Gromet's PlazaTG/CD Stories

House Punishment

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2020 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; FM/f; cuckold; blackmail; cd; sex; hum; mast; reluct; XX

[Editor's note: this story deals with dark themes and severe emotional and mental abuse; be warned and only read on if the topic appeals!]

This story is in a new style for me, an interview. It's a stand alone work from the male perspective encompassing a subject near and dear to my kinky heart, constructive criticism is always welcome. I don't intend a sequel, but I have left the door open to one if there is interest, the other side of the story as it were.

Continues from

Chapter 2

“So anyway, Beth and Derrick come home together - to our home - around five thirty, a full half hour earlier than I expect them. I have already cleaned the place from top to bottom, changed the sheets, and even done the laundry and put everything away neatly as if my in-laws are visiting from out of town, but this isn't quite as bad as it seems as we ordinarily kept the pace quite tidy anyway. I am dressed business casual by then, I want to give a good impression, not one more accurately indicative of my perceived inferior status. I'm wearing an apron though, Beth's apron, it was a wedding gift for Beth, a gag gift from one of her wealthy friends as she doesn't really like to cook. They had people who did that for them when she was growing up, and I've always had the feeling that she sees cooking and cleaning as beneath her, but I accept that as just who she is. Beth's a very pretty, sexy, and desirable package, but I realized by that point not a truly perfect one...

“I've worn that apron more often than she has, it started out as a joke between us during our first year of marriage; as I got home earlier and many times cooked dinner for the both of us. I also realized that it's at least possible that Beth lingered at work, or even the company gym, rather than coming straight home, so as to avoid having to cook too. I let such little lies pass, I didn't mind cooking for her, nor truth be told, doing all manner of things for her. In any event, the apron's not entirely feminine, but quite far from being overtly masculine, and nothing a proper chef would wear either.

“It has a practical purpose though, it's keeping my nice clothes clean as I prep for dinner, although I haven't put the steaks in yet; the ones that I bought at the butcher's on my way home from dropping Beth off at her new boyfriend's place. I could assume Derrick might like his beef as I do, medium, but a proper chef would also ask, as I intend to, emulating the perfect host that Beth has demanded of me in exchange for her happiness. It's a devil's bargain, but I take it, as I'm still infatuated with her, and I want her happiness pretty much no matter the cost.

“I am however startled to turn around a good half hour early to see my Beth, dressed in a stunning shirt dress and heels that I've never seen before, and freshly showered with hair and makeup looking perfect, like a model. She's followed through our front door by a hulking mass of a man, perhaps seven years or so older than both of us, this presumably Derrick. The two are dressed in complementary fashion, but still make an odd couple. Beth looks absolutely tiny while standing in front of him, my mind going in a predictable sexual direction, and my little monster once again making himself painfully known under my dress slacks, or trying to.

“I've done it again, several times over the course of the day between cleaning and laundry, foolishly draining every last ounce of reserve masculinity from my body at a time when I needed it most, all while fantasizing about the two of them alone together, doing who knows what. I've further injured myself in the process too, to the point that I'm bloodied, and it hurts to move around, but I have bigger issues at the moment.

“I come to the instant conclusion that this massive hulk of a man is going to physically destroy my tiny Beth, if he hasn't already. I can't stop the pictures from forming in my mind, nor of the resultant collateral damage to her compact little body afterwards. Size isn't something I've really ever been self conscious about, being completely average in that department in every way, but in this man's company I feel sexually inferior, although I have no idea if he's that big all over. I'm obsessed thinking about his size though, it's all consuming for me!

“He looks me up and down in a smiling, dismissive inspection, taking in the apron as well that I hadn't the time to remove as I had initially planned. He shakes my hand firmly while Beth handles the introductions, but not crushing my average sized hand in his massive one, although he easily could have. He gets points for this, but it's the last points that I can honestly award for quite some time.

“Beth introduced him as her wonderful dance partner, Derrick Bartholomew, and me as simply Jim, not James as she ordinarily calls me, nor even 'my husband Jim.' I hate the nickname Jim, and Beth knows this, Derrick forever called me it from then on - at least until a better name came along - her subliminal taunt not missed by me in the least. I have no polite way to correct this now with this monster of a man, and Beth knows this.

“I consider retaliation in kind, calling her by her given name, but I can't bring myself to do this, and Derrick most certainly already knows what she liked to be called anyway. To do so would be seen as childish, and I was trying to stay above all that as I still wanted Beth back after she got this... whatever it was... out of her system, and all could then go back to normal for us once again. That was still my hope at that point, as unlikely as this now seems; that there would be a more normal 'after' to all this insanity for us at some future point in time.

“Derrick even seemed like a nice enough guy, had he not been the one seducing my perfect little wife, that is! I had made the boyfriend suggestion initially though, and Beth had enthusiastically followed up on it, so in the big scheme of things was this really Derrick's fault, or Beth's? He, at the same time, radiated something, a power if you will. He was in my house - well actually Beth's house - for like less than a minute, and it felt like he already owned the place. He wasn't rude, yet, it's just an energy that he had about him, I felt it, and I guarantee Beth did too.

