punished cuckold
punished cuckold husband

Punished Cuckold Husband story

 

 

  

The Edge of Darkness  2

by Wayne C. Rogers

 

 

"I'm so proud of you," Danielle said as she tenderly kissed my back and shoulders. "I've always been impressed with how much pain you can take. You deserve something special for this."

 

I felt my wife's gloved hand touching my shoulders and then a finger tracing its way down the middle of my back and over my sore buttocks. Her finger stopped for a moment, then gradually moved between the split that separated the two mounds of muscled flesh and probed the area around my anus. I jumped as her finger began to slowly enter me.

 

"What is it, darling? You seem a little agitated for some reason."

 

I groaned with indignation as her finger worked its way deeper into my rectum.

 

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

 

The gag successfully muffled the sounds of my protestation. I knew it was her infamous middle finger, and that she was pushing it right up to the last knuckle. I tried to pull away from this humiliating intrusion, but the leather strap and cuffs checked my progress. Danielle sodomized me with her finger for nearly five minutes, alternating the speed and pressure of the strokes. Some of them were slow and easy, while others were hard and fast. It wasn't long before the stimulation of my prostate gland caused the sounds from my mouth to become less indignant and more wanting.

 

"You like this, don't you, darling?"

 

I shook my head in false denial.

 

"Your hard cock tells a different story," my wife stated.

 

She was standing on the right side of me with the middle finger of her left hand embedded within my rectum. As Danielle kept up the stimulation of my prostate, she started to whip my buttocks with fast, furious downward strokes of the cane, using her right hand, and putting a lot of muscle behind each cut. She'd push her finger all the way into me and held it there for a few moments, while delivering four or five swifts cuts. Because she had already paddled my bottom good and hard, the cuts with the cane were even more excruciating. My groans, however, were now a mixture of painful agony and sexual heat.

 

My wife was probably twenty cuts into the second part of the caning when she suddenly stopped what she was doing and removed her overly active finger from my orifice. Then, leaning down close to my head again, she said: "Anthony made love to me four different times tonight, and I haven't cleaned myself, yet. I put on a maxi-pad before I left his apartment." A long moment of silence followed as I digested her words. "Think about what your reward is going to be after this is finished."

 

I understood exactly what she was saying.

 

"You do want to service me like a good slave, don't you, darling?"

 

I nodded my head.

 

"The last five cuts across your bottom are going to be unbearable," she warned. "I want you to earn the special treat my lover has left for you."

 

For a husband who desires to be cuckolded by his wife, nothing is more powerful than the act of performing oral sex on her after she has had intercourse with her lover. Not only is this particular act still a taboo subject in today's society, but it's also one of the most arousing and profound fantasies a cuckold can have. When a husband is made to taste another man's semen between his wife's legs, it truly signifies his complete submission to her in a way few other acts can. My wife understood this and used it to her full advantage so that her own fantasies and secret desires could be fulfilled. As I said before, we were perfect for each other.

 

As the next cut of the cane tore into the flesh of my bottom, I found myself wanting Danielle to strike me harder, to give me a sweet taste of what she was really capable of doing. I attempted to lift my buttocks up to meet the descending piece of wood, straining against the leather strap across my lower back.

 

"The whipping is starting to feel good, isn't it?" she asked.

 

I moaned through the gag and then nodded my head in affirmation.

 

"Do you want me to cane you harder?"

 

I nodded again.

 

"I love you," my wife stated as she increased the speed and force of the remaining cuts. "I'm starting to get excited myself."

 

I'm not ashamed to admit that when the second stage of the caning was over, I was crying silently to myself. It wasn't as much from the pain that gripped my lower torso within its delectable clutches, but rather from the sense of euphoria I was experiencing. This was one of those times when fantasy and reality actually blended together into an aura of profound sensations that threatened to engulf its participant, explaining why there are so many submissive men and women in the world today seeking this kind of erotic play. Once experienced, it's nearly impossible for a person to return to what many people refer to as vanilla sex.

 

A minute or two passed and then I unexpectedly felt Danielle massaging my back and shoulders with her gloved hands, helping me to prepare for the final twenty-five cuts of the cane. I knew that they would be the worse. The fleshy part of the body (such as the buttocks and the back of the thighs) can endure larger amounts of pain without severe trauma being done to the body. A person's back, however, is an entirely different situation. Damage can be done, and the pain is always intense. If caution isn't used, permanent marks can be left on an individual's back. The person administering the whipping has to be skilled, knowing just how hard to strike the body and where to position the blows. The lower back is always avoided so that injury isn't inflicted upon the kidneys. Twenty-five cuts to the upper part of the back would severely test my endurance.

