Cuckles Lot Ch 04

I was just finishing dressing when Mikey returned. I pulled on my tuxedo over those tight, tight fitting trousers. The shape and cut of the Tuxedo only served to emphasise the rather obtrusive lines of the inflated bulge clearly displayed by those trousers. Just as my darling wife had known very well that it would do.

The room door opened, in came Mikey and with him, beaming a massive smile came Sammy.

She hadn't yet finished dressing for the night. She had plenty of time. Only we 'hired help' needed to be ready by 5 pm after all. It said so on the 'staff pass' which Mikey now handed to me.

The evening wasn't starting for the honoured guests until 7.00pm. Carriages at 01:30, apparently. According to her gold embossed personal invitation that she took great pleasure in showing to me.

"Hello Cuckles" she beamed. "Are you enjoying yourself honey? I'm having a wonderful time, thank you for asking. Mikey has arranged a dresser to help me get ready for this evening, I just had the most wonderful massage in the spa. Now I'm off to get my hair and makeup done for me. Just wait until you see the gorgeous dress he's had made for me. It is bespoke, designer, satin and glorious!" she was more excited and gushing than I had ever known her to be.

I thought she was going to explode at any moment. It wasn't lost on me that in order to have a bespoke dress made for her, she must have previously attended at least one fitting. I hadn't had a clue!

"Anyway, she continued, I just had to come along to make sure that you are properly dressed for work this evening honey. I see the trousers fit very nicely. Just perfect in fact." She was staring at the bulge of the cage sticking out at my groin. "Well, almost perfect."

I didn't understand "You'll need to remove the trousers for a moment I'm afraid - you forgot this." She was holding the remote-controlled vibrating butt plug that she often liked to have me wear when we went out. She always enjoyed her dominatrix role. I could only imagine how much this situation was ticking her boxes at this moment.

She liked to keep the remote control and have me signal with my finger in acknowledgement each time she selected a new vibrating intensity. There were 30 settings for her to choose from or cycle through. But surely, tonight, I had enough humiliation with this damned cage and having to be their effective servant?

It seemed not. "Strip bitch!" she demanded "And assume the position!" I duly pulled down my trousers and bent forwards. I hadn't worn underpants ironically because these trousers would show the line of them, the trousers really were that close fitting and sheer.

She walked over, cupped the chastity cage in her left hand and fondled my balls as she slid the butt plug securely into place and locked it in position with its little latching system. Her attentions started my cock to stiffen inside the confines of its prison. "OK it's in honey - oh, silly me - if anyone knows that, you do! You can get dressed now." She stepped away to admire her handywork as I peeled the trousers back up over the now even more pronounced bulge.

As my cock had grown under her touch, the design of the cage was such that the whole thing was pulled up and forward. This made the cage stand out further from my body and at the same time caused the back ring to be drawn forward, applying pressure and squeezing my balls. The harder my cock tried to grow, the tighter the squeeze and the more pronounced the bulge became. She innocently placed her finger to her bottom lip "Ooops! - did I cause that honey?" she giggled uncontrollably.

Mikey thought this all very entertaining. "That's excellent. From the pained look on your face and that bulge, I can deduce that the design works perfectly. I shall pass your thanks on to the designer Cuckles." As he was speaking, my wife had knelt in front of him, released his weapon from his trousers and she was now running her gorgeously talented tongue up and down the length of his shaft , while fixing her gaze on my eyes. Mikey rolled his eyes back in his head as I had done so many times when she worked on my cock like that.

He pointed at me." Oh, look Sammy, I think Cuckles remembers just how good this feels. That growing bulge and the pained facial expression! Priceless!" My gorgeous wife choked as she tried to suck his cock and laugh at the same time.

As he fastened his trousers. Mikey declared "Well, no rest for the wicked eh Cuckles! time we got you to your work post. Come with me." As we headed for the door, Sammy turned the butt plug vibration to its lowest level.

I instinctively raised my index finger and tapped my chin. She nodded her satisfaction that it was working. She switched it off. For now.

