Led By Her 8: A Dominant Female Submissive Male, Group Humiliation & Sharing Tale Read online

  Led By Her 8

  A Dominant Female Submissive Male, Group Humiliation & Sharing Tale

  By Tinto Selvaggio

  Copyright 2016 by Tinto Selvaggio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. Reviewers may quote brief passages in reviews.

  Twitter@tintoselvaggio

  Tinto Selvaggio Blog & Newsletter

  Cover Design by D. Luck. Cover Image: Secretary Standing With Boss” by imagerymajestic

  Courtesy Freedigitalphotos.net

  This is a work of fiction, contains graphic sexual content and is for mature audiences only. It is intended only for those eighteen years of age or older. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Description: This time Femdom Becky goes Too Far...

  Submissive husband Stuart is getting increasingly worried. Beautiful femdom Becky seems to have lost all interest in enforcing domestic discipline and domination over him at the same time as she's exerting ever more control over his wife Lynne. So obsessed is his wife with her glamorous, dominatrix friend that she’s allowed Becky to brand her with an intimate tattoo in her name.

  As if that weren't enough for cuckolded Stuart, his wife is spending an increasing number of nights a week with Becky and her alpha male husband whilst refusing to have sex with Stuart himself.

  When Stuart discovers that Becky's husband has been displaying and trading intimate images of Lynne in public online, he decides he must confront Becky and her husband.

  To his shame, Stuart discovers that his own wife is being used as little more than a willing slave by the other couple. Even worse, dominant female Becky has ‘replaced’ Stuart with another male. A would-be submissive she is clearly intimate with.

  How far into BDSM humiliation will Stuart go in his desperation to win back the attention of the cruel, dominant mistress he so worships? Will he really submit to the ‘unthinkable’ with another male slave?

  This 14k+ word short story ebook adventure, written from the husband’s point of view, contains explicit descriptions of sexual action and other activity including public humiliation, domestic discipline, group sex, forced bi and sissy humiliation, lesbian domination, submission, cuckolding body worship and whipping.

  Chapter One

  “Lynne, I’m home. Can I come in?” I knock quietly on the bathroom door.

  “I’m in the bath.” my wife’s voice echoes from inside.

  “Yeah I know that. I just wanted a word. Don’t worry; I won’t look.” I laugh, hoping to hide my disappointment at her reaction to my return. I haven’t seen her all week.

  The lock slides across the inside of the door. I wait a second or two, until I hear her splash back down into the water. Slowly I push open the door.

  The room is humid and heavily fragranced with lavender. Only her blonde head and pink-flushed face are visible above the foam. She looks as good as she smells.

  “How was the training course?” she asks, flicking foam over herself.

  “Tedious. Look, you sure you don’t want to go out for a meal tonight? It is our wedding anniversary and we haven’t seen each other all week have we?” I crouch down beside the bath, still holding behind my back the bouquet of flowers I’ve brought home for her.

  I do have some selfish reasons for wanting to take my wife out tonight. I’ve thought of little else all week while I was away with work. A change of scenery together, somewhere ‘neutral’ is what I need for talking to her about Becky.

  “No, I’m good.” Lynne raises her knee from beneath the foam. “Let’s just stay in and watch a movie like I said on the phone this afternoon shall we? I’m tired.”

  I resist the urge to remind her it was me who was working right through the weekend not her.

  “OK, if you’re sure that’s all you want to do. I’ll order a take out when you’re ready.” It feels a little deceitful, but I need her in a good mood if I’m going to be able to recruit her help with Becky.

  Downstairs I pop a bottle of Prosecco, fill our two best crystal glasses then find a vase for the flowers. I’ll put them in the bedroom so she’ll see them as soon as she’s out of the bath.

  I’ve got no explanation why Becky hasn’t summoned me to hers for weeks. When I’ve tried to quiz my wife about it she just shrugs her shoulders. I’ve even begun wishing I was in chastity again, just so I could feel Becky’s influence and power over me once more. How I miss the yoke of her control weighing down on me.