“'Was she drawn to this kind of power now?' I asked myself. I was certainly not the most alpha of men myself. But, Beth didn't seem to like those kinds of aggressive men other than as brief dance partners, at least she hadn't back when we were dating. And perhaps even more importantly, her parents didn't seem to like men like that either. Men like that were after a single thing, and Beth was quite the looker too, drawing them in like moths to a porch light on a summer's night. But, this man was considerably different than I, and I saw the natural interest for her - abstractly - in something new and different. As strange as it sounds, had Derrick been an exact copy of myself, I think this would have somehow hurt more.

'Can I get you both something to drink?' I ask, first of Derrick, then toward Beth; I thought the gesture incredibly polite, bearing in mind the course of recent events and the reason for Derrick's presence in our home to begin with.

“'Yes, I would like a gin martini with a green olive,' Derrick replied, though conspicuously absent was the word 'please'. Had 'I' been at a restaurant, or even a bar, 'I' would have said please, and I suspected he would have as well. That meant that this outwardly nice man was treating me as something less than even an anonymous waitress, and I noticed this veiled taunt for what it was. 

“'And I would like a nice port, to go with our beef,' Beth chimed in just as coolly, as if she too were now talking to a waitress, perhaps even a less than good one as she followed Derrick's lead. The problem was, I didn't have a port in the house at the moment, and I had never made a martini in my life. We didn't even own any martini glasses, but Beth knew all this. She watched me squirm, knowing the conditions she had set forth for Derrick's first visit to our home, and I was failing miserably, despite my selfless intentions otherwise.

“'I could always run out and get what we need?' I asked of the both of them, thinking they would politely relent on their wishes and accept something I did have in stock. My tone hinted at this, I hoped, but Beth wasn't having any of it, her straight lipped disgust and piercing stare I think the most hurtful part of this so far. Not to be outdone, Derrick chimed in, telling me the specific gin he preferred. I thanked him, although for what exactly I wasn't sure, the words driven from my lips by sheer submission alone. I would need martini glasses too, and the recipe for the other ingredients, not to mention Beth's favorite port that had been sold out locally the last time I had looked.

“'Put the food in the fridge,' Beth barked, 'I'll keep Derrick entertained until you get back,' she then added softly, seductively. I missed that 'come hither' tone from her, but that had ended well into that first year of marriage. It was back now though, but apparently not for me. I then watched Derick whisper something into Beth's ear, her eyes then boring into my own like a cobra about to strike it's deadly blow.

“'Just one minute', Beth conditioned in her firm no nonsense tone, reserved for me exclusively. She dragged me bodily towards our bedroom as an obviously amused Derrick looked on. Once inside she let me have it, telling me I should have foreseen this and had what we needed already here. She was pissed off at me like never before, and she was the one going outside our marriage with Derrick... It was hypocritical insanity.

“'Derrick and I both agree, there must be consequences, and that apron will do, for a start, as your house punishment uniform of service to us, until you can somehow make this right again. From now on you will wear it whenever Derrick is around, so that he doesn't feel threatened by your presence, so that you know your place too. But, he graciously doesn't want you to have to wear it out shopping either, so he has agreed to allow you to wear something under your clothes, something that reminds both of you that he has nothing to fear from you in any way.'

“'WHAT?' I asked, and wondered what had gotten into her. What did that hulking man have to fear from me, he was here to steal MY wife? It made no sense, but almost none of this did.

“'You heard me! You're going to put on what I give you, and you're going to march right back out there and thank him for them, and then you're going to apologize for your rudeness and sloppy preparations for this dinner. You only get one chance at a first impression, and you've blown this one terribly.' Beth's index finger, with it's perfectly manicured nail, wagging in my shocked face the whole time. 'Maybe, just maybe, he'll give you a second chance, but I don't know that I would!' she then tells me, her words having special meaning, but I wouldn't discover this until it was far too late.

“I didn't know what to say, Beth had never cut me down like this before, sure she was critical of my household skills lately, and at times my cooking as well, but not so much so that she wanted to take over any of it herself. I had disappointed her, something I never wanted to do one single time during our marriage, and I would do anything to make this right between us again, as crazy as this now sounds.

“She then handed me a pair of thick panties out of her drawer, likely a pair I had put in there in the first place. 'Put these on!' she commanded with her new no-nonsense tone. I was shocked, but still unable to resist, I felt like a helpless robot under her control. Derrick was sure to be listening to all of this too, my value as a man sinking fast before not only her eyes, but his as well. 

“I strip off my apron and everything below my belt, and she then notices my tiny abused little soldier, shrunken and emaciated from far too much abuse, bloodied and raw from it as well. He looks like he lost a fight, a knife fight! She looks at it more closely, zeroing in on it critically, and then up at my face with slacked jaw horror. I've nothing to say in my defense. She surely knows what I have been doing to myself, and maybe even why, and I'm mortified, thinking I might keep this one dirty little secret to myself, somehow!

“She then goes into our ensuite, coming out with a panty liner, which she hands to me while admonishing me not to stain her panties with my raw oozing self. 'This can't possibly get worse,' I foolishly think, but she then snaps a picture with her phone, and another once I get the panty liner - an actual first for me - situated and pull everything up. My fate is now complete, no matter this small detail. I'm crushed, wondering also if she can possibly know that I've tried on some of her things in the past, while I was down doing the laundry for her with her not home, just to see how such things felt on my naked skin. I put that thought aside, my life unraveling before my eyes, secretly trying on my wife's bras and panties the very, very, very least of my problems at the moment.

