This is the fictional story of a husband’s slow, almost invisible transformation; from partner to slave, from lover to obedient pet.
CuckoldPlace.com
She doesn’t break him with cruelty. She manipulates him slowly, subtly, rewriting the rules one quiet command at a time.
By the time he notices what he’s become… it’s already too late.
This story explores chastity, emotional control, humiliation, and the slow, irreversible shift of power.
Start from Prologue/Chapter 1 to witness the unraveling not with a bang, but with a whisper.
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I woke up sore.
Not just physically, though the cane had left its unmistakable sting but somewhere deeper, heavier. The kind of ache that settled in the chest, in the pit of the stomach. That hollow echo where pride used to be.
Memories from the dungeon still clung to me like a second skin. The pillory. The crowd. Meera's laughter. Mistress's attention, not on me but on him. On Mike. The way they had all talked around me, over me, as if I weren't even a person. Because I wasn't, not anymore. Not in their eyes. Just a display. A pet. A toy. A thing to use, pose and photograph.
The worst part? The way my body had loved it.
I hadn't been dragged into this life screaming. I had crawled into it again and again, head lowered, gag in place, clit twitching in its cage like a desperate thing. Willing. Aching. Complicit.
And Meera.
She wasn't shy anymore. That giggling girl who blushed when I kissed her heels? She was gone. Last night, she had taken control like she was born to it, wielding the cane with confidence, circling me like I belonged to her too. She hadn't just played along. She had owned me.
She called me cucky.
And she meant it.
I wanted to deny it, to tell myself it was just teasing but deep down, I knew she was right. After all, Mistress had been all over Mike. Her laughter, her attention, her body language, it was all his. Not mine. I wasn't even an afterthought.
When her eyes did flicker toward me, locked in the pillory like a display piece, there was no guilt, no hesitation. Just amusement. She hadn't come to me even once while I was locked in the pillory. Not to offer comfort, not even to punish me. It was as if I didn't exist. She was too busy with Mike, too wrapped up in his presence to spare me a glance that meant anything.
And still… I got hard.
When Meera called me cucky, I wanted to protest, to reject the word but my body betrayed me in the worst way. I was beyond aroused, humiliated by how visible it was. My clit twitched so hard in its cage it practically demanded attention. No one had to look closely, even a passing glance would've been enough to notice.
They were making plans. And none of those plans involved asking me.
Because I wasn't someone you asked.
I was someone you took.
I was their pet. Their project. Their plaything.
And the way my cage had leaked in front of everyone? I hated myself for that. And I wanted more.
God help me, I wanted more.
The lock clicked open with a mechanical beep, exactly at six.
I stirred awake in the cage, stiff, cramped and aching in more ways than one. My knees throbbed faintly from the night before. My clit twitched uselessly in its cage, still feeling the humiliation from the pillory. But the sound of the lock was my signal. My cue.
I slowly crawled out, careful not to bump my head against the top. The morning air felt cold on my bare skin, the marks on my thighs and back stretching slightly as I moved. I didn't need a clock to know the time. I had exactly one hour to reflect, write in my journal and crawl to Mistress.
Like every morning.
After my reflection, I placed the diary down quietly.
Few moments later, the plug buzzed inside me and I made my way across the room on all fours, my collar gently clinking with each movement. Mistress's bedroom door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and slipped inside, careful not to make too much noise even though I knew she expected me.
There she was.
Lying on her side, hair slightly tousled, one leg peeking out from under the blanket. She looked peaceful. Beautiful. Untouchable.
I crawled to her side of the bed, lowered my head near her feet and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her foot, a silent ritual of devotion.
After kissing her foot, I started sucking it softly, reverently. I craved her so badly since last night, almost pathetically so. Mistress had given all her attention to Mike… not even a glance for me at the pillory. Not even a punishment. And somehow, that made me want her more, not less. I needed to feel wanted by her, even if only through her feet.
Every second my lips touched her skin, I felt a little more grounded. A little more hers again.
I didn't want it to end.
I was literally praying, praying to whatever gods would listen that she wouldn't wake up just yet. That I could go on like this a little longer. Just a little longer.
And for some reason, maybe they listened.
Mistress didn't stir.
She took her sweet time waking, stretching gently, turning slightly in her sheets, still half-asleep.
