A Femdom Cuckolding Story

Sorry guys, Friday’s fiction is being put off on account of life reasons. Instead, here’s a little short story there’s no market to publish! Yaye, Femdom cuckolding

David looked at himself in the mirror. This was his bathroom, the condo, despite housing two people, was overly gifted in the subject thanks to the current fashion in interior design to build houses with more toilets than asses in residence, giving him the second largest of three. Laura had taken the master bath for herself with a little snort of amusement, and proceeded to fill it, floor to ceiling with all the vast arsenal of femininity, plug in appliances for torturing hair; bottles with chemical lists as long as they were incomprehensible; and things with the word “spa” in the branding. This was on top of her appropriation of most of the bedroom, for a lovely little vanity table with massive mirror and yet more chemical bottles, and a full closet that displaced most of his limited wardrobe.

David, by comparison, restrained himself to cheap cans of shaving cream and semi-disposable razors, though his lack of care meant that more often than not the shaving cream with nicked from Laura, bearing the soothing suggestion of sensitive skin friendly vitamin E and squirting out of the can in an alarmingly bright violet tinted gel. When they had first engaged in the business of making a couple, cocooned into the sticky, gooey months of first love, she’d bought him a full kit, badger hair brush, mug and soap, and a straight razor, but these sat in their box, used twice and disregarded as an idea nicer in theory than practice. Foofery, even the male kind, generally was beyond David’s patience.

If he had to think about his relative masculinity, which he generally tried not to, it was there in full presence in the mirror: Lantern jaw, big calves, bigger shoulders, just the touch of thinning hair. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful. Although the time in the gym was born more out of evasion of a genetic tendency to type II diabetes and the positive effect it had on his mental health, in the twenty-three hours of the day that was not devoted to his sexuality, being a big, healthy looking man was definitely preferable to not being able to shift his end of the couch, and Laura, with her time steeped in gender studies, was happy to point out the nice was the contractors working on their condo jumped when he said frog, and the clients and underlings at work expected and respected steady assertiveness from him.

For the hour a day life was about sex, more of an average than an exact description of his schedule, since he and Laura did the usual vacillations between six hour Saturday morning romps and ten minute self gratification sessions typical in any couple, David pushed a huge part of his self awareness out the window. Balls deep and knowing Laura was enjoying the sensation of fullness did not preclude bedroom talk that ran on the theme of “You piece of shit, why do you think a tootsie roll like that is going to make a woman happy? Don’t you fucking dare cum, you limp dicked fucking pansy!”

The hard part about their sexuality was not getting Laura on board with femdom. While his idea, she’d bounced onto the back of that horse and ridden it further than he’d ever thought possible outside of improbable fantasies, and as shallow as it was, her good natured enthusiasm and own clear sexual arousal with the subject had been a major anchor even where other girlfriends had been more compatible with hobbies and values. About her only stumbling block was cuckolding.

He never pressured her on that, though he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to complain as long as the guy was sane, healthy and made her happy. She certainly talked a good line in bed, and would openly admit she liked the liberty to look. She liked his fantasy of bringing a guy home and him, frustrated, watching while she did what she liked. But the right guy had never come along, she said, and she was just not comfortable screwing a stranger. Very tactfully he’d ask about guy friends, but Larry was the wrong sort of friend; she was pretty sure John would take it the wrong way and really get attached; Troy was doing the true monogamy thing with their mutual friend Rachel; and Peter was just not her type. He had his hopes on Alex, Alex of the six pack stomach and bull neck, alpha he-man demeanor, summer time volunteer forest firefighter, active rotating sex life and carpentry business. But even if Alex was a perfectly happy choice, she was too shy to broach the subject. How the hell would she even ask, she pointed out, hey Alex, my boyfriend would like nothing more than watch while you fucked me, and even more so to serve us both?

Alex’s ability with a hammer and table saw made him the darling of Laura’s burlesque troupe. To Laura, burlesque was reclaiming sexuality for women, and making a space for transgressive erotic sexual performance from a feminist perspective. In David’s mind, Laura was shaking her tits in naught but corset, frilly bloomers and pasties to a very appreciative audience, and getting wet doing it. He liked to think about the men going home and beating off to his girlfriend, and they had a lively fantasy of her getting a post scene gang bang from a bunch of appreciative fans. Meanwhile, in reality, Alex had cheerfully screwed three of the ladies in the troupe, the sexy clown, Fawna; the pole dancing vegan, Mary Lou; and the troupes non-performing seamstress, usually lesbian with a few exceptions. As testament to the general satisfaction he gave women, or perhaps also his good sense in targets, all this had merely led to enthusiastic note comparisons over Mary Lou’s surprisingly tasty gluten free cupcakes. And Alex was a very indulgent lover, all the women agreed, especially the seamstress, whose wardrobe of self made bondage outfits made Laura and David feel positively vanilla.

