The Encounter

A couple of hours had passed since he left. My wife was awake, looking at her phone.

"That was assault and battery," I said. "Was it?" she replied, not even looking up from her phone. "I'm gonna file a police complaint," I said adamantly. "Sure, go ahead." She still did not look up from her phone.

A few seconds passed, and I was just dumbfounded at her attitude. "Go ahead and tell the cops that the man your wife invited to your home beat your ass after you charged at him, then made you beg him to fuck his wife; and then, you cleaned your wife's pussy full of cum." She looked up at me finally as she said this.

"I have the CCTV footage. Do you want to take that to the cops?" she said with a smirk, looking at the camera we had installed a few weeks ago.

"I wonder what your coworkers would think if they found out that you knelt next to the couch and watched your wife bounce on another man's cock." "Are you blackmailing me?" I asked, feeling betrayed. "Not at all!" she had a surprised look that had a sense of mockery to it. "If you press charges, the cops will need proof. We have proof. That proof will be logged into evidence and presented in the trial. You don't need me to tell you how easily these things get out."

Fuck! She was right. I was dejected. I cannot press charges. I need to take matters into my own hands.

"Who is he, and where can I find him?" I asked rather aggressively. "My dear, do you not remember how he beat you down when you tried to fight him? You can't do this."

I looked at her with fury. This was the first time in my life that I felt such anger. She was not fazed at all.

"He's going to visit in two days; try to stop him then. How about that?" she said mockingly.

She truly believed that I couldn't stop him. I wanted to prove her wrong.

Two days passed by peacefully. I obviously didn't have sex with her or even masturbate. It was 7 pm. He was scheduled to arrive any moment now. I sat on the couch impatiently. She was in the bedroom, looking at her iPad. I never bothered to ask what she did with that device.

The bell rang. My heartbeat quickened. I started taking deep breaths to calm myself down. I moved to the door, feigning confidence. I opened the door, and there he was. He was smirking as he did before. He knew what was gonna happen. I would not have it this time.

"We are not interested; please never come back here again." I asserted. He kept looking at me, confident as ever. "Fuck off!" I exclaimed and pushed the door.

It did not close; he held it back. I pushed with all my strength, but it didn't budge. He pushed the door open and walked in, then closed the door behind him. I had taken two steps back instinctively. By this point, my wife had heard the commotion, and she came outside. "You're here!" She exclaimed and jumped in his arms. They shared a deep French kiss.

I felt fear. The memories returned to me, and I realized that I'd made a mistake. They continued kissing, and different scenarios played in my mind. I did not come out unscathed in any of those scenarios.

Should I apologize? I probably should, but how? How can I convince--. My train of thought had been interrupted as they had stopped, and he was looking right at me. He wouldn't just let this go.

"So, apparently your cuck has a problem with me fucking you," he said to my wife. "Yes, he said he'd do something. What'd he do?" my wife asked back. "Tried to stop me from entering. How should we punish him for his disobedience?"

My wife shrugged, basically leaving the choice up to him.

He walked toward me. I started stepping backward. My back was against the wall.

"I think we established that you kneel before me." I promptly dropped to my knees, filled with shame that I failed this time around as well.

"You don't have to do this, please," I pleaded.

"That does not sound like an apology to me."

"I'm sorr-"

SLAP!

"What's that?" he asked mockingly.

I felt shame like I never had before. It was overwhelming. I could see my wife behind him, and she did not look impressed with my behavior.

"I'm sorr-"

SLAP!

"What's that?" he asked again.

"I'M SORRY!" I exclaimed.

"Slap yourself," he commanded. "Just as hard as I slap you."

I swung as hard as I could and slapped myself.

"Was that as hard as I just slapped you?"

"No..." I replied meekly.

SLAP!

This one was an especially hard slap because he took a full swing. I fell to the floor immediately.

"That's enough!" my wife said from behind him. "That's too hard; you need to be careful," she said to him.

She came closer and inspected my wound. I had a busted lip, but nothing too bad.

"He's fine, but don't do that again," she said as she turned around to face him.

