?"

"Why? You know better than that."

"She caught me off-guard, hit me with the cheating, and the ultimatum. She made it sound like the choices were go along, and get some of the best sex of my life, or face divorce and loss of the kids. I was half drunk, high on my recent promotion, and seriously horny. I certainly wasn't expecting what she did, the very first night of our agreement. Now I'm screwed."

"She screwed around, made you watch a DVD of it, and you took care of her afterward? What the fuck, Rick!"

"God, Tom. It sounds so stupid now. I figured I owed her, you know. I did fuck around on her. One time, but still. When she said she was going to get some of her own, I figured she'd at least be discrete, go out, get laid, and come home to rub my face in it a little. My punishment. After the first time, I figured she'd take it easy. I don't think that's what she has in mind."

"I never knew her to be such a cold, calculating, vindictive bitch."

I shrugged. "I think she's just hurt. She has a point, I have let myself go."

"Fuck. Listen to yourself. She has a point? You deserve to be treated that way? Fuck that. You let her get away with this, you'll be eating creampies out of the slut every night for the rest of your pitiful life! First time the partners hear of this, you'll be gone faster than you can imagine. We can't have that kind of shit getting around."

"What am I supposed to do? She caught me. I signed the fucking paper. It's already started."

"Take your fuckin' wuss cuck hat off, and remember what you are. You're a lawyer, a damn good one. There's not a contract in the world that can't be broken or subverted. Especially not yours."

"I know it's not strictly legal. Still, I did agree to it. If I go and break it, any chance of holding my family together is probably doomed."

"Buddy, you go along with this, you don't

have

a family. Your kids will never respect you, and it's obvious your wife doesn't. You've got to pull yourself together. You've got the biggest balls in the boardroom that I know of. Do you just leave them there when you go home?"

"She's my wife, Tom! Eleven years of marriage. Twins. I don't want to lose them. It's just that damned contract. Why the hell did I ever sign it?" It was embarrassing, I was on the verge of crying. He was right, when did I tear off my balls, lock them up, and hand her the key?

"So let's look it over. Maybe we can keep the contract, and deal with the situation appropriately. Let's face it, she needs you. She's used to a certain lifestyle you provide. You have the twins, and more than a decade of raising them ahead of you. She controls the pussy, but you control the bankroll."

"Not completely. She's always handled the money and the bills."

Tom shook his head. "For a brilliant attorney, you're pretty fucking stupid. You let her control everything?"

"I trusted her. She had the time. I was working 60-70 hour weeks as the managing partner. She puts in maybe 30 at her job. With the kids in school for the last couple of years, I let her take over all the finances."

"Alright, shut up before I have to slap you. At least tell me that you understand any threat of divorce for adultery is now eliminated."

It only took me a second to realize he was right. "She had sex with me."

Tom nodded. "Exactly. Once she'd confronted you with the cheating, and then allowed you to have whatever you wanted in bed that night, it was a de facto acceptance. She should have known that."

I started looking at it, as if it was happening to someone else, not me. I was getting excited. "Plus, now I have the evidence of her adultery, and I did

not

have sex with her afterward."

"And..."

"And I can divorce

her

for adultery. I have the video proof. I have witnesses. I have not accepted it."

He grimaced. "That last part's not completely true. You did agree to let her have sex three times a month. In writing."

My balloon of happiness popped. "Shit. That sucks."

"But..." Tom said, waiting.

"But..." I thought about it and smiled. "If she does it

more

than three times, she's completely fucked. Plus, it was signed under coercion, blackmail, essentially."

He smiled. "Now that's the Rick I remember. What do you want to do about this whole situation? Divorce her? Make her pay?"

I thought about it. "I love her. She's a good mother. The sex is pretty damned hot. I just can't stand her being with other guys, this whole humiliation and torture shit, and the disrespect. Fuck, Tom, she told her best friend, and made her a part of it! I think she told another friend of hers, Tina. I'm not sure about that, but it sure seemed weird with her. I wonder who else the bitch told?"

I sighed. "If I can't get her to stop, I guess it's over. Divorce probably, under my terms. Yes, I cheated on her. I hired an escort, discretely, no humiliation, no rubbing it in her face. I paid to get what she won't give to me. What she's doing is complete bullshit. It's revenge, mean and hateful. She's willing to do the things she denied me, with some local big-dick low-life. Went out and got the biggest cock she could find. If she wants to be a slut, punish and humiliate me, she's going to do it on her own and pay."

