A gay story: From Husband to Houseboy Ch. 08 My story and originally published elsewhere. All characters are of legal age/18+.
This story is about dominance, cuckolding, chastity, being a houseboy, and consensual romantic inequality. If that’s not what you’re into, move on to another story — there’s no need to kink shame, moralise, or express your disapproval of these dynamics and fantasies.
This is a bit of a transitional chapter with a bit less action and more setting the scene for the rest. It’s still full of Ds dynamics, though.
—–
After an amazing orgasm, hands down (or, should that be: hands behind my back) the best orgasm I ever had, he left me unlocked for the night and for the trip back. It already felt wrong and I had to fight the urge to either touch myself or beg him to lock me back up. The first few weeks back home, he didn’t keep me permanently locked but I was under strict orders not to touch myself. In the end, I locked myself and asked him to keep the key, confessing that without that level of security I was just finding it very difficult to fight the temptation. Every time I thought of him or our honeymoon, I just had to fight the urge to touch myself, but I knew I would not forgive myself if I did.
It was odd to have to return to the daily grind of work, social obligations, etc. The first few times we met up with friend was especially difficult. I couldn’t help but wonder whether people knew I was not so much Oliver’s husband as his houseboy and slave. Could they sense something had changed? I made sure to be submissive and obedient but tried to do so without it being too obvious. I let him order for me, I made sure never to interrupt master. One of the nights in a bar with friends, I was locked and I couldn’t stop feeling like somehow they knew. When I needed to use the washroom, I made sure to go when there was no one else and used a stall. Master Oliver assured me that no one noticed anything: “How would they know you’re locked, and your slightly-but-not-openly submissive behaviour is really not all that different from who you always were.”
I realized he was right. The submissive streak had always been there. It was only more evidence that I was always made for this role, I thought. Part of me was even wishing now that our friends would know. When I was sitting with them, I felt that it would be humiliating and degrading if they knew. Walking home with Master, however, I felt like it wouldn’t so much be a humiliation as a liberation a chance to be who I really am openly. Of course, over the years many of our closest friends came to know about the real me. No one was surprised, and I never felt judged. It was a liberation.
Of course, those first weeks back were a matter of finding the right balance between living a life of kink and living regular lives. I did most of the household chores and all the cooking, which wasn’t really a big departure from before, but since I had a job to hold on to it was hard to do all of it without working myself ragged. So, Master Oliver continued to help as needed. Eventually, I would go to part-time and even later quit my job to be able to focus on being His (later Their) houseboy, but we weren’t there yet. I did enjoy doing the housework, also in a non-sexual, non-kinky way. It just felt good to know I was doing my part in making him happy and making our household work. And, when in doubt, I always wanted to err on the side of doing more. The role of the 1950s housewife just wanting to make her husband happy and comfortable really did suit me quite well.
My submissive tendencies were also increasingly brought out by not cumming. I just wanted to wear my cage more and more, and whenever He gave me a chance to cum I was tempted to decline. I loved staying horny and chaste for him, regularly being teased and edged. Especially wearing my cage to the office made me drip precum like crazy. All I could do locked in the office was think of him and how I could be a better boiwife for him. The first day I wore my cage to work, I could barely concentrate on work. Luckily, it eventually became more routine as we could not afford me getting fired at that time.
That is what was happening from my perspective. As for Master Oliver, well I cannot speak for him, of course, but I could tell that he enjoyed having his submissive husband fully embrace his role of houseboy. He’d come up behind me as I worked in the kitchen, play with my always-sensitive nipples or grope my ass; he’d have me welcome him home after work with a drink and worshipping his feet, sweaty from a long day at work; he’d order me around and inspect my work cleaning the house. He’d find reasons to punish me, but usually playfully rather than brutally. In the end, Master Oliver is more dominant than he is sadistic, though he’s certainly not averse to making me suffer and cry when appropriate — he also knows I get a rush out of pain even if I’m not very masochistic.
Of course, the multiple-daily crazy fuck sessions we had on our honeymoon could not be the norm. We were back in the daily grind and unfortunately that meant that we couldn’t spend half of our day having sex. I did make sure to always be available to him and I usually woke him up with a blowjob and coffee. Regularly, however, he did not have the time to allow me to finish. He’d push me away and say he needed to get ready. I’d have his breakfast ready and would lay out his clothes while he showered. My commute was shorter than his, so I was able to take care of his needs before he left and could then get ready myself and still be on time. Similarly, I could get dinner started and do some chores before he came home, so that I was ready to welcome him properly with a drink and a snack in a clean house. It became a comfortable routine quite quickly. I enjoyed being his submissive boiwife; he enjoyed having his chaste houseboy take care of his needs and be desperate to please — so desperate!
After work, he more often had time to use my body for his pleasure than in the mornings. However, that did mean that he used me for sex much less than I know he needed to fuck. I wondered whether he had already started dating other boys. He hadn’t yet told me anything, and of course he didn’t need to. Dating whoever he wanted was his prerogative and none of my business if he didn’t want it to be. Yet, he also had no reason to hide anything. I wondered but it was not my place to ask.
