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  • _altText31 Aug 2013

SHOPPING SPREE

SHOPPING SPREE

by Throne

I was sitting in my big recliner, in front of the TV, watching a cooking program. My wife Rhonda no longer allowed me to watch sports or any reality shows which involved rugged activities. I was feeling sorry for myself when she strolled in and said, "It's just amazing what you can find to buy on-line, isn't it? I honestly didn't think I would find this great retro lingerie. Pretty cool, huh?" As I turned my head I was stunned to see her gorgeous full curves fitted into a bright pink bra with the cup ends cut out to show off her jutting nipples, as well as matching panties that were crotchless to display her shaved mound and pouting pussy lips. I stammered, "B... but, honey, wasn't that stuff expensive? And, I mean, it looks great but... well... when will you wear it? You know, now that we're not, um, having relations. In the bedroom," I finished lamely.

She gave me a broad smile and said, "We can certainly afford it because I called your boss, Mr. Evans, and he'll be happy to give you more overtime. In fact you're working all day tomorrow, at Saturday wages." I said in a shaky voice, "W... weren't we going to do something together? You and I?" Still wearing that bright expression she said, "No, not now that you're on overtime. And since you're going to be busy, I thought I'd take up our new neighbor on his generous offer to show me the restaurant he invested so much money in. Mr. Grant -- Tom -- says we can have a light lunch and then maybe do something else fun. All I have to do is phone him." My distress must have shown in my face as I desperately went on, "But, when you met him at our stockholders' party, I mean, he almost stripped you naked with his eyes." She shrugged, making her big bust ride up and down attractively. "Well, as you say, we're not -- um -- having relations." Her hurtful imitation of me made me feel even worse. But Rhonda had been calling the shots since before we wed, so I just sat there as she went on, telling me, "And since you can't do your job in the bedroom, I'm free to find my good times elsewhere."

For a moment I couldn't catch my breath. What was she saying? Did she mean...? My wife saw the unasked question on my face and amplified, "What I'm saying, since you're too slow to figure it out by yourself, is that if I want to jump into bed with Tom, that's exactly what I'm going to do." She paused, obviously savoring the shock and upset I felt. Then she reminded me, "Hey, you're the one whose dick is too small. And you're the one who shoots off way too soon. And, most importantly, you're the one who won't go down on his own wife." I licked my lips nervously and finally managed to say, "But, honey, we're married. You have to be faithful to me." As soon as I said it I could hear how foolish my words sounded. A beauty like her could do whatever she pleased, while a short, weak, unassertive drip like me didn't have any bargaining power at all. My chin met the top of my chest and I couldn't even bring myself to look at her. The best I could come up with was, "I hope you'll reconsider what you just said, dearest." She chuckled and responded, "Reconsider jumping into bed with Tom? Okay. Maybe we'll do it on the floor. I know he has a fantastic luxury apartment and I'm guessing that he has really fancy, deep-pile carpet. Can't you just see me lying on it, naked as can be, with him on top of me, his big cock pumping in and out of my pussy?"

That was when I started to cry. It was the last reaction I should have had. All I was doing was reinforcing my wife's negative image of me. But I couldn't help it. She had cut me off from sex over a month ago. While Rhonda was uninhibited enough to buy herself several vibrators and use them freely, even announcing what she was going to do and inviting me to kneel outside the bedroom door and listen, I was too shy to even think about touching myself. The though of masturbating was impossibly humiliating to me. I will admit, however, that I couldn't resist taking her suggestion and lurking outside the bedroom while she pleasured herself with those devices. Not only could I hear them humming and her sighing, purring, and moaning, but she would also become quite vocal.

"This is what I need," she would say. "A good hard eight inches. Not like my wimp of a husband, who only has half of that. What woman would want a skinny four inch dick? And this thick beauty can go on for as long as I want. Not like the loser who's out in the hall (she must have heard me whimpering), who squirts before he's even inside me. It's soooo frustrating to want sex and have a man -- or maybe I should say little boy -- who barely touches my sweet pussy before he loses control. What woman wants to have cum on the outside of her box... but nothing inside? I am much happier with my collection of toys. This one is getting me all wet. Sloppy wet. Soon I'll be loosened up enough to take my extra fat, Red Devil model. Or maybe Big Black. It's a good thing hubby can't see my like this, on my back, knees up and spread apart, enjoying the closest thing to a real man that I've had since our wedding. If he got a look at my face, all flushed, my eyes half closed, my lips slightly parted, it would probably give him an attack of jealousy. Hah. Jealous of my plastic lovers. Worried because they can give me what he can't. Poor inadequate husband."