“I go to put my slacks back on, but Beth steps on them with her spiked heel, preventing me. 'You will go out there and apologize... just like that, so that Derrick can see what you're wearing for himself,' she commands.

“'Like this?' I was begging and almost in tears by that point. I was so embarrassed, surely this stunning woman couldn't be this merciless and cruel, even to a complete stranger, let alone her husband. 'How can both of these attributes naturally exist in the same body?' I ask myself reasonably, such a stunning and sexy package, powered now by a dark and corrupted evil black heart.

“'You're right...' she tells me. I feel so relieved, this the first mercy I had received from her since this whole sordid affair had started. Some semblance of reasonable behavior surely must follow, ‘...lose the shirt too, just your apron and panties this first time. I can't imagine you acting up any further with Derrick looking like THAT!' she spits out, that last word spoken with raw disgust and contempt oozing from her pretty painted lips.

“I'm frozen, I can't believe this is actually happening, it's all like some kind of horrible nightmare, and I only have to wake to set things right again.

“'...Unless you want me to share your pictures with friends and family?'

“...Had I an ounce of remaining masculine courage I might have taken Beth's phone from her hand and smashed it, and then thrown Derrick from my home, but it really wasn't MY home, and the bedroom door wasn't closed either so that Derrick could easily listen in. A few seconds after I had smashed Beth's phone, Derrick the beast-man would have been in there, hearing the commotion and smashing me just as easily as I had Beth's phone, and shortly thereafter I would be the one thrown from the house, possibly while wearing only my apron and panties as the neighbors looked on...

“'It's blackmail then,' I realized, do as she tells me, as Derrick tells me too I'm sure now, or all manner of bad things will happen. If my stated goal was to keep this adultery shamefully secret until Beth came to her senses, any resistance would have the complete opposite effect, and my Beth would be gone forever.

“I don't say a word for fear of bursting into tears, but I strip off everything as she wishes. She knows she has won, and what lever to use going forward to move me in any direction she now desires. She smiles at me, but not affectionately, more pathetically I should think. I put my apron back on as well, that and 'my' panties my ad-hoc uniform of choice, and what I must now wear to greet and properly thank Derrick. Not only for stealing away my wife, but for the very panties he has 'allowed' me to graciously wear when in his presence as a reminder of his superiority.

“I walk out into the living room once again, my remaining masculinity left behind with my male clothes in our bedroom, as if I don't deserve either. My eyes are moist and downcast, as it's impossible to feel anything but inferior dressed like this, most especially in the presence of another man. When I get near Derrick I look up, not because I want to, but because I have to, less a picture get sent and everybody I know finds out how easily this man has subdued and taken from me that which I cherish most. I see it in his triumphant eyes, and hear his own phone's shutter sound telling me he too will have this new power over me, a digital image of my emasculated self now permanently also his, to do as he pleases with. He obviously sees victory, but an easy one over an unworthy inferior competitor, and therefore perhaps a somewhat unsatisfying one for him. His look says it all though, despite the easy victory, he's getting laid tonight, and I'm not, with the further connotation that I might not be getting laid ever again.

“I feel like I'm unworthy of having sex ever again, certainly with a woman like Beth, and certainly while dressed as I am. I have been reduced to being a tool, an emasculated thing good for cleaning and cooking only, sex with something like they have so easily turned me into unfathomable. To add to this emasculating effect, the panty liner, along with the tight and thick time-of-the-month panties I'm also presently wearing, have the effect of crushing my emaciated guy parts flat, giving me more the profile of a natural woman, but this too somehow feels fitting now.

“I rehearse in my mind what I'm going to say to this new dominant man in my life, charging myself not to rise to any challenge, although this looks near impossible dressed as I am. I must remain properly humble and contrite, less he whispers in Beth's ear again, and they collectively make a further example of me.

“A handshake just wouldn't cut it for this second 'first' meeting, so I instead bowed my head submissively, apologizing in a soft tone for my earlier rudeness, and for not properly anticipating both his, and Beth's desires, drink-wise. 

“'One must make allowances, Jimmy,' Derrick offers magnanimously, in his powerfully loud and confident tone, although while using the adolescent version of my nickname that I liked even less than 'Jim.' He just stood there, taking me in, in my apron and panties, his smirk not quite hidden. It was as if he were gloating, or perhaps instead waiting for something else to happen, some other 'shoe' to drop...

“It was an unsettling feeling, although this was but one of many, my troubled mind in sensory overload and I feeling like I wanted to curl up someplace and cry. Still, bearing in mind his drink preferences that started this latest catastrophe, and Beth's, I found myself politely asking to be excused from his presence, in my own home, to get dressed and find what I apparently needed and should have anticipated at the liquor store. This way the delay in presenting my dinner would be a slight one, I still focused on this original goal of Beth's, although this would also prove to be foolishly naïve.

“‘Jimmy, there's a store way out in Bowmont that'll have everything you need, but you best get to it, Sport, they close at eight.'

