Larry story (not mine)

 I was on my knees rubbing my wife's feet, when said the 5 worst words in the English language.

"James is coming over tonight"

The blood drained from my face, a chill went down my spine, and I immediately felt sick.

"Oh, o-ok, Mistress." I quietly croaked.

"You don't look very excited, freak," she said, smirking down at me, "Aren't you happy that we're going to have a real man in the house for an evening?"

I managed to force a weak smile.

"Y-yes Mistress, I'm really looking forward to it."

"Yeah I thought you'd be happy!" she said with a giggle, "It's going to be even more fun than usual tonight. We've been working on a plan for you for a while, and I just know you're going to love it."

"Yes Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She leaned back and started playing on her phone while I continued rubbing her feet, a pit of anxiety and fear eating away at my stomach.

***

Amy had always treated me like shit: she's smarter, better-looking, and more successful than me, and she knew I was damn lucky to have married her. That's why, when she told me I had to accept an open relationship or she'd walk out on me, she knew it was a foregone conclusion that I'd say yes.

At first she'd just fuck random guys a couple of times a month, and while it hurt like hell she at least seemed a little happier and less angry all the time. Meanwhile, after a few weeks of fruitlessly trawling dating apps and getting rejected by women in bars, I gave up on ever benefitting from the new arrangement myself.

Then, about one year ago, she met James. At first he was just a hookup, but something about him seemed to grip her like none of her other lovers. She quickly stopped seeing any other guys, and they began meeting up more and more frequently.

About three months into their relationship, she started bringing him to our house. That's when everything really started escalating. James was a natural bully, and he soon realized that dominating me was an easy way to turn Amy on. Even more disturbingly, degrading me seemed to build a twisted emotional bond between the two as they plotted new abuses and got their shared kicks from seeing my squirm. As time went on, Amy's little remaining regard for my feelings or wellbeing faded away, and she started openly treating me as a slave.

I'm not okay with this. This is not my kink and I genuinely hate James for what he's done to my marriage. I bitterly resent it every time they kiss, fuck, and flirt across the table over a candlelit dinner I made. But every time I feel like I'm going to explode with anger and fight back, I can't quite find the courage. I don't know if I just love Amy too much, or if years of an abusive marriage have destroyed my capacity to stand up for myself. Maybe I'm just a balless wimp like James says. Whatever it is, I feel paralysed in a situation which is rapidly getting out of control.

***

Like every night James came over, I knew this evening was going to be awful. And, to cap it all off, there was this mysterious "plan" which was probably going to involve inflicting some sick new physical or emotional torture on me.

After I finished rubbing my wife's feet, she told me he'd be here in an hour and half and ordered me to get everything ready. I quickly washed my hands and started bustling around getting ready for James' visit: preparing his snacks, chilling his beer, putting fresh sheets on what used to be my marital bed.

About 15 minutes before he arrived, I started having a panic attack and had to hide myself away in the bathroom so Amy wouldn't see. Gripping the sink, I splashed water in my face and tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down. I tried to blot out thoughts of all the vile things he had done to me (and made me do to myself), telling myself it might not be so bad this time and that maybe he just wanted to fuck my wife and leave.

I was still trying to compose myself when the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, walked over to the front door, and let him in.

"H-hello Sir. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Lar," he said grinning, "Where's Amy?"

"She's just getting ready, Sir. Would you like a beer, Sir? I also made those nachos you like if you'd like something to eat."

"I'm not hungry." he replied, striding past me and flopping down on the couch. "You can get me that beer though."

"Yes, Sir"

I scurried off to the kitchen and brought him his beer. He took a long swing and then smiled at me.

"So Ames has told you you're going to be finding out about our little plan tonight. Nervous?"

"I... um, yes Sir"

James laughed.

"Yeah I would be if I were you, fag. But Amy gets off on making you suffer, and this is going to make you super miserable."

I didn't say anything, feeling sicker and more anxious than ever. Just then, my wife walked into the living room. She was always beautiful, but she was breathtaking whenever James came over, always making sure her hair, makeup, and outfit were perfect for the occasion. She walked over, smiling from ear to ear, got on the couch next to James, and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

"Hey you," she said to him when they finally broke apart, stroking his chest.

"Hey babe"

The lovers flirted and chatted for a few minutes while I stood there awkwardly, looking down at the ground. Finally, my wife turned to me and clapped her hands.

"So. My dear, sweet husband" she said as James sniggered, "We have some great news for you. Get down on your knees in front of us."

I sank to my knees quivering, my heart beating through my chest.

"So as you know, James and I have been together almost a year, and we're tired of sneaking around all the time. We are in love, and I have no reason to hide it. So we're going to have a big party next Friday with all our friends, my sister, and your brother, and we're going to go public with our relationship."

I started to stammer out an objection, but James cuffed me around the ear.

"Don't interrupt, queer," he said, "she hasn't even got to the best part"

"Thanks honey," my wife said sweetly, smiling at her man before turning back to me, "So we're going to tell them all about us, but I don't want to look like a cheating bitch while everybody feels sorry for you. So you're going to tell them that you're the one who ended the marriage first. Because you're gay."

"B...but I'm not gay" I objected, on the verge of tears and turning bright red.

"Who gives a shit?" James spat, "Nobody will have any trouble believing it, trust me. And by telling them all you're a fag, it'll make it easier for them to accept us."

"Please, Amy," I said looking up at my wife with pleading eyes, "Please don't make me do this. I can't..."

"What's the big deal? Are you homophobic or something? Do you think it's wrong to be gay?"

"Well, no..." I sputtered.

"Well then, you should have no problem doing me a favor and telling our friends and family that you're gay then. Don't worry, I'm not going to make you move out. I'll say I've decided to help you on your new journey or some shit, and that we're still going to live together as friends. That way I'll look all supportive and caring and stuff, and you can still stay and do the housework. If you do as your told, maybe I won't even divorce you just yet."

My head was spinning, but I knew it was useless to argue.

"So?" my wife said, "Aren't you grateful you can help me and James by coming out the closet?"

"I...I... yes Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

"Don't thank me, thank James." she said, stroking her man's arm. "It was his idea."

I wanted to run away as fast as I could. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch James in his smug, horrible face. But I just stayed kneeling there, tears beginning to stream down my face.

"Thank you, Sir." I croaked.

Larry; Chapter 2: Larry Comes Out

I stood alone in the bedroom, hands shaking, looking over the speech my wife had written for me. I'd never felt so sick with nerves before.

I could hear the hum of our guests chatting downstairs in the living room. My wife had invited basically our entire social circle, including three couples we were close with and a few of my colleagues from work. The only person down there who knew what was going to happen was her sister Jess, who had been aware of my situation ever since Amy first cuckolded me and thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Having just those people witness this charade would be bad enough, but she had also invited my big brother. He had pretty much been my hero since I was a kid, and my weekly beer with him was one of the few times I felt like a normal man in my shameful new life. I couldn't begin to imagine what he'd think when I "came out".

As all this was swirling around my head, my wife opened the bedroom door, and patted me on the shoulder.

"C'mon, Larry," she said calmly, "It's showtime."

I turned around and looked at her, my eyes welling up with tears.

"Please Amy. I know you don't love me any more but please. I'm begging you. Please don't make me go down there. This is my life. Please."

My wife rolled her eyes at me.

"Stop being a baby. Come on, let's go. It'll be over in 5 minutes, just do it and rip off the band-aid."

She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me out, but I couldn't move. That's when she got mad.

"I'm being fucking nice about this, Larry." she spat, "Trust me, I could make this a lot worse for you. Do you want me to go down there and tell everyone I had to break up with you because you're a pin-dicked loser who couldn't satisfy a butterfly? Do you want me to tell them about the time James made you put on a bra and panties and do that little dance for us? I could even show them the video. You know I'm not bullshitting you Larry, I'll do it and then you'll wish they just thought you were a fag."

I closed my eyes as more hot tears trickled down my face. I don't know why I expected even an ounce compassion from this woman.

"Okay, Mistress," I said, "I'll... I'll do it."

"So glad you decided to see things my way," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You have five minutes to stop blubbering, get downstairs, and make your speech. Or I'll be making a little speech of my own."

With that, my wife turned around and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I staggered into the bathroom, wiped the tears away, and composed myself as best I could. Then, clutching the dreaded speech in my hand, I went to meet my fate. My head was swimming, and as I trudged down the stairs it felt like descending the steps to hell.

When I made it in the living room, my brother called out to me.

"Hey, here he is!" he said, before studying my face with concern. "You okay, bro?"

"I-I'm okay, I'm good" I sputtered.

As soon as Amy noticed me, she strode over, grabbed my hand, and walked us into the middle of the room. She tapped her wedding ring on her wine glass, signaling for everybody to be quiet. The conversation died down and the crowd looked at us expectantly.

"Hi everybody! Thanks so much for coming over." she said. " We've invited you guys, our closest friends and family, to our home so we can make a big announcement about our relationship and our future"

"Oooh she's pregnant!" my brother's wife squealed, "Didn't I tell you, Bob?"

"Not quite, Sheila." Amy laughed. "Larry?"

Every eye in the room turned to me. The whole thing felt completely surreal. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Yes, um, thanks Amy and thanks everyone for coming." I said, stuttering. "I've always felt so lucky to be married to a beautiful, caring, and supportive woman like Amy. But despite how amazing she is, I've never felt quite complete in our relationship."

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. I wanted to melt into the floor.

"Y-you see, all my life I've had these, un..." I paused for a second, gathering up my courage. "All my life I've had these uncontrollable fantasies about men. It's been a part of me since I was a child, and no matter how hard I tried I was constantly looking at guys and feeling a... a deep yearning "

My wife's sister Jess snorted with laughter, and tried to cover it with a cough. Everybody else was frozen in shock.

"I thought I could get past it by being with Amy. But even though she's always been such a wonderful partner to me, I couldn't repress my sexuality forever. I was... I was unfaithful to her, as I began exploring this hidden side to me."

"Oh Ames..." one of my wife's friends said sympathetically.

"It's okay," she said breathing deeply, pretending to be overwhelmed and closing her eyes, "Larry, please go on."

"Th-thank you Amy. Everybody, I'm sorry for disguising my true self to you. Amy, I'm especially sorry to you, for using you as part of my... my straight mask. I want everybody to know that, even though I treated her so badly, Amy has been a pillar of support, understanding, and compassion. That's why, as we enter this new phase of our lives and I go on as a, um, as a gay man, I am pleased that she has been able to find comfort through a wonderful new love, her boyfriend and my... my dear friend James"

Everyone looked over at James, who put his hand to his chest and mouthed "thank you" at me with fake modesty.

"I understand this will all come as a shock. But we wanted you to be here, not just so I could confess what I did, but so that we could celebrate this exciting new chapter of our lives. Thank you."

The crowd sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. When it was clear the speech was over, our female friends all rushed over to Amy, showering her with love and sympathy and checking she was alright. I stood there, exposed and alone, wanting to die.

The next 30 minutes were a blur of humiliating encounters. The hostile scowls and comments from Amy's girlfriends. My gym buddy telling me he wished I'd told him I was gay before we got in the communal showers together. The 46 year old secretary from my office saying we should go shoe shopping.

I was standing, meekly nodding as Amy spun lies to our friends about having found "like 500 pictures of naked black dudes" on my phone, when my brother broke into the conversation.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys" he said sternly, "But I need to talk to Larry outside for a minute."

Without waiting for anybody to answer, he grabbed me and led me out of the front door and onto the step.

"What the fuck's going on man?" he said once we were outside, "I know this is bullshit, there's no way you're gay. I remember when I caught you jerking off to that Victoria's Secret catalogue. I remember when you pined for like three years for that Sophia bitch from high school. You like girls, Larry."

"I don't... I'm..." I stammered.

"Look," he said, "I don't know why or how, but I'm sure that fucking bitch wife of yours made you do this. So here's what you're going to do. You're going to march back in there, and tell everybody this whole thing was just a prank or a joke or whatever. Then you're going to pack up your things, walk out on that psycho, and move in with me and Sheila until you find a new place and get your life back together"

My head was spinning. He was offering me an out. A chance to escape this nightmare and rebuild my life. Maybe, with time and a lot of therapy, I'd come to peace with what my wife and her lover had done to me, and learn to be happy again.

And yet, in spite of it all, I felt conflicted. I still loved this woman. She'd been my whole life for 10 years, and there had been some really good times in the beginning. She'd even said herself she wouldn't divorce me for a while: maybe there was a chance that, deep down, she still loved me, and that one day we'd get back to something... if not normal, then maybe just happy. And besides, as I knew from my brief and humiliating attempts to search for my own lover when our "open relationship" began, women weren't exactly clamoring to date me. At least now I wasn't completely alone.

I started to panic. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't just walk out on her without thinking it through.

"I'm sorry, Bob." I sighed, "I can't I... I need time..."

My brother's face fell. His look of disappointment and anger was like a knife to the heart.

"Fine, dude. You can keep making an ass of yourself for that woman but I'm not going to stand around and watch you do it." he said sadly, "I'm just glad mom and dad aren't alive to see this."

With that he went back inside, took his wife by the hand, came out again and got in his car. As I watched my big brother drive down the street and out of my life, I felt a large hand on my shoulder.

"Hey there, twinkle-toes," James said. "Doesn't your mean old brother approve of your new lifestyle?"

"N-no sir." I sighed.

"Don't worry about it, Lar. Like you said, this is an exciting new chapter of our lives. Now come back inside."

He walked back into the house. I took a deep breath, and followed him.

Larry; Chapter 3: The Photo Shoot

"Okay, now pout Larry." my wife instructed between fits of laughter, "No, not like that dummy, make a kissy face"

My cheeks burning, I pushed out my lips like a teenage girl taking a selfie.

"Oh my gosh, that's perfect" she giggled, holding up her phone and taking several pictures as her sister cracked up next to her.

The humiliating little photoshoot had been going on for 15 minutes already. My wife and her sister were having an extended pre-game before they went out on the town, and after a few glasses of wine they decided it would be funny to make an account for me on some gay hookup site called 'Bulge'.

I had no idea what they'd typed out in the written section of my profile: I just knelt there silently waiting for the order to pour wine as they both sat on the couch at Amy's laptop, typing and laughing.

Then they decided it was time to add pictures, so they made me strip to my underwear and put on one of my wife's tops (white, way too tight for me, and with the word "Queen" in stylized pink writing across the chest). Before the pouting pictures they had already made me lick my lips seductively, suck my finger like a cock, bite my lower lip, and turn around and bend over.

As mortifying as the whole experience was, I knew that this would actually be the more pleasant portion of my evening. James, who was currently sitting downstairs in the den watching a football game, had decided to hold his weekly poker game at our house this week. Nobody bothered explaining to me why he couldn't have it in his own damn house, but I assumed it was so he could fuck my wife after his friends left. Whatever the reason, he told me that I'd be expected to be on-hand all evening, partly because it would be "cool to have a waitress" during their game, but also because his buddies couldn't believe that "any man could be such a pussy".

My anxious daydreaming was cut short by my wife, who had apparently become bored of my pose.

"Alright, time to get real sexy with it. Get that top off."

Internally cringing with embarrassment, I pulled off my wife's t-shirt.

"Ewwww" Jess said, half laughing and half genuinely disgusted, "How did you sleep next to that flabby pale body for all those years? How did you have SEX with it?"

"Girl, you think that's bad you should see what's under those tighty whities of his"

"Yeah, I think I'll pass on that one Ames, the peanut-sized bulge down there tells me way more than I want to know already"

After another giggling fit, my wife turned her attention back to me.

"Now we can see your, ahem, abs, I want you to flaunt it Lar-bear. Do the sexiest pose you can think of."

I flushed bright red. I had no idea what to do, and ended up putting my hands on my chest and trying to do my best smoldering stare. Jess did a spit take, spraying wine onto the floor, and they both fell over each other laughing.

"What the fuck is that?" Jess said, "He looks like a retarded serial killer"

"I'm sorry Ma'am. I don't know what, um..."

"Yeah, I should have asked you to try to be sexy, that's not really your thing." my wife snorted, "Just smile and cross your arms over your chest. That way, it'll hide a little more of that body and we might actually get you a date"

As I adopted the new pose, I tried not to think too much about whether she was serious about making me go out on a date with a man. As they were taking more pictures, a voice boomed from downstairs.

"LARRY!" James yelled, "Get your faggot ass down here"

I looked pleadingly at my Mistress.

"Mistress, can I..."

"Yeah, you can go Larry. I think we've got everything we need here. Now hurry downstairs before Master gets pissed and beats the shit out of you again"

I thanked her and scurried off downstairs to the den. James looked over at me and scowled.

"What took you so long?"

"I'm so sorry Sir, Mistress and Jess were taking pictures of me upstairs."

"Ah," he said smirking, "That would be why you're just wearing your little white underpants."

"Yes, Sir"

"Anyway," he sighed, "I need another beer. Chop chop, bitch."

"Yes, Sir, right away."

I ran off to get him his beer, hurried back, and handed it to him. He cracked it open and took a swig.

"Now," he said, "Do you have everything ready for when the boys come over tonight?"

"Yes Sir, I think so"

"You think so? I told you what to get so you didn't have to think, moron. Do I have to spell everything out for you? Did you get the beer? The whiskey? Our cigars? The jerky? The other shit I said?"

"Yes Sir," I said, blushing, "I got everything you ordered me to, Sir."

"You'd better have. I've been telling the guys about you, so you'd be on your best fucking behavior."

"I will, Sir. I'll make you proud."

"Make me proud?" he scoffed, "I'm showing them what a bitch you are, not bringing them to your piano recital"

"Sorry, Sir," I peeped, not knowing what else to say.

"I swear, there's something wrong with you buddy," he chuckled, "Now fuck off, the game's starting again."

Glad of the relief, I slunk out of the room. After one more paranoid check in the kitchen to make sure I had everything he'd ordered me to buy for the poker night, I crept upstairs to check on my wife and her sister who, judging by the sound of upbeat music coming from behind the door, had relocated to her bedroom. I knocked meekly.

"Who is it?" my wife asked from inside.

"Um, it's me Mistress. I just wanted to see if you need anything?"

"If we needed you, we'd have called you," she said, irritated, "We're heading out soon so we're getting ready. Get lost."

Feeling unwanted, but also relieved to get a break, I retreated into my bedroom and shut the door. My wife had forced me to move out of the master bedroom and into these much more spartan quarters a few months after she started dating James. This room was far smaller than hers, with barely enough room for my single bed, a chair, and a small dresser.

Moved by some self-destructive impulse, I opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out our old wedding album. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sat on the bed and flipped through memories of what had been the happiest day of my life. Amy looked like an angel in her long white dress, her hair cascading down her soldiers. And, in the photos of me, I saw something in myself I hadn't seen in the mirror for a long time: a spark of life and hope in my eyes. I actually looked happy.

Eventually, I curled up in the fetal position on my bed, closing the album and clutching it to my chest as if trying to absorb some of the warmth and joy from that day back into my life. I felt paralysed with depression and shame, and I stayed like that for long after I heard my Mistress and her sister clack out of the house in their high heels. I knew this evening would be pure torture, and staying curled up here in my safe space was the only way I could deal with the anxiety.

Inevitably, though, before long the dreaded moment came. The doorbell rang.

"FAGGOT!" James shouted from downstairs, "Get the damn door, that'll be the guys"

Larry; Chapter 4: Poker Night

The moment of terror had arrived, so I reluctantly roused myself out of bed and got up. I realised I was still just in my underwear following the photo shoot, so I quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and stumbled down the stairs. I took one last deep breath to steel myself, and pulled open the door.

The three men on the other side looked pretty much as I expected: tall, alpha male jock types just like James.

"Holy shit, you're Larry?" the one on the left said, sounding tipsy already.

"Just look at that guy, who else could it be?" the one in the middle replied, prompting laughter from the other two.

"Y-yes, I'm Larry." I stuttered, totally intimidated, "C-come on in guys. Master James is just in the other room"

"Master James!" the guy on the left and the guy on the right said in unison, before they all cracked up again.

The three men pushed past me and into the living room. I meekly followed.

"Boys!" James said when he saw them, holding out his arms in greeting, "What's happening?"

"Oh not much Master James." one of the visitors japed.

"Hey, I've finally found someone who'll give me the respect I deserve around here," James joked back. "Which reminds me: Larry's real, you owe me 5 bucks Hank."

Hank took a 5 out of his wallet and reluctantly passed it over to James.

"You shouldn't have doubted me, buddy," James said.

"It's cool, Jimbo," Hank replied, "I'll just win it back later anyway"

James gave him the finger playfully.

"So, what do you think of my waitress here?" James said, grabbing my face and shaking it, "Is he as pretty as you pictured?"

"Yeah, he looks more or less as pathetic as I imagined." Hank said.

"Same, though I pictured him with lipstick." one of the other two quipped, causing another round of masculine chuckling.