She had worn a sexy black dress for today's occasion. Her ass was right in front of my face now that she had turned to face him. They kissed again. I did not see them kissing as my eyes didn't dare look up. I could only hear them, and that sound was the most beautiful and painful sound I had ever heard at the same time.

His hand reached down and squeezed her ass. She let out a soft moan, and he gently pushed his finger in her asshole. She moaned louder.

They kept kissing for a few seconds more.

They stopped, and my wife turned around to face me. I still faced the floor in shame.

"Beg me to take your wife in your marital bed, cuck."

Tears had formed in my eyes, but they were not flowing this time around. I knew there was no point fighting this anymore.

"Please fuck my wife in our marital bed!" I exclaimed with a false enthusiasm.

He lifted his hand, and I flinched.

"Try again." He commanded.

"PLEASE FUCK MY WIFE IN OUR MARITAL BED!" I exclaimed again with even more false enthusiasm.

He swiftly slapped me with the hand he had raised previously. This slap was weaker than his regular slaps, but it stung just as bad due to the busted lip.

"Try again." He commanded again.

"Please fuck my wife in our marital bed!" I cried.

"If you insist..." They both chuckled.

"Now I'm going to fuck your wife in your marital bed. You will kneel here facing this corner. Do not move." He commanded me.

I moved and took my position. They walked away.

It was dead silence. Tears flowed. I couldn't believe how thoroughly broken I felt. I kept crying, but I didn't move. I was not allowed to.

I wished that I heard something from the bedroom. Anything.

Then, I heard her moans. They were faint, but I could tell exactly what was happening. These were sounds I had never heard before. She was being pounded.

I was hard as a rock. I felt immense shame at this. How could I be turned on by listening to my wife have sex with another man?

I wanted to touch myself, but I feared that he may hurt me if I did that. I continued staring at the wall for a few more minutes.

I heard him walk out.

"Your services are required," he said and promptly walked back in.

I started to walk behind him, but then I realized my mistake. I immediately went down to my knees and started crawling behind him.

We entered the bedroom and saw my wife lying in the middle of the bed, with a large wet patch under her pussy. She squirted. I did not know she could squirt. She did not know she could squirt.

As I went closer to her pussy, my chest rested on the wet spot. I could smell her; it was hypnotic.

I got to work. This time around I was even more enthusiastic. I lapped up all the cum I could as quickly as I could. He went for a shower while I worked on her. I continued licking until he was back. I finished up as he got dressed.

He grabbed me by the hair and turned me around to face him. I feared more slaps awaited me for my disobedience today.

"I'm sorry," I begged preemptively.

"I know."

"I hope next time will be better because I'm not looking forward to beating you every time I fuck her."

"Yes," I replied meekly.

SLAP!

"Yes, sir," he corrected me.

"Yes, sir," I repeated.

"Every single time, without fail. It doesn't matter whether we're with other people or we're with friends--you will address me as sir. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I replied again.

He grabbed my wife from the bed, and she put on a robe.

"Change the sheets." He commanded me.

"Yes, sir." I got to work.

He took my wife back into the living room. I heard the sound of the TV. I tried my best to remove the wet spot, but we didn't have any preparation for this. If we had covered the bed with plastic earlier, I could simply remove it, and we'd have a dry bed. I still managed to soak up most of her squirt.

I replaced the sheets, and it felt dry now.

I crawled back into the living room and knelt next to them. They were both snuggled up, watching a rom-com my wife enjoyed.

"I have replaced the sheets, sir," I said.

"Good, now make us dinner." He commanded.

"Yes, sir." I crawled away.

I finally stood up when I reached the kitchen. My knees hurt. I opened the refrigerator, and fortunately, we had enough chicken. I made some roasted chicken with rice.

I crawled back.

"Dinner is ready," I said.

He turned the TV off and they got up. He walked up to me. He grabbed me by the ear and gave it a little twist, and then he started dragging me to the dining table. The pain wasn't bad, but I still whimpered.

"Let's test your cooking skills." He said as he sat at the table. My wife sat opposite him.

