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.
———————————————————————————————————-
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mistress leaning toward Mike, laughing, her hand resting on his arm. She'd see him again. I didn't know what she'd do with him… or to me… but the possibilities looped through my mind like a fever.
And then there was Meera. Last night had proved it, she wasn't just playing along for Mistress's sake. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed me. That glint in her eye when she slapped me, the way she talked about making me a cuckold… it was pure, deliberate cruelty. And what unsettled me most was how quickly my body betrayed me for it.
The weight of the fresh septum ring was still there, a constant reminder that I was marked, changed and had no say in any of it. My life was in their hands and today would be no different.
I reached for the small notebook by my cage and began writing. My morning diary had become less of a choice and more of an instinct; recording my thoughts, my feelings, the humiliations I'd endured and the ones I feared were coming. This morning, Mike's name took up too much space on the page.
The buzzing came. My signal. I closed the diary, locked eyes with the bars for a moment and crawled out. The septum ring tugged lightly as I moved, not painfully but enough to remind me it was there. Permanent.
I padded silently to Mistress's bedroom, my heart already beating faster. The door was ajar, just enough for me to slip in. She was still asleep, one arm thrown lazily over her pillow. I knelt by the bed, kissed her foot, then let my lips trail over the delicate arch before taking her toes into my mouth.
She didn't stir. The taste of her skin, the heat of her foot between my lips… I could have stayed like that forever.
When she finally shifted, I pulled back and lowered my head in greeting. Her eyes opened slowly, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Coffee," she murmured.
I crawled away to the kitchen, already moving through the rhythm of my morning chores.
I finally reached 620 points. It had taken me a long time to earn these points especially since Mistress made puppy corner permanent. I was no longer earning points for sleeping there.
But things had changed.
Since Meera's involvement, the dynamic had escalated so quickly it was dizzying. Mistress was bolder, more public with my degradation, more creative in finding ways to strip me bare. With Meera watching and now participating, my humiliation no longer ended in private.
I wasn't sure if reaching six hundred and twenty points would mean anything to her now. Whether she would even allow me a release… or if she would decide that reward was a luxury I no longer deserved.
But I gathered enough courage to tell her that. Later in the afternoon, I told Mistress that I'd finally reached 620 points. She didn't react with surprise, only the faintest smile, a nod and a simple, "Mhm. We'll see about that later." That was all. No praise. No hint of what "later" meant.
It wasn't until much later in the day that she called me over. The sight of the handcuffs in her hand made my stomach knot instantly. I knelt without being told, the rug warm beneath my knees. The metal clicked shut around my wrists, cold and final.
She leaned forward, unlocked my cage with that same slow, deliberate grace that always made me feel like prey. Her fingers wrapped around me, soft at first, then with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.
She didn't switch on the timer app on the phone this time. That was unusual. I didn't dare ask why.
Her eyes locked on mine. "Do you think you'll ever be inside me again, puppy?"
The question landed like a weight in my chest. I hesitated. "No, Mistress."
Her hand moved in an unchanging rhythm, relentless and measured.
Her smile curved faintly. "And do you think your little clit will ever be inside any woman again?"
That hesitation came slower, heavier. "No, Mistress." The words tasted bitter even though I knew they were true.
She stroked with an unhurried authority, as though my arousal existed entirely for her amusement.
Her thumb dragged slowly across the head, smearing the leaking pre-cum. "Mmm… Meera tells me you want to be my cuckold. Is that right, puppy?"
My throat tightened. I froze, the shame flooding me in hot waves.
Slap.
Her palm cracked across my face, sharp enough to make my eyes water.
"I asked you a question, puppy."
"I…" My voice trembled. I nodded weakly, eyes dropping to the floor.
She gripped my chin, forcing me to look up. "Not good enough. Speak."
The shame was suffocating. "Yes, Mistress… I want to be your cuckold."
Her grin deepened, fingers resuming their slow, torturous rhythm.
Her hand kept that slow, maddening rhythm, her thumb smearing my leaking humiliation over the tip. Then her voice dropped lower, richer, like she was savoring every word.
"I'm not convinced, puppy. Go on, beg me. Make me believe you truly want me to make you a cuckold."
The words hit like a punch to my gut. My heart raced but my throat locked tight. I knew exactly what she was doing, forcing me to dig my own grave, to humiliate myself beyond repair and my body was betraying me all over again.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. The shame burned in my cheeks. "I…"
Her hand vanished. The sudden absence of her touch felt like a plunge into ice water.