"Anyway, I guess you didn't come here to check out poor old Larry here." James said, releasing my face, "Let's play some cards! Take everybody's drink order and bring out the jerky and chips, faggot.

"Yes, Sir" I replied shyly.

I received everybody's orders and brought out snacks, beers, and whiskeys on a tray.

Once the card game got started, the guys stopped paying much attention to me unless they wanted more drinks or snacks. I surmised that, apart from Hank, our other guests were called Dwayne and Ted.

About half an hour in, Larry snapped his fingers and ordered me to bring out the cigars, and they all started smoking. I hated the smell and knew it would hang around my house for days, but there was nothing at all I could do to stop it. Frankly, I was just glad for any moment I wasn't being ripped to shreds by these bullies.

Unfortunately, as they got drunker, they found another use for me. In a trend started by James but quickly picked up by the rest, whenever one of them was annoyed about losing a hand they'd call me over and take out their frustrations by physically hurting me. I got slaps, nipple pinches, Indian burns, and a hard punch in the gut from Hank.

In the most dramatic moment of the night, over 200 was riding on a single hand. Only James and Dwayne had stayed in. I prayed that James would lose just so that something wouldn't go the smug bastard's way, but inevitably he revealed he had a full house, beating Dwayne's three queens and winning the big pot.

"Fuck!" Dwayne shouted in frustration as James pulled in his winnings, "You lucky son of a bitch".

"Nah's that's pure skill baby!" James boasted, "I'm the card KING"

"Pffft, kiss my ass, bro." Dwayne joshed.

"Haha, I tell you what," James slurred, "I ain't kissing your ass, but I'll do the next best thing. Yo Larry! Go kiss Dwayne's ass."

The guys cracked up and Dwayne stood up, pulled down his trousers a little, and presented his bare ass to me. I crawled over and stopped just in front of him.

"Go ahead queer," Dwayne said, "Just don't go trying to slip me the tongue, okay?"

After another round of laughter, I closed my eyes and planted a kiss on his right butt-cheek. As my lips made contact with his ass, Dwayne farted loudly in my face.

I tried to pull away, but he grabbed me head and held it in place.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch?"

I squirmed and started coughing in disgust until he released my head. The guys were all in hysterics.

"Dude that was freaking hilarious," James said, wiping tears of laughter away from his eyes.

I just knelt there, stewing in humiliation. I wanted so desperately to fight back, to scream at them, to smack the mocking laughter out of their stupid faces. But I knew that any one of these guys could probably beat the shit out of me with one hand tied behind their back, so taking on four at once was out of the question. So, as usual when I felt these rushes of anger, I pushed down the urge to stand up for myself and turned my fury inward. Why couldn't I have balls? Why couldn't I act like a real man for once? Why couldn't I just say no?

***

The game ended soon after, and the three guests finally staggered out of my house at about 1am. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back to my room and cry. But James decided he was going to stay up and watch TV, and wanted me to kneel on the floor next to him to fetch drinks.

I glanced up at the wasted meathead sprawled on my couch from my humble vantage point. I had a Master's degree and spoke three languages, while James had probably barely finished high school. I'd always worked hard and obeyed the rules, while he lazily coasted through life taking every shortcut available. But none of that—none of it—meant anything at all. Because he was cocky, muscular, and had a big dick he was the king, and because I was a mousey anxious wimp I had to be the slave. Life sucks, I thought for the thousandth time that week.

"I want to fuck your wife tonight, Larry" he said, interrupting my sad philosophizing.

"Yes, Sir, thank you."

"No problem," he smirked, "The thing is buddy, when she goes out drinking with her sister she usually comes back drunk and sleepy, and just wants to crash."

"I... I'm sorry, Sir" I replied. What did he want me to say?

"This is where you can help me out though, freak. You see, one thing that always gets her going is when I beat the shit out of you. So that's what I'm going to do."

"Oh... o-ok, Sir."

"Thing is though, Lar, if I just start beating you out of nowhere, she'll know I'm just doing it because I'm horny. It won't seem... what's the word... authentic. So here's the plan, Lar. When she gets back, you're going to say she has a fat ass or something. Then I'm going to be the hero and slap you around a bit, and your hot little wife will be ready for a nice long fuck with daddy. Sound good?"

I sat there stunned. There was no way I was going to do this. The whole reason I put up with this unequal relationship was to make Amy happy: if I insulted her, I could really upset her (especially if it was about her ass, which she had always been sensitive about).

"I... um Sir, I'm so sorry but I really can't do it Sir. Mistress would be sad and I can't... I mean..."

"You can and you will, faggot." he said, with an iron determination in his voice, "If you don't, I'll tell her to kick your ass out. You know she'll do whatever I want, and she doesn't give a fuck about you anymore. You'll be gone, bitch. Marriage over."

I realized again what an absolute monster this guy was. He was willing to destroy my life and everything I cared about, just because he felt horny. It was so cruel and unfair, but I knew the bastard had me.

"Master, p-please don't do that." I begged, "I'll do what you say, just please d-don't tell her to kick me out, Sir. Please. I'll do it, Sir"

"Yeah, no shit you'll do it" he sneered, "You'd better make it convincing too, bitch: if she has even the slightest idea that it was a set-up, I'll break your fucking legs."

Judging by his tone, he wasn't playing. I continued kneeling there, miserably trying to come up with a way that I, a cowardly wimp who adored Amy like a goddess, could sound convincing when I insulted her appearance. All my ideas sounded lame in my head, so I just hoped she'd be drunk enough to buy whatever I said.

At about 2am, I heard the front door open, and Amy clicking into the house.

"Yo baby!" James bellowed, "I'm in here"

Amy tottered into the living room, still in her heels, and sunk onto the couch next to her lover.

"Hey babe!" she said too loudly, clearly quite drunk, "How was your night, hon?"

"Oh yeah it was great. Won 250 bucks off those dopes, you?"

"Ooooh nice one! That's my man. My night was great, Beau is such a cool bar." she replied, before looking down at me, "Take my shoes off and rub my feet a little, creep, I'm wiped."

Still on my knees, I shifted in front of my wife, removed her heels, and started tenderly rubbing her sore feet. As I toiled away on the floor the two lovers shared stories from their night: Amy talked about how Jess had gone home with "some ripped Spanish dude", and James spent 5 minutes giving an extended account of how Dwayne had farted in my face (which amused my wife no end).

When Amy started telling a rambling story about how she ran into an old high school friend, James looked increasingly bored. He soon began subtly making eye contact with me, and I knew he was signaling that it was time for me to do my terrible duty.

"Ahem, um, Mistress," I peeped as she was in the middle of her story.

She looked down at me curiously. It was rare of me to initiate a conversation these days, and unheard of for me to interrupt her speaking.

"Errr, Mistress, I was thinking that you look really pretty tonight but... but you maybe don't want to wear that dress again because..." I steeled myself, "Because it makes your butt look just a little big"

James immediately leaned forward and slapped me across the face hard, sending me flying to the floor in tears. After the room had stopped spinning I peered up at them.

James was glowering down, doing a pretty good impression of being genuinely furious. Amy was just staring at me open-mouthed: I'd never said anything remotely critical of her before, let alone about her appearance.

"What the fuck, Larry?" Amy yelled, sounding genuinely hurt as well as angry, "Since when did you talk to me like that? Who the hell do you think you are?!"

"I think he was steamed at you, baby. Earlier on he said he was mad about some photos you took of him or something." James said, lying through his teeth, "I guess this was the faggot's idea of getting revenge. But he's not getting away with that shit, not when I'm here."

James stood up and looked down at me menacingly.

"Bitch, you have two seconds to pull your pants down and bend over. NOW!"

I quickly got into the required position as I heard James removing his belt.

"Blister that motherfucker's ass, baby" Amy said with cold fury.

James wasted no time and let loose on me. I'd half-hoped he'd go a little easy since this whole thing was his idea, but no dice: the guy must have slashed at my ass with that belt 40 times as I cried and begged helplessly on the floor.

When he was finally done, I sheepishly peered over my shoulder at him through tear-filled eyes. He was scowling down at me, his muscular chest quivering as he panted from the exertion of beating me senseless. And beside him, Amy was gazing at her lover with a look of pure lust, worship, and admiration.

She put her hands around his waist, turned him towards her, and gave him a long, hot kiss.

"You need to take me upstairs now baby." she said sexily.

James put his arm around her waist and they started heading up stairs. I saw him move his hand down to her ass and squeeze it.

"By the way Ames," he said to my wife, "There's nothing wrong with that ass of yours. Though there might be after I'm done with it."

The two lovers shared a drunken chuckle and headed up to my wife's bedroom.

Larry; Chapter 5: The Medal

After James took Amy to bed, I couldn't get to sleep. At first I was kept awake by the taunting sounds of loud, animal fucking coming from the next room: bangs, groans, moans of ecstasy. But even after that finally died down at 3:15 am, I felt disturbed and restless, stewing in a cocktail of negative emotions as I reflected on the night I'd just endured.

Frustrated and tired, I went under my bed and pulled out the box I used to store a few of my most precious possessions. Of course, there were some sad relics of my broken marriage in there: my wife's engagement ring, which she'd handed back to me about 5 months into dating James, a movie ticket stub I'd saved from our first date, our increasingly obsolete marriage certificate. But tonight, I didn't pull out any of those things: I picked up a medal left to me by my late father.

My dad was a marine, a strong, no-nonsense man's man like my brother. He'd tried to toughen me up a little as a child, but mostly he was compassionate enough to accept me for the shy book-worm that I was. He won the medal fighting for our country, facing down bullets, bombs, and a thousand other dangers to stand up for what he believed in.

I, by contrast, had become a cringing, pathetic coward. I kissed a guy's ass last night because I was afraid of being beaten up. I knelt down and bent over to get whipped because I was afraid of jeopardizing my joke of a marriage. I stayed up in bed listening to my wife get fucked by another man because I was afraid of making her mad.

My brain then started replaying all the hundreds of humiliations I'd suffered in the last year. I had the blood of a war hero inside me, and I'd let myself be turned into a cowed slave by another man. The burning rage I'd been suppressing for months finally rose to the surface and I desperately needed an outlet, so I picked up my pillow and punched it furiously while spitting whispered expletives. I tried my best to release some of my humiliation, my hatred for James, and my bitter self-loathing, but it didn't do much. By the time I finally finished punching the pillow I felt just as dirty and miserable.

With angry tears in my eyes I set the medal on the sad little stool I used as a bedside table, laid my head on my poor, abused pillow, and tried to get a few hours of sleep.

***

The following morning, the atmosphere in the house was tense. Both Amy and James were hungover, which always made them more demanding and irritable. Worse still, Amy was clearly still pissed at me for insulting her the previous evening, and I was forced to absorb a constant barrage of angry orders, vicious putdowns, and icy glares.

It didn't take long for her to find a suitable opportunity for revenge (the brutal whipping I received the previous night obviously not being sufficient). A little after noon, I was doing some quiet dusting in the living room while James watched TV and Amy surfed the internet on her laptop.

"Oh my god!" Amy suddenly said, sounding delighted, "Take a look at this, babe!"

She shuffled up closer to her boyfriend and showed him her laptop. James laughed loudly.

"No fucking way! This is amazing." he said. "Hey buttslut22! Come take a look at this."

I looked over confused. I'd never heard that particular nickname before, but I was obviously the only person in the house who would ever be called something so degrading.

"Yes you, Larry." James said, "Though after last night I can see why you might think I was referring to your wife."

"James!" Amy squealed, playfully swatting her lover on the arm.

I meekly trotted over and looked at the laptop. Scanning the screen, I could see it was the messages page for 'Bulge', the gay dating site my wife and Jess had signed me up for the previous day. At the top it said, "Hi, buttslut22! You have 5 new message requests".

On the one hand, this explained my new nickname. On the other, I was perplexed and astonished that 5 men had messaged me in less than 24 hours. When I tried online dating during the early weeks of our 'open relationship', no woman ever initiated contact with me, and very few replied after I did. This thought had given me comfort after my wife hinted that she would make me date men. But here they were: 5 real gay who wanted to get to know me. I would have been flattered, if I wasn't sick with terror at what this might mean for my near future.

"I bet you thought you'd never have sex with anyone again, creep. Isn't this exciting? " my wife said acidly.

"Um... oh, Mistress, I don't know... I"

"Don't worry, I know you're not good at flirting, so me and James will handle all the conversations."

I stood there sputtering, trying to think of some way to get out of this situation.

"In fact, Larry, why don't you fuck off upstairs and clean the toilets." my wife instructed, "I'd do it myself, but it's hard to walk around much with such a big, fat ass. Meanwhile, we've got things covered on Bulge."

I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for her forgiveness in the hopes I could stop this madness, but one look at her face told me I'd better obey immediately.

***

After cleaning the bathrooms and Amy's bedroom, I was taking a rare 5 minutes of rest in my sad little room when James' voice boomed down from the den.

"Yo fag! Come get me a Coke!"

With a sigh I scurried over to the kitchen, retrieved a coke, and hustled down the stairs to the den. When I entered the room and saw my Master, however, I froze in horror. The bastard was sitting on his La-z-boy, smirking, with my father's medal pinned sloppily on his old 'Billy's BBQ' t-shirt. He turned over to look at me.

"What's the matter, buddy?" he asked, grinning.

I stood there open mouthed.

"S-sir, I..." I stammered after my brain started working again, "You have, my, um..."

"Oh, this?" he said, shaking the medal carelessly, "Your door was wide open and I saw this on your little stool. Now tell me, Larry: how does a faggot like you get a medal? You sure as shit didn't serve in the military."

"It's, um, well it's my father's Sir"

"Your dad's?" James sniggered, "What did he win it for? Biggest queer in the platoon? First guy to go into battle wearing assless chaps?"

"B-bravery, Sir"

He snorted with laughter.

"Well then, I've got some bad news for you Larry. If your dad won a medal for bravery, then he ain't your dad. Your mom must have been fucking some other guy, which is the one thing you have in common with the poor dope"

I stood there, burning with shame. My dad was my all-time hero, and hearing this jackass rip him to shreds was unbearable.

"Want it back, queer?" he asked amused.

"Y-yes, Sir. Very much, Sir"

"Well then, first you can bring me my coke, like I asked for 10 fucking hours ago."

I shuffled over and handed his drink to him. He took a long swig.

"Ahhh, that hits the spot." he sighed, milking every moment of this fucked up situation, "Now then, I don't think it's right you have this medal without working for it. I mean, your dad fought in a war to get this medal, is it fair that you can get it for nothing?"

"N-no. No I guess not, Sir."

"Glad we're in agreement. So first, I want you to put this on."

He reached into his pocket and passed me a tube of red lipstick. I looked down at it in horror.

"G'head Larry. Just imagine you're putting on camouflage makeup"

Closing my eyes, I opened the lipstick, gave it a twist, and applied it to my lips. I'd never done this before, so I just tried to imitate what I'd seen Amy doing. James smirked.

"Aww, don't you look pretty, Lar. Now, then," he said, "I want you get down on your knees, and suck my cock. If you can make me cum in 5 minutes, I'll give you back your little medal. Ok?"

I looked at him in horror, realising he was serious. I'd been forced to clean off James' cock after sex on a couple of horrible occasions, but I'd never given him or anybody else a full-on blowjob before.

"What's it going to be then, Colonel Faggot?" James asked tauntingly, rubbing his cock through his pants. "Trust me, with what Ames has planned for you next week it will be good for you to get some practice with this shit."

I closed my eyes in tears. I wanted to get the hell out of there, but this medal was the only thing I had left from my family. Mom and dad were dead. My brother abandoned me after my forced 'coming out' party. This medal represented the last connection between me and the only people in my life who had ever valued me. If there was the slightest chance of getting it back, I had to try.

I sank to my knees, and James pulled out his large, semi-erect cock. I moved towards it, but he slapped me away.

"Wait for it," he said, setting a timer on his phone, "3, 2, 1... go!"

I sucked his cock as sensuously as I could manage, his manly musk stinging my nostrils. I tried to do what I'd enjoyed on the tiny handful of occasions I'd received a blowjob: eye contact, taking it deep, caressing his balls. After a few minutes, he gave a manly groan and shot a thick load down my throat.

After he'd finished ejaculating, he looked at his phone.

"4 minutes 42 seconds!" he shouted "Congratulations! You've earned this the hard way, soldier"

He threw the medal onto the ground and I scrabbled to pick it up.

"What do you say, fag?"

"Th-thank you, Sir" I replied sadly.

"That was sweet, faggot. Now go back to whatever little chore you were working on, my gameshow's about to start"

I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. I looked down at my prize sadly.

I'd won the medal back, but it didn't feel much like a victory. If my dad had seen what I did, he would have been repulsed at me, and I couldn't blame him. I slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall and crying. I didn't want to have to process this humiliating new low. And I definitely didn't want to have to deal with whatever Amy had planned for me next week.

I looked at the medal again. I turned a symbol of martial valor into yet another monument to my cowardice and defeat. I had disgraced the medal and everything my father stood for, and I knew that I'd be reminded of that every time I looked at it. Racked with sobs. I forced myself to my feet I staggered over to the bin, opened it, and dropped the medal inside.

Larry; Chapter 6: Larry's First Date

I finished folding another of James' shirts, and looked at my watch. There were only 15 minutes left before I had to leave the house and travel to the apartment of 'hungdaddybrad', my date for the evening.

Amy had gleefully told me about the plans the previous night, and ever since I'd been paralyzed with terror. I had never been interested in being with a man and I certainly didn't want to get fucked up the ass, so my wife had essentially made an appointment for me to be brutally sexually assaulted.

Even worse, the guy I was meeting sounded like a freak: as per his username, he wanted me to call him 'Daddy', and he had instructed me to wear women's panties. Based on these ominous indicators, I had a feeling that my first experience with anal wouldn't exactly be tender and slow. And, to ensure my compliance, Amy had explained our situation to my date and asked him to provide a report on my obedience to her the next day.

Amy had shown no sympathy for my obvious misery and fear since she'd told me. Quite the opposite: she had invited her sister Jess over for the evening and the two had spent a fun few hours getting me ready. The festivities began with them cleaning my ass for its impending fucking, which involved them blasting cold water into my butthole with the shower head, laughing at my screams, and then blasting it again. They then made me try on a parade of humiliating outfits before finally settling on the mandatory pair of panties, one of Amy's pink t-shirts, and a pair of shorts which were a too tight for me.

By the time they had finished, James had arrived at our place with a pizza. As the three enjoyed their food, James had ordered me to iron and fold a few of his work shirts before I left, so I'd dutifully trudged upstairs to obey.

I looked down at my watch again. 5 minutes left. It's funny how time flies when you're waiting for your worst nightmare.

I sadly descended the staircase and entered the living room, where my wife, her lover, and her sister were sitting watching TV after dinner.

Amy noticed me, and checked the time on her phone.

"Oooooh Larry! It's almost time to go, right?" she mocked, "Isn't it exciting!"

I looked at the three of them: James snuggled up with my wife, Jess relaxing nearby with a glass of wine. I wanted nothing more I than to be able to sit there with them, safely at home watching old sitcom reruns. Then I contemplated the horrendous and terrifying violation I was scheduled to endure this evening, and I started shaking. This was all too much.

In panic, I literally fell to my knees and clasped my hands together.

"Please don't make me do it, Mistress, Master, please. I'll act gayer in public, I'll kiss your ass, I'll suck Master's cock again, I'll do whatever you want but please don't make me meet that man."

My wife sneered down at me unmoved.

"I've made my decision, Larry." she deadpanned, "It's all set up. Your date is waiting for you. It's rude to flake and it's rude to be late. So fuck off and do it."

I should have given up right there. But my normal cowardice and instinctive need to submit was being overridden by a spiraling, irrational panic.

"But why?" I begged, my voice quivering, "Why do I actually have to go? I don't understand. Why do you need to do this to me?"

I looked at their faces desperately. Then I asked a question I'd been brooding over for years, but had never had the courage to ask.

"Why do you hate me so much, Amy?"

There was a terrible silence. My wife's eyes flashed with terrible anger, as she stared me down.

"Why do I hate you, Larry? I hate you because you took 5 fucking years of my life." Amy spat, "You knew I was vulnerable after I broke up with Jason, and you jumped on me anyway. You manipulated me Larry, with all your gifts and your compliments and your begging. I was hot, I was young, I was fucking smart: I could have done anything, dated anyone, lived anywhere, but instead I was stuck with you, the human anchor weighing me down and guilt-tripping me any time I tried to live my life."

With those words, Amy Lewis ripped out my heart. To hear that she saw our early relationship, which had been the happiest time of my life, as a depressing prison extinguished the tiny flame of hope and joy that was still flickering in my withered soul. But she wasn't done yet.