  I’ve tried to losing my temper with Lynne. I’ve told her it’s unfair and asked her to find out ‘why’. All she says is: ‘It’s up to Becky what she does,’ or ‘Becky wouldn’t like it if I asked her’

  When I’ve suggested I might go round to confront her friend, Lynne says she ‘wouldn’t advise it.” What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  I’m adjusting the flowers in the bedroom when Lynne appears. Her white dressing gown is pulled tight around her waist, hair up in a bun, face still pink with the heat from the bath. I stand back so she can see and admire the flowers. She walks right past them to her dressing table.

  “Not just yet thanks.” She shakes her head at my offer of Prosecco. She loosens her hair and studies herself in the mirror.

  “I don’t want you to be annoyed with me Stuart,” She darts a look at me in the mirror. “I’ve wanted to get one of these for a long time and I thought you might try to stop me having it done if I mentioned it first.” She presses her lips together and her hands go the front of her dressing gown. She pauses a moment before pulling the sides of her gown off her chest.

  “What do you think? Do you like it?” She bites her bottom lip and pushes out her pert, bare breasts.

  “That isn’t a real tattoo is it?” I stare into the mirror in shock at the small red lips, like a lipstick mark on the outer curve of her left breast.

  “Yeah, but it’s quite subtle isn’t it?” She says, ignoring my gaping mouth. “I have to be careful not to spend too much time in the bath with it yet.” Her face is red now as she looks at my reflection.

  “You’re not serious. Turn round, let me see it properly.” I move forward, trying to study the design and struggling to control my rising anger.

  “I had it done the day after you went away. I might have known you wouldn’t approve.” She frowns and tugs the sides of her gown over her chest.

  “It might have been nice to have been consulted before my wife permanently disfigured herself.” All hope of setting the mood tonight to enlist Lynne’s help with Becky seems to be disappearing fast.

  “Well Becky likes it.” Lynne snorts and begins brushing through her hair.

  “What’s the design?” I ask, suddenly more interested, “Just a pair of red lips?”

  “Becky’s lips, the tattoo artist used a print of her lips.” Lynne continues brushing her hair.

  “Can I see it again?” my chest has tightened.

  “Is that something written on the top lip?” I lower my head closer to my wife’s chest, trying to decipher some small black characters.

  “It’s a tattoo of Becky’s handwriting,” Lynne’s eyes avoid mine.

  “What does it say?” My voice croaks. My heart thumps wildly. My wife ‘branded’ with a permanent symbol of devotion to this other woman.

  “’B#1’ - it stands for ‘Becky
’s Number One’,” Lynne clears her throat, “It was her idea.” Her voice sounds weak.

  I’m speechless. Not solely because my wife did something like this without involving me. I’m not certain what I feel. Even as Lynne covers herself again and I consider my reaction, I realize some of the things I’m thinking are ridiculous.

  Lynne knows I’ve never liked the look of tattoos – especially on women. I’ve always said I think they look slutty. Even so, an intense Jealousy surges through me. My wife’s ‘first’ tattoo and it includes a reference to another person. And not just any other person.

  As much as I might dislike tattoos, I’m actually jealous at my wife being described by Becky as her “number 1”. I want that to be me. I’m embarrassed and ashamed even as I have the thought. My blood runs cold.

  “I might have known you’d try and spoil it for me” Lynne mutters and her face tightens, “Becky said you’d probably do this.”

  I’m not sure how to react now. I feel lost, Hopeless.

  “Was the whole tattoo Becky’s idea?” I reach for my own drink and gulp a mouthful to try and steady myself.

  “She designed it for me.”

  “Let me have a good look at it”

  I’m shown it, and despite my anger and jealousy as I study it - I feel my balls constrict. My cock hardens in my business suit. I reach for the breast, secretly wanting to touch even a copy of Becky’s lips and handwriting.