 

"Do you know why Anthony made love to me four different times?" my wife asked, kneading the muscles in my shoulders, working the knots of tension out.

 

I shook my head.

 

"He got really turned on by something I said." Danielle stopped what she was doing and leaned back down as if we were conspirators who were plotting to kill the king. "I told him that you were going to eat me out when I got home and that I wanted to make you knew how well he'd fucked me."

 

I sighed softly to myself, wishing that she hadn't told her lover about this part of our marriage. It would now be difficult to face Anthony whenever he came over, realizing that he knew my darkest desires. He would probably look at me with an element of contempt in his eyes and a knowing smile upon his face, feeling a sense of superiority over what my wife required of me. It would take him weeks, or even months, to understand that Danielle and I loved each other with a love (to quote Poe) that was more than a love. Our actions as man and wife, or Mistress and slave, were but extensions of this dynamic that joined us together in a lifetime bond. The fact that both my wife and I enjoyed it when I performed oral sex on her after she'd had intercourse with another male didn't make me less of a husband, or a man, or a human being.

 

Danielle, intuitive as always, sensed a sudden change in my mood. "Are you worried about Anthony and his image of you?" she asked.

 

I nodded my head.

 

"Don't be. Anthony is envious of our relationship. He'd trade places with you in a heartbeat, if he could. Both of you are the most important men in my life, and I wouldn't let either one of you hurt the other. I hope you understand that, darling."

 

Her short speech helped a little.

 

"Still," she continued. "My young lover did get excited by the thought of what I was going to have you do. I believe he wanted to let you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he did an exceptional job of pleasing me tonight, if you get my drift."

 

I clearly got the drift and once again felt a strong sense of sexual desire for Danielle, wanting to place my head between her taut legs and please her in a way all submissive husbands should be trained to do.

 

My wife moved away from me. A few seconds later, I heard her swishing the rattan cane through the air. She was warning me that the rest of the whipping was due to commence.

 

"Remember the reward you'll receive, if you can make it through the last twenty-five cuts," she stated.

 

I breathed deeply through my nose and thought of the four times Anthony had ejaculated inside my wife tonight. She had put on the maxi-pad out of consideration for me, wanting to save as much of his semen as possible, desiring to see the two of us joined together in an act of intimacy that others would surely frown upon. I wanted to taste her lover and to know that a part of his body had been buried deeply within her womb, satisfying her with his potent manhood, bringing her to a level of sexual ecstasy that I'd only dreamed about.

 

The first cut of the cane struck the middle of my back. I clenched my eyes beneath the blindfold and bit hard into the rubber penis.

 

It was too hard!

 

The next cut crisscrossed the first one, leaving a burning sensation that was like a branding iron pressing into my skin.

 

My hands tightened into fists.

 

The third cut came quickly, striking in the exact same spot as the first one had. I arched my upper back, twisting it in agony as the pain flashed through me. It was worse than I'd imagined.

 

When the cane landed a fourth time, I moaned out loud, suspecting that I wouldn't be able to last. Danielle gave me a moment of reprieve and gently caressed my tortured back with her hand. I was breathing too fast and was afraid of blacking out. The cuts were much harder than the ones my wife usually started out with for the back. I didn't know why, and it worried me.

 

"You can do it," she said with encouragement.

 

The fifth, sixth, and seventh cut from the instrument of reparation came in swift succession, hitting me higher on the back than where the first four cuts had landed. It reminded me of molten lava dropping onto exposed flesh. I jerked frantically at the leather cuffs around my wrists, futility trying to break the bonds that held me in such dismay to the whipping bench.

 

The next five cuts were even harder and more brutal and carried me to the every edge of darkness. I found myself unable to ride the pain. For a moment or two, I didn't even know where I was. The only thing I could think of was escaping the torment that presently filled this block of time. I cried at the agony my wife was putting me through, wanting it to stop. There was no way I'd be able to endure the rest of the whipping. Still, I hesitated in giving the safety signal. A part of me didn't want to disappoint the woman I loved and worshipped. I felt it was important for me to live up to her expectations.

 

But, oh, the pain was terrible.

 

Cuts thirteen, fourteen, fifteen and sixteen overwhelmed me with the ferocity of their attack, taking me across the shoulders and upper back. I jerked more wildly at the cuffs that bound my wrists and screamed through the gag in my mouth. It was time to admit defeat…to surrender…to end the suffering…to beg my Mistress for mercy. As I was about to snap the thumb and forefinger of my right hand together, the caning suddenly stopped.

 

Was relief in sight?

 

I didn't know.