"Now I'm finally having fun, Larry. I have a real man who challenges me and excites me. I have my friends. I have a job I love. I let you stay here and serve us as a kindness because I know you have some fucked-up obsession with me, but don't expect your whining and your pity to get you anywhere. They days when you could get me to do what you want are done, creep. So, I'm going to make this real clear for you: either you go out right now and meet your date, or you finally get out of my life forever and we can all move on."

I looked up at her. She was staring at me with bitter, angry tears in her eyes. I hung my head.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, sadly. "I'll go"

There was no fight left in me.

***

I stood in front of the door to my date's apartment. The situation felt like a surreal nightmare, but my devastation after Amy's speech had at least left me feeling somewhat emotionally numb. I looked at the address on my phone one more time to make sure I had the right number, and knocked.

I heard someone talking inside as they drew closer, and before long the door swung open. The man in front of me was tall, dressed in a sharp suit, and holding a phone up to his ear. He looked a few years older than me, and exuded confidence and presence.

"Hi-hi, I'm L..." I started, but he held up his finger to shush me as he continued listening to the phone. He beckoned me inside with his hand, and led me into a nicely decorated living room.

"So tell him to sell, I don't give a fuck," he barked down the phone as we walked, "I'm past the point of caring with this jackass.

My "daddy" then sat down on the couch. I was about to sit next to him, but he shook his finger and pointed for me to stand in front of him. While still listening to his phone, he looked at me and tugged at his shirt. I realized he wanted me to strip.

My hands shaking, I took off my shoes and socks, my t-shirt, and finally my shorts. When he saw my panties, he smiled.

"Listen, Trent, tell him he can do what he wants. If he doesn't want to take my advice seriously, that's not my problem. I'm done."

I stood there in front of him in my panties like an idiot. I'd never felt more exposed and vulnerable.

"Uh huh. Yep. Alright, Trent. Take care. Bye."

Once he finally hung up, he spent another minute sending a text to someone. Then he looked up at me.

"Now then," he said with a smile, "Buttslut22, right?"

"Um, y-yes" I stammered.

He quickly rose from the couch, walked over to me, and slapped me hard in the face.

"I think I made it perfectly fucking clear how you were to address me, bitch."

My face stung, and I felt sick to my stomach.

"Oh, s-sorry." I said, my voice still quivering, "Y-yes Daddy, I mean."

"Good boy." he replied with a smirk.

"This is your first time, isn't it Larry?" he said. The use of my real name felt oddly violating.

"Y-yes, Daddy"

"Well, I've had a tough day today, and I want to take it out on some pansy's ass. I'll try to go a little easy on you, but I'm not making any promises."

"Okay, Daddy." I whispered.

He moved closer, grabbed my head, and pulled me in for a hard, long kiss. It felt so strange and wrong to be doing this with a man, but I knew this was just the beginning.

When he finally broke off the kiss he spat in my face, before sitting back on the sofa rubbing his bulge through his trousers.

"Get down here and take it out," he said with a menacing leer.

I got down on my knees before him, unzipped his trousers, and took out his cock. The name 'hungdaddybrad' was not idle boasting.

"Kiss it," he instructed.

I sheepishly kissed the tip of his hardening cock. He smiled and slapped his dick on my face a few times.

"Now suck, it bitch. Make it nice and hard for Daddy."

I moved in and began giving the second blowjob of my life. My skin was crawling, but I did my best to give him a good time, repeating the eye contact and sensuality I'd tried with James. He grinned down at me.

"That's a good slut," he sighed, "Yeah just like that, keep going."

I obediently blew him for around 10 minutes, before he pushed my head away.

"Get in there," he said, pointing to another room. On quivering legs, I got up and walked into the room.

It was a bedroom, and to my my horror, a video camera was sitting on a tripod pointed at the bed.

"Get on the bed, on all fours." my tormenter barked, "Hurry up, bitch."

I complied, and closed my eyes.

This is not happening, I told myself, This is a bad dream, it's not actually happening.

I head the camera beep as he turned it on. Then I felt a cold, wet finger pushing my panties to the side and probing my ass, and I realised he was lubing my butthole. Soon, I felt something hard poking at me from behind as he eased his cock into me.

I groaned in pain as he began slowly fucking me. I didn't have time to process the humiliation and shame I was feeling: my mind was completely filled with the intense physical pain of losing my anal virginity.

Paying no attention to my discussion, 'Daddy Brad' began speeding up, slapping me on the ass, and shouting degrading names at me. I started softly crying, but I made it as quiet as possible so he couldn't hear me.

After a seemingly endless shower of pain, Daddy groaned in pleasure as I felt him come. He stayed in me panting for a few seconds, before pulling out and lying on the bed.

"I needed that. Good job, Larry. Your Mistress will get a nice report."

"Th-thank you, Daddy," I croaked.

"Now, gather up your clothes and get out," he ordered. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow. But we'll do this again some time, bitch."

"Yes, Daddy," I replied.

I clambered off the bed and waddled into the living room, my ass still on fire. I pulled on my clothes as quickly as I could, and hurried out of the apartment. As soon as the door closed, I started sobbing. I knew that I would be processing what just happened for the rest of my life.

Larry; Chapter 7: Hope

It took all of my few remaining shreds of strength to make it home without breaking down. By the time I got back, James and Amy had retired to bed and Jess had gone back to her place.

I staggered into the house and up the stairs, and collapsed onto my bed. I curled up in the foetal position and stayed there, wide awake, for hours. I wasn't even crying anymore: I just felt numb and broken, with traumatic flashbacks from the previous night's degradations periodically bursting into my conscious mind

I didn't sleep at all that night. As the sun rose and light began pouring through the curtains I remembered I was supposed to go to work today, but I couldn't bring myself to move. At around 8am, I heard Amy stirring and walking around the house. I should have been up already to serve her and James, but I just didn't have it in me.

Before long, my door opened and Amy padded in quietly, still wearing her dressing gown and slippers.

"Hey Larry," she said softly, "You didn't make coffee yet?"

"I'm... I..." I said, unable to summon up words. I started crying.

To my surprise, Amy walked over and sat on the side of my bed. She looked down at me with something approaching tenderness.

"So yesterday wasn't exactly fun, huh?" she asked.

I just shook my head.

"You got a really good report from hungdaddybrad. He texted me last night. I'm so proud of you for going through with it for me."

I looked up at her with teary eyes.

"And look, about what I said before you left... maybe I took it too far, Larry. I said you were a human anchor, but that wasn't all bad. You helped me find stability in a difficult time. You weren't what I needed and we were never right for each other but..."

She paused thoughtfully and looked down at me.

"I just got pissed, that's all. I was worried you weren't going to do it, and I need you to commit to the gay thing so I can make it work with James. Between you and me, he's not exactly thrilled about you living with me even though it's obvious I have zero sexual interest in you, but turning you gay has gone a long way towards smoothing things over."

She rubbed my shoulder gently.

"Look, I'm going to call your job and tell them you're sick so you can take today to recover. But right now you really need to get up, Larry: James will be awake soon and you know how he gets in the morning if you don't serve him his coffee and breakfast. Once he leaves, you can rest. Sound good?"

I nodded sadly. She patted me on the head.

"Good boy. Now c'mon, let's go downstairs and you can get everything ready".

Her uncharacteristic sympathy was just enough to rally me out of bed. I got up, pulled on some pyjamas, and followed my wife downstairs. I made my wife her coffee, and began bustling around cooking the bacon and eggs James liked to start his day with.

Sure enough, within 10 minutes I heard the thud of my Master coming downstairs. He walked over to my wife and kissed her in greeting

"Hey baby," he said to her, before turning to me, "And hey sweet cheeks! You get your little cherry popped last night?"

"James..." Amy said with a soft warning.

"Awww what, is the bitch a little tender this morning?" he said, walking menacingly close, "Is she feeling achy down there?"

As he finished talking he grabbed me hard on the ass. I cried out loudly. James sniggered at my distress before ambling over to the the table and sitting next to my wife.

I served them their breakfast and knelt on the floor next to the table as I always did during mealtimes.

"So," James said to my wife between mouthfuls of bacon, "Did that Brad guy message you?"

"Yeah he messaged late last night after we'd gone to bed," my wife replied, "Larry did really well, he did as he was told and gave the guy a great time."

"Well isn't that sweet," James mocked, "I guess we've finally found something Larry's good at".

I closed my eyes tight and tried to shut out the humiliating conversation. I really couldn't handle this today, but the bastard wouldn't let up.

"Hey Lar," he said, chewing, "Whose cock did you like more? Mine or Brad's?"

"James, he's been really good." my wife interjected, "Leave him alone this morning, he had a tough night"

"I don't give a shit," James said, his voice taking on a sinister edge, "I want to know whose cock the fag liked better."

I didn't want to be the cause of an argument between my wife and her lover, so I decided to just end it by telling him want he wanted.

"Y-yours, Sir," I said.

"Aww that's real sweet, Lar. Why?"

I had no idea what to say. Both cocks repulsed me.

"Um... because it's... er... bigger, Sir, and it tastes nicer, Sir."

James laughed loudly at my humiliating reply, and even my wife couldn't help a quiet chuckle.

Thankfully, James mostly left me alone for the rest of the morning, and once he'd finished his breakfast he left the house to go to work and I crawled back up to my bed. Before Amy left, she came into the room holding her pumps and thrust them in my face.

"Larry, look at my shoe. There's a smudge on it. Didn't you say you'd cleaned these?"

"Y-yes Mistress"

"Look, I know you've had a tough couple days so I'm not going to punish you. But this shit isn't acceptable, Larry. You have to be better if you want to stay here, ok?"

"O-ok, Mistress," I replied. I felt a little betrayed after how understanding she had been acting this morning, but at least she wasn't going to have me punished.

"Good. Get yourself better today, because tomorrow night Jess and her new boyfriend are coming over and we'll need you to clean the house through the day and then serve us once they arrive."

"Yes, Mistress"

With that, my wife went downstairs and left the house. With her gone, I was left with myself and my horrifying memories of the previous night. The feeling as the cock entered my ass for the first time. The shame when he spat in my face. How used and filthy I felt when he dismissed me straight after nutting in me, and the way I obediently gathered up my humiliating clothes and ran out.

At one point I felt furiously angry, thinking of all the things I should have said to the arrogant pervert who stole my anal virginity instead of submitting meekly like I did. I punched my pillow again for a while, but it was no use: nothing I did would ever ease the shame of willingly subjecting myself to so many degradations.

I stayed there in my room all day, not leaving to eat or drink or bathe. Amidst the pain and the humiliation, one small light flickered: the kind words Amy had said to me in the morning. She had admitted she didn't really mean what she'd said last night. She said our relationship wasn't all bad: which meant that even she saw some of the good in what we had. She said I'd helped her find stability.

This was the first time in a very long time she'd said anything kind about me or our marriage, and it returned a little hope to me. Perhaps one day she'd find she wants that stability again, and this would all be over. Perhaps everything I'd suffered, even last night, might have some positive purpose.

Perhaps there was hope.

Larry; Chapter 8: The Game

"Hey faggot, another round!" James yelled drunkenly.

I hustled over, picked up the bottle of tequila, and poured everybody another shot. My wife and James were entertaining Jess and her new boyfriend, a tall Spanish guy called Raoul, and it was starting to get rowdy. I was still extremely emotionally tender and traumatised from getting brutally fucked up the ass just two days previously, but my wife had made it clear that, after my day of rest yesterday, I would be expected to provide impeccable service this evening.

The night had started fairly innocuously. After greeting Jess and Raoul and taking their coats, I was initially just used to freshen drinks and bring snacks on demand. I sensed that my wife, her lover, and Jess were being careful not to abuse me too openly in front of the new guest until they had gauged his reaction to our bizarre arrangement. For his part, Raoul was too polite to ask why I was serving everybody and why I seemed so terrified of James.

As they all got drunker and Raoul's inhibitions lowered, he asked if I was their "houseboy or whatever". With a smirk, Amy explained that I was her husband and "kinda more like a slave". After Raoul burst out laughing and it was clear he would be open-minded about our strange situation, Jess gleefully recounted the story my forced coming out and experience getting fucked. Raoul went a little quiet after that last detail was revealed, but if he was perturbed by the revelation he didn't say anything.

As the night went on, the group graduated from beer and wine to tequila shots. The round I had just poured was their 5th, and everybody was pretty lit.

The evening started going downhill shortly after that when Jess suggested they play a game she'd seen on a TV comedy where the host would take a celebrity's phone and text their contacts silly messages. Naturally, I was to play the role of the celebrity.

Everybody liked the idea, and they all spent a few moments sat around trying to think of a suitably mortifying message to send. It was my wife who finally broke the deadlock.

"Ohhh I'll start," she said, amused, "I know who I'm going to message. Give it here, Larry."

I sadly passed my phone to my wife, who tapped out a message before hitting send. She then showed James the phone, who snorted with laughter, before turning it to me. My heart sank when I saw she'd messaged Shirley, the secretary at my company.

Shirley was middle-aged, divorced, and the proud owner of no fewer than four cats. Ever since my public coming out party (which she'd attended), she seemed absolutely determined to turn me into her "gay best friend". Every time I went to the break room she'd come bustling in after me and try to engage me in a conversation about fashion or makeup or some piece of gay culture I had no interest in. On the most recent of these occasions I said I didn't watch Ru Paul's Drag Race, and she spent at least 10 minutes giving me a blow by blow account of the most recent episode. She had also invited me several times to go out with her for shoe shopping, cocktails, or some other girly activity, which I had always managed to avoid by making up some excuse. Frankly, I'd been hoping she would get the hint and just leave me alone.

But now, all my polite snubbing was ruined. The message Amy sent was as follows:

Hey girrrrl! We need to have a Chardonnay and movie night pronto. Let's do it soon girlfriend, I need someone to dish to about the cutest guy I met a couple of nights ago. Kisses!

Not only had Amy condemned me to a whole evening with this woman, but she had effectively forced me discuss my traumatic sexual assault with her.

"Who'd you send it to?" Jess asked, and my wife explained the situation to her and Raoul. The pair shared a mean chuckle.

"Awwww looks like you've got your first fag hag Lar," Jess quipped, prompting more laughter.

Once the laughter died down, James stretched out his hand.

"Oh my god I've got a hilarious one, give it," he slurred.

"I have to send something to Larry's phone from mine," he said tapping away at his touch screen, "And then I'm going to forward it from Larry's phone to this number. What do you think, baby, should I send?"

My wife peered over at James and burst out laughing.

"C'mon, honey," she sniggered, "That might be taking it too far"

"What d'you think Jess?" James asked, showing my sister-in-law the phone.

When she saw it, Jess collapsed in hysterics.

"Oh my god, please do it!" she squealed.

"Well, that's a vote in favour and a vote against. What do you think Raoul?"

Jess whispered in Raoul's ear, explaining what the message was. He chucked softly.

"Oh Jesus that's pretty bad. I don't know, man, you guys decide"

"Ok, then, Larry, you get the casting vote. Take a look."

He turned my phone towards me, and I went white. He had written out a text to my brother Bob, my best friend and all-time hero who had angrily stormed out of my life after my coming out party. It read:

Heyyyy big bro hope ur good. Sorry a bout how we left things, Just wanted u 2 see this so u cd understand how much I LOVE my new life I hope u can except me for who I am now

Attached to the message was a video. I knew immediately from the thumbnail what it was: it was the video of my first fucking that Brad had taken with his tripod setup. The creep must have sent it to my wife and James as part of his report on my obedience.

Then Brent clicked play and held up the phone at arm's length so everybody could see it. The whole group gathered around and watched me on all fours on the bed. They giggled at my uncomfortable moan as Daddy Brad lubed up my ass. When the fucking started and the video Larry started squealing like a stuck pick, the four bullies fell over themselves in hysterics. Tears of laughter were actually rolling down Jess and James' face.

I watched the whole situation in horror. They looked like four demons, cackling at footage of the most disturbing and painful moment of my life as I knelt there in a haze of humiliation. As the pace of the fucking sped up and Daddy started yelling abuse at me, the terrible flashbacks I'd been suffering from since the event were suddenly all too real, and I couldn't take it anymore. I got up and stumbled out of the room, before vomiting violently in the bathroom sink.

My superiors stayed in the living room watching the video as I quivered and hyperventilated in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I looked terrible: pale as a sheet, bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, and puke around my mouth.

A couple of minutes after the video was over, my wife came into the bathroom.

"Jesus Christ, Larry" she said sharply after seeing the state of the sink, "Our guests have to use this bathroom."

I tried to speak, but I couldn't even breathe. Amy sighed heavily.

"He's not really going to send it, moron. He's just kidding around. Clean up in here and come back out, we still need you around to serve us for the night."

She turned and walked out of the room. Calming down (but still very shaken) I sprayed the bathroom cleaner on the sink and made sure it was sparkling before meekly shuffling back to the living room.

"Hey hey, here he is!" James yelled out as I walked in, "The star of tonight's big movie."

He closed his hand into a fist and held it in front of my mouth like a microphone.

"How was your first starring role? Was it hard? Did you find it meaty enough?"

"Uh... I..." I stammered. I knew I was supposed to play along, but I couldn't find the words. I also noticed that he still held my phone in his other hand.

"Leave him alone, James, let's move on" Amy said softly.

"Ok, ok," James said chuckling, "I just hope my big drunk fingers don't slip and send that message."

My heart stopped in my chest as he waved his finger around my phone theatrically. As Amy tried to grab the phone from him, he hit the button and the whooshing send noise rang out from the phone.

"Whoopsie!" he shouted.

Everybody was silent for a moment. Then Jess started laughing. Raoul and James followed afterwards. Within seconds, even my wife was giggling.

"You're such a dick," she jibed at him playfully as I sat there wanting to die.

Larry; Chapter 9: Betrayal

The young woman started moaning in ecstasy as she rode the stud underneath her while rubbing her beautiful, full tits with her hands. I stared at the scene as it played out on my phone screen, pumping furiously at my cock.

Between my job, being a domestic slave to my wife, and my increasingly frequent bouts of crushing depression, I rarely had the opportunity or desire to masturbate. This afternoon, though, I felt like I needed it desperately. The previous evening had been pure hell: watching the video of myself getting fucked and, even worse, seeing James send it to my estranged brother, had sent me into a spiral. After my wife's sister and her boyfriend finally left at 2:30 am and I crawled into bed, I spent the next several hours crying and waiting for the inevitable devastating reply from my brother. By the time I worked up the courage to send him another message explaining what had happened, I saw that he'd blocked my number.

Even though I'd had almost no sleep, I hauled my wimp ass up to serve my cranky, hungover Mistress and Master in the morning. I got slapped in the face by my wife for not bringing her coffee quickly enough, punched in the gut by James for overcooking his bacon, and accused of being a "retarded drama queen" for vomiting the previous evening after watching myself getting raped.

To my relief, my superiors decided they wanted to go out for lunch, so I had a few hours to myself. After I ironed another load of James' laundry, I slunk up to my bedroom, closed the door, and decided to indulge myself. I needed the dopamine hit. But more than that, after all the fucked-up things I'd experienced over the last few days, I also wanted to feel like a normal guy jerking off to some good old fashioned straight porn.

The woman started screaming with pleasure, and I stroked harder and harder. I was so close to a huge, thrilling, relaxing orgasm. Then I heard a shout and my blood turned to ice in my veins.

"LARRY! What the FUCK are you doing?"

My wife was standing in the doorway, looking at me with disgust and rage. I flushed bright red and tried to hide my cock with the bed covers.

"M-Mistress! I was just, er..."

She walked over and snatched the phone from my hand.

"Yeah, I thought so." she spat, "What if I'd been with someone we know, and they'd seen you in here jerking off to straight porn?! How would we explain that to them?"

"I...I..."

"You're such a selfish fucking prick, Larry. I can't believe you'd jeopardize everything James and I have worked for to get your pathetic kicks."

She turned and stormed out of the room, stomped downstairs, and yelled to James about what I'd done. My sad little erection had already withered away.

"LARRY GET YOUR BITCH ASS DOWN HERE, NOW!" James shouted from downstairs.

Just a few seconds ago I had been on the brink of a wonderful orgasm. Instead, I knew I was now in for a world of pain. There was no way I could keep James waiting, so I hurried downstairs.

As soon as I walked into the room, James stalked up to me, put his hand to my throat, and slammed me against the wall.

"Ok you little creep, what's your fucking game? Were you hoping to get caught looking at naked chicks so that people would know you're not gay? Are you trying to fuck up our relationship?"

"N...no, Master, I would never..."

James tightened his grip on my throat.

"I'm going to give you one more chance to learn this, Larry. You're a faggot. You have to act like a faggot, think like a faggot, jerk off like a faggot. I don't give a fuck if you still like girls deep down: so long as you're living with my woman, that's what you are. Now tell me: what are you?"

"I... I-m"

He squeezed harder.

"What are you?"