"So, how are you going to take over control?"

"I guess I need to start with the finances. Make sure I won't have to pay through the ass if it all goes sour. Find a way to neutralize that contract, and see if I can make her understand how hurtful and unfair this all is. Make sure she knows I'm not going to be her willing, wimp cuckold."

"You ever use your sabbatical?" Tom asked.

Sabbatical. I had never even thought about that. "No. I thought most of the partners saved that until the end of their careers, sort of a bonus."

"Most, but not all. Remember Dean? He took a round the world cruise. You've put your ten years in as a partner. You've got three months coming, full salary, or six months, half salary. In your position, I'd say the full salary makes a lot more sense at this point. You'll lose your end of year bonus if you go the six month route."

"I just made Senior Partner. I hardly think that's going to go over well," I reminded him.

"Hell, Uncle Mike will love to stay on, until you're ready. He's only letting go of the reins 'cause Aunt Meg is insisting. He won't be hard to convince. He was only cutting back to part-time anyway. No, we can deal with you taking a sabbatical now."

"But what does that really gain me?"

"God damn it, Rick! Step back and look at this like it was happening to a client. Stop pitying yourself, and do what you need to here! You're a lawyer; think like one!"

I thought about it. Ramifications of leaving work for three months. What I could do with the time. How we could handle the perceived shortage of funds. Possibilities started to appear in my mind's eye. I heard my friend chuckling when I started to smile. "Oh yeah. The shoe's on the other foot now."

Tom grinned. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'll tell her I quit. I'll need you guys to go along with me. We'll have no money coming in. I'll hide the money I do get. Spend all my time working out and getting in shape, as well as taking care of the kids. She'll no longer be the primary caregiver. It won't take me a year to lose the weight, probably won't take more than four months. When money gets tight, let

her

get a real job for a while, and deal with the stress. Let's see her find time for all the country-club tennis, and afternoon workouts. Fuck, of course she's in shape, she had time to take care of herself. She doesn't do anything."

"Still, you gonna let her fuck around three times a month, while you get squat?"

"Fuck that. Let's break this contract."

I pulled out my copy, and laid it in front of him. We went over the conditions point by point.

I would hire another executive assistant and an additional associate to work directly for me. If the partners objected, I would offer to pay for it out of my own pocket.

We read through the full legal verbiage, and I was almost ashamed for her. My associates put together better contracts.

"First problem. You're not working, what are you going to do with an assistant?"

"Easy. I'll hire an executive assistant who will also serve as my personal trainer. I don't expect to be totally idle work-wise for the next few months, so I'll also find an associate to work with me on any legal work I need to handle. Hotties, both. I don't imagine you'd be willing to pay for them, would you Mr. Partner?"

Tom laughed. "No, I don't imagine any of the partners will agree to paying for assistants on your sabbatical. That's coming out of your own pocket. Sounds to me like the good ship moneybags has sprung a leak." He was looking over the contract. "By the way, if you'd like we could throw a little pro bono work your way. You can get a chance to see how her side of the aisle does things."

I would hire a cook of Danielle's choosing.

"Any issues with number 2?" Tom asked. The wording was cut and dried. No surprise on that one.

"None. She's a lousy cook anyway. If I'm fat, her culinary skills contributed. She works 30 hours a week at most, and we still eat fast food half the time. I could use a good chef. Plus, it's one more way to drain the ready cash reserves."

"Done. Next?"

I would use the extra time I was creating with the additional staff to exercise at least four days Monday – Friday, and would exercise on ether Saturday or Sunday.

"Again, any problems with this?" Tom asked.

"No", I answered. "I'll be working out 7 days a week, it's my new job. She's right about that. I'm tired of being fat and out of shape."

He reviewed the wording. "This contract is crap. Nowhere does it specify the duration or intensity of the workouts. Seriously, 10 minutes of beer-can curls could qualify."

I would limit myself to three alcoholic drinks a week.

"Alcohol?" Tom asked.

"Reasonable. I don't drink that much as it is, except for business functions. If I want to push it, I can always pour myself a pitcher of beer, and drink from it. No specific quantities attached to the drink specification. Another glaring hole," I explained. "Hell, if she had stuck with the first 4 points, I'd have no problem with any of it."

I would get one credit certificate for each pound lost in a week. Credits would be redeemable at the rate of one per handjob, three per blowjob and five for intercourse (all forms of foreplay included). Anal was not available for purchase using credits.