Now Alex, there was a guy who really fucking went for it, though Mary Lou had to admit his cock was actually a bit too large for her. Knowing that alone was worth more than a few marathon jack off sessions, thinking about Laura lying on the bed, lazy sultry eyes set for her lover, or maybe something gymnastic, Alex’s big hands squeezing Laura’s modest B-cups, carpentry rough fingers chafing and teasing her soft skin and Alex’s cock nailing her. But while she’d join into his masturbation sessions, Laura was stubbornly too demure to ask the real man for the real thing.

As a result, all David could do was keep encouraging Laura with the burlesque hobby, and not complain when she let her end of the housekeeping slip in favour of another evening helping out for the upcoming festival performance. That Saturday morning she’d left David with all of last night’s dishes, even if he’d been the one who made Friday’s dinner, and all the vacuuming, and that meant a combination of sexual frustration and irritation, enjoying being taken for granted while he imagined she was holding up painted plywood while Alex nailed it in place, supple feminine body extended in close quarters, flirting over sawdust, and annoyance at being stuck with the banalities. But when he’d gotten the phone call from Laura, he’d gone straight to the bathroom to shave off the weekends stubble.

“Tonight, make dinner for three people,” she’d said. “I’m getting laid and I’m bringing my own man.”

All that carte blanche had finally paid off. As well as sending his penis from torpid to tumescent, David went on a flurry of extra housework, changing the sheets on the queen bed, despite already having made the switch on Wednesday last, chasing those odd drips that always accumulated by the stove and dropping a fresh disinfecting blue hockey puck into the toilet tank. Laura had promised to be home by six with a bottle of wine, red, which meant swapping out the tilapia for the pork roast. The tilapia was definitely going to need to be cooked tomorrow then, and it might be a little iffy, but he’d have ran out and got filet mignon and truffles if it would facilitate what was coming, and damn the risk of spoiled food. They had condoms, kept for the sex toys, and fresh box too because Laura had just bought them last week, and David teased the hell out of himself, raiding the plastic tote she kept her nice lingerie in. That was part of the fantasy she said she wanted to fill for him, bring home a guy, put on the sexy lacey things he laid out for her, that he was ‘forced’ to pick. He settled on the red bustier because his favourite on her was in the hand wash bag, the black lace and thigh high stockings waiting for when she’d scrub them in the bathroom sink. Washing them for her would have been hot, but there was no time for them to dry.

Instead, he dimmed the lights and put out candles, not lighting the ones in the bedroom yet, because they’d already spent ten thousand dollars renovating the condo this year, and he’d be damned if they burned it down, sultry jazz through his iphone in its dock, a little reminiscent of the sort of thing Laura liked to strip to, and all but sat on his hands until six o’clock so he wouldn’t give in and masturbate.

She came in at six twenty-three, buzzed the number pad downstairs by way of warning, and he was on his knees with her favourite little hitty thing in his mouth, stuffed, maple glazed pork roast wearing a foil hat on the countertop like a particularly paranoid conspiracy theorist; salad tossed beside its bottle of home mixed oil and vinegar dressing; carrots crisp but cooked; bread ready to slice and cheese warmed to room temperature, and his erection trying to climb out and wander off.

Then they came through the door. Laura and… Kelly.

Kelly wasn’t his real name. That was something nobody without an ear for tonal languages ever got right, but when he introduced himself, he said liked Kelly better anyway because it fit him. He was a slender young man, though more likely to put down “gender queer” if you asked him his sex (if not a winking “yes please!”), never left home without nails painted some garish colour, and had an evolving wardrobe somewhere between Boy George and teenage valley girl. He had a dance act that directly followed Laura, body covered with sparkles, gyrating in purple spandex and a corset, and subsided as a career student, traditional family back in Vietnam much happier to see the self identified glamour fairy put as far away from them as possible, at least without funding space colonization.

“Hello David,” Laura grinned. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I need to use your shower,” Kelly said. “I’m not made for hard work and Alex had us holding his great big wood all day long.” Kelly’s sexual orientation was the sort of thing enlightened people didn’t admit they speculated about. Oscar Wilde would have been proud of the lisp he managed. “Oh Jesus, heeeey David!”

