Master Oliver seemed overjoyed to hear me say these words, he even shed a few tears of happiness. He grabbed the leash that was still attached to my collar from earlier that night and pulled me in for a deep, tender kiss. He held me close and said: “I am so glad to hear you say this, boy. In truth, I was hoping, and kind of expecting, that you’d say that. I had already long planned to start cuckolding you, and to hear you confess your fantasy, it just confirmed to me that this is the final piece in the puzzle for our happiness.”
Now it was my time to choke back some tears, and say: “You deserve that sort of happiness, Sir. You compared our relationship to a 1950s traditional household, and that’s where I got my inspiration. After all, the quintessential 1950s man of the house is Don Draper from Mad Men, and he gets to sleep around with whoever he wants! I cannot think of anything more beautiful than me being your 1950s submissive and obedient housewife, while you keep me in line and sleep with whoever you want, Sir.”
After this tender and emotional moment, he told me to get back on my knees, and said it was time for something I had truly earned–‘the hard way’, he emphasized. He bent over to unlock my cage. I hadn’t seen my dick in two weeks! Every time he unlocked me to clean, he blindfold and cuffed me first. As he started telling me about how much he looked forward to turning me into a cuckold, he started stroking my dick with his feet. He told me to keep my hands behind my back. He told me how he’ll make me watch but not touch, how he’ll introduce me to strangers as his cuckold and houseboy and make me show off my cage to ensure the men that I’m no threat. I got rock hard in no time–sure, it had been forever, but it was also because I was listening to one of the hottest fantasies I could ever imagine, and I realized that it would soon become reality! It was when he told me that when I’d be a really good boy, he may allow me to eat their loads out of his ass that I could no longer hold back.
Breathing heavily, almost in a panic because I just realized I should probably ask for his permission before I shoot what feel like it’ll be gallons of cum over his feet, I begged him for permission to cum, with urgency and desperation: “Pleaaaaasssseee Sir!”
– “Yes, boy! You may cum!”
As soon as those words were out of his mouth, I shot what must have been the biggest load in my life. I bent over; I spasmed from the intensity; I practically screamed thanking him. The spurts kept coming–were there four, five, more?!
I collapsed. A few seconds later, he ordered me back to my knees: “Now, boy. One more thing before you can spend the night in bed with me–you can wake up early and pack our bags tomorrow. You made a mess, so clean it up.”
What better way to cap the last night of our honeymoon than licking up my huge amount of cum–my one load to his… who knows how many?–from his feet and from the floor?
I fell asleep so happy and exhausted, knowing that this perfect relationship only continued getting better.
To be continued…