Perhaps… she knew. Perhaps she was giving me this moment. Or perhaps she was just slow to rise.
Either way, I didn't care. I was grateful. Silently, desperately grateful.
Eventually, Mistress stirred. A slow inhale, a stretch of her arms, a slight twitch of her toes against my lips. My heart leapt.
She was awake.
Her eyes opened, still heavy with sleep and her gaze met mine; calm, unreadable. Then a quiet smirk curled on her lips.
"Coffee," she said softly, her voice thick with the weight of morning.
I whispered a "Yes, Mistress," and crawled away from the bed, still dizzy from the intimacy of the moment, still needy for her presence. But I knew better than to linger when she'd given an order.
I moved quickly through the house, preparing her coffee just the way she liked it. The routine had long since etched itself into my body. I didn't even have to think anymore. I just moved, obeyed.
By the time I returned, cup balanced carefully in both hands, my mind had already started shifting into the rhythm of the day. There would be chores, of course. Cleaning, organizing, preparing her meals. Maybe errands.
I got busy with the chores. Later in the day, Mistress was lounging on the couch, her legs stretched out comfortably. I knelt beside her, my hands resting obediently on my thighs, eyes lowered as always. That's when her phone buzzed.
She picked it up and smiled faintly. "Oh, it's Meera."
She answered the call, putting it on speaker without hesitation, another reminder that nothing I heard or saw mattered. I was simply there, a presence, not a person.
"Hey," Mistress greeted, her tone light and pleased.
Meera's voice crackled through the speaker. "Hi! Just wanted to check in. Still recovering from last night?"
Mistress laughed. "Barely. You wore me out more than I expected and not just from the walking."
Meera giggled. "You mean Mike did."
Mistress smirked. "Well… I won't deny it. He was quite the surprise."
I didn't move, didn't flinch but inside I burned. That name again. That man. It stung, how naturally he had slipped into her attention, how easily he'd replaced me, not just as a presence at her side but as someone who mattered.
"I still can't believe how he held your hand during the tour," Meera said. "You looked like a teenager with a crush."
Mistress actually blushed. "I know, right? He was so confident. And did you see the way he kept complimenting me? It's been a while since someone made me feel like that."
They both laughed.
A sharp pulse went through my body. I didn't move but inside I crumbled, trembled and leaked.
Mistress giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well… I might be seeing Mike again tomorrow evening."
My head snapped up before I could stop myself, eyes wide. She didn't even glance at me, just smiled at the phone.
Meera gasped. "No way? That's so exciting!"
I felt my stomach drop. My chest tightened, my body going stiff except the one part that always betrayed me. The cage twitched again, painfully. The thought of her alone with him, of her choosing to see him again was real now.
Meera's voice dropped to a teasing purr. "Well, you do need it, Claire. Considering your current situation. Your prejac hubby puppy isn't really up to the challenge, now is it? You need a real man."
The words hit me like a slap.
Mistress laughed. "You might be right. And after all, credit goes to you."
A flood of shame rushed through me. I couldn't look at either of them, even the phone. I lowered my head, as if bowing to the truth I couldn't escape.
Meera changed the topic. "So, any plans for the next event? That rope suspension room looked incredible. And I'm still curious about the medical play setup."
Mistress hummed. "Yes, I definitely want to explore more next time. We barely scratched the surface. And the next event's just two weeks away, I already RSVP'd."
"Oh good," Meera said. "Let's not forget the glory hole, either. That seemed… popular."
Mistress chuckled. "I saw you eyeing it."
Meera made a faux-innocent sound. "I was just observing."
As they talked, Mistress casually lifted her foot and slapped my face with the sole, not hard, just enough to remind me of my place. Then she pointed her toes at my mouth without even looking. I understood instantly and leaned forward, beginning to suck obediently, my shame deepening with every slow swirl of my tongue.
Then Mistress's gaze shifted lazily down to me. She gave a soft laugh and said, "Anyway, thanks again for babysitting him last night. You handled him well."
My body tensed. Babysitting me like I was some kind of a liability.
"Of course," Meera replied easily. "He was mostly good. A bit too eager at times, though. Especially when we were talking about you and Mike."
Another laugh. "Was he now?"
Meera grinned. "Oh, absolutely. You should've seen his little clitty twitching in its cage whenever I mentioned you and Mike. It wasn't subtle, it was violent. Like it was trying to escape just to humiliate itself."