“'Sport?' Could there be a more demeaning term he could have used? He's already won, why spike the ball in the end zone? Sport, as in ‘good sports lose graciously,’ but doesn't that also mean that the winners don't taunt the losers, losers like me?

“'Bowmont? Surely there must be a closer one?' I asked, but it came out sounding like a whine, very unmasculine, but matching my state of dress and sudden need for tears perfectly. I was left wondering how this man, who was supposedly new to town, would pull a store in Bowmont - way out in the country - out of his proverbial hat. There was no good way to get there either, other than driving through the city, both ways, the traffic would be terrible at this time.

“'I'd prefer you go to the Bowmont store Jimmy, and I'll give you my number, you're to text when you're almost back here, in case we might need anything else while you're out. The front door WILL be locked, and I don't expect you to come through it until you're invited, until I say so Jimmy. As a matter of fact, leave your house keys here so you don't forget... Do you understand what I'm telling you Jimmy?'

“I understood quite clearly what he was telling me, this epiphany of mine both sudden, and unwelcome. This entire charade built around drink preferences was not only to find a good reason to punish and further demean me, but to also find a reason to have me leave my own home, for an extended period of time. Now I even had to ask permission to reenter my own home, undoubtedly because Derrick had planned this whole time to consummate his own new relationship with my cooperating adulterous wife, in our very own marital bed! He could have easily made love to her - seduced her - at his own place instead, all afternoon long if he so chose. But, Derrick the devil had instead sadistically devised this elaborate scheme so as to have me out doing his mindless bidding, WHILE he was making love to my wife Beth this first time... breaking her in. AND, in such a way that I couldn't possibly NOT know what he was doing, what they were doing.

“I felt like such a fool, an unworthy one. And through it all Beth just looked on, not with sympathy, nor compassion for her suddenly pathetic husband, but instead with barely concealed lust. This emasculating abuse was actually turning her on, I knew the physical signs so well, her magnificent compact little body announcing it's readiness, but for Derrick, and not I. Still I had to answer, Derrick had asked me a direct question, and to not answer, humbly and respectfully, would surely have some heavy consequences associated with it. It occurred to me that I had even just freshly made the bed for them, like a hotel maid might.

“'I understand what you're saying, Sir,' I told him with sullen shame at nearly a whisper. That specific honorific spew from my trembling lips accidentally, but I had also set the precedent from this day going forward.

“'Best get dressed and get along then, Sport, unless you want me to have you go like you are?' Derrick further threatened, this further and more public humiliation apparently well within his abilities now, but such would also negate the effectiveness of the digital blackmail image he had just so easily acquired.

“Through my shame I respectfully told him that such wouldn't be necessary, and I got myself quickly dressed, and then just as quickly got my ass out of there before my tears started, locking and closing my own door softly behind me as instructed, but locking myself out in the process. I thought my bedroom was likely already occupied with clothes flying off in every direction even before I left my driveway!"

"I'm sorry, I know this part must be horrible for you..." I interrupted, giving Pansy another drink of water while she told me the painful story of her life and marriage unraveling. I felt guilty though, because a part of me found the entire story highly erotic, although tragically sad as well, because I not only knew one of the main participants personally, but how it ended; at least this first part.

"...but it's erotic as hell!" James finished my sentence for me, "there was a part of me that found it erotic as well, conceptually, and of course initially, it's what sucked me into this whole mess in the first place. Don't have too much sympathy for me, I have to get through this with you though, you have to make me finish, please! When I get to the end it will all make sense, I promise."

"Okay then, please go on, or do you need some kind of further motivation from me?" I asked, reading between the lines at Pansy's desperation.

"I think I might. I need you to be not quite so nice to me; since this whole thing went down I seem to respond best to... negative motivations," she tells me, although I had already picked up on this myself. This setting was new between us though, she's a friend I work with, but one presently tied to a chair in front of me and spilling her guts out about her first failed marriage, all while wearing almost nothing, except a chastity cage and a pair of my borrowed panties, that I'm not entirely certain that I want back. The cage she apparently even has no key to. This is not a lover, and I have my doubts that she ever could be, but she's still a fellow human being in pain that was treated rawly...

I then take my phone from the table, I've been checking to be sure it's still recording several times during James' story anyway. But, in what would, in any other circumstance, be seen as an extreme breach of trust, I snap a few pictures of her, ensuring her continued cooperation myself.

"Do I need to tell you what happens with those pictures if you don't continue?"

"No ma'am," she submissively answers, and I once again marvel at the deference paid to me. Perhaps not a lover... but maybe a useful tool about the house of some kind, if I could talk my husband into it? He's open minded like that, but there would have to be some ground rules too. 

"Okay Pansy, you've just left the two soon to be adulterous lovers home alone, so they can presumably get to know each other better in your own bed, while you're out on some extended fool's errands."

"Exactly. Well anyway, I can't help but to notice that Beth's nice new car isn't in the driveway, she's apparently driven back home with Derrick instead. He has an ordinary car himself, but nothing special, it almost looks like a typical rental. I have this perception of great wealth and power from my limited dealings with Derrick, but his car is much more ordinary, even if it is a rental, and this contradicts this persona I have formed in my mind.

