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https://www.reddit.com/r/cuckoldstories2/comments/1mkdqvp/comment/n7llab3/?context=3
She went out of town for 1 week. That gave me a lot of time to think about all this.
I thought about our past: the threesomes, the group nights, the way my chest ached when I watched her moan on another man’s cock. I thought about how much it stung when she whispered that she needed more than I could give… and how that sting turned instantly into arousal.
Alone, I admitted what I hadn’t said aloud: I didn’t just want to share her. I wanted her to humiliate me. To make me kneel. To strip me of control. To remind me she could always take more — and I would still follow.
When she came back, I didn’t hesitate.
“No restrictions,” I told her. “Do whatever you want with me.”
Her smile was slow, cruel, and sweet. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
She unzipped her luggage and pulled out a steel cock cage. My chest tightened instantly. “Kneel.” I obeyed. My cock was already hard, throbbing against my hand as I tried to squeeze it into the cage. She folded her arms and watched me struggle. “Pathetic. Can’t even get soft when I tell you.”
Finally, the lock clicked. She pulled out a silver chain necklace, slipped it around her neck, and let the tiny brass key dangle between her breasts. She touched it and smiled. “This stays with me. Right where everyone can see it. You’ll kneel at my feet knowing the whole world could notice I own you.”
My face burned. The humiliation was sharp. And my cock strained helplessly against the bars.
She didn’t give me time to adjust. “Get dressed. We’re going shopping.”
At the lingerie boutique, I carried the bags while she floated between racks. The cage dug into me with every step. The necklace gleamed against her chest like a secret crown. She picked up lace bras, sheer panties, thongs so small they looked like ribbons. She pressed them against her body and looked at me with a grin. “Do you think he would like this? I need something really slutty. Something I’ll ruin before he even touches me. Maybe panties that show everything. They’ll go well with the plug he used last time.”
In the changing room mirror, she snapped selfies in outfits that barely covered her nipples. She showed them to me, then hit send to him while I stood there, red-faced, holding the bags. The saleswoman smirked when she saw the necklace glint as my wife adjusted her bra. My chest burned with the thought: did she notice the key? Did she know?
I paid for everything while she stood beside me, tapping on her phone, smiling. I knew exactly who she was texting.
Then she dragged me into a sex shop. She handed me a slim vibrator with a wireless remote. “He’ll control me with this. Over my pussy. While you sit locked.” At the register she pressed against me, voice low enough for only me to hear: “Get used to it. You’ll pay for my lingerie, my toys, my hotel rooms. That’s what cucks are for.”
The cashier smirked as I handed over my card. My face burned. My cock throbbed against the cage until it hurt.
It didn’t stay a game. It became a ritual. Every morning, she checked that i was locked. At lunch, proof from the office bathroom. At the gym, blurry shots, heart racing, terrified someone would see. Her replies were short, sharp, addictive. “Good boy. That’s where it belongs.”
Soon I wasn’t just locked — I was her photographer. I took photos of her dripping after the shower, lingerie biting into her hips, pussy spread just enough. She posed, I obeyed. And when the shots were perfect, she smirked. “Not for you. For him.”
Sometimes she angled a mirror so the reflection caught me, cage gleaming under the light, desperation etched into my face. She laughed as she hit send. “He’ll love seeing you worship what he owns now.”
One night she handed me her phone mid-shoot. A message from him glowed: Make him beg. I want to see it.
She pointed at the camera. “Do it.”
And I did. On my knees, pleading for release, cock bulging uselessly behind steel, my voice cracking as she filmed. She sent it without hesitation.
One evening she told me we were meeting him in a hotel with a good restaurant. We were regulars at the restaurant. The same waitress always served us — a pretty brunette with a bright smile. She had seen us come in together many times, always as a couple.
But this time was different.