"I'm a faggot" I gasped.

He kneed me in the balls and I sputtered in pain.

"You forget your manners, bitch? Now say it right this time: what are you?"

"I'm a faggot, Sir"

He released my neck and I collapsed to the floor, doubled up in agony. But he wasn't done with me yet.

"Get on your fucking knees," James ordered, dragging me up by my hair. He pulled down his trousers and let out his hardening cock.

"Now show us you know what you are." he said, pushing his member into my mouth.

This was the third time I'd been forced to suck cock, but the first time I'd done it in front of my wife. That James was degrading me this way in front of the woman I adored took the humiliation and shame to a crushing new level. I was glad that I couldn't see her as James fucked my mouth.

My Master's dick was getting hard, and I sensed he was close to ejaculating. But before he came, I felt my wife come close to us.

"Oh my God, James, take me upstairs. Please baby."

The couple shared a hot kiss as I continued sucking James' cock. When they broke off, James cuffed me around the ear and told me to get off. He then grabbed my wife's hand and led her upstairs, leaving me on my knees with shame in my heart, a throbbing pain in my balls, and the taste of precum in my mouth.

Within moments the taunting bangs and moans of hard fucking reverberated from upstairs. As James lived out the scenes in my porn movie, I staggered to my feet and into the bathroom, where I tried to wash the lingering aftertaste of cock from my mouth. I then returned to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, covering my ears in a vain attempt to drown out their bangs and moans.

After about 20 minutes, the noises died down. For a further 30 minutes I could hear indistinct talking occasionally punctuated by laughter. Then, finally, my wife shouted my name and summoned me upstairs.

I headed up to the bedroom and sheepishly walked in. James was lying naked on the bed, his flaccid cock out in the open, while Amy had covered her body with the sheets. The room smelled of sex.

The two regarded me smugly for a few seconds before Amy started talking.

"Larry, James and I just had a conversation about what you did, and we're really disappointed in you. We've decided you need to be punished properly so this never happens again."

I felt that getting choked, punched, and mouth-fucked had been punishment enough, but clearly not.

"Firstly, for our peace of mind we're going to get you one of those cock cages. That way, you won't be able to jerk off unless we say so, and you'll have no temptation to watch straight porn."

I stood there shuffling my feet and feeling sick.

"What do you say, bitch?" James snapped, "Your wife is helping you to stop your disgusting habit."

"Th-thank you, Mistress," I replied meekly.

"Good boy," she smirked, "Secondly, it seems clear that you're having trouble adjusting to your new lifestyle so we're going to need to remind you of what you are. Brad has been texting me about wanting another date with you, and I think it's the perfect time to take him up on the offer."

I was stunned and terrified. The first time I met with 'Daddy' had almost broken me. Between the flashbacks, nightmares, and terrible memories, I had barely found the strength to sleep or eat in days. I felt as though my sanity was hanging by a thread already, and I couldn't bear the thought of giving up my body to this creep again.

"B-but..." I stammered.

"Stop" my wife said in a warning tone, "I don't want to hear it, Larry. You betrayed my trust today, and you have to understand your place."

I thought it was a little rich for her to talk about betrayal while laying next to her lover in what used to be our marital bed, but I swallowed that thought.

"We're going to set something up for next week. I was on the fence about making you see him again, but after today I see we're going to have to make these dates a regular thing."

I hung my head, blinking back tears. All I'd wanted was one lousy orgasm.

"I'll let you know when we have a plan," she said airily, "Now bring me an iced tea, shitface."

"Make that two" James said with a grin.

Pure horror eating away at my stomach, I hurried off to obey.

Larry; Chapter 11: The Letter

The dawn light was streaming through my bedroom curtains as I re-read my letter to Amy. I had been up writing all night, and the floor was littered with the crumpled remains of previous drafts. This time, though, I finally felt that I'd expressed what I wanted to say to my wife. The letter read as follows:

Dear Amy,

I am writing this letter because I need you to know how I feel.

Firstly, know that I love you. I'll never forget the first time I saw you, sipping an espresso in a blue sundress at the Oak Tree Café. From that moment onwards you, and nobody else, have been the sole joy and purpose of my life. Since then, everything I have done has been to make you happy. I took on all the household chores so you would never have to do anything boring or menial. I accepted your relationship with James because I saw how much excitement and pleasure he brought into your life. I came out as gay to my friends and family to help that relationship blossom. And I would do it all again, because your smile is worth more than anything in the world, including my dignity.

Secondly, know that I'm sorry. I knew you were too good for me when I asked you to marry me. I thought that my love might be enough to compensate for all my shortcomings. I now know that was wrong. I wish so much that I could give you back the years I took from you. I hope and pray that you might forgive me some day.

Thirdly, know that I'm deeply depressed. The dates with Brad are destroying me. The sex would be bad enough, but he also abuses me and makes me degrade myself in ways I can't bear to write. And while I completely respect and celebrate your relationship with James, the way he treats me has made my life hell. He beats me black and blue in my own home, forces to give him oral sex, and humiliates me to make you think less of me. I spend most nights crying, I barely eat, and I live with a deep shame which is slowly grinding down my sanity and self-respect.

Now that you know these things, I'm begging you, Amy: please let me be a human being again. I would never ask you to stop seeing James, or share the chores, or have sex with me. But please don't let James abuse me anymore, please don't give him the key to my chastity cage and, above all, please don't make me meet Brad again.

I'm helpless, Mistress. I throw myself at your feet and hope you can show mercy to a man who loves you.

Yours, forever,

Larry

As I finished reading, a fat tear fell from my eye and splashed onto the page. While everything was still legible, it caused a few of the words to run. I considered re-writing the whole thing on a new page, but I decided that the evidence of the teardrop might help Amy to appreciate my sincerity.

I folded the letter in two, placed it in an envelope, and wrote my wife's name on the back. I then crept downstairs and placed it in her purse, before heading back upstairs and finally going to bed. Exhausted and relieved, I quickly fell asleep and managed to get 2 hours of rest before my alarm woke me up for work.

***

The day passed as normal. We went through our usual morning routine of me serving Amy her breakfast and coffee (thankfully, James had stayed at his own place the previous night), before both heading off to work. I spent all day anxiously checking my phone to see if Amy had texted me about the letter, but nothing came through.

As usual, I arrived home a little before my wife, so I busied myself preparing dinner for her. After about 15 minutes, I heard her come into the house and walk into the living room.

"Hey, Larry," she called to me.

"Hello, Mistress," I replied nervously from the kitchen.

"How long 'til dinner?"

"It's in the oven, Mistress, it just needs another 20 minutes."

"Good, come in here and give me a foot rub. We need to talk."

I trotted out to the living room and knelt before my wife, who had collapsed onto the sofa. I took off her pumps and started firmly massaging her tired feet. Amy looked down at me and sighed.

"So I read your letter, Larry," she said.

"Oh, th-thank you, Mistress," I stuttered, my heart in my throat.

"You said some nice things in there, Larry. Some real nice things. But you also said some stuff which confused me."

"I'm sorry, Mistress, w-what was confusing?" I answered as I kneaded her soles.

"Well, you say you love me and accept me and James. But you also kind of trash James, saying he treats you badly, saying you don't trust him to hold the key to your chastity... I mean, it sounds like you really don't respect him at all."

"Oh n-no, Mistress, no" I said panicking, "I respect him so much, it's just that he's r-really mean to me and I wish he could just be a little nicer."

"Did you ever think that maybe if you stopped resisting and just obeyed him, James would ease up on you? He's not a monster, Larry, he's just like a macho man's man, y'know? It's one of the things I love about him," she said with a fond smile. "He's the kind of guy who needs to be the alpha dog, and that's especially true with you because of our history. Trust me, if you stop complaining and whining when he orders you to do something, he'll feel more secure and won't need to put you down so much."

"B...but he hurts me and... makes me, er, suck him, Mistress."

"So? What's so bad about sucking his dick?" she replied quickly, "I suck his dick, does it make you think less of me?"

"No of course not, Mistress, but... but I'm a man"

"Oh I see, so it's okay for a woman to suck dick, but if a man does it somehow it's this big trauma? Do you have any idea how sexist that sounds, Larry? Same thing with getting fucked: women all over the world get fucked every day, but for some reason you think you're too good for it?"

"But Mistress, you like when Master fucks you, b-but with Brad I..." I swallowed, unable to find the words. Tears filled my eyes.

"Well you know what, maybe it's karma then, Larry." she snapped, clearly getting irritated, "You knew I hated having sex with you, but you were still bothering me every other night with your sick urges. I laid back and took it for you all those years, so maybe it's about time you did the same for me."

Her logic was outrageous, relentless, and impossible. I should have known itwas pointless. I never could argue with this woman.

"Look, Larry," my wife said, her tone suddenly softer, "I know I've never said it but... I am grateful for what you're doing. Since you came out as gay James and I have been stronger then ever, and we've been able to publicly express our love in a way I never thought possible. And you should know that every time you humble yourself, either by submitting to James or meeting Brad, it makes it a little easier for me to let you stay here."

She looked down at my tear-streaked face.

"You say you want me to forgive you for wasting my life. If you really mean that, and you really love me, then just obey James and don't do anything to fuck up our relationship. And trust me, as a girl who's fucked and sucked more than her fair share of cocks, the Brad thing really doesn't have to be a big deal. You just need to change your perspective on it: think of it as something you're doing for me. There's nothing gay or shameful about doing something for your wife, is there?"

"N-no, Mistress," I sniffed.

"Good boy," she said smiling down at me, "I'm glad you wrote that letter, and I'm glad we had this chat. Just stop getting in your head and try to focus on how happy you're making me. If you do that, and if you show James you accept him as your master, it will all get easier. I promise."

"Th-thank you, Mistress," I said. I was pathetically grateful for the encouragement.

"Now go check on dinner, and make sure there are fresh sheets on my bed. James is coming over tonight."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I walked upstairs with a new perspective and a renewed sense of purpose.

Larry; Chapter 12: Larry the Kiss Ass

As I put the finishing touches on Amy's bedroom in preparation for her night of passion, I heard James let himself into our home and warmly greet my wife.

My heart start beating out of my chest as I was gripped with the anxiety I always felt before seeing him. Usually I would hide upstairs until he called me, enjoying the last few minutes of safety before my evening became a nightmare. But remembering Amy's words about the importance of signaling my submission to her lover, I decided to be proactive. Taking one last deep breath, I walked downstairs and into the living room.

My wife and James were in the middle of a passionate kiss on the sofa when I arrived, so I hung my head and respectfully waited until they were finished. When they finally broke off, I sprung into action.

"H-hello, Master. I hope you had a great day. C-can I take your coat and shoes, Master?"

James smirked and looked at Amy curiously. She smiled at him and shrugged.

"Well aren't we full of beans today," James finally replied, "Yeah sure, you can take them weirdo"

I knelt before my wife's lover and removed his work shoes as he took off his coat and threw it at me. I hurried out to the hall and neatly put his clothes away, before scurrying back in.

"Oh by the way, I brought some laundry for you to do." James said, "It's out in the truck. You need to finish it before I head to work tomorrow morning."

Ordinarily, I would have just sighed and said 'Yes, Sir'. But again, I remembered my wife's advice about how James would ease up on me if I stopped resisting him, so I adopted a different approach.

"Th-thank you, Master," I said smiling, "I appreciate the opportunity to wash your clothes. May I fetch you a drink first, Master?"

"You're such a freak, Larry, you know that?" he said, chuckling, "Yeah, I'll take a beer."

"Yes thank you, Master, I know I'm a freak. I'll go fetch your beer right away, Master!" I answered as chirpily as I could muster.

I rushed off to get his drink and set it down next to him. I noticed that James had casually put his bare feet up on the glass coffee table which I'd just polished that morning, but I knew it was important not to show any resentment.

"Master, Mistress, is there else anything I can do for you before I get started?" I asked.

"Nah, you can fuck off and wash my clothes." James said, smugly draping his arm around my wife, "And don't come back for a while, I want some alone time with my woman"

My wife smiled contentedly and snuggled into James' manly chest.

"Yes Master," I replied humbly, before slinking out of the room.

Seeing them cuddled up watching TV always depressed me. I would have given my right arm to have one night of domestic bliss like that with Amy. But even at the start of our marriage when our relationship was more normal, Amy never showed me that kind of loving, simple affection. I used to think she just wasn't that kind of person. Seeing her and James together, I was forced to confront the sad truth: I'm just not lovable enough for that kind of happiness.

I tried to push these disturbing thoughts out of my mind as I hauled the two huge bags of James' dirty clothes into the laundry room and put in the first load. I spent the next two hours immersed in humble drudgery: putting new loads in the washer, transferring clothes to the drier, and ironing everything carefully. It was boring work, but at least I wasn't being tortured or humiliated. Frankly, with all the horrendous things I experienced on a daily basis, mundane chores like laundry were the closest I got to a break.

By the time I finished ironing the last pair of James' underpants, it was almost midnight. My superiors were still watching TV together, so I quietly stood outside in the hall and waited for an ad break before stepping inside.

"Mistress, Master, I've finished the laundry. Is there any other way I can serve you and please you?"

"Ok, what the fuck's up with you tonight, Larry?" James asked, amused, "Have you fallen in love with me or something?"

"Uh... um.." I sputtered.

"Because I love you, Larry. In fact," he said, getting up and tenderly grabbing my hand, "I've loved you from the first moment I saw you, sipping an espresso in a blue sundress at the Oak Tree Café"

Amy burst out laughing, and my blood turned to ice: I couldn't believe she'd shown him my very emotional—and very private—letter.

"You're such an asshole," Amy kidded, playfully swatting her lover on the arm.

"Ohhh no I haven't upset you, have I sweetie?" James said in a mock dramatic voice, "After all, your smile is worth more than anything in the world to me."

Amy laughed harder as I stood there like an idiot, burning with anger and humiliation.

"I must say though, Larry," James said, his voice suddenly taking on a sinister edge, "Ridiculous as that letter was I really don't appreciate you complaining about me to my woman"

I could see Amy looking at me expectantly. I knew it was important to put on a good show tonight so I dropped to my knees.

"Master, I'm so sorry. It was stupid, disrespectful, and rude of me to write that letter. I beg your forgiveness, Master."

"I appreciate that, Larry. But I think I'm still going to have to teach you a lesson."

My heart started thumping in my chest. I knew from bitter experience that this wasn't going to end well, but I decided the safest thing to do was to keep groveling.

"Yes Master," I said as earnestly as I could, "I'm grateful for any punishment you give me, Master."

"Follow me." he said simply.

James walked out to the bathroom, with me and Amy in tow.

"Kneel in front of the toilet, faggot," he ordered.

I obeyed quickly. James got down on his haunches beside me as Amy stood and watched us. He grabbed me by the hair roughly.

"Let's make one thing very clear, asshole." he said forcefully, "You don't get to complain about me. In fact, you're fucking lucky I let you have any place at all in Amy's life. I'm bigger than you, I'm stronger than you, and I can have Amy throw you out on the street any time I like. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Of course, baby." Amy answered immediately, "I need you, he's just along for the ride."

"And you know what all that means, Larry?" James whispered, moving his face uncomfortably close to mine, "It means you're my bitch."

As soon as he finished talking, he dunked my head into the toilet water and held it there. The disgusting water swirled around me, filling up my senses. After thirty seconds, he pulled me out.

"What are you?"

"I-I'm your bitch, Master." I sputtered.

He dunked me under the water again and held me there for another thirty seconds.

"I don't think I heard you the first time." he said after he pulled me out, "What are you?"

"I'm your bitch, Master!" I said, louder.

He put my head under the water again, this time for almost a minute. By the time he yanked my head up again, I was gasping for air.

"Say it with some feeling, faggot. What are you?"

"I'M YOUR BITCH, MASTER," I shouted loudly.

Satisfied, James pulled my head away from the toilet and threw me roughly to the ground.

"Good. Glad we've developed an understanding." he said, standing up.

From the floor, I could see James leering down at me and Amy staring dreamily at her lover.

"Now then, I'm going to go upstairs and fuck your wife. You're going to clean up all the water you've just dripped on the floor, tidy up after us in the living room, and then go back to your sad little room. Understand?"

"Y-yes Master," I said, still in shock.

Without another word, James took my wife by the hand and went upstairs. As I mopped the floor and cried, I could hear Amy screaming with pleasure from the be. I shouldn't have been surprised. Nothing got her hotter than seeing that monster treat me like shit

***

James left early to make his work shift, so Amy and I were alone at the breakfast table the next morning. Once she sat down and I poured her coffee, she turned to me and smiled broadly.

"You know, you were so good last night, Larry!" she said.

"Thank you, Mistress" I replied sadly.

"James was very pleased with your new attitude. He loved how eager you were."

"But... but I mean... you said he'd go easy on me if I was submissive and... er... he still... he..."

I paused, unable to bring myself to describe the previous night's humiliations.

"He was punishing you for all the rude shit you said in your little letter, not for anything you did yesterday, idiot."

I looked down at my cornflakes. I didn't know what to say.

"Anyway, don't spoil it now Larry." Amy added, "You know, over the last few weeks I've been thinking of ditching you altogether. But after your behaviour last night, I'm starting to see how we could make this thing work in the long-term."

I was stunned and horrified.

"Uh you were... um... going to g-get rid of me, Mistress?" I stuttered, my eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, don't sound so shocked. I mean, you've not exactly adapted well to your new lifestyle, have you? "

"Uh... um... I mean it's been a lot to adjust to and..."

"But now," my wife said loudly, cutting into my babbling, "I can see how you might have place in our life."

I looked at my wife's sinister smile, and once again realized how ice-cold this woman was. In the guise of saying something comforting, she had actually just issued a grave threat: that if I didn't keep up my abject obedience, she'd dump me forever.

"I-I'll prove it to you, Mistress," I promised desperately, "I'll do everything I can to serve you both and be the best husband I can"

Amy winced.

"Oh yeah, that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. It's pretty disrespectful for you to call yourself my husband. I mean, I know technically we're still married, but you need to accept that James is my man now and that you can't think of yourself that way. You're just my slave... well, our slave. That's your role in this house and my life. Got it?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said sadly.

As I processed this latest gut-punch, a terrible question arose unbidden in my head: when is she going to stop hurting me? I tried to push that dangerous thought of my mind and ate another spoonful of cereal.

Larry; Chapter 13: The Office

I stared blankly at the spreadsheet on my computer, unable to focus on work. My wife's words from breakfast echoed in my head: You're just our slave. That's your role in this house and my life.

Familiar, depressing questions filled my troubled mind. Why does James get to be a man and I have to be a slave? Why, after all the sacrifices I've made for her, does my wife love him and not me? Why is everything so easy for him, and so hard for me? Is it in our DNA? Is it fate? Does God just hate me?

Utterly miserable, I looked at the picture frame on my desk. It used to contain a beautiful picture of Amy smiling which lit up my sad little cubicle. Since my forced "coming out", however, my wife had decided it was inappropriate for me to display her photo. At her sister Jess' suggestion, I had been forced to replace it with an image of gay Latin popstar Ricky Martin. Brooding on my pathetic life, I looked at it and sighed sadly.

Suddenly a familiar, irritating voice chirped up behind me.

"Lookin' at Ricky again, hon?"

Suppressing my instinct to cringe, I turned around to see Shirley, the company receptionist, smiling at me. Ever since she'd found out I was "gay", she had developed an obsession with becoming my friend. My wife thought this was hilarious, and had forced me to go over to Shirley's house last Friday for a torturous evening of cheap Chardonnay, girly movies, and humiliating conversations about men and fashion.

"Oh, hey Shirley." I said politely, "Um, no, I was just looking around."

"Come on, I heard that sigh. I can't blame you, he was cute back in the day!" she said, giggling.

"I...um..." I stuttered, flushing bright red, "I'm a little busy right now, Shirley, so maybe we can talk later."

"Aw yeah let's do that. We can do another movie night! Anyway, I came over to tell you there's a guy in reception who says he has a meeting with you."

I racked my brains, trying to think of who it could be. As an accountant, I almost never had meetings with people from outside the company.

"D-did he say who he is?" I asked, confused.

"Sorry hon, I didn't get a name. He said you were expecting him. I wouldn't question it too much though, Lar, he's a hundred-degree hottie!"

Curious and nervous, I got up from my desk and followed Shirley out to the reception area. When I saw who was waiting for me, I nearly fainted. It was Brad, sitting casually in his impeccably tailored suit.

I felt dizzy, and my legs started to buckle underneath me. I almost collapsed, but managed to steady myself on Shirley's desk. Brad rushed over to me and grabbed my arm.

"Woah, Mr Winkleman! Are you okay?" he said, with mock concern.

I tried to speak, but I could only gasp incoherently.

"You alright hon?" Shirley said, genuinely worried, "Sit down, let me grab you some water."