So there I was, trying to stop the flow of tears, knowing how foolish I must look, remembering my experience in the hall, while she got herself excited by imagining a date with wealthy and handsome Tom. I was sniffling and wishing I had a tissue to blow my nose when she decided out loud, "I'm going to give him a call. He was nice enough to give me his number at that party and I was smart enough to put it into my phone." She gave me a challenging look and said, "Go get my phone off the kitchen table." I gawked at her in that incredibly wicked lingerie, my heart racing and, despite the circumstances, my small penis rising. She wanted ME to fetch the phone. It was a lowly task and I would be facilitating her plans to call for a date. She wanted to manipulate me, to prove how helpless I was. All I could think was that maybe, if she got this crazy desire out of her system, we might be able to have sex again. Some day. I suppose that sounds illogical but try to understand my situation. I mean, what other choice did I have?

I hurried off to bring her the cell phone, which she promptly flipped open so she could hit a pre-set number. I winced as she happily held it up to her ear. He might not answer but that would only delay what I could now see was the inevitable. There had been plenty of chemistry between them when they met and I knew they both wanted to go further, go to the limit. Her bright emerald eyes got wider as she said, "Hello. Tom? Hey, stud. I've been meaning to call you. About us getting together like you said. My husband? Mr. Nothing?" She laughed. "He's sobbing because I told him how hot I think you are. Listen." She held the phone toward me and said, "Let Tom here how weepy you got when I told you that you're no good in bed." Her words stabbed deep into my pride and, without wanting to, I made a strangled sound that triggered uncontrolled bawling. She let Tom get an earful of that before resuming their conversation, walking away from me far enough that my noisy performance would be only faintly audible to him.

By the time I regained a semblance of control she was finalizing plans to have lunch with him but not while I was working overtime. Instead they would go out Sunday at noon. That would give me more time to anticipate her infidelity. I began to quiver violently. She made a loud kiss, with her mouth almost touching the phone, and then said goodbye. I fell apart and clasped my hands in front of me, begging, "Please, Rhonda, don't go out with him. I'll do anything you say." "Really?" she considered, showing interest and lighting a spark of hope in my mind. "Anything? You'll eat my pussy? Whenever I say?" The thought of doing that made me feel ill but I managed to nod agreement. She said cheerily, "Fine. We can find out how far you can push your tongue up my slit." I said shakily, "Now?" "No, you idiot. After I come home from my date." "B... but I meant... if you didn't go out with him... that I would do..." She shook her head and pointed out, "I'm making the terms of this deal, lover boy. I go out on my date and afterwards you can try to win me back by going downtown and staying there until I'm convinced you're willing to do what it takes. And that you'll do it whenever I get the itch. I'll be your bitch with an itch." She laughed at her joke. "And depending how the date and your follow-up effort to redeem yourself go, I'll decide what happens next. Or do you think I should go back to your tiny dick and premature, immature, no-fun-for-sure style of sex?

I was defeated. She had no interest in me as a traditional sex partner and Tom could offer everything I lacked, plus plenty more. I crumpled to my knees and looked up at my stunning bride, at how those wild underthings showed off her amazing figure. All I could say was, "Yes, darling. Whatever you say. You'll go on your date and when you get home I'll... do that... for you." "You'll do what?" she asked, suddenly all innocence. "Let me hear you say it." "I'll... perform... oral sex." "That sounds like something out of a sex manual. I want to hear you say it dirty. Come on, hunk. Get me all juicy with dirty talk." I swallowed uncomfortably and said, "I'll eat... eat your... pussy." When she just kept staring me down, I went on, "I'll use my tongue and... put it inside you and... lick up and down... and suck your clitoris." She sighed and said, "You were doing pretty good until you said clitoris. I mean, you should have used 'clit' or 'love button' or whatever. But it's a start. Maybe tasting my snatch, every day, will inspire you to talk dirtier than that."