“Isn’t that the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen?” Laura said in the same voice she normally used during sex, which is to say, shrewish. “C’mon Kelly, shower’s through there. David, go uncork the wine so it’ll breathe. We want cocktails too.”

David scrambled to his feet.

“Wait, wait.” Laura pointed. “Bring me the whip and don’t forget what you’re supposed to do.”

The script was still there, even if the shock of seeing Kelly had briefly made David forget his part. He could hear Kelly getting the taps going in the master bathroom. Remembering the bit of the fantasy he liked, he deposited the whip in Laura’s hand and kissed the top of her canvas sneakers.

“I’m getting fucked tonight, darling,” Laura said, looking into his eyes. “You know how you said if the mood struck me I should just bring the guy home?”

“Y-yes,” David said. Wasn’t Kelly gay? The confused thought still bubbled up. He wasn’t interested in getting fucked as much as seeing Laura done, but she’d never pushed him anywhere he didn’t want to go yet “Exactly, Mistress.”

“Well, you need to say thank you.” Laura said. “Don’t act so stunned, it was going to happen sooner or later. You deserve it.”

Kelly, for his part, seemed happy with the whole arrangement. The conversation over pork roast was about shoes and postmodern gender, something David had little to add to. He kept finding his mind bringing up the comparison to what he was expecting with Alex. With Alex, Laura was quiet, enraptured with whatever story Alex was spinning, the tale about finding the fawn standing, unharmed in the acres of ash after the big northern blaze, or his time backpacking around Germany when he came into Berlin the day of a massive metal music festival. Laura found Alex fascinating, just like everyone else. With Kelly, Laura led the conversation and Kelly followed, they had the same degree path, but Laura had finished her graduate studies and the younger Kelly was still trying to narrow down a thesis.

The pair of them definitely had some chemistry going on, Laura touching Kelly’s pink and turquoise enamel decorated hand, talking about reality TV now, while David nodded and smiled politely and poured them the wine, and brought dessert, and Kelly clearly seemed to fit into the sort of evening David asked for, though he’d never been rude to David before, or anything other than respectful, there was a little stab of bemused superiority. Laura and Kelly closed ranks and shut him out as the unenlightened rube, armoured by trash television and eyeliner brand comparisons, leaving David the spectator to his wife and her soon to be lover.

After dinner, Kelly went into the bathroom for a moment, taking his messanger-bag-cum-purse with him with promise to return with brushed teeth, and David followed Laura into the bedroom.

“Come here baby,” Laura said. “You seemed a little off over dinner. I want to make sure you’re still on board with what you asked for. I’ve been kinda eying Kelly for quite some time, and when he found out about our little fantasy, I figured, why the hell not tonight, you’d met Kelly, we know he’s cool.”

No. “Yes,” David said. “Would you like me to help you dress Mistress?”

There was the moment of good stuff again, rolling the stockings up Laura’s bare legs, settling the garters just so over her pert ass, seeing her fluff her breasts up into the cups of the bustier while he lit candles in the bedroom, her shaved cunt exposed and getting wet. She daintily stepped into one of her twelve pairs of bedroom only pumps, the ones that needed him to kneel and do up the gold ribbons around her ankles because the heels, even with the aid of the platform, were too high for more than strutting around beside the bed.

Kelly came through the door, grinning wide. “Wowee,” he said. “Look at you!”

Laura gave David a little shove away from her. “You know the rules, the corner. Right there,” she pointed to beside the wicker laundry hamper and David took his place.

He watched everything. Laura stripping off Kelly’s tight lavender t-shirt, kissing Kelly, the man’s hands finding her waist, the pair of them wriggling together until they rolled onto the bed and he saw her fight the fly on Kelly’s low wasted, women’s cut jeans, revealing the orange thong and then Kelly’s uncircumcised prick so she could suck it into her lipsticked mouth.

It was smaller than his.

David swallowed. No more than four and a half inches standing up, an inch and a half smaller than David’s equipment. His disappointment was crushing. And yet Laura didn’t seem to care, she was happy and horny and quickly she and Kelly were trying all sorts of positions, sixty-nine, getting the condom onto Kelly, then first a sort of sideways, leg tangle that switched to Laura on all fours, ass in the air and Kelly fucking her, slender shanks overlaid next to her stocking clad legs, hard like she asked for, her fingers snaking to her clit, flicking and then Laura was coming, which set Kelly off and there was the post coital pull back as his raincoat covered penis emerged from its slot before the falling deflation broke the seal and deposited a load of untested semen into her. In his fantasies David would have loved bareback, but that was another conceit to sanity.