I staggered over to the sofa and collapsed. Brad immediately came over and sat next to me. I could smell the familiar, masculine scent of his cologne. As soon as Shirley was out of earshot, he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Get it together quick, sweet cheeks, or I'm going to send everyone in this dinky little office a certain video."

I tried to calm down, taking deep breaths. Despite having to adjust to my colleagues thinking I'm gay, work had always felt like a safe place for me, free from the extreme humiliation and abuse I suffered at home. Brad's sudden presence was a terrible and horrifying invasion of my last sanctuary of normalcy.

"When that fat bitch receptionist gets back, drink your water and say you're feeling better." he whispered in my ear, "Then you're going to take me to the nearest disabled bathroom, and we're going to have some fun"

He licked my ear, and a shudder went down my spine. When he heard Shirley coming back, he moved over a little and put his hand on my back in a phony gesture of sympathy.

Shirley bustled over, and gave me a cool glass of water.

"How are you doing, Lar?" she asked.

I tried to suppress my shaking and look as normal as possible.

"I'm o-okay, much better, thank you."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Shirley, I'm a lot b-b-better. I think I just got up too fast from my, chair,"

"Look, Mr Winkleman, we can do our meeting another time if you'd like," Brad said, digging his nails into my back to signal that this wasn't a sincere offer.

"N-no no, Mr Sinclair, that's fine. Let's talk. I'll, um, show you inside."

"Well, that's great." Brad replied, "I know you're going to love our new hardware".

Still quivering, I got up and led Brad through our office. A few people looked up curiously, but nobody said anything.

When we reached the bathrooms, I started looking around to make sure nobody was watching. Brad, not interested in waiting, quickly opened the disabled toilet and pushed me inside. He followed me and locked the door behind us.

"Ahh, alone at last," he sighed, flashing a cruel grin at me.

Still dazed and horrified, I couldn't say anything. He walked behind me and grabbed my hips, pulling me close. He bit my neck roughly, and I could feel his manhood swelling against my ass.

"It sure was nice of your wife to tell me where you worked and set up this date, wasn't it?" he purred in my ear.

I closed my eyes, wishing myself away into another life.

"You know Larry," he said sinisterly, "If you don't start showing me the proper respect and answering my questions, I'm going to get pissed off and make a scene. You wouldn't want me to make a scene in front of all your little colleagues, would you?"

"N-no, Daddy," I said finally, "But p-please. Just... I can't today. I'm already feeling so depressed and... just please, Daddy, please let me go just this once."

Brad snorted with laughter.

"Awww, is my little butt slut feeling sad?" he said, grinding his crotch against my ass from behind.

"Yes, Daddy." I said, sniffling.

"Ah, I'd love to talk it out with you, cutie. But we shouldn't stay in here too long, unless you want the whole office wondering where you disappeared to. So why don't you strip down and I'll nut as fast as I can. Ok?"

Repulsed, but also anxious to finish this as quickly as possible, I stripped down to my underpants.

"No panties today?"

"S-sorry, Daddy, I didn't know you were coming"

"Whatever," he snapped, pushing me against the wall and pulling down my underwear, "Bend over more, bitch."

When I was in the desired position he pulled down his trousers and underpants, lubed his cock, and penetrated me. It was a hard, brutal fuck right from the start. I groaned in pain.

"Shut the fuck up," he whispered, "Take it like the faggot you are."

I stayed as silent as I could, though I couldn't help letting out the occasional quiet moan of agony.

"You're nothing," he panted, slapping my ass hard, "You're just meat"

He pounded me hard for around 5 minutes before he came. He stayed in me for a few moments before pulling out.

"You let some cum leak on the floor," he sneered, "Lick it up"

In extreme pain and shame, I fell to my knees and licked his disgusting mess off the bathroom floor.

"Jesus, you really have no self-respect at all." he said, "No wonder your wife's fucking another man"

He watched me licking for a couple of minutes, until he was satisfied that I had debased myself enough.

"That was nice, Larry, but I've got to bounce. I suggest you wait a few minutes before you leave the bathroom so your work buddies don't see us together, but I don't give a shit."

With that, he walked out of the bathroom and left me there on my knees.

***

I don't know how I made it through the final 3 hours of the work day. I didn't do anything productive, I just sat on my chair clicking around on a spreadsheet and focusing all my efforts on not breaking down.

When the day finally ended, I got in my car and started driving home. I already felt on the verge of collapse, as if the slightest thing would cause my fragile mind to shatter into a million pieces. Then I contemplated the night ahead. James was coming over again, so I'd have to endure whatever new humiliations he wanted to inflict on me. Then there was my wife, who would be watching my every move to see if I stopped smiling and sucking up to her and her insane boyfriend.

But, as if in a dream, when the time came to turn onto my street I didn't do it. Instead, I found myself driving across town to a dive bar I used to frequent as a student. My logical mind told me that I'd be in a world of trouble if I didn't get back home to serve Amy and James, but a primitive, instinctive part of my brain had taken over.

I walked into the bar and claimed a seat in the corner so nobody would talk to me. And then I drank. And drank. Until the sun rose.

Larry; Chapter 14: Hangover

I woke up feeling like shit.

An agonizing headache pounded at my skull, my mouth was bone dry, and I could faintly taste whiskey and vomit. Then I became aware of my aching back, and realised I wasn't sleeping in my bed.

I opened my eyes and, to my confusion, saw gardening tools around me. I then had a very vague flashback of trying to get inside the house in the early hours of the morning, and finding the door bolted. I must have crept into the shed to gain some respite from the bitter February cold, though I had no recollection of doing so.

Suddenly, fuzzy memories of the previous day started flooding back: the rape at the office, my breakdown and subsequent flight to the bar, and a night of heavy drinking concluding in being locked out of my own home,

Shuddering, I pulled out my phone turned it on. There were 40 texts and 25 missed calls. The vast majority were from Amy. The tone of her messages escalated from confusion, to annoyance, and finally to rage. There was no hint of concern for my unexplained absence, only anger that I wasn't available to serve her and her boyfriend.

There was also a message from Shirley. When I saw her name, I realised with a pang of fear that it was after 10:30 on a work day. Fortunately, she was messaging to explain that she'd covered for me, having told my boss about my sudden faint in reception the previous day.

I mustered all my strength and hauled myself up to my feet. I then shuffled over to the back door and, praying it wasn't still bolted, put my key in the lock and turned.

To my immense relief, the door swung open and I was able to enter the house. Amy and James had both gone to work, so thankfully the place was empty. After a trip to the bathroom to vomit, I staggered upstairs, collapsed onto my bed, and fell asleep again.

***

I woke up again to a flood of cold and pain. Gasping, I bolted upright and opened my eyes to see Amy and James standing side-by-side and scowling down at me. Amy was holding a bucket, and I quickly realised that she'd just poured ice-water over me.

"M-mistress... I..." I sputtered.

"Where. The fuck. Were you." Amy said with a cold fury.

"I... I...." I stammered, tears welling up, "I'm so sorry Mistress. I'm so sorry, I beg you, I-"

Suddenly, James stalked over, pulled me off the bed and onto the floor, and started kicking me hard in the gut.

"She asked where you were, you piece of shit," he shouted between kicks.

"I went to a bar, Master!" I squeaked.

He stopped kicking. I looked up and saw them both glowering at me.

"Who the fuck told you that you could go to a bar?!" Amy yelled.

"I'm so sorry," I blubbered, "It's just that Brad came to my office and he did... t-terrible things to me again..."

"Oh Christ," my wife spat, "I'm so over your bullshit, Larry. I've told you how important this thing with Brad is to me, but you still have a shit-fit every time I set up a date with him."

"I'm trying to accept it, Mistress... I'm trying to be a good slave but... I'm not gay"

Without warning, James kicked me in the face twice.

"If we tell you you're a faggot," he shouted, "Then you're a fucking faggot."

My wife's boyfriend then sat on top of me and started slapping me hard in the face. When he was finally satisfied, he sat on my bed, pulled my shaking body closer, and shoved one foot in my mouth while resting the other on my stomach.

Amy immediately sat next to him, and the pair started passionately making out as I submissively sucked my Master's toes. Within minutes, they were tearing each other's clothes off, and James took his foot out of my mouth and lay supine on the bed.

"Get over here and keep sucking, bitch," he ordered as my wife straddled his huge, erect cock.

Still shaking from the ice-water and the beating, I crawled over and sucked his toes again. I closed my eyes in an attempt to blot out the humiliating situation, but the sound of Amy's loud moans of pleasure and the taste of James' feet in my mouth kept me very much in the moment.

Finally, Amy screamed bloody murder as she orgasmed. Shortly afterwards, James gave a manly growl of pleasure as he came inside my wife. Amy collapsed on top of him and the pair lay entwined together as I continued my humiliating service at the foot of the bed.

When they had recovered from their fuck, the pair sat up next to each other on the bed. James grabbed my pillow to wipe his cock off, and then passed it to Amy who used it to mop up her boyfriend's cum from her pussy and thighs. She then smiled at her man and gave him a short kiss on the lips.

"Shall we tell him, baby?" she asked.

"Well, now seems like as good a time as any," he replied with a grin.

"Slave!" my wife ordered, "Get over here and kneel in front of us"

Full of trepidation, and still in intense physical pain, I crawled over and knelt before my masters.

"Larry, when it became clear that you weren't coming home last night, James and I had a long chat about our situation." Amy said, "He's my boyfriend and he deserves to feel secure in our relationship, but you've been resisting our new life at every turn: the constant whining, that faggy little letter, and now running off to a bar. It makes it hard for him to trust me."

I blinked in disbelief. I had sucked his dick, publicly come out as gay, and humbly accepted him fucking my wife on countless occasions. What could he possibly have to worry about?

"So I decided it's time to make a commitment to James which will prove to him—and to you—how I feel. So here it is: he's going to be moving in with us."

I almost fainted. I put my hand on my aching head and tried to take deep breaths.

"That's not all though, Larry," James said with a smirk, "You see, I'm not moving in here while you're still joint owner of this house. I ain't having you as my fucking landlord. So we decided if you want to stay here with us, you're going to sign over your half of the house to me."

Despite myself, I sputtered in indignation.

"Oh, Master, I don't—"

"Shut your damn mouth, Larry!" my wife yelled, leaning close to my face, "You're getting off fucking lightly. If I hear one complaint from you about this, just one, I'll divorce you and we'll be done forever."

She stared at me in the eyes, daring me to object. Within two seconds, I meekly lowered my gaze to the ground.

"Good call, wimp," she mocked, "So as James was saying, you're going to sign over your share of the house to him. Now once you've done that, you'll be a tenant here, so I think it's only fair you start paying rent."

"W-what, Mistress?" I asked, incredulous.

"You heard me Larry." she said matter-of-factly, "Rent."

"How... um... how much... would you need?"

"Hmmmm," Amy said, stroking her chin and pretending to be in thought, "What do you think, babe?"

"Well, it is a nice little room he's got up there," James joked, "Nice comfy bed, a little box as a bedside table. I think it's pretty damn luxurious for a slave."

"Well in that case... how about we set his rent at his monthly salary? And for a deposit, why don't we take all his personal savings? Sound fair to you, baby?"

"Yeah sounds like a great deal to me," James sniggered.

I looked up at them. They were both smirking, but I knew this was no joke. I was fucked.

Larry; Chapter 15: Amy's Chapter

YOU WIN! the game announced in big, pink letters. I smiled down at my phone. This was my 5th straight victory over my sister in iScrabble, which was an all-time record in our long-running series of games. Jess messaged me and jokingly demanded a rematch, but I was getting tired of playing so I told her she'd have to wait until tomorrow to get her revenge.

I put my phone down and glanced over at my husband.

Larry was on his knees in the corner, polishing up my boyfriend's work boots. He had a black eye and bruises on his arm from the savage beating James had inflicted on him the previous night . He also looked exhausted, no doubt from worrying about his impending financial ruin, and was occasionally twitching his left eye (a tick which had been getting progressively worse since I forced him to come out as gay).

It was a pitiful scene, and I felt the usual mix of emotions I experienced when I contemplated our increasingly unequal relationship. A part of me did feel guilty about what I was doing to him. This man loved me—completely, desperately, and obsessively—and I was destroying him to make my life easier and fulfil my sadistic fantasies.

I also felt anger. Looking at him, I couldn't believe that I'd let myself be duped into marrying that sniveling, pathetic creature. He must have known that a woman like me could never be satisfied with a miserable specimen like him, but he still pursued me, playing the loyal, devoted savior and exploiting the insecurities I had developed after a string of shitty relationships. I wasted years of my life trying to make it work with that wimp, and I'd never get that time back.

But the strongest feeling by far was an intense combination of dominance and aggression. It was a deeply intoxicating sexual thrill to see what I'd done to this once normal, happy man, but it was much more than that. I felt an emotional need to break him, to obliterate his self-respect, self-worth, and dignity and mold him into an absolute slave who was a living extension of my will.

Larry suddenly noticed me staring at him and smiled weakly at me. I returned his smile warmly. He looked pathetically happy to receive even that tiny crumb of validation, and started rubbing away harder at the dirt on James' shoe.

Ordinarily I wouldn't have smiled back at the wimp, but I knew we were at a very delicate point in his progression. Tomorrow, he would go to the bank and withdraw all of his personal savings, which would be distributed evenly between me and James. After that, we were due to sign the papers which would transfer his share of the house over to my lover.

Larry's position wasn't nearly as weak as he thought. I didn't really want to kick him out. Frankly, dominating him with James was once of the most exciting, erotic, and satisfying things I had ever done. And I definitely wasn't interested in doing housework again, especially with my messy boyfriend moving in. If he pushed back on this and really stuck to his guns, I'd have to seriously consider compromising.

If he went ahead with it, however, he was finished. He would become penniless and completely dependent on me and James for financial security. I knew he would never, ever be able to leave me then: the pussy was already terrified of being alone, and there was absolutely no way he'd have the balls to run away if it meant he would be homeless too.

Larry had agreed to our demands last night when faced with the immediate threat of another beating from James, but since then he had been much quieter and more distracted than usual. I guessed that he was thinking things over (which, frankly, was understandable given the magnitude of what we were demanding), and I knew I had to push him in the right direction.

"Larry, come over here a sec," I ordered.

He immediately put down James' boot, stood up, and dutifully trotted over. I pointed to the ground, and he quickly knelt before me. I looked down at him, and took a few moments to gather my thoughts.

"Larry, I want you to know that you really hurt me when you ditched us the other day." I finally said.

"Oh M-Mistress I'm so, so sorry." he stammered, "I had a bit of a breakdown and acted really stupidly. I'm just so sorry"

Tears filled his eyes, and he clasped his hands together as he begged for forgiveness. I had to restrain myself from laughing.

"It wasn't just stupid, Larry," I said, "It was selfish and downright cruel. You know how James gets when you resist the new life we've set out for you, and yet you still decided to jeoparize my relationship to have your tantrum. It upset me to see how little you care."

"You're right, Mistress," he said, choking back tears, "I'm so sorry, I screwed up really bad again. I love you so much..."

My slave trailed off and just started sobbing.

"You did screw up, Larry. But you can still make it right. We can still have a life together in our home." I continued. "I know you've been struggling, and we're asking a lot, but I need you to make this one last sacrifice for me"

He looked up at me with pitiful, tear-filled eyes.

"I really hope you'll sign tomorrow, Larry." I said softly, "It would be sad to throw away that last 10 years over a silly thing like money. Now come on, dry those tears and get back to James' boots, he'll be back from the bar soon."

***

The moment of truth had arrived. The transfer documents were in front of Larry, and he had been anxiously reading them over for what seemed like hours.

"All good, Mr Winklemann?" the notary asked my husband. "It's just I have another appointment at 2."

"Y-yes, um, er..." Larry replied, still thumbing through the pages nervously.

"Tick tock Larry," James said, grinning.

I pinched my boyfriend's leg under the table. I loved every gorgeous inch of that man's body, but right now I needed him to shut off and not spook my husband.

Larry was breathing heavily, and I could tell that he was on the brink of yet another of his pathetic little panic attacks. I decided I had to intervene, so I caught my husband's eye and gave him the sweetest, kindest smile I could muster.

That was the last bit of encouragement he needed. He took a deep breath, told me he loved me, and signed over the deeds.

My heart leapt with joy. I didn't want to celebrate too obviously in front of the notary, so I just I grabbed James' hand under the table and squeezed it excitedly. He squeezed back.

When we were finally outside the notary's office, I immediately pulled my man in close and started making out with him on the street. I felt his strong, manly arms close around me and his large hands on my back.

I broke away and held his face tenderly.

"We did it, baby! We own a house together." I gushed, "We did it!"

"You did it, babe," he said, smiling that hunky, sexy smile of his, "I just slapped the little guy around a bit, you were the one who got him to sign."

We kissed again, reveling in our victory and our love. When we finally pulled apart, I looked over at Larry, who had been standing there like an idiot the whole time. I could see the regret etched on his face as he began to realize the magnitude of what he'd just done.

Too late, moron, I thought. I felt like a lioness who had just chased down a gazelle and was pinning it down with her paws. I had caught my prey, and there was no way I was letting him go.

I stared at my husband, my mind swimming with all the dark new degradations I could now subject him. I smiled at him again: not the warm, loving, fake smile I had used in the notary's office, but a cruel and very sincere smile of victory. Larry met my expression with a deep and immensely satisfying look of mounting horror. A new phase of our lives was beginning. And it was going to be wonderful.

Larry; Chapter 16: Pathetic

I sat on the kitchen floor leaning my back against the wall. It was 2:30 am and I was absolutely exhausted, but I wasn't allowed to go to bed for another half hour.

My Mistress had instituted that awful new rule shortly after James moved in. She watched a documentary about the KGB and learned that one of their tactics for breaking a prisoner's will was to deprive them of sleep, so naturally she decided to try it on me. I don't know the psychology behind it, but after a month of only being allowed to sleep between 3 and 7 am, it was definitely having a powerful effect on my sanity.

Exhaustion wasn't the only torture I had suffered since I'd signed my house and my finances away and my wife's boyfriend had moved in with us. Amy knew I was trapped, and started instituting bizarre new rules to make me more subservient. While previously she would occasionally try to spin semi-plausible justifications for the humiliations she inflicted on me, now she was always completely open that her goal was to psychologically destroy me, stripping me of my remaining will, self-respect, and manhood.

In addition to the sleep deprivation, she had begun making me say daily demotivational affirmations in front of the bathroom mirror, usually under her supervision. I received a new one every Sunday, and had to say them 50 times every morning and night for the following week. This week's was: "I'm a worm and a pathetic freak, and I'm lucky to be Mistress and Master's slave".

She had also decided that I wasn't allowed sit on the furniture. That one really hurt me. Sitting at the table with my wife for a meal used to be one of the few times in a day that I felt almost normal. Now, on the rare occasions when I sat down, I had to sit on the floor as I was doing now.

Then there was James. He abused me. There's no other word for it. He would beat me, whip me, or scream in my face for the slightest provocation. Sometimes I felt myself getting enraged at the outrageousness of his outbursts: one time, he beat my ass with a belt 50 times because I chuckled quietly at a joke Amy made about one of his favorite sports teams. But the instinct to stand up for myself—to act like a man for once—always crumbled away when I thought about actually fighting this animal who had taken over my home.

As I sat waiting for the clock to tick down, I flicked through my phone's photo album. 90% of the pictures were of Amy. I could never bring myself to delete a picture of her, even if it was blurred, off-centre, or in a weird pose. It always felt like removing any piece of her from the universe would be a kind of sacrilege.

I smiled sadly as I looked at her. She was beautiful in every single photo. She was beautiful with no makeup. She was beautiful when she was in sweats. She was beautiful when she was eating a sandwich. It was sweet and heartrending to look at this amazing woman who, long ago, had been mine.

After a while, I reached the pictures of the last vacation we took together some four years ago. I had taken several pictures of her at the beach, and she looked like a goddess in her sexy yellow bikini. My cock twitched helplessly in its little pink cage as I looked at her perfect body, so I quickly put the phone down and closed my eyes. I desperately didn't want to turn myself on right now: I knew from bitter experience that, after having been in chastity for many weeks at this point, if I started getting horny I'd never get to sleep.

To calm myself down I tried to remember some of the more disgusting things I'd been forced to do in recent months, and my urges finally subsided when I recalled how James' friend farted in my face during their poker night. I opened my trousers and looked at my sad, defeated penis in its humiliating prison. God, I hated that cage. In the past when I felt distressed, a quick wank would make me feel just a little more relaxed and happy. But I wasn't entitled to those simple pleasures. Instead, I had to suppress my natural male sexual urges by thinking about getting degraded by my wife's boyfriend and his idiot friends.

I looked at the time again. 2:47 am. I punched the floor in frustration. I needed sleep, but there was no way I could disobey my wife's order and go to bed even if it was only 13 minutes early. I couldn't stand another punishment from James, or another terrible new rule from Amy to 'put my in my place'. I just didn't have the fight left in me.