 

I could, however, sense Danielle stepping around to the front of the bench and then kneeling down close to me so that she could say something important.

 

"Do you have any idea how badly I want to feel your face cupped between my legs?" she asked softly. "All I've thought about tonight is the sensation of having your skilled tongue inside of me, probing and searching for the seed of my lover, tasting it, and finally eating it as a just reward for the amount of suffering you've had to endure for my pleasure." Silence lingered in the air as she considered what else to say. "We both want this to happen. Don't let the pain get the best of you, William. Hang in there for me and for yourself. Let me see what an exceptional slave you are. But, keep in mind that if you give me the safety signal, there won't be any sexual reward for you tonight; plus, I'll make you sleep in your own room. I know you don't want that to happen. In fact, I think that would be a far worse punishment than what you're experiencing right now. Don't you agree?"

 

I gave her question the careful consideration it deserved, debating the pros and cons of what I'd achieve and what I would be giving up. It was a difficult decision to make. I didn't really want to disappoint my wife. Still, the pain had proven to be too much to bear, I wanted it to end. I knew Danielle well enough to understand that the last few cuts of the cane would be the hardest. She'd want to carry me past my imagined threshold of pain and into an entirely different realm of agony. It wasn't something I was in the right frame of mind to experience.

 

I finally shook my head.

 

"That's too bad," she said. "I was hoping you'd put the needs of your Mistress first, but I can see that's not going to happen. I suppose the time has arrived for me to make a little confession. I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say because it's important that you're aware of this before we go any further."

 

Puzzled by her statement, I lifted my head up so that I could hear more clearly. I found myself suddenly curious, knowing there was nothing she could say that would change my mind about giving the safety signal once the caning continued. As it was, I didn't think I'd be able to make in to class on Monday.

 

"Listen closely to what I have to say, darling."

 

Danielle had my undivided attention.

 

"Giving me the safety signal won't save you," she said with a touch of amusement in her voice. "You can snap your fingers all you want, and it won't stop the whipping. I'm going to give you all twenty-five cuts of the cane. Do you know why?"

 

I shook my head as the meaning of her words hit home.

 

"Because I want to," my wife stated. "Whipping you brings me a great deal of pleasure, and I'm not going to allow you to ruin tonight's fun."

 

I felt as though the axe had just dropped.

 

"The only thing you'll actually accomplish by giving me the safety signal is losing out on a night of unbelievable sexual pleasure." A pause, then: "I can't believe that you're willing to give that up to avoid a few more cuts of the cane. Snap your little fingers all you want and then miss out on the delicious nectar of my wonderful lover. The choice, however, is yours."

 

How could Danielle do this to me? I thought. It was an act of betrayal that cut me to the bone. I couldn't believe that she was going ahead with the caning, knowing it would destroy the trust that was between us.

 

"It's time to finish up what we started," she said matter-of-factly.

 

I jerked frantically again and again and again at the leather cuffs around my wrists in a crazed temper tantrum, arching my back in a hopeless effort to break away, shouting undecipherable words through the gag. All it did was cause my wife to laugh, and that only made me madder!

 

When the cane landed across my shoulders with a sharp, fast cut, I didn't cringe from it, or vainly snap my fingers in a hopeless gesture. I roared my contempt like an angry lion that is being held at bay against its will. Each cut of the cane only fueled the fire of my rage. If the gag hadn't been in my mouth, I would've yelled at my wife to do her worse, defying this woman to break me, taunting her with my desire to meet this betrayal with an inner strength that would surprise her.

 

The rest of the cuts came quickly and harshly, leaving marks on my body that would still be visible in the weeks to come. I met each strike of the cane with dignity and fury. Danielle could have given me fifty more cuts and it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference. There was nothing she could do me that would hurt any more than the wound already inflicted upon my heart.

 

As the last cut of the whipping was delivered, I demanded with loud grunts and the rattling of the cuffs that I immediately be released.

 

My wife, of course, ignored me.

 

I felt like the actress, Glenn Close, in Fatal Attraction when she confronts Michael Douglas, telling him that she won't be ignored. I heard Danielle walking up the pedestal to her throne. She sat back down and lit another cigarette. I don't know how much time passed. It was certainly enough for a second cigarette and for me to finally quiet down. Eventually, I laid my head down on the vinyl padding and felt the tension of the last hour gradually leave my body. I probably dozed off for a minute or two, because the next thing I knew, my wife was kneeling in front of the bench, talking to me with a note of anxiety in her voice.

 

"Are you all right?" she asked, gently shaking my shoulder.

 

I lifted my head and nodded.

 

"I was worried."

 

Worried?