I was still reeling from all that when she announced, "Saturday, after you work your overtime, we'll go to the mall and do some shopping. You can help me buy everything I'll need for my date with Tom. Won't that be fun?" I felt miserable but was able to sound neutral when I told her, "Yes, sweetheart. It will be nice to get out and do something together." I'm sure she understood how stressful everything she was putting me through was, but I'm also certain she wanted it that way and was getting an extra thrill from making me squirm. Getting into bed with Tom and tormenting me were both important to her and each one added to her enjoyment of the other.

All too soon I had my unwanted overtime behind me and returned home for our shopping trip. Rhonda had enjoyed a delicious dinner and insisted that I only had time for a sandwich. She told me there was liverwurst and raw onions and a garlic roll waiting for me. Those were three things I never ate, three things I hated, but she was plainly expanding the range of my mistreatment to include this meal. I reluctantly made the sandwich, all the while repelled by the strong odors. She had also bought me a bottle of sauerkraut juice (where did she even find that?) and a plump smelly pickle. Rhonda sat opposite me at the kitchen table and made sure I ate and drank every bit while she savored the distaste on my features. When I had forced it all down she rushed me to get ready to go. After I had hurriedly changed, I mentioned brushing my teeth, or at least rinsing my mouth, but she pinched my ear and led me to the door.

With my wife driving, we were soon at the mall. My stomach kept rolling and I had to repeatedly suppress belches. Rhonda made a bee line for an expensive upscale shop where she selected a designer bag. When I was appalled by the price she reminded me that my boss would be happy to continue providing overtime. She also chose flashy earrings and a matching bracelet. ($$$!). Her purchases went into a fancy plastic shopping bag which, naturally, I had to carry. Feeling numb, I followed her to the next store she wanted to visit which was, to my horror, a lingerie shop. Rhonda delighted herself, feeling the filmy materials, admiring the frilly lace, noting the sheerness. She was in panty paradise, nighty nirvana, half-cup heaven. All I could do was watch as she ran up a staggering bill. Two more bags were added to my burden. Finally she visited a chic boutique and treated herself (on my charge card again) to three hats. As we left there I was struggling with a trio of hatboxes added to my previous load. People eyed the comical figure who tried to balance all his wife's purchases. I heard snickering. There were remarks but -- perhaps for the best -- I couldn’t make out the words.

At home I was treated to an impromptu fashion show. Unhappily for me, my bride kept up a running commentary, speculating on how much Ted would appreciate each item. By the end I was badly rattled and hornier than ever. The knowledge that everything I had paid for was to arouse 'the other man' had me completely distressed. At the end of her performance she came to me -- in a pink baby doll with a froth of feathers around its bottom -- held my face between her soft hands, and gave me an air kiss, which was a frightening hint of what I could expect -- constant stimulation without intimate contact. All I had to anticipate was my face being between her smooth thighs, where I didn't want it. She reminded me of my upcoming oral obligation ("You gave your word.") while I was eating a snack, which never ruined my appetite. She insisted that I finish the food I had taken. My stomach felt awful. I said disconsolately that she shouldn't talk about me using my mouth on her, not while I was trying to enjoy my food. Rhonda joked that after she had made me eat her pussy for her long enough, I would 'develop a taste' for it. I didn't think so.

Sunday arrived. She had me get naked and told me I would be staying that way until her return. Then I had to assist her in getting ready, another indignity to add to my growing list. When she showered I had to get into the tub behind her to wash her back and legs and then, while she giggled at how sexually agitated the act was making me, her full round bottom. I actually groaned in frustration and she commented that I shouldn't be getting her turned on that far in advance of her lunch date. Next I had to help her get dressed. She didn't need my aid but wanted to make sure I saw the seductive, high-cut panties she donned, as well as the black satin bra. Then came a garter belt and silk stockings. Rhonda wondered out loud if Ted would damage any of those delicates when he hurried to take them off her with his large strong hands. I mumbled that I hoped nothing got ruined. She said, "Well, with his huge cock he's going to ruin me for ever settling for a mini-dick like yours." My chin trembled as I saw my hopes for a second chance growing ever more distant. Finally she did her cosmetics, using a light touch, put her hair up into a bun at the back of her head, a style that showed off her neck. Satisfied with all that, she slipped into a short dress that hugged her generous curves, and had me zip it up. Then she added an earring and bracelet set I had watched her purchase. She decided against wearing any of the expensive hats she had bought. It was a curious feeling to see her so stylishly presented while I was still shamefully naked. She focused on my crotch and, on a whim, ordered me to go and shave it bare.