But David didn’t feel good after. He didn’t even feel bad in a good way, none of the less-than-a-man love talk self narrative. He kept imposing his own fantasy of Alex and finding the comparison wanting, skinny, effeminate wimpy Kelly, next to muscular Alex, and then getting mad at himself for being ungrateful. Now the lovers where doing the after sex flop, sweaty, happy. Laura being the woman, recovered faster and brought herself up on her elbows, looking over at David in the corner with a smile. Kelly left briefly to take another shower, and Laura was up in aftercare mode.

“You like that, honey? You didn’t look away once,” she said fiddling the ribbons at her ankles so she could get the heels off.

“Yeah, it was good,” David made himself say.

A wet but dressed Kelly sat on the foot of the bed. He’d dropped that bit of superiority, but there was still a lingering sex link David could feel between Laura and her lover. Laura found her robe.

“Hey, thanks,” Kelly said, his attention on David. “That was a pretty cool fantasy. Always wanted to try being the bull. Of course Laura is fucking HOT too.”

“Yeah, it was hot,” David echoed. It was everything he wanted. Why was something still feeling off?

“You sure it wasn’t for a recommendation?” Laura said teasing. She bapped Kelly on the arm. “Whoring yourself out?”

“No way, I’ve got references from Dr. Lombard and Dr. Oncely,” Kelly shook his head. “As if I’d need any motive to get a crack at you, Laura.” Kelly wasn’t staying the night, but as he left, they talked about the rehearsal next Tuesday, the big one in full costume.

With Kelly gone, Laura went to make herself a cup of tea. As if she sensed something was off, she conceded, “Look at those dishes. I’ll get a start on those.”

“Yeah,” David said. He plunked into the couch and turned on their usually ignored TV. He could hear water running in the kitchenette, Laura spattering herself as she took pork drippings off the roasting pan and rinsed the three wine glasses, clearing away all traces of the meal until nothing was left but a baggie of pork slices in the fridge. David watched the game recap, Spanish soccer player eliminating the Dutch.
“David, are you coming to bed?” Laura asked. She looked at what was on the TV, disinterest slid her eyes away. If it wasn’t small children in beauty pageants or badly behaved wedding proceeding she didn’t watch.

“Later, I’m going to grab a shower first,” David turned the sound down on the television. “Let me know if this is too noisy still.”

He spent another half hour staring at the TV before he got up and went into his bathroom, and took off his clothing. The mirror gave him himself back, in full size. He saw his shoulders and arms, and thought about Alex, turned the water on, and blasted himself with as hot as he could stand. He began to soap himself up, under arms, back, crotch, the crotch turning into a slight self exploratory fondle. He knew the size and heft of his erection. Why Kelly, small Kelly, self described sissy Kelly?

They must have had a lot in common. Kelly probably had more shoes than Laura. Probably liked all the same things. When he couldn’t justify wasting any more water, David stopped the shower and sat down on the closed toilet, looking at the tiled wall. His Laura could have had Alex easily. The only explanation was that she didn’t want him as much as she wanted Kelly. Bare feet on the cool tile, he folded his arms. Kelly and Laura had more in common. Maybe femme wasn’t just what Laura was, but what she liked.

There was a rap on the door. “Honey? Are you in there?”

“Yeah?” David admitted grudgingly.

“Are you coming to bed?” Laura’s voice was almost inaudible.

“Later.” David said, curtly.

“Open the door David?”

David got up grudgingly and unlatched the hook and eye. Kelly was in just her robe now. “Are you okay honey? Really okay?”

There was a pause. Laura had the tenacity of a pitbull when she wanted.

“No,” David said. “This was a bad idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said. There was panic, but also defensiveness. “We should have discussed this more. I thought…”

“No, you should be happy,” David said, petulance welling up and pushing his words out, “This is what you wanted. Kelly is what you wanted, right?”

“But honey,” The hurt uncomprehending stayed, she moved for a hug but he backed up a step. “This is what you wanted, David. I was doing it for you.”

“You…” he began. The traitor mirror on the wall showed him his broad back, the short haircut, practical, not like Kelly’s ever elaborately styled confections. “You didn’t seem to be getting martyred. I was there. Oh, whatever you’re supposed to be happy.”