The words hit me like a whip. I wanted to look away, to hide but I didn't even have the right to do that anymore. My eyes burned. My face felt like it was on fire. But worse was the way my caged clit twitched again at her words, as if desperate to prove her right.
Mistress leaned down slightly, her voice a sweet mockery. "Did you behave for Meera, puppy? Hmm? Or were you just a little slut desperate for attention?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. But she didn't need my words. The cage pulsing gave it away.
"He's quiet," Mistress told Meera. "But I can see it in him. He loved every bit of last night. Every second of humiliation. Didn't you, puppy?"
I nodded, barely.
Meera laughed too. "Oh, it was fun. I'm still not over how many people took selfies with him in the pillory."
I stayed there worshipping Mistress's feet burning and humiliated. Hard in my cage all over again.
Meera's voice drifted through the phone's speaker, casual and amused.
"You know, I can't stop thinking about that slave girl I saw last night. The one with little bells hanging from her pierced nipples. Every time she moved, even slightly, they jingled. It was adorable. And so humiliating."
Mistress tilted her glass, ice clinking softly as she swirled her drink.
"I think I missed her."
"Oh, you definitely did," Meera continued, "and there was this other one… he had a septum piercing. His leash was clipped right into that ring under his nose. Poor thing couldn't even look up without tugging on it. So helpless."
Mistress's smile curled slow and deliberate, her voice dropping a shade lower.
"I do remember him. That… was so hot. I almost got wet seeing him like that. That's actually hot. Seeing how easily his Domme controlled him with just that. I loved that idea. Almost got wet watching it."
Her words hit me like a jolt. The image she painted; helpless, leashed, pierced, permanent burned in my mind, uninvited. My stomach knotted in a confusing mix of shame and heat.
I imagined myself like that.
A ring through my nose? Something permanent… visible… meant to clip a leash to?
The panic rose like a scream in my throat but so did the arousal.
There'd be no more pretending. No more "just at home." It would be there on my face. Forever.
And my clit twitched so hard inside the cage that I whimpered softly without meaning to while sucking her toes.
Mistress's eyes flicked toward me, sharp and knowing. She didn't need to ask; she could see it. The way I tensed. Her lips curved into that dangerous smile.
"Meera," she said, her tone laced with amusement, "you'll love this, he just got hard hearing about it."
The silence on the line stretched for a beat before Meera's laugh spilled through the speaker, light and wicked.
My face burned hotter. I wished the floor would swallow me.
"God, is there anything that doesn't make him hard?"
Mistress didn't miss a beat. Her smile was audible in her voice.
"I seriously doubt that."
She tilted her head, as if a thought had just occurred to her.
"Wait, Meera… if I remember correctly, didn't you use to do piercings and tattoos? Or am I mixing that up?"
"Oh, you're absolutely right," Meera said, clearly pleased. "I still do them sometimes."
Mistress smiled wickedly.
"Would you do his?"
There was a pause, just long enough to make my heart stop.
Then Meera purred, "Of course, Claire. I would love to."
My stomach twisted. The image slammed into my mind; a cold needle sliding through my skin, the humiliating weight of a ring dangling from my septum, the helplessness of a leash clipped to it. My pulse quickened before I could stop it. I prayed they wouldn't notice.
But she always does.
Mistress's gaze dropped to my locked clit between my legs, her smirk curling into something cruel.
She turned back to the phone.
"In that case, Meera… maybe during your next visit, you could do his septum piercing. I think it would suit him perfectly."
Meera laughed, warm and wicked.
"Oh, I definitely can. I'd be delighted."
Mistress's eyes glittered.
"I just thought of so many ways to use it… I could lock him to the floor ring, head bowed so low his nose touches the ground. Or clip him to the wall ring high enough that he'd have to stand on his toes just to avoid the pull."
A shiver ran straight down my spine. The images were humiliating, inescapable and far too easy to imagine in perfect, vivid detail.
Meera gave a low whistle.
"Damn Claire, that's downright cruel… and ridiculously hot."
I swallowed hard, my mind reeling, knowing that once Mistress had voiced an idea like that… it was no longer just an idea. At the same time, I couldn't stop myself from sucking her toes, each slow pull of my lips a wordless confession that I already belonged to whatever plans she was weaving.