Outside the room, Mikey kissed my wife. "Now then darling. You have your pass key for the suite, don't you?" she smiled, nodded and patted her pocket. "Excellent, then if you need anything at all, just ask one of the girls. If they haven't got it then they'll order from room service for you. Enjoy yourself honey." They kissed again. He patted her cute little arse as she smiled, turned and jiggled her sexy self in the direction of the lift.

After releasing my 'electric fence setting' on his phone, Mikey led me downstairs to a staff anteroom just off the main function room, which had been sumptuously fitted out and decorated for the evening. I did my best to ignore the attention that the unseemly bulge in my trousers attracted from several people, both female and male, as they passed in the opposite direction.

I noticed that the band's instruments were in place on a main podium to the side of the expansive dancefloor, awaiting the musicians. The lighting and sound system were being tested. Finishing touches were being applied to the table trimmings. This was really, very up-market stuff. I couldn't deny that I was impressed.

"Ah - Steven!" Mikey exclaimed as a Senior looking waiter appeared at the doorway of the staff anteroom. "This is the new fellow I was telling you about. his name is Richard, Richard Cuckelston. Dicky for short - or 'Cuckles' to his friends - and we're all friends here eh Steven?" Mikey had actually introduced me with those very words. Delivering them with a poker straight face.

Steven looked me up and down, not missing that bulge as he took in every detail of my attire in the practised and withering way that only an experienced and seasoned Maître d'hôtel could.

Mikey was obviously considered to be a big cheese in this establishment. I knew that the Maître d' of such places would always appoint one of his Head Waiters to run individual functions such as this, unless of course the customer concerned was held in particularly high regard. I wondered, not for the first time, who this guy was. It mattered not. I was trapped with him now in too many ways to count.

"Delighted to meet you Dicky, I'm sure. Or shall I call you Cuckles?" Glancing once more at the unseemly exaggerated crotch bulge constrained within my overly tight trousers, he asked the question in his most condescending and disapproving manner, whilst extending his white gloved hand for a short business-like handshake." I shook his hand for the brief period it was made available.

I couldn't look this man in the eye. My poker face wasn't as well practiced as Mikey's. Particularly since I knew that there was no way in this world that his practiced eye hadn't noticed that bloody bulge!

I glanced at Mikey "Oh, I think Cuckles, don't you?" Mikey helpfully suggested.

"Yes," I nodded in agreement, taking Mikey's lead. "Cuckles will be fine, thank you Steven."

It was instantly apparent that I'd committed a faux pas of enormous proportions. Mikey's eyebrows raised. Meanwhile 'Steven' thrust back his scrawny but impeccably clad shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. All five foot six of it. I clearly wasn't a first name kind of guy to him. I made a mental note to call him 'Sir' in future.

He sniffed his snootiest sniff and turned his attention to Mikey.

"I'll try to have him in some manner of shape before your formal arrival with Madam. I can't promise to produce a silk purse from a sow's ear, but one works with the material provided. I shall ensure that he is briefed in the absolute basics so that he hopefully isn't a complete liability to you. Or me." Charming! He smiled subserviently at His Lord and Master throwing a slight bow of the head.

The guy was good. With customers and those he considered worthy. I had no doubt that I would find him be about as accommodating as Attila the Hun.

" Just report to me if he causes you any undue problems." Mikey smiled at the worried looking man before him. And it wasn't me that he smiled at. He didn't cast me a glance. He leaned forward as if to confide in the obviously worried Maître d'. "You're right as always. It's probably best if he's tasked with keeping just myself and Samantha serviced for this evening, just with drinks top-ups and suchlike. We'll leave the main service with your wonderful team."

Then he left me to the dubious mercies of 'Attila'. It looked like this was going to be a fun evening for me. Not.

Attila beckoned me to follow him "Come this way Cuckles. I need to fill you in on Mr. Steele's personal preferences quickly. I don't have much time." I could have saved his breath on that score. I already had a good idea as to 'Mr. Steele's personal preferences' thank you very much. It seemed that my wife was right up there at the top of the list and with humiliating me following up the rear somewhere. I Followed Attila to a small table.