That was until one day, over dinner, he showed me some pictures of a young gorgeous boy at work. He told me all about him: how they hooked up practically every day. This way, he can still cum several times a day even if there’s no time for us in the morning. They are both vers, so some days Master would suck off the boy or let the boy fuck him, other days it would be the other way around, or they’d switch. They found a floor in their building that’s mostly deserted due to renovations and use the washrooms there for privacy. He showed me pictures of the boy on his knees sucking the dick that’s no longer just mine to pleasure, as well as pictures that the boy must have taken. It was so odd to see my Master on his knees sucking a boy ten years younger than me, and of course with a much nicer dick than me. He then played a video from Master’s POV, his legs in the air on an empty desk “This was after everyone had left” and the boy pounding my Master’s sacred hole.
He propped up his phone as we both watched. I bit my lip and was dripping precum like crazy. I couldn’t think of anything hotter I had ever seen, yet it was also disorienting. It was so strange to see Him bottom!
“How does watching this make you feel, boy,” he askes as he rubbed his foot against my straining cage.
I was so sensitive, the touch of his feet almost made me shoot a load — surely, it would have been a pathetic little load, but still.
“It is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Sir. But, it also feels strange. I find it so hard to think of you as anything but dominant and a top. But, that’s what makes this so wonderful. I am so happy for you, Sir, even if there’s still some lingering jealousy. Don’t worry, Sir. I know it’s wrong to be jealous; I should be fully committed to your pleasure, and that includes having your vers needs fulfilled. I know I cannot and will never be able to do that. So, I love that you’ve already found somebody to do this for you.”
“I think it’s sweet that you’re jealous, boy. This isn’t meant to be easy. We’ve been together for so long, it’s bound to feel strange knowing that I’m having fun with others while you’re kept chaste. But, don’t worry, it’ll soon become second nature.”
“I’m sure it will, Sir. May I ask a question, Sir?”
“Of course, boy.”
“Does he know you’re married? Does he know about me?”
“He does, boy. I told him all about you and how you’re locked and begged me to cuckold you. Unfortunately, and this is why I brought this up, he’s a little old fashioned and is getting uncomfortable with the dynamic. He still thinks of it as cheating and thinks it’s wrong.”
“I am so sorry, Sir. Would you want me to help you assure him that it’s OK?”
“No, he’s made up his mind, which means I’ll have to find somebody else. And, I want you to help me with that. After all, no one knows me better than you, so who better to screen men for me?”
He went on to explain that he wanted me to set up dating profiles for him and help him screen men. He wanted to make me complicit in making me into his cuckold. He wanted me to take an active role in my own cuckolding. It was such a hot thought. He also insisted that we’d be upfront and open about the nature of our relationship, so there’s no surprises like with the boy in his office. That should include a picture of the two of us: him in a nice expensive suit and me kneeling by his side, naked, collared, and locked. I would be outed as a submissive, chaste cuckold to any man with a dating profile in the city. I knew I’d be scrolling through the profiles of men at my office, knowing that they’d now know the truth about me, as I’d be screening men for Master Oliver. The thought alone made me drip like crazy.
After I eagerly agreed to play that role for him, he bent me over the kitchen island and fucked me hard. I came so close to cumming from anal stimulation alone, but I didn’t quite get there. However, after he bred my pussy, he unlocked me and got me right up to the edge, telling me what a good boy I’ve been, asking me whether I want to cum. I was torn: of course, I wanted to cum, but I also wanted to be a good and chaste boy for him.
– “Yes, please, Sir!”
– “Do you think you deserve it, boy?”
– “I hope so, Sir! But, in the end it’s your decision, and you decision only.”
– “That’s right, boy.”
As if to remind me of the fact that he decides, he stopped right before my point of no return and grabbed the base to keep me from getting over the edge. I was sooo frustrated! So wonderfully frustrated! He smirked and looked me in the eyes: “I can see the desperation in your eyes, boy. I love it!”
He then leaned in, kissed me passionately and tenderly, and as our lips parted, he said: “You’re such a good boy, and I love that you’ll eagerly help me turn you into a cuckold.” He started slowly jerking me off again as he told me about how he looks forward to making love with other boys that I’ve screened for him, and alternately kissing my lips and biting my nipples as he talked me through how humiliating and frustrating it will be for me.
It wasn’t long before I shot a huge load, so intense that I had to steady myself in order not to fall off the kitchen island. I kissed him and thanked him for allowing me to cum so intensely, and for having me kept frustrated for so long to make this experience so much better.
It was the first time I came since our honeymoon! It had been weeks. Once again, one of my best orgasms ever came as I listened to how he’d cuck me. It had barely started and I was already hooked on it!
He told me not to worry about the dishes and he cuddled up on the couch and watched a movie. If anyone had seen us in that moment, they could almost have mistaken us for a regular vanilla couple. He kissed me and said: “Sometimes it’s nice to just have some non-kinky romantic time like this. Never forget how much I love you, even when I’ll be making love with numerous other men.”
“How could I ever forget?! I feel and experience your love every day!” I didn’t call him Sir that time, he didn’t seem to mind. He held me tight, and his strong arms and manly smell just made me happier than I could ever remember having been.
As always: to be continued…