Tears sprung to my eyes as I tried to make sense of how I'd ended up here as a broken, miserable, exhausted, slave on the kitchen floor. I wasn't such a bad guy. I gave to charity. I recycled. I was nice to animals. Why did I deserve this?

A disturbing answer popped into my head. Maybe I am a worm and a pathetic freak. Maybe I am lucky to be Amy and James slave. I shuddered and tried to shake off the remembrance of my hated affirmation. But at almost 3 in the morning, as my half-conscious mind tried to make sense of everything, it seemed to have the ring of truth.

Larry; Chapter 17: Larry Goes Viral

I lay in bed sobbing and punching my pillow in anger. I'd just had the most humiliating and devastating 3 days of my life, and I felt like I was going to explode with self-loathing and rage.

It all began on Saturday afternoon when my wife and her boyfriend decided that they wanted to take advantage of the nice weather and go for a picnic in the park. I assumed that I would be left at home to work on my chores as I normally was when they went on these little dates, but they unexpectedly decided they wanted me along to serve them. So, after I made a lightning fast trip to the grocery store to pick up all the food they wanted, we jumped in the car and James drove us to the picnic spot.

I felt embarrassed just walking into the park: my wife and her man were walking hand in hand and giggling with one another as I lumbered behind with the picnic basket and blankets. My owners selected a nice spot under the shade of a tree, and I dutifully laid out the blankets and arranged the food for them.

As my Mistress and Master began eating their sumptuous lunch, and I awkwardly sat down near them.

"What are you doing over there, Lar?" my wife asked.

"I... um... I'm just sitting down Mistress." I stuttered, not understanding what the issue was.

"Well, normally during mealtimes you're on the floor." she continued with a smile, "So it seems wrong for you to be sitting at the same level as us now like an equal, doesn't it?"

"Er... I guess so Mistress?"

"You guess so?" she said, raising her voice, "Either it seems wrong or it doesn't."

I don't know why I was being browbeaten like this, but I didn't want to get yelled at and attract attention to us so I tried to say what she wanted.

"Yes Mistress, I'm so sorry, yes it does seem wrong."

"That's better," she said patronizingly, "So normally, during mealtimes you're sitting on the floor next to James' chair. So why don't you go and kneel beside him now. It's not perfect, but at least it shows your status in a small way."

"Y-yes Mistress", I said, shuffling over to James and kneeling beside him.

"Attaboy, Larry," James said, patting me on the head, "Can't have the folks here thinking you're our friend. Who knows, they might think I'm a fag too."

I didn't think James' idiotic comment was funny, but sure enough my wife burst out into her usual adoring laughter.

The two enjoyed their meal as I knelt there feeling mortified. The park was beside one of our city's biggest colleges, and little groups of students sat around enjoying the sun and socializing. I saw a few of them look curiously at me kneeling beside a picnicking couple, but fortunately nobody seemed too interested in our dysfunctional little threesome. Then everything went wrong.

My wife ordered me to pass her the coleslaw, and in my rush to hand it over to her I accidentally knocked over her glass of wine. The red liquid mainly spilled on the blanket, but some had splashed onto her white sandals.

"Jesus Christ Larry!" my wife shouted, "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, Mistress," I babbled desperately, "I just wanted you to have the coleslaw quickly and I..."

James suddenly grabbed me by the ear and pulled my head closer to him.

"You're going to pay for this when we get home freak." he said firmly, "Trust me."

"I-I know Master," I said, "I'm just so sorry."

The whole thing had turned into a big scene, and I could feel the eyes of the other parkgoers on us.

"Bullshit," my wife spat, "You need to be punished for this right now freak, I'm not waiting 'til we get home. Get over here, Larry."

I crawled over to Amy and braced myself for a slap, but it never came.

"You spilled wine all over my shoes, freak." she said coldly, "So now you're going to lick them clean, right here so everyone can see what a pussy you are."

I blinked as I tried to process things, but Amy was in no mood to wait.

"NOW!" she yelled, stretching out her legs and pointing to her shoes.

Trying to forget where I was, I lowered my head to my wife's sandals and started licking them sheepishly. I could hear murmurs and laughter from the other groups around us.

After a few minutes of this humiliation, I felt someone come close to us. I looked up and saw a young college girl who was around 20 years old looking down at me curiously.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you guys but why is he licking your shoe?" she said, amused.

My wife chuckled.

"Well, believe it or not that sorry excuse for a man down there is my husband Larry." she replied, "We recently decided that he would be better suited to being my slave. He spilled a bunch of wine on my shoes, so we decided we should punish him and make him clean it up."

"Holy shit! So, like, what's this guys place in all this?" the girl said, pointing at James.

"Oh this hunk over here is my boyfriend. Larry accepts that I need a real man and is grateful to serve him too. Isn't that right, "

"Y-y-yes, Mistress," I mumbled, blushing.

"Fuck, that's so crazy" the girl said, laughing.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," James said, "The little guy practically worships the ground I walk on. Hey bitch! Get over here and lick my shoe now instead."

The whole situation felt so horrible and wrong. I hated the way that prick degraded me in front of strangers. But fearing an ass-kicking if I didn't obey quickly, I crawled to my Master and began licking his sneakers. The girl and Amy tittered.

"Listen, feel free to say no to this," she said, "But I have a little TikTok account and my followers love weird shit like this. Do you mind if I do a quick video about you guys?"

There was a moment of silence. My heart froze. I offered a silent prayer that my Owners wouldn't allow her to film us. As usual, God wasn't listening.

"Sure, why the fuck not," James said, "You cool with this, babe?"

"Hey, if you're fine with it by all means. It could be fun." my wife replied happily.

"Awesome! Thanks so much guys." the girl said, "I'm Hailey, by the way."

As I licked the dirt from my Master's shoe, Hailey pulled out her phone and started recording.

"Hey hey hey guys!" she said, suddenly adopting a weird upbeat tone for her audience, "It's Hailey Blue Eyez here. So I was just in the park when I met the lovely Amy..."

She panned the camera to my wife, who waved and smiled.

"...her handsome boyfriend James..."

She moved the focus to James, who smirked and did a douchey point-shoot with his fingers.

"...and her husband... you heard me... her husband, Larry. Say hi Larry!"

She moved the phone right in my face.

"Um, h-hello" I stuttered, blushing bright red.

"So, why are licking your wife's boyfriend's shoe, my dude?"

All eyes were on me. I had no choice but to debase myself further and say what Amy and James would want.

"J-James can please my wife in ways I can't because I'm not a real man. So I like to show him how grateful I am by doing what he says. I'm grateful that he lets me do this."

"Do you never get to fuck your wife, then?"

"N-no, I don't."

"To be honest," my wife said, "He's pretty much gay anyway so he wouldn't really want it anyway. I let him stay with us and do this shit with James out of pity for the little guy."

Hailey sniggered and then returned the camera to her own face.

"So there you have it, guys! Just a woman and her gay husband-slave licking her boyfriend's shoes in the park. Let me know what you think in the comments! Kisses!"

With that, Hailey ended the video and, thankfully, left us alone. My wife and James continued their picnic and joked about the whole thing excitedly as I continued licking my Master's shoes and silently fuming. I'd never felt so utterly degraded. Little did I know, things were about to get much worse.

***

I had a fitful sleep that night as I stewed in the humiliation of the day's events, only getting around 2 of the 4 hours I was allowed.

When I finally got up and turned on my phone, my world imploded. I had dozens of messages on my phone from colleagues, friends, and family. Apparently, Hailey's 'Little TikTok Channel' had over a million followers, and the video had quickly become a viral hit.

The next two days were a whirlwind of humiliation as the story got bigger and bigger. The video was picked up by other accounts across social media, and became a minor internet sensation. Amy and James were completely ecstatic about the whole situation, and as I did my housework they gleefully informed me every time it had been spread by another big social media name. I started becoming dizzy and sick as I realized that millions of people (including pretty much everyone I knew) were seeing me lick another man's shoes. I had to keep hiding in the bathroom and crying, while keeping my normal stupid submissive smile plastered on my face in front of my tormentors.

Eventually, some stupid YouTube gamer with a massive following used the video for the latest installment of his "simp of the month" series. After that, the story hit the mainstream. For some reason, my humiliating predicament got swept up in the culture war, with conservative commentators using me as an example of the "collapse of western masculinity" and the "dangers of the feminist agenda".

Amy and James didn't seem remotely embarrassed or concerned about the whole thing. I, meanwhile, felt like I was being bullied and jeered at by the whole fucking planet.

***

When I went into work on Monday morning, everybody in the office was giggling and whispering at me wherever I went. Even Shirley, the middle-aged company secretary who was desperate to make me her "gay best friend", smirked at me as I walked in.

I tried to shut out this unwanted attention and focus on my work. At 11am, however, my boss Mr Greene messaged me and ordered me to come into his office.

With dread in my heart, I walked over to my boss' office and knocked on the door. My heart sank even lower when I saw the head of HR and one of our corporate lawyers sitting next to him.

The whole meeting seemed like a surreal nightmare. My boss talked about my long service at the company and thanked me for my "solid" work, before he started going on about corporate codes of conduct and rules about bringing the company into disrepute. After he finished his long preamble, he told me I was fired. He kept stressing that it was nothing to do with my "homosexual lifestyle" as he put it, but that it was a consequence of my "lewd and extreme public sexual deviancy". He told me that, despite the nature of my dismissal, I would receive a generous severance settlement if I agreed to sign a document confirming that I understood and accepted the reasons for my dismissal.

I didn't try to fight it. None of it felt real. I just quietly said, "ok", and signed the document, flushing my 12-year career down the drain with a stroke of a pen. I then got up, gathered up my possessions at my desk, and started walking out of my office for the last time.

"Hey, Larry, don't feel too bad. Maybe you can apply to Foot Locker," one guy cracked as I trudged past.

"Yeah, you'd be a *shoe-*in" another one added.

With their mocking laughter ringing in my ears, I walked out of the office. Shirley told me to call her later as I went by her desk, but I couldn't find the strength to say anything.

When I got home, I curled up in my bed, sobbed, and reflected on how the last thing in my life I was even a little proud of, my job, had been taken from me.

When my Master came home and I sheepishly told him what had happened, he thought it was hilarious and promptly texted the news to all of his friends. When Amy got in later that night she was also amused, but showed some concern that I wouldn't be able to pay my "rent" to them any more and made it clear I would be expected to find a new job as soon as possible. Mainly, though, they both seemed to find the destruction of my professional reputation to be big joke.

Naturally, my Owners hadn't paid any similar price for our sudden notoriety. Amy worked at a design company full of progressive bohemian types who found the whole thing hilarious and cool, while James was an electrician who was his own boss. That they were completely insulated from the fallout from this situation added to my powerful (but repressed) feelings of resentment towards them.

So I found myself in bed that night, crying and punching my pillow impotently. I hated James. I hated Hailey fucking Blue Eyez. And I hated myself most of all.

Larry; Chapter 18: Sleepover

Shaking, I looked in the mirror and repeated this week's affirmation.

"I am, and always will be, the biggest loser in the world"

The words hit home hard as I gazed at my pale, exhausted, miserable face. The weeks after I went viral had been a living hell, and I wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

Online trolls had quickly found out my name, which was immediately released all over the internet. Before long my address, phone number, and email had also been leaked, and I began receiving a flood of messages ranging from mocking texts calling me a "simp", to full-on death threats against me and my wife. Our home was also egged and covered in toilet paper, and people would sometimes scream expletives at the house as they drove by.

By this point, my Mistress and Master had started to find the situation considerably less funny. Amy began to genuinely fear for her life, while James became increasingly violent and erratic. One time shortly after the egging incident, when a car had been parked outside our house for a suspiciously long time, James stormed out with a baseball bat and started screaming at the driver, who quickly fled the scene.

Of course, my Owners blamed me for the whole disaster. Even though they were the ones who ordered me to lick their shoes and agreed to have the whole thing filmed, apparently it was my fault for spilling the wine in the first place. I obviously couldn't argue back, so I just followed my usual strategy of abject groveling, bowing, scraping, and apologizing. It didn't do me any good: James and/or Amy still beat the shit out of me whenever we were subjected to a new harassment.

I kept up my mask of slavish devotion and happiness as best I could, but deep down I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Home was horrible, but the rare occasions I went outside were even more terrifying. The story had been all over the local news, and everywhere I went people were looking at me and sniggering. In one particularly frightening incident, a group of teenage boys recognized me and Amy on the street and started following us, shouting abuse and throwing food at my head. I used to love the anonymity of walking around town, with people seeing me as just another ordinary human being going about his day. It made me almost feel like a real person. Now the whole world knew what a pathetic creature I had become.

Eventually, Amy decided enough was enough and called the police in. I was given strict instructions that I should behave as normally as possible in front of the officers, and I was dressed in a turtleneck sweater to hide the bruises on my arms and choke marks on my neck.

After they arrived we filled them in on the details of the threats and harassment we'd faced, and they told us they would investigate the problem. They said that these online trolling campaigns usually fizzled out in a few weeks, but also advised that we should stay somewhere else for a little while if we had a safe place to go.

After the police officers left, Amy and James told me to go to my room while they talked things over. When I got upstairs I realized I hadn't said my affirmations yet, so I decided to use the time productively by heading to the bathroom and repeating the hated phrase in front of the mirror. Given everything that was going on I knew that I could probably get away with not saying it this morning, but that didn't matter any more: the need to obey my Owners' ridiculous rules had become an obsessive compulsion by this point.

After 27 repetitions, I heard my Owners start yelling at each other downstairs. I felt helpless and scared as I stood there repeating my affirmation, like a little boy hearing his parents arguing. When I finished, I returned to my room and sat on the bed, feeling like a piece of shit as the argument raged on in the living room. After an intense few minutes the conversation finally calmed down, and I heard chatting and laughing again.

When I was summoned back downstairs, I was told that we would be heading to my wife's sister's apartment. So, after I packed up everybody's clothes and loaded them into the car, we hit the road.

***

When we arrived, my wife's sister Jess gave my Owners big hugs as I pulled the suitcases (and the black trash bag containing my possessions) out of the car. She then ushered them inside without waiting for me, so I closed the front door after me when I'd finally hauled everything into the hall.

I walked to the living room where my Owners and Jess were sitting, and stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing what do do. Jess looked up at me with disgust.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, you fucking faggot," she spat.

"I was... I was just doing what I was told and..." I said, my voice shaking with fear.

"Don't make fucking excuses." she said, interrupting me, "They didn't tell you to spill the damn wine on Amy, did they?"

I stood saying nothing, my bottom lip trembling as I fought back tears.

"Slave, you'd better wipe that poor me expression off your face right now" Amy warned.

I swallowed bowed my head, blinked back tears, and twisted my lips into a smile.

"Better," she said, "Now make us all some tea and then unpack our bags, bitch"

I scurried off to make my Owners and Jess their tea. When I placed the cups in front of them they all ignored me, so I quietly left, picked up the two suitcases and the trash bag, and carried them to Jess' spare room.

I dutifully unpacked James and Amy's possessions, making sure to neatly fold and organize their many clothes. When I finished hanging up the last of my Master's shirts, I glanced nervously at my little trash bag. I didn't want to be presumptuous and unpack it in the spare room, but I had no idea where I was going to be based for the remainder of the trip: Jess only had one spare room, after all. I was sure I would end up sleeping somewhere humiliating and uncomfortable... the couch if I was very lucky, trussed up on the kitchen floor if I wasn't.

I decided to play it safe and ask, so I slunk back out to the living room, got down on my knees, and bowed my head while I waited. The three ignored me and chatted amongst themselves. When there was a break in the conversation, I shyly cleared my throat.

"Um, excuse me Master, Mistresses." I said quietly, "I'm so sorry to bother you but I was wondering where you wanted me to put my stuff."

The three shared a conspiratorial grin.

"Just leave it by the door, Larry." Amy said, smiling.

"Oh... um ok," I said sheepishly, "Will I sleep in the hall then, Mistress?"

"Nope. Don't worry about that, we've found somewhere else for you to sleep." she replied cryptically, "Now Jess is doing your Master and I a huge favour by letting us stay here, so you're going to do a thorough clean of her apartment. We're all going out at 8pm, so I want this place to be spotless by then. Mm'k?"

"Yes Mistress," I said with a forced smile, "Thank you Mistress."

"You're welcome." she added, "Now fuck off."

Trying not to think about what horrible place they had found for me to sleep, I scurried off to the closet, retrieved the cleaning supplies, and began cleaning Jess' apartment. Jess and I had never liked each other, and back when me and Amy had an (almost) normal relationship we would trade sarcastic comments and insults regularly. As I got down on my knees and started scrubbing her toilet, I reflected on how deeply I'd lost that little rivalry. "I am, and always will be, the biggest loser in the world", I remembered sadly.

***

At 7:15 pm, after 5 hours of cleaning, I reported to my Owners and Jess. Normally they didn't take much notice of my work, but today everybody decided it would be fun to thoroughly inspect every inch of the apartment to identify my mistakes.

During their review of the kitchen, Jess found a glass with a tiny smudge on it. She spat in my face, cursed me out for my carelessness, and ordered me to wash it properly while they all stood around sniggering at me. This started a pattern whereby if somebody found something they didn't like, they'd spit in my face and make me fix it immediately.

By the time they were done, my face was soaked and I was burning with humiliation. Jess loved the look of my sad, wet face, so she took a picture of me and texted it to her boyfriend. When the ordeal was finished, Amy looked at her phone and smiled.

"It's almost time to go, Lar," she said, "Take a shower, get dressed, and we'll hit the road. You have 15 minutes."

I peeped out a nervous "yes Mistress" and headed to the bathroom. When Amy previously said that everybody was going out tonight, I assumed that didn't include me. Apparently I was wrong.

When I was washed dressed, I reported to my Owners and we headed out. As I left the house, Jess looked at me and smiled smugly.

"Oh, you'll want to bring your little trash bag, slave," Jess said.

I blinked at her in confusion.

"What, did you really think I'd let a creep like you stay in my apartment?" she asked.

"Oh... I... of course not, Ma'am," I said, picking up my bag. I didn't like the way they were all smiling at me.

We all got into the car and drove off into the night. I felt a mounting sense of dread as we travelled further and further from Jess' place.

After we'd been driving for around 20 minutes, I started to recognize the neighborhood, and I had a terrible suspicion about where I would be staying tonight. Oh God please, I prayed silently, Please don't let it be what I think it is God. Please just help me this once. Please...

No angels came to save me. No divine thunderbolt came down to smite James' sadistic ass. No booming decree from above told my tormentors to turn back. The car kept on rolling, until it stopped outside a large, swanky apartment building in the central business district.

"Last stop, fag," James said, turning around and grinning at me, "You know where to go."

I looked with anguish at Amy, James, and Jess, but I found no pity in their faces: only sneering, mocking smiles.

"You should be excited, Lar bear," Amy said, "You're going to sleep on a big comfy bed tonight."

"Well, I don't think he'll be getting much sleep," Jess added, prompting everyone to laugh.

I wanted to beg for mercy, but I couldn't find the words.

"C'mon, off you go fuck-face," James said, "We're going out to the bar."

Quivering and clutching my trash bag, I stepped out of the car and walked into the building. Like a zombie, I walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and started my ascent. When the doors finally opened, I stepped out and walked to the door of the most horrifying place in the world. Blinking back tears, I knocked.

Within seconds, I heard the clack of shoes approaching me, and the door swung open. Brad stood there, wearing slacks and an unbuttoned white shirt revealing his toned chest.

"Hey roomie," he said with a big grin, "C'mon in."

Larry; Chapter 19: Larry and Brad

"Uhhhhhahhh!" I groaned in pain as Brad's cock pounded my ass.

"Take it you fucking faggot," he ordered gruffly as he fucked me, "Moan bitch, moan like you love it."

I tried to make a convincing moan of pleasure through the agony.

"I said like you love it, bitch!" he yelled, smacking me hard on the buttocks.

I moaned again, trying to sound more effeminate and enthusiastic this time. This seemed to satisfy him, and the pace of his thrusts quickly gained speed as he approached his climax.

"Take... it... you... fa-aaag," he grunted as he came inside me. As he orgasmed, he punched me hard in the side, causing me to wheeze heavily.

I felt his cock slowly soften in my ass, before he finally pulled out. He lay down panting as I got off my hands and knees and sat on the side of the bed, naked, leaking, and broken.

I looked over sheepishly at my tormentor, who was lying on his back with his hands behind his head. He caught me looking at him and winked.

"Fuck, Lar, that did the trick." he said, basking in his orgasm, "Did you miss me?"

"Y-yes Daddy" I said sadly.

"Yeah? You missed getting fucked like the bitch you are?"

"Yes Daddy"

"Say it." he ordered.