Feeling completely under her thumb, I did as I was told. The effect was startling. With my small genitals and now an absence of hair above them, I appeared less masculine than ever. She chortled and threatened to have some of her girlfriends over to see how unimpressive I was down there. I couldn't tell if she was serious or not. Soon it was time for Ted to appear. She made me accompany her to the living room, where I had to crouch at her feet while she sat comfortably. The doorbell rang and I almost jumped out of my bare skin. Rhonda stood up and swept past me. She glanced back and said, "Go on, hide behind the easy chair." Grateful for permission, I secreted myself in back of the bulky piece of furniture, cowering there as she opened the door. I dared to peep out and saw Ted, even more commanding than I remembered him, dressed in a fashionable sport coat and slacks, with a shirt that I knew he hadn't bought at some department store.

My bride stepped close to him and tilted up her chin. He leaned forward and let his lips touch hers. She pressed herself against him and he took the obvious signal, wrapping his long arms around her and delivering a long forceful kiss. She held onto him and melted. I can't describe how ashamed I was to be crouched like that, hiding, bare-assed, while a superior man took physical possession of my wife. But I stayed where I was while they alternated soft words with hard kisses. I could see how she was responding, her full bust pressed to his broad chest, her hands on his back, the top of her long leg insinuating itself between his thighs. I even saw an impressively large bulge form at his crotch. He was as well endowed as she had been saying, and then some. I was totally outclassed. In every way. His watch was a Rolex. His shoes were, I was certain, imported. I sank into a heap as they exited. Before the door closed my wife called back, "When you're done hiding behind that chair, husband dearest, there's a list of housework for you to do on the fridge. And remember, you are to stay totally naked, like you are now, for the entire evening. I want to see your slender pink body and that pretty shaved crotch when I return. Which might be rather late." The door closed and I stuffed my knuckles into my mouth and fought to keep from crying.

There were plenty of chores for me to complete. I had to dust and polish, and push the carpet sweeper. There were dishes to be hand washed, even though we have a dishwasher. And the drawers from the refrigerator to be taken out, emptied and scrubbed. Every time I handled those cold compartments and their contents, I was reminded of my nakedness. The final task was to completely clean the master bathroom that adjoined our bedroom. She had made a note that I had better be thorough in case Ted wanted to use it... afterwards. I shuddered at the possibility of her inviting him into the bedroom we shared. She had left me cleaning tools. A pink plastic dishpan to fill with hot soapy water, and an oversized yellow sponge to use to wipe everything down. There was also a very small brush to use in the toilet bowl and a toothbrush to scrub around the base of the commode. After I had started with the toothbrush I realized it was mine. I labored all evening until almost midnight, when I heard the front door open. They lingered in the vestibule. I was sure they were kissing and extending their goodbyes. Perhaps making plans for another date. But at least she didn't invite him into our bedroom. I had that single consolation to cling to.

She called for me and I meekly approached her. Rhonda was a bit disheveled, a satisfied smile on her pretty face. I told myself that maybe they had just enjoyed making out, and hadn't gone all the way. I was in denial, she proved when she opened her handbag and pulled out those high-cut panties. In a voice full of mischief she reminded me, "It's time for you to make good on your offer. You know, the one about doing whatever I said. Which is eating my pussy. Whenever I want. Which is right now. Wherever I please, which will be on our marital bed." I dared to ask her, "But if you... you and Ted... made love..." "We didn't make love, stupid. He screwed me till I couldn't see straight. And I gave myself to him completely. I mean, I had my legs wrapped around him and I was hollering for more, more, more. I couldn't shut up about what a failure you are at sex. And that big-cocked bastard gave me the fucking of my life and then, before I could fully recover, he was ready to go again. Except that the second time he did everything at half speed, making me beg him to speed up at the end, making me promise to suck him off and lick his balls and be his total slut. I wish you could have heard me. I really do. Maybe next time I'll call you and leave the cell open on the nightstand."