"The first thing that you need to know is that Mr. Steele will only be served non-alcoholic beverages at this function. The Champagne bottle placed in his ice bucket will contain sparkling apple juice. All other bottles, including that next to his Lady will contain vintage Champagne. After dinner, he will no doubt wish to retire to the drawing room area for Brandy with his close friends. You will accompany the group as they depart the main hall. You will remain discreetly close at hand and within hearing range to recharge glasses as required.

You will charge Mr. Steele's glass from the decanter on your right-hand side. This contains cold tea. The other Decanter contains finest cognac. Mr. Steele prefers to remain clear headed himself this evening for personal reasons. These are his explicit instructions particularly for your attention Cuckles." He shot me another of his well-practised withering glances.

"Now then," he continued "this is going to be quite simple. I would like you to open this bottle of Champagne and pour me a glass." I thought it was a bit early in the day to be knocking back the champers. I kept my mouth closed and grabbed the bottle from its ice bucket.

"Good god NO!" the expression on his face confirmed his opinion of me as a complete philistine. "What you have in your hand is a bottle of Dom Perignon 2008 Vintage Champagne, corkage priced at over £550. Not a £2.99 Cava from your local Aldi store. It should be caressed and cared for like the body of an angel, not manhandled like a cheap street hooker." Wonderful turn of phrase.

He bade one of the house sommeliers demonstrate and train me how to achieve this seemingly simple task in a professional manner. They quickly gave up on that idea and told me only to top up glasses from already opened bottles, which would be swapped out by the appointed sommelier. I Received a crash course in how to accomplish that small task, almost to their liking. "it'll have to do I suppose." Was Attila's considered verdict.

He told me that I was not to speak unless spoken to. Even then to keep my responses to the absolute minimum. I was there to serve. That was all. I was to stand up straight, facing forward with my back to the wall, directly behind and dead centre of 'Mr. Steele and his lady."

I must be in position before they enter the Function room and then remain in my post throughout unless specifically directed otherwise. Hands clasped behind my back and no fidgeting. I was to pay attention to the level of their drinks, which should never be allowed to run empty. If a bottle was low, I was to hold it in my left hand, return to my post and raise my right arm until acknowledged by a sommelier, who would deliver a duly opened replacement in the proper manner and remove the depleted bottle to the appropriate receptacle.

Apparently "Mr. Steele" would tug his right earlobe if he required me to approach for instructions. I was to ensure that if - and when - that happened, I was not to miss his signal. I was to step forward to his right-hand side to receive and follow those instructions immediately.

The lady would be seated to Mr. Steele's left-hand side. I was not permitted to interact, speak to, or look at her unless necessary in pursuance of Mr. Steele's explicit instructions or directly addressed by the Lady herself. I was equally not permitted to interact with any other guest or staff member unless politeness required me to respond to conversation initiated by the other person. That, apparently, was extremely unlikely to happen.

So, this was going to be immense fun after all then. Just not for me.

I was told that Mr. Steele and partner would be arriving in the function room at 7.30pm sharp. I was to be in position at 7:20pm in readiness for their arrival. They would be shown to their seats. An open bottle would be placed next to each of them. My only role upon their arrival was to step forward and charge their glasses once the couple were seated comfortably.

In the meantime, I was allowed to help myself to some snacks which had been placed in the anteroom for we staff. That gave me around forty-five minutes 'downtime' - and I was starving.

I headed directly for the buffet style refectory at the back of the staff anteroom. At least the bulge had subsided somewhat. It was still quite obvious and was making me self-conscious to the point of paranoia.

A small but deliciously appetising selection of goodies from the hotel kitchen was on display. I helped myself to a few of the pastries and other not so healthy treats which Sammy would certainly not have approved of. Grabbing a cup of coffee to wash it all down. I walked back through the seating area, looking for a quiet table which was clear of previous occupants' used crockery and debris.

As I passed an already used and un-cleared table in the centre of the room, I caught sight of a glossy A5 corporate monthly journal that the previous occupants had discarded there along with their empties. I froze in my tracks as I saw a portrait picture of Mikey smiling out from the front cover of the magazine.

I swept the used crockery to one side on the table, placed my tray down and sat as I slid the journal toward me and opened the cover.

MSF Services, December Update. I opened the front cover to take a closer look. Page 2 contained the usual corporate bigging-up blurb and list of contents. Page 3 however got my attention.