“'This must be projection,' I tell myself rationally, but only later on after some deep introspection on the subject. I have built Derrick up in my mind as having all the things that I don't: a big bankbook, a big fancy car, and even a big cock and sex drive to go with the big muscles that he obviously does have! It seems like the perfect trifecta for any woman, or at least for this brand new version of Beth that I obviously don't know as well as I should, and I wonder what her parents would think of it. I couldn't possibly tell them, my shame is far too great for that, and she is after all their only child, so they would naturally side with her in the end and tell me to have a nice life, if it came to that, but I still hope that it doesn't at that point. I still hold onto my foolish optimism that this can all work out with enough time, and that one day when we're both old and grey we can laugh about it.

“I see the neighbors out in their yard with their kids, and they wave, but they also see that my face is almost in tears. I had briefly let my guard down once alone in the sanctuary of my practical little city car, but this had been a mistake, and my neighbors had noticed. Would they ask questions later on, even caringly, and not being overly nosy?

“They surely had noticed that there was a different car in our driveway, and in horror I wondered if they had seen Derrick and Beth enter a short time ago? Would they have walked in hand in hand, or had Derrick opened his car door for her, either of these things telling even mildly curious neighbors that something was up in our happy home. As would my leaving a short time later, with a distraught face, while the two were left home alone.

“'What then if the neighbors look over after it gets dark, only to see the bedroom lights on, and they know I'm out in my little car on some errands while Beth is home alone with a strange man?' I ask myself. Despite my best efforts, this shame of mine looks almost certain to become a known thing up and down the block in record time...

“It is maybe eight or so by the time I get back home, I have everything I need to play bartender for both Derrick, and Beth, but this requires stopping at three different stores, but I doubt that will be a concern for my 'guest.' The entire time I'm out shopping I'm having little flashy scenes pop into my head, the most vibrant and caustic one being my angelic wife Beth having second thoughts with Derrick, telling him 'no' and that she's changed her mind. Derrick the muscular beast isn't having any of it in this version though, he's come here for sex, and he's having sex!

“It's then that I imagine Beth naked and sprawled out on our marital bed, clothes violently ripped off and thrown around the room, arms pinned wide to the mattress by Derrick's strong arms. He's on top of her, fully enveloping and pinning her uselessly struggling petite body in place, forcing his massive erect self into her as she screams and thrashes about defenselessly. Her tiny body is being systematically destroyed for Derrick's carnal pleasure, but I'm nowhere to be found as she screams out my name, because I'm out shopping for Derrick's bartender crap...

“I text Derrick from my own driveway instead of someplace along the road as instructed, my own minor act of rebellion it would seem. The bedroom lights are all on, and I can see movement up there behind the thankfully closed shades, but I have driven the last little bit down our road with my headlights off, and I doubt they even know somebody is in our driveway watching. If I can see these lights and moving silhouettes, my neighbors surely can too though.

“I get no response, so I wait and watch the action in my dark driveway like a peeping Tom pervert staring into my own upper floor bedroom windows, but I can't see anything that specifically looks like sex happening either. I imagine all sorts of things, horrible things, just like when I had been shopping a short time ago, but there is little physical proof of any actual adultery taking place, although circumstantial proof is another matter entirely. I wait maybe fifteen minutes, listening for any screams through my half open window, but fearful of texting again; it feels like I've aged another year and I'm almost sick to my stomach, but I've eaten almost nothing in the last day or so. My guy parts aren't getting hard any longer, trapped behind their new panties and panty liner, this is not at all what I thought something like this would feel like when I had initially fantasized about it while surfing for cuckold porn.

“...I have this porn inspired fantasy-like script for this cuckolding thing going around in my head, but the reality is awful, nothing sexy and erotic about watching somebody seduce and steal your pretty wife away, worse yet when she helps him. Derrick is a beast, a dominant muscular animal, but also a cunning and dangerous one. I can't stop him from doing anything he wishes - physically or otherwise - to my wife, and even to myself. I've tragically done this to myself though, these are self inflicted injuries in inviting the mere concept of a man like this into our faulty marriage, my last ditch backup plan still to let nature take its course, perhaps Beth coming back to her senses after her passion for this other more physically desirable man abates...

“Through my car's open window I continue to listen, but even if I did hear screams I suspect I wouldn't have the courage to intervene, I've been thoroughly emasculated both by a pair of panties, and Derrick's overbearing masculinity. His masculine aura easily eclipses my own feeble one, it even extends to out here in my own driveway, and I shamefully continue to wait.

“I eventually text again, but this time at least I receive a one word reply, 'ENTER.' I grab the things I've purchased for Derrick on my fool's errands and walk to the door, both of my hands full. I expect to find the door open, but it's locked. I'm locked out of my own home while Derrick and Beth are both in there together. I stand on my own porch with my hands full, hoping the neighbors don't look out their own windows and wonder what's going on over here now. 

“At least the porch light is off, and I’m left standing in the dark, as neither person inside took the courtesy to even leave a light on for me, but they obviously had other things on their mind! 'Maybe this makes this ordeal of mine just a little more private though?' I think, trying to find any silver lining amongst all these depressing clouds. 