"I... I..."

I paused for a second, taking a moment to repress the urge to scream.

"I missed getting fucked like the bitch I am, Daddy."

"Awww, isn't that nice. I missed you too, sweetie-pie." Brad mocked with a sadistic smile.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and lit one up before offering the pack to me. I shook my head, though I felt pathetically grateful for the human gesture. He took a long drag and exhaled, filling the room with the smell of tobacco.

"You've had quite a time of it over the last week, huh?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy." I agreed.

"Plastered all over the internet licking your wife's boyfriend's shoes, igniting a political firestorm, all that nasty harassment." he said, shaking his head, "Shit, I can't even imagine. And this guy James put you through all that, and you still agree to be his slave and kiss his ass all the time? That's fucking pathetic."

"Y-yes Daddy," I said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Larry." Brad said with a smirk, "Or should I say Loser Larry... that's what they've started calling you in the memes, right? Loser Larry?"

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, prompting Brad to chuckle.

"But anyway, enough about all that. You're safe with Daddy now. Did your Mistress fill you in on the plan for the next few days?"

"No, Daddy."

"So you're with me this whole weekend." Brad said, before taking another drag of his cigarette, "Then During the week you'll serve your Mistress for a few hours after work each day, before coming back here for the night. She thinks you'll all move back home in a week or so if things cool off, but they haven't got a clear date in mind. Got it?"

"Yes, Daddy, b-but I actually don't have a job at the moment so I won't be going to work."

"Oh my god they didn't tell you," he said with a sudden huge grin.

"T-t-tell me, Daddy?" I stammered.

"Well, your Mistress and I spoke on the phone and she told me you'd been fired, so I decided to do her a little favour. You see, my old secretary just quit to become a full-time mom, so you're going to be taking on her position from Monday."

"W-w-what?!" I sputtered, unable to comprehend the horror of what he'd just said.

Brad sat up, put his hand on my leg and squeezed so hard it hurt.

"Try again, cocksucker." he said menacingly.

"Oh... I mean, um, I'm, r-really grateful Daddy. It's so kind of you. But I d-don't think I'd be a good secretary."

"Well, you'd better figure it out quickly." he said matter-of-factly, "Because every time you fuck up, I'm going to punish you. Then I'm going to tell your Mistress, and she'll punish you too."

I gulped and said nothing. I couldn't believe I was going to have to see this monster 5 days a week, even after I moved back home.

Brad then had me clean his cock off, after which he told me to take a shower and get ready for bed. When I was clean, I fished my pyjamas out of my trash bag and started putting them on, but Brad instructed me that I would be sleeping naked so I reluctantly took them off and crept into bed next to him.

After he turned out the light, I lay awake and brooded bitterly on my career trajectory. Despite not coming from a wealthy background I had worked hard at school, been accepted into a great college, and graduated with high honours. I was then accepted into a major accounting firm, where I worked for several years before I was hired as a Senior Accountant at a growing professional services company. I wasn't exactly Bill Gates, but I had always been proud of my little career: it was the result of many long nights of study, late days at the office, and hard work.

Then that moron James decided he wanted to look like a big man in front of my wife and a young girl we'd just met, so he made me lick his shoes and say a bunch of humiliating shit on camera. Just like that, everything I'd worked for went down the toilet. Now, my years of training would go to waste and I'd earn my living making coffee, answering phones and, presumably, sucking Brad's cock. Tears filled my eyes, and I tried my best to suppress the sobs racking my body so I wouldn't wake the monster next to me.

Once I calmed down, I finally slipped into a fitful sleep. A couple of hours later, however, I was awoken by Brad grinding his cock against my ass. As I became conscious of what was happening, he started biting my shoulders and neck roughly. I moaned in discomfort.

"Wake up, faggot," he whispered in my ear. "It's time for round two."

***

The next morning Brad took me out shopping and bought me a new suit and shoes. Apparently my old work suit made me look like "the manager of a bowling alley", whatever that meant, and he wanted me to present a more slick and professional image now that I was working for him. I noticed a few looks and smirks as people around us recognized the shoe-licking freak from the internet, but the customers in the swanky store Brad took us to were too classy to outright harass us. The pretty young salesgirl was also respectful and friendly to me throughout, which was such a validating and unusual experience that I almost cried.

Things took a dark turn, however, when we left the store and Brad informed me that, since he'd bought me suitable "work clothes", we should also pick up some "play clothes". This meant taking a cab across town and heading to 'Groves Street', a part of the city which was known for its gay clubs and fetish stores.

I felt completely uncomfortable and self-conscious as we walked into a sex shop called 'Filth'. I had always been a little shy about sex, so being surrounded with dildos, smutty clothes, and leather gimp masks made me blush. Brad, on the other hand, looked in his element as he led me around the store with a big smile on his face.

To make matters worse, while we were looking at the jock straps the sales assistant, an attractive girl in her mid-20s with green hair and several piercings, came over and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Holy shit dude, I have to ask," she said smiling, "Are you Loser Larry? From the video and all the memes?"

"Y-yes, I am," I confirmed, wishing she'd go away.

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed with a smile, "That's fuckin' awesome. You're like a kink hero man."

The girl offered me a high five which I reluctantly met.

"And who's this? New boyfriend?" she asked, looking at Brad.

"Kind of. I'm more like his Daddy" Brad said laughing, "We're picking up some new clothes to make him look the part when he's in slave mode."

I'm always in fucking slave mode I thought bitterly.

The sales girl laughed and offered to help us, and we all traipsed around the store picking up various humiliating items. By the time we were finished, we had collected 2 pink leather jock straps, a collar and leash, a t-shirt saying "Cock Slut", a whip, a set of butt plugs of various sizes, and a large black dildo appropriately called 'The Dominator'.

When we finally got to the counter, Brad pulled out his Platinum American Express card and flashed a smile at the sales assistant, who's name was Mia.

"It seems like a shame you won't get to see all this gear in action, Mia."

"I know, right?" she said with a naughty smile, "I bet you can handle that whip like a pro."

"That's not the only thing I'm a pro at," Brad replied suggestively.

"I'll bet." Mia said, playing with her hair.

"So why don't you write down your number, I'll call you up, and you can come over tonight. We'll have a little fun with Loser Larry here, and then... well I'll let you use your imagination for the rest."

Blushing a little, Allie wrote down her number and handed it to Brad.

"Awesome," he said, grinning, "I'll text you the details, beautiful."

As we walked out, I was astonished for two reasons. Firstly, I had assumed that Brad was gay. To see him ask out a woman just reinforced how little I knew about the man who had permanently destroyed my peace of mind. Secondly, I couldn't believe that he had been able to seduce this hot young woman so quickly and effortlessly. Once again, I felt the intense pain and jealousy of seeing how easy life was for cocky alpha males.

***

Brad made me wear my new 'Cock Slut' t-shirt out of the store, making me feel completely humiliated and embarrassed as we walked down the street.

As we were walking, my blood ran cold when I saw two familiar figures walking towards us.

It can't be. I thought desperately, Oh please no.

As they drew closer, however, there was no mistaking the man and woman approaching us. It was my brother Bob and his wife Sheila.

After my wife, Bob was the person I loved most in the world. Even though he was bigger, stronger, and more traditionally masculine than me, he had always looked out for me, mentored me, and protected me from bullies, even when we were kids.

All that changed on the fateful night when Amy forced me to "come out" in front of all our friends and family. Bob figured out that my wife was forcing me into it, and told me get out of the marriage and rebuild my life. When I refused, he broke off contact. That decision was cemented shortly afterwards when James messaged him a video of Brad fucking me from my phone.

I immediately crossed my arms over my chest as we approached them, trying to hide the humiliating slogan on my t-shirt. Panicking, I tried to think of a way to escape what would surely be a heart-wrenching confrontation.

"C-can we look in there?" I asked Brad, pointing at a stationary store across the street, "I need, p-pens."

I grabbed his arm and tried to drag him over, but Brad stood still and pulled me back.

"Pens? I don't give a fuck about your pens. I'm hungry, we're going for sushi."

"P-please," I begged, "Let's go I really really have to—"

"Larry?!" Bob suddenly yelled at me.

My brother and his wife walked quickly towards us.

"Who's this jerk?" Brad asked, but before I could answer, they were standing in front of us.

"What the fuck's been going on with you, Larry." Bob said, his expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "You're all over the internet licking that dickhead's shoe. Everyone's seen it: my friends, our cousins, even Aunt Jo and she doesn't own a fucking phone."

"I...I..."

"And then that video you sent me! Jesus Christ, I know you didn't consent to that shit. That goddamn bitch wife of yours made you do it, didn't she?"

"I don't... I don't...she..." I gasped, hyperventilating and still crossing my arms over my t-shirt.

"At the risk of sounding rude," Brad interrupted in his usual authoritative tone, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Who the fuck am I?" Bob said, matching Brad's aggression, "I'm his brother, asshole, who the fuck are you?"

Brad started laughing as everything clicked.

"I'm Larry's best buddy," he said, amused, "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"R-r-r" I stuttered, unable to say anything.

"Why don't you put your arms down and show your big brother the lovely t-shirt I got you?"

Shaking I closed my eyes and put my arms to my slide.

"Oh my god..." my brother's wife said as she read the humiliating words.

"Cover that shit up, Larry! We're in public for fuck's sake. Don't you have any pride?" Bob ordered.

My brother then turned to Brad and studied his face for a moment.

"Wait a second... wait a goddamn second... it's you isn't it." Bob said, his voice shaking, "You're the guy from the video."

"Bob, calm down." Sheila said.

"Calm down?!" Bob yelled, "This creep raped my fucking brother!"

"Aww, are you jealous, honey?" Brad mocked, "Tell you what, play your cards right and I'll do the same to you. I'll throw your wife a fuck for free, too."

With that, Bob lost control, swinging hard at Brad who quickly dodged the blow and punched my brother clean in the face. Bob went down, knocked out cold.

"Bob!" Sheila yelled, kneeling down by her unconscious husband.

"You all saw it folks!" Brad shouted to the onlookers, "He came at me first, it was self defense"

He then grabbed my hand and started walking quickly. I looked back over my shoulder at my brother and hero lying flat on his back on the street.

"Come on Larry, forget that pussy" Brad ordered, picking up the pace "We're getting sushi. And then we're going back home to get ready for our date with Mia."

Larry; Chapter 20: Larry has a Threesome

"Almost done making yourself pretty for Daddy, cutie-pie?" Brad yelled from the living room, where he was sprawled on the couch watching the news.

"Y-yes Daddy! I'll just be a few minutes." I replied from his bedroom.

"You'd better hurry the fuck up, faggot. If you aren't ready by the time Mia gets here I'll beat the shit out of you like I did your bitch-ass brother"

"Yes Daddy!" I squeaked.

I clenched my fists and stamped my foot in frustration. I hated Brad, even more than I hated James or Jess or any of the other sadists who had destroyed my life. He had forced me to suck his cock. He had fucked me in the ass against my will, not once but multiple times. He'd made me dress up in panties, put on lipstick, and say degrading things as he defiled me. Now he had knocked out my brother on the street, taking down someone I had always thought of as an indestructible hero.

I tried to rationalize what had happened and explain away my brother's defeat. Maybe Brad got a lucky punch. Maybe Bob tripped and that's why he went down so hard. Maybe my brother was distracted trying to protect his wife. In the end, though, it didn't really matter. Brad won. My brother lost. I lost. Like always.

I should go to the kitchen, grab a knife, and stab that son of a bitch. I thought, I'll go to jail, but would that be so bad? I get beaten up and raped anyway. At least I would have avenged my brother and recovered a tiny shred of my manhood. What do I have to lose?

The answer, sadly, was clear: I'd lose my place in Amy's life. Sure, I was just her slave, but I still got to see her smile, hear her laugh, and even, in my own humble, servile way, make her happy sometimes. If I attacked Brad and went to jail, I'd lose that last ray of sunshine in my dark little life.

With a sigh, I put aside my revenge fantasies, pictured Amy's beautiful face, and put on the bright red lipstick Brad had left out for me. I then put on the rest of my outfit: a pair of lacey pink panties, a blonde bimbo wig, high heels, and a leather collar with a leash attached.

When I was done, I looked in the mirror and shuddered in revulsion. I didn't look like a woman and I sure as shit didn't look like a man: I was just a miserable, downtrodden freak in a wig. The outfit clearly wasn't designed to make me look sexy: it was designed to humiliate me. And it was working.

Sadly, I moped out to the living room. When Brad heard me come in, he looked over and burst out laughing.

"Wow Larry!" he mocked, "Don't you clean up nice."

"Thank you, Daddy," I muttered dejectedly.

"Come over here, give me that leash, and get on your knees. We need to have a little chat."

I obeyed dutifully. Feeling vulnerable and ashamed, I looked up at him as he sneered down at me.

"Listen, freak," he said menacingly, "When Mia gets here, I don't want her suspecting that our relationship is less than consensual. So you're going to act like that you're into all this shit, ok?"

"Yes, Daddy," I peeped.

He leaned forward, putting his face only a few inches from mine.

"Of course, we'll know different, won't we Larry?" he whispered, "We'll know you aren't doing this because you're gay, or into humiliation, or a crossdresser. You're doing it because I'm making you, and you're too much of a bitch to say no. Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes Daddy," I replied, blushing with frustration.

"Good girl," he said, before giving me a light kiss on the cheek.

I knelt at Brad's feet while he casually held my leash, and watched TV with him as we waited for Mia. Around ten minutes later the doorbell rang, and I knew my evening of torture was about to begin.

Brad turned the TV off with the remote, stood up, and tugged on my leash.

"Come on, slave, let's go answer the door."

I struggled to my feet and trotted behind Brad as he pulled me along behind him. He then opened the door, revealing our date for the evening.

"Hey you," Brad said with a smile, kissing Mia on the cheek.

"Hey yourself," she said, sounding excited and nervous.

After Mia walked inside and saw me in my humiliating getup, she giggled. "And hello to you too, Loser Larry. You look so cute."

"Th-thank you very much, Ma'am," I said, "May I take your coat?"

"Sure," she said, unbuttoning and removing her long trench coat.

My mouth gaped as I saw her outfit underneath. She was dressed in a tight white shirt cut high to expose her midriff. Two buttons were undone at the top, giving a tantalizing hint of her perky breasts. She was also wearing high heels and tight denim booty shorts, which accentuated her round ass. I started to get excited, until my little cock was stopped by its chastity tube, reminding me that all those alluring curves were not for me.

I glanced over at Brad, who was drinking in Mia's sexy body. I recognized the look of lust on his face: it was a look I had, unfortunately, been on the receiving end of many times by now.

"Damn girl," Brad said, "You came to play. You're looking good."

"Thanks," she said, with a smile that suggested she was genuinely grateful the alpha male found her sexy.

"Shall we?" Brad asked, leading her to the living room as I wobbled behind them.

The pair sat down on the couch. With a click of his fingers, Brad ordered me to bring them a bottle of wine and two glasses. I knew that, despite my feelings of hostility and resentment, it was important for me to swallow my pride and put on a perfect show tonight. I couldn't even imagine the tortures I would face if I screwed anything up.

I brought them their drinks, and then knelt down next to Brad. He picked up my leash and held onto it while he flirted with Mia, subtly reaffirming his power and dominance. Half a glass of wine later, and he put his hand on my head and rapped his fingers on my skull.

"So, you want to see me rip this little sissy's ass up?" he asked Mia with a grin.

"Awww, has she been a bad girl?" she replied, smirking.

"Nah," he said, slapping me on the top of the head, "But sometimes, she just needs to be reminded who her Daddy is. Isn't that right, Larry?"

"Yes, Daddy." I said, smiling insincerely.

"Go get the whip."

"Yes, Daddy," I peeped, scurrying out to the bedroom and picking up the whip we'd bought that afternoon. My heart was thumping as I tottered back and handed it to him.

"On your knees, show me that cute little ass," Brad commanded, prompting a giggle from Mia. Shaking, I knelt down on the floor and bent over.

"Count 'em out loud, loser," he said.

As the first hit slashed home I yelped effeminately before squeaking "One, Daddy!". A rain of blows then followed as Brad laid into me with the whip. I wanted to burst into tears and beg for him to stop but, remembering his order about pretending to enjoy my abuse, I clenched my teeth and took it.

After 20 hits, the pain finally stopped. My relief was short-lived, however, as Brad immediately offered the whip to Mia and asked her if she wanted a turn. The young woman eagerly agreed, and I heard her walking around in front of me. From my submissive position, all I could see were her toes in her sexy high heels.

Mia bent over, put her hand on my chin, and tilted my head up so I was looking her in the eye.

"Are you in pain, sweetie?" she asked softly.

"Y-y-yes, Ma'am."

"I know. Your Daddy beat you up real good. But you're going to take more for me, aren't you? You're going to be a good girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am, I just want to please you. I can take it."

Without warning, Mia spat in my face and slapped me, before shoving my head back down.

"We'll see", she said, walking behind me.

Then the pain started again. Mia's blows weren't as strong as Brad's, but she made up for it with speed and energy: indeed, she laid into me with such ferocity that I guessed she must be trying to impress Brad by making me suffer even more than he had. By the time she was finished, my back was on fire and my face was wet with tears.

"How was that?" she asked Brad, panting heavily.

"Goddamn it girl," he said, "That was hot. Goddamn..."

Apparently unable to contain himself further, Brad quickly walked over to Mia and engaged her a long, hot kiss. Their hands started exploring each other's bodies, and I could hear the familiar sighs and moans of sexual ecstasy above me. I felt completely uncomfortable as I knelt there, not knowing whether to watch them or just bow my head.

Brad suddenly broke off the kiss, grabbed Mia's hands and led her to the bedroom, ordering me to follow them. I tottered along after them as quickly as my high heels would let me. The couple tore off each others' clothes, and my cage was tested again when I saw Mia's full, bare breasts.

Brad lay on his back on the bed, and turned to me.

"Blow me, bitch!" he grunted, before pulling Mia down with him and making out intensely with her again.

I crawled onto the bed and bent to my task, taking his cock in my mouth. He was already rock solid, and I quickly felt the familiar, bitter taste of precum in my mouth. From my servile position, I could see Brad playing with Mia's nipples, making the young woman groan with pleasure.

After a few minutes of sucking Brad's cock, I was cuffed around the ear and ordered to get out of the way so he could fuck his woman. I gratefully obeyed, and Mia quickly shuffled over and climbed onto Brad, riding him cowgirl style.

"Lick my ass, slave!" Mia yelled as she started bouncing up and down.

I froze. I hadn't been anywhere near another woman sexually since I met Amy. As hot as I found Mia, the thought of betraying my beautiful wife in any way made me acutely uncomfortable. I didn't know if licking someone's ass counted as cheating, but somehow it seemed wrong to me.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" she moaned.

"Hurry the fuck up Larry!" Brad yelled.

My natural instinct to cower before the alpha dog overrode my misgivings, and I quickly crawled over to Mia and started licking her butthole as she rode Brad. As the pace of the fuck quickened it was hard to keep up, but I mostly managed to maintain my place in Mia's ass as she enjoyed the throbbing alpha cock inside her.

Soon, Mia was screaming bloody murder as she came hard. Shortly afterwards Brad gave manly growl as he enjoyed his own shattering orgasm. I kept licking ass as the pace slowed down, only stopping once the pair collapsed on the bed together.

Mia told me to get off, and Brad took her in his arms, kissing her gently on the forehead as they panted together. I felt a pang of jealousy as I looked at them: mostly for him but also, to my shame, for her. When I'd been fucked by Brad, he never showed me an ounce of tenderness or kindness. I cringed inwardly as I realised how pathetic that thought was.

"That was amazing," Mia sighed, tracing her fingers on his masculine chest, "I mean, like, wow."

"I told you I was a pro," Brad replied, with a sickening smirk, "Though I guess our little mascot here helped a little."

Mia sniggered.

"Did you enjoy that, Loser Larry?" she asked, turning to me.

"Um, y-y-yes ma'am, very much."

"Well, good. I guess you couldn't cum because of your little cage, but it was probably just as fun watching us have amazing orgasms, huh?" she continued with a smile. Brad cracked up.

"Y-yes ma'am, thank you for letting me participate," I groveled, hoping she would stop busting my balls.

"You're welcome," she said, "Now why don't you show how grateful you are and clean your Daddy's cum out of me?"

Worried about cheating on Amy again, but still terrified of Brad, I lowered my mouth to Mia's pussy and started licking the disgusting globs of cum out of her.

"Good boy." she said, and patted me on the head.

Larry; Chapter 21: Larry the Winner

I walked up to the door of Jess' apartment, shaking with anticipation. Even though I'd only been away for 2 days, I couldn't wait to see my wife again.

***

The weekend had been hell. Between being fucked repeatedly, my brother getting beaten up, and the humiliating threesome, it had been a parade of torture and degradation which had brought me to the edge of insanity.