Page 3 set out a short bio of Michael Steel Financial Services Group. It recounted that "Mike" had formed MSF services business from the business he inherited from his father over ten years ago at the tender age of 25. In those 10 years, after re-branding to its current name, turnover and profits had been transformed.

Being a bit sharp at adding up, I calculated that this made him just on 35 years old. So, roughly 3 years my junior and 3 years older than Sammy.

MSF Services was now one of the top five international financial services companies in Europe. Since launching the new trading arm in January, group turnover and profitability had grown exponentially month on month.

MS Trading Ltd (MST) was the wholly owned trading arm of MSF Services. The trading arm was apparently established as a major player in the procurement and supply of innovative I.T. hardware and software solutions to industry. The organisation as a whole was capitalised at £7.5 billion. No wonder the Christmas party didn't consist of pie and a pint at the local then! - and so much for my forlorn hope that Mikey was either married - or poor! - If I hadn't realised just how deep in trouble I was before, I certainly did now.

My wife had partnered herself up with a man who was younger, richer, better endowed and better in the bedroom than I. The pair of them were also proving to be much more adept at this whole control thing than I might have anticipated. Oh yes. I was in trouble.

'MST' - I knew I had heard that acronym before.

It suddenly dawned on me. MST was a major new client account that Sammy's boss had landed at the end of the previous year.

Sammy had talked about it quite a lot earlier in the year when her firm were 'On-boarding' them and developing a close working relationship with a view to 'getting into bed with them for the long haul'. In corporate speak that is. At least that's what I had assumed it to mean at the time.

This was no coincidence. Surely.

Not for the first time, my head was spinning. A waiter came back as I finished the last sip of my coffee to tell me "The Boss is looking for you." I looked at my watch, it was only 7.10pm. But I needed to pee. And I needed to sit down to do so. I hadn't appreciated until now just how inconvenient that small detail could become.

I returned to assume my position at "7:20 sharp!" as instructed, Attila's words echoing in my ears.

Gentle background music pervaded the room, setting a welcoming ambience for the introductions, chatter and greetings as the final guests arrived to be shown to their seats.

Attila took his final pass of the top table. He nodded to me to get ready. I dutifully adopted the required pose, standing up straight, head raised and looking forward toward the entrance, with my hands clasped behind my back.

My hands were soon clasped a tad more tightly as I felt a low vibration begin to shudder deep inside me. Sammy was obviously close-by. Her remote control only had a range of around 30 feet - and she had just switched me on! I swallowed hard and fought to maintain my composure, focusing on the activity in the room in an effort to divert my mind from the light buzz of the butt-plug as the bulge expanded in my tight trousers. My balls began to get squeezed between the cage and its retaining ring.

At that moment, I also received a brief, low tingling sensation in my groin. Mikey was warning me to be on my best behaviour. I swallowed hard once more.

From my position behind the top table, I enjoyed a panoramic view of the huge ballroom.

The tables were filled with ostentatiously well-heeled ladies, bedecked in their finest ballgowns and jewels. The Gentlemen were similarly well turned out, each in full evening dress.

An orchestral concert of waiters, waitresses and sommeliers scurried unobtrusively around the room. As, under the subtle direction and experienced eye of the Maître d', each patron's individual foibles were politely and efficiently addressed. His well-oiled machine had glided smoothly into action as a flowing concerto without undue fuss or intrusion. Attila really was good at what he did.

Having satisfied himself that all was in order, I watched the Maître d' cross the room once more, as the hands of the large timepiece above the main podium displayed the current time; Twenty eight minutes past 7. Attila raised his right hand just slightly above his shoulder.

He gestured a count-down to the lighting control desk, discreetly posted at the rear of the hall. 3-2-1 - go. He concluded with a short sharp flick of his finger in the direction of the main podium where the band was in place, then dropped his arm. The Maître d' turned and withdrew to monitor operations from his chosen vantage point. The command for proceedings to commence had been issued.

As one, the service staff quietly faded unnoticed to their allotted positions as the main hall lighting dimmed and the soft background musical accompaniment faded to silence.