 

I didn't believe her for a single moment!

 

"Let me take the blindfold off," she said.

 

I felt her unsnap it from the hood and then watched as she removed the penis gag from between my aching jaws. It was a relief to finally be able to see again and to get a mouthful of precious air. I stared at Danielle as she unlocked each of the wrist cuffs from the wooden legs of the bench, knowing she could see the stark anger in my eyes. After all, I am a Scorpio, and the eyes are the windows to my soul.

 

I expected my wife to be apologetic and to act sorry for what she'd done to me, but to my surprise she started laughing.

 

"I'm sorry for laughing at you," she said, undoing the last wrist cuff. "I can't help it. If looks could kill, I'd probably be dead now."

 

"You betrayed me," I said accusingly.

 

"No, I didn't," replied Danielle. She unfastened the leather strap from around my waist, then moved to the rear of the bench and unlocked the ankle cuffs. When that was done, she untied the leather cords from around my penis and testicles. The pain in my groin area, as the circulation returned, took my breath away. "If you'd given me the safety signal, I would've immediately stopped the whipping. You know that I'd never risk any harm coming to you."

 

"But you said that you wouldn't stop the caning under any circumstances," I protested, playing the role of a wronged martyr, wanting my wife to say that she was sorry for what she'd put me through and to mean it. "It was a deliberate act of betrayal."

 

"It was an act," she explained, "but not of betrayal. It was the only way I could get you to finish out the whipping. I knew you were about to cave in from the pain, and I didn't want that to happen. So, I told you a little white lie."

 

"You lied to me!"

 

"Yes, I did, and you took the whipping marvelously. I'm so proud of you, William. I wish I had it on video. You were arched up like a fighting cobra, daring me to do my worse. I desperately wanted to stop the caning and kiss you for your brazen display of defiance."

 

"Really?'

 

"Yes, darling."

 

I slowly eased myself off of the bench and stood up. My muscles felt as if they'd experienced an hour of intense electro shock. Danielle had to assist me in taking off the leather hood. If she hadn't, I would have been in the dungeon all night fooling around with the damn thing. After the hood was removed, she stepped over to the candles and blew out the bright flames. As we walked out of the dungeon, she put her arm around my waist and guided me down the hallway. My legs were kind of wobbly, and I felt like an old man. The trip up the stairs proved to be a little more difficult, but we eventually made it.

 

Once we were standing inside her bedroom, my wife led me over to the king-size bed and maneuvered me onto to it so that I was lying on my side. It would be awhile before I'd be able to sit or to lie down on my back. I didn't know how I was going to teach the Aikido class on Tuesday afternoon at UNLV. Since Danielle held a second-degree black belt in the martial art and was qualified to teach, I'd probably let her handle it. The male students in the class loved being thrown around by her, as well as being placed in an arm and elbow locks. She liked taking the young men to the mat and making them beg for mercy. I suppose it had to do with her dominant tendencies. Anyway, the whole thing seemed like a good idea as I watched her disrobe and then remove the maxi-pad from between her legs. Even though my body ached all over and I was filled with exhaustion, I still managed to get a sizable erection at the thought of what was getting ready to happen.

 

 

Danielle smiled with evident satisfaction when she came over to the bed and saw my erection jutting out in front of me. "I can already tell that the whipping wasn't hard enough," she stated. "I probably should've left the leather cord tied around your cock and balls."

 

"I'm a quick healer," I said.

 

"I'm curious," my wife continued as she climbed onto the bed beside me. "Did you really think I'd allow you to be seriously injured?"

 

"The pain had driven me to my limits," I answered. "I didn't think I could take any more."

 

"But, you did."

 

"Yes."

 

"I should give you another whipping for thinking so poorly of me."

 

"It's your fault for lying to me," I said.

 

"Your mouth is going to get you into trouble," Danielle warned. "We'd better put it to use before you say anything else."

 

I grimaced and then rolled my eyes.

 

"Get over here," she commanded, moving to the center of the bed and making herself comfortable. "Now!"

 

I obediently crawled over to her.

 

"I want you to first kiss my feet and then beg for the pleasure I'm about to bestow upon you."

 

"Do I have to?"

 

"There's that mouth again," she said.

 

I quickly lowered my head to her feet and began to diligently kiss them, reveling in this simple act that honored the woman I loved. I then begged my Mistress for the pleasure of worshipping her in the manner she demanded and that I secretly longed for. She slowly opened her legs and guided my head to the junction of her body, the source of all mystery, lifting her pelvis upward to meet my lips, whispering for me to do what I was best at…to satisfy her in a way that Anthony couldn't.

 

  

  

  

  

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