“I'm just getting ready to ring the bell with my free elbow when the door swings open. I’m left staring at my Beth, her hair a mess and face flushed from exertion. She's glowing, so whatever her and Derrick were doing, I can at least assume it wasn't against her will as I had imagined. It's a little victory of sorts, but something perhaps to build on? She's wearing his dress shirt with just a few of the lower buttons done, and apparently nothing else, her legs, and even her whole body still looks magnificent and desirable to me. She looks even sexier to me at that moment than she did on our wedding night, the first time I had ever made love to her, and I was to find out, the first time anybody had ever made love to her.

“I would hit my knees and go down on her right now if she'd let me, even knowing what she's been up to, just to say thank you for letting me see her looking like this. I'm still in love, infatuated, I'd still do anything to get her back, forgive this little indiscretion, and a thousand more if necessary. 'Is there anything she could possibly do to change this?' I ask myself one of a great many times. My level of devotion - I realize some time later - is almost unhealthy.

“'That was quick,' Beth quips with her sharp, forked tongue, apparently I’m taking her away from something she would much rather be doing... If Beth and I physically made love for fifteen minutes in our happy past, start to finish, it would be considered a long night of passion, yet here Derrick had apparently been entertaining her for the best part of two hours, and I had still, somehow, interrupted something? That at least explained why she looked so flushed and excited.

“'How could I compete with that?' I asked myself, 'what was actually good for Beth here?' She deserved this, a woman who looked like Beth certainly deserved this, it pained me to think in these terms, but she did. Beth was like a racing car being driven back and forth to the grocery store, and here Derrick comes along and steals her right in front of me as I helplessly watch, taking her then to the track for some hot laps, she finally allowed to perform as she was designed... once the proper driver had the wheel!

“The best thing I thought I could possibly do for her at this late hour was to just shut up and do as I was told, give myself over to the both of them, and to the experience. Derrick had what he wanted now, I was sure that my torment would abate, my own level of aggression surely did after an orgasm. 'Could this monster of a man possibly be all that much different?' I asked myself logically.

“'Put your uniform on and mix some drinks, and then knock once on MY bedroom door, we'll tell you what to do from there. What you need to wear will be in the spare bedroom, your new bedroom until further notice!'

“'Yes ma'am,' I answer softly. if Derrick was Sir to me now, it made sense to at least have the same level of deference to Beth.

“I found my apron laying on my new bed. It was a rather nice one as this is where Beth's parents slept when they visited from out of town. I hung my things in the closet and got dressed once again, cleaned the new martini glasses and mixed my first drink ever, and then knocked on my old bedroom's closed door with it and Beth's wine awkwardly in hand. I didn't know if it was locked or not, but I didn't have the courage to check either, this costume of femininity making such things impossible for me.

“‘ENTER!' Again, a one word command, but this time spoken by Derrick instead of texted. 'Why speak more than one word to an underling when one would do?' I wondered silently. I, surely an underling, a second class human being at best in this man's overt masculine company, in this home.

“They were in bed, covered to their hips by the sheets, but sitting up. I had all I could do not to burst into tears as the two kissed each other passionately right in front of me, putting on a show of sorts. Derrick's hands were roughly in Beth's messed up hair, in aggressive manhandling fashion, and his shirt mostly concealed her magnificent little breasts, that she was sometimes self conscious about. 'They look perfect on your perfect little body,' I had told her a thousand times in our happy past, it was perhaps the only thing she saw in the mirror that was less than perfect looking to her.

“I had, at that point, surely thought the two had been making love for hours by that point, so why did just seeing them kiss turn my guts inside out? It did though, possibly because this was the first real intimacy I had seen between them with my own eyes, and possibly because Beth was passionately cooperating with his aggression.

“I stood there like an idiot in my apron and panties, Beth's port in my right hand, and Derrick's martini in my left, just waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to be told what to do. This WAS the purpose of this visit though, this 'show' of making out together, although I wouldn't know exactly why for some time after that horrible first night.

“'Put our drinks on the end tables and get to work on dinner,' Derrick told me sternly while hardly coming up for air, while still passionately and noisily making out with my hardly dressed wife, he not even turning to look at, nor acknowledge me. 'Beth would like her steak medium rare, like mine, knock once on the door when dinner is five minutes out,' Derrick then instructed. I was dismissed from their presence by default once the drinks were placed as instructed.

“'Yes, Sir,' I answered in an almost whisper, quickly doing as instructed and leaving the room before I cried, this not good for me at all. I had to move his tablet slightly from my side-of-the-bed end table to make room for his drink. I thought that Derrick with an expensive looking tablet was like a caveman with a pocket calculator, the two just didn't go along with each other.

“I closed the door softly and respectfully behind me; I was not wanted, nor needed in that room any longer. I heard not their love making in my wake as I anticipated, but instead their murmured conversation. I listened for a few seconds before fear caused me to silently slip away and get to work, the single phrase heard by me to be Derrick softly saying something like '...every opportunity' or something that sounded like that. It was a mystery, but I was so distraught and off balance that I was missing some major clues right before my moist eyes, this just but one of many.

“I was barefoot and wearing black panties, along with what amounted to half of a short white dress in the form of an open backed apron, tied in the back and looking the very antithesis of anything manly and masculine. Derrick had done this to me, with the aid of my angel Beth, all to let me clearly know both my new place in this house, and Beth's life as well. At least the shades and curtains were all closed, keeping this embarrassing emasculation somewhat private, for the short term. I had already come to the conclusion that the word would get out, if not spoken in front of me, then surely brought up once my back was turned, by my neighbors at the very least. Some secrets didn't keep well in a small community, and this was one of them.