“David,” she said. “Honey, come on, what is it?” She was starting to cry now. “You need to tell me what this is about. Why didn’t you say something?”

“How can I say anything when that’s clearly what you want?” David gestured,  subconscious waving his hand near the mirror.

“What the fuck…” Laura’s anger seesawed with her empathy. “You fucking detailed out your fantasy. You said you wanted the lack of choice. I told you, ‘what about jealousy?’ and you said it you’d find it too hot for that. Half the time all you fucking talk about is how much you fucking want some other guy to be the one fucking me. If this is some weird after sex Madonna-whore, betrayal bullshit thing I…”

“Laura,” he put up a hand for peace. The last thing David wanted was a discussion on feelings coached in those sort of terms. “It’s late. We’ll talk about this later.”

Don’t go to bed angry was one of the stupid rules they’d jettisoned early on in their relationship. Two working adults didn’t have until the wee hours of the morning to waste on a dispute and for that matter the later the hour the less rational the fight. Besides, Laura held grudges better than any person he ever knew. She stomped back the bedroom, and he took the couch and it wasn’t until Sunday morning at ten, with an uninspired breakfast of Cheerios, before they were talking again.

“Whatever the fuck that was, we’re not doing it again,” said Laura. “I don’t want to perpetuate this dynamic and I want to know what it is.”

“I don’t know,” David said. “Maybe I’m being unreasonable. I think I’m being unreasonable.”

“About what?”

“I was expecting Alex.”

“I don’t really find Alex that attractive,” Laura looked away for a moment. “Uh, not to call you gay or anything, but I think he’s more your type.”

“And Kelly is?” David dipped his head. There was the fundamental problem. “You like them girly. All the guys you had to go for, and I know any one of them would have liked a shot at you and Kelly was the one. ”

“Well, first of all I think you vastly overstate my sexual market value,” Laura said, spooning up some of her cereal. “And I could take or leave Kelly’s gender expression, which, by the way, appears to be just another hetero male, only in sequins.”

“So, why him? I guess he was easy?”David speculated.

“No, I find him hot. Easy wasn’t the issue. Alex actually has made a pass at me.”

“Really?” David didn’t do anything as dramatic as a spit take, but he stopped eating entirely. “When?”

“In the morning. And I freaked out a bit and turned him down. He was like, completely respectful about it, but that’s how Alex gets laid so much. He doesn’t give a damn,” Laura stirred her cereal, oat donuts getting soggy in the skim milk. “So Kelly asked me why I stuck him with most of the work for the rest of the day, and helped out Trinity with the lightshow instead, and that’s how Kelly found out about your… our little fantasy.”

David stayed quiet.

“And I’d been okay with it, right up until Alex asked me. And I knew, the guy gives so little fuck he’d be happy to do it with you watching, but that wasn’t… It was exactly what I don’t like. But I guess it wasn’t any man, it had to be the right sort of man, someone with big muscles and all pushy and yuck…”

“I don’t want this to be forcing you into anything,” David said in protest.

“I didn’t mean you’re pushy. This is the most fuss I’ve ever seen you throw since you had to go to my sister’s bridal shower in Miami and she only paid for my ticket. No, I picked Kelly because he’s not pushy,” Laura spread her hands. “Look, I know what I like, I like a man who lets me have my way.”

David looked across the table at her, “but still, why Kelly? Why is he attractive to you?”

“I don’t have a ‘type’. Walter was fat, Marc looked like he had no neck from all the muscle and John had to check into an ED clinic while we were dating. All that told me was I couldn’t do crazy and I don’t like Robert Frost. What I do like is a man who does what I like and Kelly is remarkably easy going. Not like Alex who just walks in and rules the room.”

David started to say something, but Laura cut him off. “I like a man like you, David. Who gives me what I want. And it’s taken so long to find even something close to another match, well, hell, a slightly decent match that didn’t make me cringe, I leapt on it. So if this is about dealing with detached masculinity or something we can keep trying, but if you’re going to wig out I don’t want to play. Damn it David, you scared the tar out of me. I’m not going to fuck Alex, but if you want we can try to narrow down a better fit and…”

“That’s okay Laura, sorry.”

“Ah, what the fuck, we all have our baggage. But next time you earn it. We need another usher for the festival, so cancel Friday night squash and we’ll start talking a bit more realistically about what you’re actually trying to ask for.”

Go on, say what you think!

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