To make matters worse, today I had endured my first day as Brad's secretary. The morning was spent receiving boring HR orientations and signing various non-disclosure agreements about the company's work. I was then taught about the phone and email system by one of the other secretaries, and shown the internal calendar software I would be using to manage Brad's appointments. I felt depressed as I reflected on the fact that my old job had taken years of education and hard work to prepare for, but the training for my new, more humble position had been completed in just a few hours.

My new boss had left me alone while I was shown the ropes, and was careful to act professionally towards me in front of other people. Furthermore, while I noticed a little whispering and smirking as people recognized me from the internet, my new colleagues were also, for the most part, discrete enough to remain courteous and respectful to my face.

I felt a pang of anxiety when Brad called me into his office mid-way through the afternoon, and was relieved when he just wanted me to make some copies of a contract for him. Things took a downward turn when he ordered me in again at 5, however. With his familiar twisted smirk, he immediately ordered me to close the blinds, crawl under his desk, and suck his cock while he had a call with a client. I gently blew him for half an hour while he talked business, and when the call finished he put his hands on my head, fucked my head quickly, and came in my mouth.

After I'd swallowed his disgusting cum, I crawled out from under the desk. To my relief, he then told me I was free to go and, as per our arrangement this week, serve my Owners for the evening before returning to his place to spend the night.

***

I had butterflies in my stomach as I pressed the doorbell at my wife's sisters apartment. Within moments, the door flew open and I saw Amy's beautiful face. Despite everything I'd endured over the last few days, I couldn't help but smile.

"Mistress! It's so good to see you." I gushed, my voice quivering with emotion, "I really missed you so much."

"It's good to see you too, Lar!" she replied, matching my smile, "You know, we've actually missed you too, you little weirdo."

My heart soared.

"R-really, Mistress?" I stuttered, welling up with tears.

"Of course! Y'know, when you get used to having a slave around it's hard to fend for yourself."

She giggled and ushered me in. While I was a little hurt that she seemed to mainly miss me as a slave rather than an actual person, I was still touched and overjoyed that my wife valued my role in her life. I felt a pang of shame as I remembered being forced to eat Mia's asshole the night before: I wasn't sure if something counted as infidelity if it was done under threat of violence, but I still felt guilty and anxious.

As I walked inside I was taken aback by the state of the apartment. Not only had nobody cleaned over the last few days, but seemingly they hadn't washed a dish, put a soda can in the trash, or picked up a dirty sock. I knew I'd have my work cut out for me if I was going to get the place in decent shape in just a few hours.

My wife led me into the living room and plopped onto the couch where James was kicked back watching a gameshow. Her sister Jess was sitting nearby in an easy-chair holding a glass of white wine.

"Heyyyy Larry-boy!" James yelled drunkenly when I walked in. "How's it shaking?"

"G-g-good, Master! It's great to see you, Sir."

"Hey Lar!" Jess said, "I'm surprised you're not limping. Is Brad going easy on your sissy ass?"

"N-n-no, Ma'am," I said, blushing at the memory of the violations I had endured over the last few days.

"I guess his little booty's probably pretty stretched out by now," James cracked, "I wouldn't be surprised if he barely feels anything back there these days"

Jess and James cackled together, and my wife smiled broadly. It was hard for me to listen to jokes about my rapes but, remembering how my wife hates a mopey slave and not wanting to spoil the positive vibes, I humbly bowed my head and smiled weakly.

"Anyway, enough about your asshole, asshole," Jess said with a smirk, "As you can see, your Mistress and Master have fucked up my apartment. You have about 5 hours, so you'd better get to it. I want the washing and ironing done in that time too, so haul ass bitch."

"Y-yes, Ma'am. At once, Ma'am."

I started bustling out of the room, but James stopped me.

"WAIT! Go get me another beer first, pussyboy" he bellowed, throwing his old can at me. It bounced off my head and I scrabbled on the floor to pick it up.

"Yes Master, sorry Master. Does anyone else want anything before I start?"

Amy and Jess both ignored my question, but their wine glasses seemed full so I assumed they were fine. I then hurried off to the kitchen, brought James his beer, and started my chores.

I began by gathering up the dirty clothes which were strewn across the apartment and putting in a load of laundry. As I picked up James' boxer shorts and socks from the bedroom floor, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realised I was actually smiling. Normally cleaning up after my wife's lover would make me feel sad and degraded, but it felt like a blessed relief after my time at Brad's. Picking up after James was dull and more than a little humiliating, but it sure beat being fucked up the ass.

A nasty thought then flashed into my head: did Amy send me to Brad's to make me a more grateful and obedient slave when I came home? No, I thought with a shudder, She's not some conniving supervillain. She was just paying Brad back for getting me that job. That's all it is. I think...

I put those treasonous thoughts out of my mind, ran the first load of laundry, and started on the moldering pile of dishes in the kitchen. I took some comfort in the fact that they appeared to have subsisted on pizza and takeaways while I was away rather than actually bothering to cook a meal themselves, so there were no greasy pots and pans to scrub clean.

As I toiled away, my Owners and Jess were getting drunk and rowdy in the living room. I didn't like how much my wife had started drinking since she'd shacked up with James. I was pretty sure he was an alcoholic, and his bad habits seemed be rubbing off on her. It wasn't at all out of the ordinary to see them getting wasted like this on a Monday night.

I swallowed my misgivings and tried to put my spousal concern for my wife to one side. I'm not her man anymore, I remembered, My role isn't to protect her or give her advice. My role is to shut up and do what she says.

I rushed around like a little slave whirlwind scrubbing floors, taking out the trash, wiping toilets and sinks, making beds, and washing clothes. By 11, an hour before my deadline, I only had a few pieces of ironing left.

At 11:05, I heard my wife summoning me to the living room, and I scurried over to see what they needed.

"So Larry," Amy slurred, clearly quite tipsy, "We want to play this new board game Jess got, but we need teams of two. You almost done cleaning?"

"Yes Mistress, I just have to iron a few more of Master's shirts and then I'm done."

"Rad." she said, "You're our fourth. You and James versus me and Jess."

"Oh fuck, why do I have to team up with the fag?" James said, half-joking.

"Sorry stud, sisters before misters," Amy replied, kissing Jess on the cheek.

It was so rare for me to be included in their fun that I stood there stunned for a moment. It was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into tears.

"Why are you still standing there, idiot? Sit the fuck down, we want to play." James ordered, patting the chair next to him.

I snapped out of my reverie and, almost feeling like a real person, sat down next to my Master. I listened attentively as Jess explained the rules, knowing there'd be hell to pay if I got confused and fucked anything up for my burly teammate.

Fortunately, the game was pretty simple and I managed to pick it up quite quickly. The same couldn't be said for James, who was clearly wasted and wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed at the best of times.

Despite James' fuck-ups, the game was fairly even, and in the end, it all came down to me: if I rolled a 6 we would win, if I rolled anything else my wife and her sister would claim victory. Feeling genuinely nervous, I shook the die and threw it across the table. My jaw dropped when I saw what it landed on. It was a 6! We'd actually won.

"YEAH BABY!" James shouted, "Give me some!"

My Master held up his hand for a high five, which I awkwardly returned. I felt a tiny little rush of an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time: pride. My wife and Jess rolled their eyes at James, and I started to worry I'd pissed them off.

"I'm s-sorry Mistress, Ma'am." I stammered, trying to soften their defeat, "I just got lucky I guess."

"Lucky my ass!" James yelled drunkenly, "That was pure skill baby, Master Jimmy and his faithful sidekick Larry"

Despite how obnoxious James was being, I couldn't help but smile a little at being called his sidekick. It was a huge improvement from the humiliating names he usually called me.

"Oh brother," Amy sighed jokingly, "You know we're going to have to hear about this all night now, don't you?"

"I'm s-s-sorry Mistress, I—"

"No, we don't have time for your groveling Larry" she said with a little chuckle, "Go finish your ironing quickly, we're supposed to have you at Brad's in 30 minutes."

I got a lump in throat as I remembered that I had to leave them and go back to stay and the house of that sadistic monster.

"C-can I stay tonight?" I said, my voice cracking as I stifled a sob, "Please? Just tonight and I'll go back to Brad's tomorrow. Please Mistress."

"No, sweetie," Amy said softly, "Brad's been really kind giving you that job, and we promised he could have you in the evenings this week. Besides, there's still nowhere for you to sleep here."

I wanted to beg, but I knew it would go down badly and I didn't want to spoil the evening, so I faked a smile and told her I understood. After I finished ironing the last few shirts, James took me out to the car, and I endured a frightening drive across town as he drunkenly swerved around the roads.

Somehow, we reached Brad's apartment building unscathed. I went up to the dreaded apartment and knocked sadly on the door. All too soon, it swung open and Brad stood there smiling at me.

"Hey fag. Miss me?" he said with a leer, rubbing his cock through his trousers.

I knew then that my happy evening was over.

Larry; Chapter 22: Dinner Party

I stared dejectedly out of the window of Brad's Lexus, watching the street lights slip past as we sped through the city in the rain.

When I woke up that morning I had been on cloud nine: finally, after a week of getting fucked, tortured, and degraded while staying at Brad's apartment, the day had arrived when I would be going back home for good. My upbeat mood had been ruined, however, when Brad gleefully informed me that my Mistress and Master had invited him over for dinner to thank him for my new job, and I was sick with dread as I contemplated the evening ahead. Even though I'd been "dating" Brad for months, he had never actually met my Owners in person, and I had a feeling that bringing all three of them together in the same room would be a toxic combination.

The pit of fear in my stomach grew heavier as we pulled into the driveway of my home. When he finished parking, Brad put his hand on my leg and squeezed it hard.

"Let's go sweet pea, it's dinner time," he said, flashing his smug smile.

I took a deep breath to compose myself as we got out of the car. We walked up the drive, and I rang the doorbell. As we stood waiting side-by-side outside the door, Brad holding a bottle of Merlot he'd bought for the occasion, it reminded me of when Amy and I use to go to dinner parties as a couple. I started to tear up a little at the memory of a happier time.

After a few moments the door opened, revealing my beautiful wife. My heart fluttered at the sight of her.

"Heyyy!" Amy said, greeting us with a big smile.

I smiled back and started to reply, by she moved straight past me to hug Brad.

"Hey yourself!" Brad replied as he kissed Amy on both cheeks, "It's great to finally meet you."

"Sup' man?" James said as he came to the front door from the living room and shook Brad's hand.

"All good! Thanks for having me over, guys."

"Our pleasure!" Amy said, "It's not every day that I get to meet my husband's boyfriend!"

Everyone except me laughed. As Brad and I stepped inside, my wife turned to me.

"Larry, we've got some steaks and salad and shit, but you have to cook it." Amy commanded, all the sweetness gone from her voice.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Make it quick too, bitch, I'm hungry," James said.

"Y-yes, Master, I'll have it ready in a jiff." I replied meekly, and hurried off to the kitchen.

***

I prepared the meal as quickly as possible while my Owners and Brad chatted in the living room. After I made up everyone's plates and placed them on the dinner table, I shyly informed my superiors that dinner was ready.

As the threesome ate I sat at my customary mealtime position on my knees next to James. For the first 20 minutes they talked about various mundane subjects, completely ignoring me unless they needed me to pour more wine or add some more pepper to their potatoes.

It was my wife who finally decided to broach the subject of our dysfunctional four-way relationship.

"So Brad, you've been fucking my husband for a while now, so I've got to ask you," Amy said with a mischievous grin, "How the fuck do you actually find him attractive?"

Everybody laughed, and I fought the urge to cry.

"Yeah, he ain't exactly Scarlett Johansson is he?" Brad said, prompting more laughter at my expense.

"But seriously though, like, you're successful and good looking and stuff," Amy continued, half joking, "Couldn't you find someone who's actually hot to have sex with?

"Well, look," Brad said with a grin, "Ol' Larry here isn't what you'd call conventionally attractive, but he's not a cave troll. I'm guessing the reason you find him so gross isn't mainly his looks, but his whole vibe: he's a weak, spineless, cringing, gutless little bitch with no balls, and that probably sickens you, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much," my wife agreed with a nasty giggle, "His tiny little thimble dick doesn't help much either."

More bullying peals of laughter echoed around the room, and I hung my head to disguise the tears which had started to inch down my face.

"I'll bet! But all that stuff, even the little dick, is what gets me off." Brad agreed, smirking, "Sure, I could fuck some hot young 22 year old submissive gay dude and call him my slave, but that would feel insincere. Larry, on the other hand, is the real deal. He doesn't obey me because he gets off in it, he obeys me because he's a wimp with no self-respect or dignity. When I see that look of self-loathing and shame on his face as he sucks dick, grovels, and get down on all fours to get fucked... well, let's just say it gets my dick really fucking hard."

I had been listening to the conversation with mounting horror, and as Brad finished I involuntarily let out a loud sob. Everyone turned to me and 'awwwed' in mock sympathy.

"Ah shit, did I upset you cutie?" Brad said with a sneer, "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Y-y-yes, D-daddy" I sniveled.

"C'mon then, give Daddy a kiss." he said, pointing to his cheek.

I dutifully got up and pecked him on the cheek. My wife and James cheered sarcastically, and I retreated back to James' side feeling like a complete piece of shit.

***

After dinner, the group sat around drinking and talking. The conversation ranged widely, covering politics, work, my cock cage, the weather, Brad's fight with my brother, favorite beer brands, and the time James gave me a swirly.

Amy gave James a hot goodnight kiss and went to bed at around 11 pm, but the men decided to keep the party going for a while. Brad pulled out two fat Cuban cigars from his jacket pocket, and James told me to pour them each a glass of scotch.

As they settled down on the couch and lit their cigars, James ordered me to get on all fours and act as their footstool. We had a perfectly good Ottoman they could have used, but I knew that comfort wasn't the point: he was doing it to degrade me in front of company. Blushing with humiliation, I got down on all fours so that the man who stole my wife and the man who stole my anal virginity could rest their feet on my back.

I stayed on all fours in silence as my superiors talked about football, hockey, and cars. Inevitably, the conversation came around to women.

"Bro, that Amy's a nice piece of ass," Brad opined between puffs, "How'd a reprobate like you lock that down?"

James cackled and sipped his scotch.

"Honestly, by the time I met her, she was pretty desperate. Bitch practically begged me to take her home the first night I met her. She'd spent years with this faggot, so she was gagging for a real man's cock. Isn't that right, pussyboy?"

"Y-yes, Master," I said through gritted teeth, swallowing my anger at the disrespectful way he referred to my wife.

"Yes what?" James pressed, digging his heel into my back.

"Y-yes, Mistress was... um..." I stuttered, unable to say the humiliating words.

"Say it!" James pushed, sounding amused.

"Yeah, say it faggot." Brad chimed in, backing up his new buddy.

"M-my, uh, Mistress was gagging for a real man's cock after years with me, Master."

I was squirming with suppressed anger. To be used as a footstool by these two alpha male douchebags as they made me insult my Amy was unbearable.

"Your wife's a horny slut who needs my dick, isn't she?" James pushed.

"Y-yes, Master, Mistress is a... h-h-horny slut who needs your, um, your dick."

"Damn right," James said, as Brad sniggered next to him.

The two sat silently for a while as they smoked and chilled.

"So I've been teaching Larry a few tricks this week." Brad said, breaking the silence.

"Oh yeah? What kind of tricks?"

"Well, let's just say he knows his way around a cock pretty well now." Brad replied.

"Interesting," my Master said, "Very interesting."

Things fell eerily quiet. Even from my humble position, I could sense the atmosphere in the room change. Soon afterwards, I felt one pair of feet lift off me, and then the other. Then the two big, drunk, horny men both stood up leered down at me.

By the time Brad left an hour and a half later, I was a naked, quivering mess on the floor.

Larry; Chapter 23: Amy and Larry

"HURRY UP, LARRY! Jesus Christ how long does it take to make a fucking Monte Cristo?" Amy yelled from the living room.

"I'm so sorry Mistress! I'll just be a moment," I replied anxiously as I plated up her sandwich, opened a bag of crisps, and poured her a glass of Sprite. When everything was ready, I scurried out to the living room and passed my wife her food.

"Finally," she sighed, snatching it from my hand.

"I'm r-really sorry Mistress, I just wanted to make it perfect for you. C-can I get you anything else, Mistress?"

My wife ignored me and started eating, leaving me standing nervously by the couch. The mood in the house was very tense this weekend: James had left on Wednesday for his friend Dwayne's week-long stag party, and four days in Amy was getting increasingly irritable. James hadn't called her once since he'd been gone and had barely even texted, which was driving my wife crazy. Amy, wanting to be the cool girlfriend for her hunky boyfriend, pretended to him she was fine with the lack of communication, while taking out her mounting frustration on me.

James' absence had also significantly impacted her appearance and hygiene. With no sexy boyfriend to impress, Amy hadn't put on makeup, done her hair, or even showered since she came home from work on Friday: she'd just lounged around in sweats watching TV and anxiously looking at her phone in case James had messaged. I still found her stunningly beautiful, of course, but it was jarring to see my usually impeccably groomed wife so unkempt.

Why would she bother looking nice for you? I thought sadly. Women dress up for men, but you're not a man. You're just a slave, an ugly freak in a pink chastity cage.

As if to confirm my self-pitying thoughts, Amy let out two loud farts and brushed some crumbs from her t-shirt onto the floor. I stood next to her quietly for a minute until her show paused for a commercial break, and then dared to speak to her again.

"Excuse me, Mistress, but do you need anything else?"

"No, Larry!" Amy snapped, "Just fuck off somewhere, stop hovering, creep."

"S-sorry. Y-yes Mistress." I said, slinking out of the room.

As my housework was mostly finished, I decided to head upstairs and sit in my sad little room for a while. I sighed bitterly as I plopped down on my hard mattress. this weekend had been a bitter disappointment to me. I'd been hoping that some time without James would allow my wife and I to reconnect. I had visions of us doing normal couple things like shopping, going for walks, and grabbing coffee. I had even had wild fantasies that her sexual frustration would lead her to unlock me from my little cage and...

...well, needless to say, nothing like that happened. When I gingerly suggested to my wife that we should go get a coffee together, she said she didn't want to deal with the stress of us being recognized from our viral video. She then added (unnecessarily I thought) that if she wanted to go out she would meet one of her "actual friends" and not me. As for sex, the closest I got was overhearing her masturbating in her room while my dicklet strained helplessly against its humiliating prison.

Instead, ever since James had left I had been on the receiving end of my wife's deteriorating mood, which had become vile as the days dragged on. I had scratch marks on my arm from when I coughed while she watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy, a sore ass from when we ran out of strawberry yoghurt, and a bruised soul from the constant vicious insults about my personality and appearance. Remembering my training, I tried to stay cheerful and take everything with submissive good-humor, but it was starting to get unbearable.

That evening, I tried to cheer up up by making her favorite dinner, fettucine alfredo. When I brought it out to her with a glass of white wine, I could tell by her face that she was in one of her depressed moods.

"Dinner, Mistress," I said as I handed the plate to her, "I made your favorite. I hope you like it, Mistress."

"Oh," she said sadly, "Thanks."

Her miserable tone, coupled with the highly uncharacteristic 'thanks', suggested that she was seriously down. I didn't want to leave her alone, so I sat on the floor at her feet and we watched TV together as she picked at her food.

When the next show came on, an episode of Friends, I decided to take a risk and engage my wife in conversation.

"Oh, it's Friends, Mistress. Remember, we used to watch this show all the time."

"Yeah," she replied dispassionately.

"D-do you remember when I thought I saw David Schwimmer in Starbucks?"

"Heh, yeah," Amy said with a slight smile, "You were so excited you tried to take a picture, but the guy turned around just as you were taking it."

"And I had it on flash mode so he knew exactly what I was doing," I replied with a grin.

"Oh my god, I nearly died laughing!" she giggled, actually looking a little cheered up.

"That was the same day we went to the zoo, wasn't it?"

"That's right! And we saw that seal show where the guy—"

My wife was interrupted by a chirruping sound coming from next to her. She immediately scrabbled to answer the phone.

"Baby!" she said, practically squealing with excitement.

I head James' muffled, deep voice coming through the phone. I sat there looking up at Amy awkwardly, not knowing what to do. My wife scowled at me and shooed me away with her hand. Dejectedly, I got up and crept out of the room.

"Oh babe I've missed you so much, it's been fucking tragic being stuck her alone with that creep," I heard her say as I slunk away. Before I'd even reached the top of the stairs, hot tears were rolling down my face.

Those 20 seconds of conversation were the best interaction I've had with my wife in years. Why did that fucking asshole have to pick that exact moment to call? I thought, And why did she have to tear me down like that? Why does she hate me so much? I've given her my whole life. My whole fucking life...

I stumbled into my room, flung myself on the bed, and wept.