My wife wore a short black dress with no bra, and the necklace with the tiny brass key dangled between her breasts, catching the light every time she leaned forward. We were in a circular table. He sat close to my wife, relaxed, the remote for her toy in his hand.
Halfway through the meal, her eyes fluttered, lips parted, thighs pressing together. She leaned into him, their shoulders touching, giggling at his words. Then she kissed him — deep, wet, open — right there at the table, while I set next to her with my cock locked away.
When the waitress came back to pour more wine, her eyes lingered on the necklace. She smiled warmly and said to my wife:
“That’s a beautiful necklace. Really suits you.”
My wife smirked and touched it lightly, letting the key swing forward between her cleavage.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes flicking to me for just a second, cruel amusement dancing there.
The waitress smiled and left. Now the waitress know that i am a cuck. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. And yet my cage ached harder, every vein straining, desperate and humiliated.
When dessert came, she leaned to me, lips brushing my ear. “Smile, baby. Don’t make it obvious.” My face burned. I paid the bill, my hand shaking, while she laced her fingers with his.
We went to the hotel room. When the door closed behind us, my wife didn’t even look at me. She turned to him first, kissed him softly, whispered something that made him laugh. Then she faced me, eyes cold and playful.
“Kneel. Take off my shoes.”
I dropped instantly, unbuckled her heels, and placed them neatly by the wall like a servant. She stepped out of them without a word, walked across the carpet toward the bed, the necklace swaying with every step. The tiny brass key caught the light, taunting me.
He was already sitting there, relaxed, waiting. She slipped her dress off slowly, letting it fall to the floor, revealing the lingerie I had bought for her earlier. The necklace dangled above it all, the key pressed between them.
She looked down at me still kneeling.
“Do you like it?”
I nodded, my throat dry.
She smirked.
“Too bad. It’s not for you.”
Then she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, kissing him deeply. Her moans filled the room before he’d even touched her properly. I stayed where I was, caged, aching, ignored.
He sucked her nipples until she gasped. Her lipstick smeared, her hips rolled against him hungrily. She clutched at his hair, grinding like she was starved.
She turned her head and locked eyes with me.
“Come closer. I cannot say learn how to fuck me as you will never do again. So only watch how i am pleased"
I crawled forward, the carpet burning my knees, until my face was inches from the bed. I could smell her arousal, hear the wet slap of his cock sliding into her. My cage throbbed painfully.
He shoved her onto her back and pushed deep inside her with a groan. She screamed his name, not mine. Her hands clawed the sheets, the necklace swinging wildly between her breasts. The key glittered like a cruel reminder.
She grabbed his back, eyes wild, and moaned,
“Oh God… he’s so much bigger than you.”
The words cut, burned — and made me harder.
He laughed, thrusting deeper.
“You really married this little cuck? He just kneels while you take a real cock?”
She gasped, digging her nails into him.
“Yes! That’s all he’s good for. Paying. Watching. Cleaning.”
My body trembled. My cage pressed into the floor, painfully tight.
He flipped her onto her knees, took her from behind. She screamed into the sheets, body shaking, juices spilling down her thighs. He looked down at me.
“Look at your wife. Look how she begs for me.”
I nodded, desperate, my face inches away.
She turned her head, hair stuck to her face, eyes blazing.
“You’ll never fuck me like this. You’ll never make me cum like this.”
He yanked her hair, groaned, and came inside her, filling her, spilling out around his cock. She collapsed on the bed, panting, glowing, cum dripping down her thighs.
She spread herself wider, smirking at me.
“Clean me.”
I crawled up, tongue trembling, licking everything he left inside her. She grabbed the necklace, yanked the key so it dangled in front of my eyes, and hissed,
“Remember this. You’re locked. You’re mine. And this pussy belongs to him now.”
When she shoved me back, I was gasping, the cage swollen and aching. She pulled me up by the hair, kissed me roughly.
She whispered against my mouth,
“You’ll never be enough. And you’ll never stop begging me for more.”
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