"You may get up and serve us." He said.

I washed my hands and brought the food. I gave a plate to both of them and took a step back.

He took a bite. I hoped that my cooking didn't fail me today. I was afraid, on the verge of shivering.

"It's good." He said, and my panic subsided.

"Grab a plate for yourself."

I was confused about where I was going to sit. I took my plate and stood next to the table.

"May I sit, sir?" I tried my best to act humble.

He smiled and pointed under the table. I crawled under. I turned to look at my wife; at least she had wonderful feet.

I felt a weight on my back. He had placed his feet on me. I continued eating without complaint.

I always ate quickly, so I finished before them. I continued staring at my wife's feet. They were done in a few minutes.

"So..." my wife said, "what's for dessert?" It was obvious that she was addressing him.

"Come here," he said to her and started walking away. My wife followed.

"Sir," I inquired, "what would you like me to do?"

"Wash the dishes, obviously. Then, join us."

Funnily enough, I was excited to watch them. I quickly grabbed the dishes and ran to the kitchen as they walked into the bedroom. I quickly started scrubbing as I heard my wife's moans. She was even louder now. She was not getting fucked; her moans weren't frantic enough. He was probably eating her out.

I was done washing the dishes. I quickly dried my hands and found myself at the bedroom door. I realized that I was still standing. I quickly got down on my knees.

Should I just open the door and crawl in? I don't think so. I knocked.

"May I enter?" I inquired.

"Sure," he said.

They were both lying on the bed, kissing. His hand was on her pussy, and her hand was on his cock.

She pointed to the floor next to the bed.

"Lay here, put your face on my slippers." She commanded.

I obeyed. Her slippers smelled heavenly. They continued kissing.

Eventually, they began fucking. My wife asked him to go slow as she was still sore from the earlier fucking. Her moans were soft and sensual. This hurt more than the sounds she made when she got pounded.

I was hard as a rock. Without warning, I came hands-free. I was embarrassed. I lay still. I could feel the wetness; it was a lot. I did not want them to see me like this.

My wife moaned louder.

"Just like that! Just like that!" She kept repeating.

She moaned loudly and thanked him.

I could hear them shuffling on the bed. A couple of minutes passed, and he grunted.

He tapped me with his foot. "Come here, your dessert is ready."

I slowly got into a kneeling position, trying my hardest to not reveal my crotch. The wet spot was massive on my pants. They would easily know.

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me closer. My wife was prone, and he had left a massive cumshot on her soles.

How could this be? His second cumshot of the day was thicker than the best load I've ever shot. I felt emasculated.

Before I knew it, my face was buried in my wife's soles, and I was licking furiously.

His load was thick and gooey. I felt disgusted by the texture in my mouth. I had to clean it up; there was no other choice. This time around I couldn't even taste my wife. It took me only a minute to clean it all up.

He pulled me back up and turned me around to face him. There was no way I could hide it anymore.

"Hey, did you just pee your pants? I hope I'm not THAT scary."

"That's not pee, sir. I came." I replied.

"What?!" He raised his hand.

I stumbled back and started crawling away.

He quickly grabbed me by the shirt, lifted me back to my knees, and raised his hand to slap.

"It was involuntary!" I exclaimed quickly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I came hands-free when she moaned, sir." I clarified.

He burst into laughter. My wife also laughed.

Something within me broke. I wanted to cry, but couldn't. I'm glad I didn't cry because that would've immediately cemented my position as a wimp.

If I'm not a wimp, then what am I?

"Alright, you may go to sleep now." He said and pointed to the floor next to the bed.

"That's not necessary. I don't want him to have back problems. You may sleep on the couch, dear." My wife said.

I crawled to the couch. He was staying over.

Will they fuck again before going to sleep? Will they fuck as soon as they wake up in the morning? Will I be humiliated again? Probably.

He came outside and dropped his keys on the table as I lay on the couch.

"Refuel my car tomorrow." He commanded.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"This needs to be done before I'm up." He walked back into the bedroom.

"Yes, sir," I replied again.