Tom sounded angry when he spoke. "Now we come to the bullshit. You see what she's doing here, right? Average weekly weight loss on a diet is around two pounds. The way she has it, if you get one handjob a week, it'll be over a month between fucking. She'll get hers, and you'll get none."

"I know. I told her I thought the cost was pretty steep. She wouldn't budge. She told me to deal with it."

"What do you want to do about these credits?" Tom asked.

"Any suggestions?"

Tom was reading through all the legalese, and chuckled. "One obvious point. I can't believe she missed it. Does it specify who will do the redeeming?"

I grinned. He was abso-fucking-lutely right. "You know, when she broached the subject she said it would be with her, but it is definitely not spelled out that way in the contract. I can work with this. I won't be using the credits. Not to be with her, after she's been fucking around bareback with random strangers. If she doesn't straighten out and make things right, I'll use 'em, but not with her cheating ass. If she wants an open marriage, if she gets to fuck around on the side, I'm sure as hell going to do the same for the short duration the marriage lasts."

"Nice," Tom laughed. "When you're hiring your assistants, you sure as shit best keep these credits in mind. Hell, it's actually a damn good motivation. Every five pounds you lose, you get to fuck some hot young thing. What husband wouldn't go on that diet plan?"

I laughed. "See? You're not half as useless as you look."

"And nobody's half as useless as you look, old friend."

I flipped him the bird.

I would wear a locked, semi-hard chastity device under my pants when I was away from the house.

"This seems like a deal breaker on the surface," Tom noted, reading the details.

Not to me. Not anymore. I was back on my game, thinking like an attorney, not some wimp cuckolded husband. I checked the verbiage carefully. "Really? Think about it," I answered, grinning.

He sat back concentrating and I saw the awareness hit. "You got it with you now?" he asked.

I nodded, "Wearing it, like an idiot. Fuck, what was I thinking?" Once again, I couldn't believe how easily I had rolled over, accepting her unreasonable demands. Those days were over.

"When you leave here, I'd stop by that sex store on Maple Ave. They carry a long line of those things. I'm sure you can pick up a spare key."

"And how would you know about that?" I teased.

He turned red. "Nothing's wrong with a little kink with the wife, as long as it's mutually agreed upon, and it pays off."

I smiled. "Married to

your

wife, I imagine it pays off pretty handsomely."

"No complaints on my part. Ever. Luckiest mother-fucker alive, most of the time."

"You see anything wrong with wearing it strapped to my leg, not around my tool? Fits the criteria, right?"

"As long as you keep it locked." He was grinning now.

I nodded. "Of course. I don't want to break our deal, do I?"

He laughed again, reading the next item.

I would not masturbate at home. Any evidence of masturbation would forfeit any credits I had earned that week. Other penalties, as deemed necessary by Danielle, would be in place regarding violation of the masturbation policy.

"At this point, that rule is pointless," Tom observed. "You can do anything you want

but

masturbate at home. A handjob from your new cute assistant would solve that, and only cost you one credit."

"Yeah, and anything I do away from home, no issues. Contractually, once I'm outside the door, I'm free to do what I want. I think I'll have to look into what exactly a home is. I believe the porch is fair game."

"Since your chastity device won't get in the way, I guess that won't be a problem either."

"Not at all," I answered, grinning. This was becoming a game. Fun almost, subverting her amateurish contract. She picked the wrong guy to fuck with. "Next."

At least three times a month, Danielle would have sex with someone other than me. The time, place and partners were to be of her choosing. I would be present or be required to see all encounters on video. My participation may or may not be required during said encounters. Additional encounters could be added as punishment for my failures or by purchase with her body.

"You're a fool if you don't dump the bitch. You signed these kind of terms? She just wants to be a slut, and wants you to go along with it. How the fuck did you sign this part? Especially the wimp words, 'At least three times', 'Additional encounters'? Who gets to decide if you fail or not? She could get laid every night."

"I was an idiot. We both agree. She caught me off-guard. Thank God she has to keep all of it on video. More evidence when it all goes south."

"What about the participation?" he asked.

"She can insist if she wants. I'll make it hell on her and everyone involved if she does. Nowhere does it say how my participation has to be. If she wants me there, I'll spend every moment telling her not to do it, that I don't accept it, that it's grounds for divorce. More fuel for the fire."