In the bedroom I had to undress her, which got me stimulated, even though I knew I wasn't going to get any release. She stretched out on the mattress on her back and had me get a pillow -- mine, of course -- to slip under her well rounded hips. With the center of her femininity slightly elevated, I had to position myself with my face inches from the place Ted had so recently penetrated. Twice. His spunk was all over the insides of her thighs and on the small area of pubic hair she kept, just above her slit, and on her puckered labia as well. More of the sticky whiteness threatened to leak out of her. My throat was tight as I extended my tongue and got my first taste of his salty ejaculate. I gagged a bit but then began licking in earnest, eager to please her, fearful of losing even that limited access to her body. She purred and gave me a few basic instructions. Rhonda liked to have me suck gently on her clitoris. It was humiliating to have to clean up the mess left by her new lover. What could be more emasculating? Even so, I lapped and swallowed.

She began to respond, murmuring that the orgasms he had given her had been fantastic but that now she wanted some milder ones, the kind I could provide with my obedient mouth. My cheeks grew hot with shame as I slurped up the juices that her rising excitement produced, along with more of his spunk. She ground her pubes against my lower face. I got caught up in the act, thinking only of proving that I could pleasure her, if only in that unappetizing and submissive way. I was overcome by the need to maintain some sort of connection with her in bed. I tongued her closer and closer to a climax, at last putting her over the top. Wordlessly, her voice rose and fell. At last she settled down. My wife whispered one word to me. "Again". I started over, more relaxed by then, feeling less revulsion and more devotion. I was being pulled down in a whirlpool of obsession and surrender. She had me under her spell and I sensed that the power she was exerting over me would only grow stronger.

That was two weeks ago. She has been going out with Ted every few nights since then. On their third date they stayed at our home and had loud vigorous sex on our bed. So much for my one consolation. I had to kneel in the hall in case they wanted me to run and get them anything. It was like when I used to listen to my wife working out with her vibrator selection, except that now she had a capable untiring man in there with her. I was utterly beaten. After they were done I had to scurry to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and two glasses. They drank a toast to 'love and great sex'. I stood by, trying not to stare at my beautiful bride and the man who had taken her from me. His spent cock was draped across his thigh and, even flaccid, it was larger than my erections. The couple shared tender kisses which eventually grew heated and led to a second round to spirited intercourse, this time with me forced to watch. Afterwards, while Ted napped, my wife made me lick and suck her pussy clean. I even gave her a mild orgasm, the only kind I'm capable of producing. The entire time I had my head between her thighs I was scared half out of my mind that Ted would wake up and see what I was doing. He didn't but I'm sure that eventually he will witness that ultimate shame.

My sex life is now extremely limited. Mostly my wife likes to make me play with my shrimpy dick while she rhapsodizes about Ted's sexual prowess. I stroke and stroke but, when I show signs of approaching ejaculation, she snaps at me to stop. There have been hints that I will eventually be permitted to resume having orgasms but that they will be ruined ones, probably from having to let go on my little peter just as the moment of climax arrives, or they will be thoroughly humiliating, maybe with me bent double in a jackknife posture, my penis aimed at my open mouth, so that I will shoot straight between my widely parted lips. Or, she has even said, she might combine ruined orgasms with that disgraceful scenario or something just as bad... or worse.

Ted treats me like a joke, which I know is what I am to them. They tease and taunt me mercilessly. I am sure my situation will continue to deteriorate and I can only wonder how low I will be made to sink. I am a cuckold with no hope of regaining my sexual rights. But what else can I expect when I have a laughably small dick that squirts way too soon. I suppose I'm lucky to have what little they allow me. One other thing. I seem to be getting addicted to all the bad treatment and sexual slavery. I still hate every second of it, but my body responds and I equate all the abuse and misuse with some perverse form of fulfillment. How much worse that will become, I dread to imagine.

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