  “Stop it Stuart!” Lynne laughs and twists away from me, pulling her dressing gown tightly across her chest.

  “Come on Lynne, it’s been ages,” I kiss her cheek and try again to grab her breasts. Her body looks so hot and toned after months on the diet Becky introduced her to.

  “Stuart, Stop it!” She yells, shocking me with the volume of her words.

  “But it’s our wedding anniversary Lynne.” My own words and the tone of them sound pathetic to me even as I say them. I’m desperate for sex with my wife again after a week of jerking off in my hotel room. It almost feels worse than when Becky had me clamped in chastity. Probably because in theory, there should be nothing stopping me having sex with Lynne now.

  “It might be our wedding anniversary, but that doesn’t mean I have to let you maul me when I’ve said ‘no’ Stuart.” Her mouth tightens and she turns back to the mirror.

  “Don’t be like that Lynne, I’ve missed you.” I grab at her shoulder, trying to find the words to salvage the evening.

  “I’m not in the mood for a take-out. I’m going to have an early night. I’ll sleep in the spare room.” She picks up her Kindle and Prosecco and heads for the door. “I’m tired. I want a decent sleep without worrying about your wandering hands.”

  Chapter Two

  My boss is a couple of years younger than me and the kind of smarmy, well-dressed prick I’d dislike even if I didn’t work for him. So when I’m seated the other side of his desk having been called into his office just as I’m about to leave tonight - I’m not in the best of moods. I want to get back home as soon as possible to make things up with Lynne. I’ve been thinking about what happened (or rather what didn’t happen), all day.

  “Is everything alright at home Stuart?” The smarmy prick leans back into his leather chair and forms steeples with his fingers as he studies me.

  “Yes, why do you ask?” I try not to show my irritation at his prying question.

  “You seem distracted at the moment. Even last week on the course from the reports I’ve had about you. This is a big month for everyone in the business now the new owners are finally on board. We all need to be showing ourselves in a good light Stuart.” He looks at me like he wants a response. I’m not sure the one which immediately comes to mind would be my best option.

  “I’m just tired I guess,” I mumble hoping it will be enough to get me out of here.

  “Bluntly; I’m concerned with your performance Stuart. This department can’t have one person limping along jeopardizing the rest of us. If you need some time off to sort out whatever your issue is - I’d prefer you to say so.” His eyes try to search mine but I look away.

  My stomach clenches at the memory of the last person who took time out for ‘personal reasons.’ They were trying to cope with a messy divorce and didn’t last many weeks after they came back. Lynne and I couldn’t afford for me to lose this job. Not with the debt I’m still in from paying Becky’s ‘fees’ for so long.

  “All I’m saying,” the voice sounds again from across the desk, shattering my thinking, “Is that if you need to take a few days to sort out whatever’s preoccupying you – please do it. I’d rather that, than your continued non-performance. The latter I can’t and won’t tolerate Stuart. Get it sorted or get out.” His dark eyes stare at me before his face cracks into a smile so unnatural; it looks like he’s about to cry.

  ‘All the more reason to get things sorted out with Lynne tonight.’ I tell myself again as I pull up on our driveway. No sign of her car. She’s normally back before me.

  As soon as I’m in through the front door I key her number into my phone. Voicemail. She must be held up with no reception. The smart thing for me to do would be to make a start on our evening meal. That’ll get her in a good mood for my apology.

  Washing the salad, my thoughts turn from my wife to Becky. Why hasn’t she ‘sent’ for me in so long? Why doesn’t she care anymore whether or not I’m in chastity?

  Not for the first time I find myself considering dropping everything and driving over there for an explanation. What’s the worse that could happen? She refuses to see me? She tells me she’s ‘not interested any more’? She laughs in my face?