“I knocked as ordered. Derrick came out shortly thereafter wearing my own bathrobe, Beth still just in Derrick's dress shirt and looking sexy as hell. I had reset the table anticipating they would like to sit close together, and I was sitting closest to the kitchen so as to be able to more easily serve the two should they want anything. I had eaten maybe three pieces of my medium steak before I was complimented by Derrick on not only my cooking, but my earlier drink as well. Despite myself and the feminizing way I was attired, I beamed with pride, having this monster of a man compliment anything I had done making me feel... warm, for lack of a better word at the moment.

“'This man has just stolen my wife's virtue, why am I being nice to him at all?' I wondered in my mind. But, I had been raised with certain manners as well, and I was unclear how much actual theft was going on here, as opposed to Derrick merely accepting what Beth had freely offered, once I had foolishly offered her the opportunity myself. I had also been submissively humiliated by this man, broken, and I would come to learn that it's hard to become unbroken all on one's own...

“This also was pretty much the first food for me in like an entire day, other than some bites of breakfast twelve hours or so earlier. But, responding graciously and politely to this compliment, and desperately looking for something in this entire ordeal that seemed 'normal,' I then offered to make him another drink, which he took me up on. I asked to be excused, and when formally granted permission I set to the task of mixing Derrick's second martini, after I had gone to his bedroom to retrieve both his dirty glass, and Beth's dirty stemless wine glass too. I, as quickly as possible, hand washed both, and set to making Derrick his drink, bringing Beth a second also, even though she had not specifically asked for one.

“When I had placed the drinks, respectfully from the right for each as Beth had lectured me several times earlier, I noticed that Beth hadn't eaten more than a bite or two of her steak, her face showing disgust at my meal. When I asked about it Beth told me she didn't like her steak like this, and that I knew better than to cook her steak this way. I was trapped, I had only done what Derrick had instructed, but to point such out was poor form for any waitress, and would only invite their wrath one way or the other.

“Derrick, in contrast, was almost done with his, but he was a large gym rat of a man and probably burned calories in the thousands on a typical day. I didn't want to needlessly dwell on the other activities I thought he had been engaged in lately, with my hardly dressed and impossibly sexy wife, those things also burned calories like mad, especially if one could do them for hours. That was the proverbial eight hundred pound gorilla in the room, and I tried with all my might not to look him in the eye for fear of an emotional breakdown.

“Beth then offered her steak to Derrick, which he gladly accepted, and after she locked eyes with mine threateningly, I followed suit and offered mine to her, less the small piece I had cut off myself and ate. She liked hers medium as well, and this seemed like a good way to defuse a difficult situation; I still had a potato and some vegetables left on my plate so I wouldn't exactly go hungry. Beth didn't even say 'thank you,' but I guess from her perspective, why thank somebody for fixing the problem that they had created in the first place?

“When the two had finished their meals I received only one last quizzical final look of near disgust from Beth before both rose from the table. They left their plates on the table, drinks as well, in a curious hurry to get back to bed, and presumably to get back to what they had been doing earlier."

“Sounds like two people with an extraordinary amount of stamina," I interrupted. "This Derrick sounds like a real stud muffin, but I'm surprised that Beth wasn't totally spent herself if she and Derrick had been going at it for two hours plus at that point."

"I thought so too, I guess subconsciously at any rate. This man was just so much more than I was that it was impossible to compete for Beth with him, but she didn't exactly invite any competition either. Hard to 'man up' dressed as I was too, but that had been no accident either, I know that now.

“I had familiar tasks to keep me occupied though, distracted one could easily say, and I set to them. I was surely dressed for them, and if I kept busy in the kitchen cleaning up and clearing the table, I wouldn't have the time to dwell on what was going on in my former bedroom too."

"Former bedroom?" I asked.

"Yes, I never slept in that bed again. The guest bedroom became my room, until Beth's parents came to visit around the holidays and I had to sleep on Beth's floor like a pet dog, but by then they knew something was up between us, and for a great many obvious reasons I couldn't enlighten them about their daughter and her new lover, and the obvious troubles in our marriage."

"I assume you're getting to that part too."

"Yes, I'm getting there, but the order of things here is critical. So anyway, the cloth tablecloth and napkins are now a mess, they pretty much ate like they weren't doing the cleanup, and so is my apron too. Neither is a big deal as I always do the laundry anyway, those machines in the unfinished basement part of our nice home - in a rarely used bathroom - where their noisy operation wouldn't disturb our slumber, in happier times. How I'm to clean the only acceptable feminizing uniform I have to wear in Derrick's presence is another matter, most of my guy clothes are behind what must surely be a locked door, except for what I wore to the store. I had forgotten about those at the time though. Had I chosen at that moment to get up and leave and never come back, I would have had to do so while being nearly naked, at least in my mind at that moment. I was no quitter though, and I wasn't quitting here either, not on Beth, who I still wanted back with all my heart...