Then her fingers tangled cruelly into my hair, yanking my head back so sharply I gasped. My back arched involuntarily, wrists straining in the cuffs.
Slap.
My head snapped to one side.
Slap.
The second blow, backhanded, left my cheek stinging, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Her face was so close now I could feel her breath. "Don't you dare waste my time with cowardice. If you want me to make you a cuckold, you're going to beg for it. Right now."
Her grip in my hair tightened, making my scalp ache. I could feel my own arousal throbbing against her thigh, humiliatingly obvious.
My mouth was dry, my chest tight, every muscle screaming with the conflict between my pride and my desperate, aching need. Her fingers in my hair didn't ease, if anything, they pulled harder, holding me in place like prey under a predator's paw.
"I… I want…" The words tangled in my throat.
"Louder."
"I want… you to make me a cuckold."
Her eyes narrowed. "Pathetic. That sounded like a confession dragged out at gunpoint. Try again, puppy."
"I… please…" I swallowed hard, shame flooding every inch of me. "Please, Mistress. Make me a cuckold. I want you with Mike. I want you with other men. I want to watch. Please humiliate me."
Her lips curved into that wicked smile, the one that meant she was satisfied. "That's better."
Her hand returned to my clit-cage immediately, stroking with a firmer, quicker pace now, my entire body trembling in the cuffs.
A desperate whimper escaped me.
Her strokes sped up. "You're close, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress…"
"Good. Let go."
The command was like a gunshot. My body lurched toward the edge…
Slap. My head snapped sideways.
Slap. The other cheek burned instantly.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Each hit jolted through me, every strike flooding my brain with white-hot humiliation.
I came violently, helplessly against her hand, the cage straining, my orgasm ruined and shattered, spurting in short, humiliating pulses.
She caught every drop in her palm with practiced ease. Slowly, deliberately, she looked at the warm mess she held… then back at me.
Her smile deepened.
Her fingers relaxed from my hair but the hand holding my spurt didn't move. She stared at me for a long, loaded moment, then said, very calmly,
"You know what to do, cuck."
The word "cuck" from her mouth landed like a stone in my stomach. My heart skipped a beat.
Hearing her say it was different. When Meera called me that, it was teasing, goading. But from Mistress, the word didn't just sting, it settled inside me, heavy and final, like a collar clicking shut. It wasn't a threat anymore. It was a future she had already decided for me.
My eyes then dropped to the glistening mess in her palm. I knew exactly what she meant, what was required of me.
I swallowed, my mouth dry as sand. "Mistress… please…" My voice was barely more than a whisper.
Her other hand shot out, cracking across my cheek so fast I barely saw it coming. "Louder, cuck."
Shame burned down my spine. "Please, Mistress," I begged, my voice trembling, "please feed it to me… please let me eat my cum."
That earned me a slow, approving smile. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her palm to my lips.
"Open."
I obeyed.
The first taste hit like fire; salty, warm. My humiliation deepened with every slow pass of her fingers across my tongue, making sure I licked them clean.
She wiped the last trace from her fingers across my tongue, watching me swallow. Then her smile sharpened.
"You'd better get used to the taste of cum, cuck… because you're going to swallow a lot more of it in the future than you'll ever produce yourself. Let that sink in."
My eyes flew wide open. The words crashed through me like a punch to the gut, humiliation so raw it stole my breath and yet heat pooled between my legs instantly. I hated how deep it hit, how it twisted something inside me until the thought of her words coming true made my cage ache.
Then she straightened, her tone turning cool and final.
"Oh… and one more thing, cuck. No more points. From now on, you only earn punishments for not meeting my expectations. No amount of begging or chores will buy you an orgasm. They'll only be given for exceptional behavior…" she paused, letting her lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk "And even then… maybe."
The smirk stayed fixed on her face as the words settled in. My heart sank. My orgasms had already been rare, precious things… and now they were about to become almost mythical. The cage felt even tighter, heavier, as if it understood what she'd just taken away.
Her smirk faded into something calmer as she reached forward, her fingers brushing lightly against my face. She tilted my head, examining the fresh ring in my septum.
"Mmm… healing well," she murmured, her touch feather-light but her inspection thorough, as if she was checking her property.
With that, she stepped behind me, the soft click of metal breaking the silence as she unlocked the cuffs. My arms dropped forward, stiff from being bound but I didn't dare rub them.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me kneeling on the rug; throbbing and reeling from everything she'd just said.