  Somehow the very thought of Becky laughing in my face thickens and tightens my scrotum. Before I’ve realised I’m doing it, I’ve dried my hands and one of them is down the front of my pants. Becky’s feet in my face, her ass smothering me. Her mouth and name tattooed onto my wife’s breast at her insistence!

  I only just make it to the bathroom in time to grunt and ejaculate down the pan.

  I try Lynne on the phone again. Still no response, so with the salad made and wine chilling I’m online. Becky’s Facebook account is still set to the strictest privacy rating. It has been since she found the images I’d downloaded from there on my phone. The profile picture is the same poorly-lit head and shoulders photo of her that does her no justice whatsoever. The rest of her account remains set for access by selective friends only and I don’t fall into that category.

  My wife closed her Facebook account but it may be worth giving Dominic, Becky’s husband’s profile another try.

  When I do, he still hasn’t progressed beyond the odd lairy picture of himself and his buddies out drinking. Still, I can’t help studying one or two of the images of him. This man has probably had more sex with my wife this year than I have.

  ‘Huh, that wouldn’t be difficult,’ I think bitterly as I try to recall the last time my wife and I were intimate.

  I try Lynne again and after another voicemail response, key Dominc’s full name into Google. It brings up his construction business website. On his ‘Contact’ page is a dom@ email address and on a whim I type it into the search bar.

  I scroll down the entries until my eye is caught by a link to what looks like an adult website. My heart pounds with excitement. The arrogant jerk either didn’t know he was posting using his business name or he didn’t care. I click on the link, scarcely daring to hope that this may be about to lead to a treasure trove of info about Becky. Images maybe! Surely too much to hope for?

  The couple of messages Dominic has posted are all short one-liners. They seem to be in response to other messages of thanks posted by different people on the same website.

  “Great image of the slut on the beach man” lurker0505 says to him and Dom posts a ginning emoji in response.

  Oh my God. Becky on the beach. Where do I find these images?

  I check the time. Lynne’s hours late. I ought to be more concerned, but instead am clicking around on th
is seedy website trying to find pictures of Becky.

  I plough through pages and pages of images of barely-clad women. Some give dirty looks to the camera as if they didn’t want to be photographed in the first place. Others, usually featured in shots of their often generous asses, probably never even knew they were being photographed.

  This is surely no place for pictures of a woman like Becky to be displayed. Not in amongst these ordinary and some plain desperately ugly women. Some might be fairly pretty, but others most definitely are not. Why the hell did Dominic feel the need to display his incredibly beautiful wife in this, of all places? Maybe in a fit of jealousy at all the time she spends with Lynne? If so, maybe Dominic and I have more in common than I thought.

  Maybe Dominic did it in anger at Becky saying she quite liked that Evan guy? No. Surely Dominic couldn’t be that insecure?

  Or what if Becky is aware her images have been posted? If she encouraged it, or if it was her idea? Getting off on the idea of other men who could never have her, drooling for her. Wow.

  Where are the images though? Wading through galleries of women who aren’t Becky I try to speed things up. I focus only on hair color and those images posted before the dates of the comments Dominic responded to.

  So fixated am I on looking for raven-colored hair with a breath-taking hour-glass physique that I nearly don’t spot the image of my own wife.

  Looking up from her knees at the cameraman. Eyes wide, breasts bare and mouth bulging with the photographer’s cock.

  I’m scarcely able to digest what I’m looking at before I realize the image is only one of a number of Lynne. A topless selfie on the beach with Dominic. In another, totally naked on the same beach with two old men standing near her feet. One of the men grins and gives the ‘thumbs up’ to the camera while the other peers up between my wife’s legs.

  Chapter Three

  If it hadn’t been so late last night when I found those pictures of Lynne I’d have gone straight round to Becky and Dominic’s to confront him. I couldn’t sleep I was so angry. To make matters worse, a text message from Lynne eventually came through saying she’d gone straight out from work with Becky and was staying over at hers.