“Out of the corner of my eye I see a lump of clothing in the hallway leading to the bedrooms, the master bedroom, and the smaller guest one that shares a wall with the master. Natural curiosity takes me in this direction, even though I don't think I really want to hear what's happening behind that particular door. There is a mess on the floor though, and it's my unstated job to take care of such things.

“I stand there like a silent fool with the tablecloth still in hand, listening to the sounds of aggressive lovemaking on what was only yesterday my bed. The repeated thrusts, followed by a pause in the action, the bed on and off bumping into the wall between the two bedrooms. I hear Beth as well, her squeals and sighs at one time passionately exclusive music for my ears alone, but not any longer. Derrick is getting this concert instead, an exclusive performance for him alone, instead of me, I reduced to a passive audience of one. In my mind he's a massively endowed man, ruining my tiny wife and making her unsuitable for any other from this day forward, except for perhaps another large brute of a man in the oversized mold of Derrick.

“...I don't know how long I've been standing there and listening, time stands still for me though, I overcome with the irrational desire to do something to myself still again, this horrible pain causing the little unthinking part of me to become excited, and 'he' needs to be dealt with before 'I' lose my mind completely, this the only safety valve I have left I in such a state of emotional overload.

“I then notice that the lump of clothes on the floor before me is actually several things, once my eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the hallway. The dirty clothes that Beth and Derrick had worn that day are laying there in a heap, along with the remaining pack of feminine hygiene products, and two additional pairs of clean panties placed on top of the pack. On top of both is also one of Beth's old baby dolls that she used to love to sleep in when we were first married, it pink and frilly, and sexy as hell on her with it's little spaghetti straps and matching frilly panties. I had bought it for her while we were out shopping together once, a mainly self-serving gift if there ever was one, but now it was here on the floor like trash. I expected that maybe she would have briefly worn it for Derrick instead, perhaps even having him tear it from her body before taking her to send some kind of further message, as if one was necessary now.

“But, instead it lays there in unworn and undamaged condition, in effect giving it back to me. It still has the lingering scent of Beth when I put it to my nose and inhale. I then hear a familiar guttural moan from behind the door I'm lingering in front of, the imagery devastating for me; I wasn't the one exclusively making her do that any longer.

“I then see the note tucked into the pack of feminine products, in Beth's fine feminine hand, her penmanship perfect, as always. These are instructions, telling me to have both Derrick's and her own clothes freshly laundered and pressed, and waiting neatly outside 'their' door by no later than six am, like a hotel's laundry service would, I instantly realize. Her old baby doll now my second only acceptable uniform to be worn in Derrick's presence too, when sleeping, or when the first is being washed. And, of course, the note reminding me that the guest bedroom should now be considered mine, until more suitable arrangements can be made.

“I am 'punchdrunk' and set about my new tasks in a daze because of this, I'm on autopilot, but my chores are familiar ones so this is a necessary, but mindless distraction. I put the clothes in the machine, it's actually two loads bearing in mind the size and colors of each, and this will have me up past midnight before I even start to iron. I threw in my apron as well, and my panties, working nude as I don't even feel like I deserve clothes any longer. I foolishly self entertain again, as many times as I can, while thinking about what is going on upstairs in my bed. My guy parts are left looking like raw hamburger, and I wonder for not the first time what the hell is wrong with me.

“I didn't get very much sleep that first night, but I managed to stay downstairs in the laundry room, and I therefore was not forced to listen to Derrick pounding into my wife all night long like an enraged breeding bull on some upstate farm. By the time I silently deliver their clean and pressed laundry back to their door it's maybe one am, and thankfully the two lovers have finally run out of passion and it sounds as if they're sleeping. I try to do the same, but I have some fitful dreams... woken all too soon by the sounds of our en suite shower that also shares a wall with my new guest room accommodations.

It's a massive shower that easily fits two, and I hear that it's doing that presently, the squeak, squeak, squeak sounds heard through our common wall telling me that the two are doing more than just scrubbing each other's backs, something Beth would never let me do in there a single time. It's a hell of a way to wake up all things considered, a part of me still thinking this some elaborated nightmare that I'll eventually wake from. That shower runs maybe an hour, or at least it seemed like that to me, and shortly after it stops I get a text from Derrick, telling what to have ready for breakfast, and when.

“This is what my life had turned into..."

"That's truly an incredible story, but this still doesn't explain your cage thingy, where the key is presently, how you became clean shaven, none of it? It surely doesn't explain why you can't go back to Beth either, or how you came to have a transfer to our office. I've been keeping notes too, you alluded to not knowing about the significance of the show of their making out in bed for you before dinner, nor of the final look Beth gave you after dinner, before they resumed their extended lovemaking in your old bed. My readers will need to know these things too," I explained.

"That gets very embarrassing and personal, are you sure nobody will know it's me telling this story?"

"Except perhaps if "Beth" or "Derrick" read it themselves? I don't know how such would be possible any other way." To myself I was thinking incredulously that what he had told me so far wasn't embarrassing?

"Some others get involved in this too..."

"Well, them too I suppose then, you HAVE to tell me this now, and not only because I'm going to blackmail the crap out of you myself if you don't. I've sat here and listened to this whole story, I'm invested in it, and you're not going anywhere until I have these questions answered at the very least."


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