Led By Her 7: A Dominant Female, Submissive Male, Public Humiliation & Cuckolding Tale Read online

  Chapter Three

  Thursday afternoon and Lynne and I are on our way over to pick Becky up and take her up to the mall.

  “Did you get any grief from your boss about finishing work early today?” I ask my wife. Becky insisted we make an early start at the shops so we’ve both had to take the afternoon off.

  “He wasn’t happy; I had to take it as holiday.” She sighs and looks through her window at the darkening afternoon sky.

  I told my own boss I had stomach problems and needed to go home sick. Not a total lie, the acid in my belly is going crazy as we get near to Becky’s home.

  Lynne checks her vanity mirror in her sun visor as I turn into Becky’s estate. My wife took ages to decide on the brown jacket and dark jeans outfit she’s wearing today. I thought we were going to be late. For some reason she seems uptight about this trip. Looking at her as she re-examines her lipstick I wonder whether she misses Dominic’s attention as well as Becky’s. It’s been several weeks since Becky asked her on a night out or since she went to her friend’s house by herself.

  I almost laugh at the absurdity of feeling sympathy for my own wife because this other couple aren’t using her sexually as much as they once were. It’s hard not to empathise with the sense of abandonment she may be feeling though.

  “I’ll get her,” Lynne says as I pull up at the end of Becky’s drive. Automatically on this street my heart is pounding.

  Becky doesn’t answer the door for what feels like several minutes and Lynne looks awkwardly back down the drive at me.

  When the front door does open I look away quickly so I’m not thought of as staring. Becky’s shape literally makes me feel short of breath. How much of this feeling is due to ‘conditioning’? Because I associate the sight of her with physical and emotional pain mixed with intense but frustrated sexual arousal?

  Her head is in the air as she walks down the drive towards the car. Black leather jacket, black boots, skin-tight black pants. Perfectly-shaped legs and thighs taking self-assured strides. A leather bag over her shoulder and Lynne at her side.

  “I’m rather disappointed you didn’t get out and open the car door for me Stuart,” She says as she clicks her seat belt around her tiny waist. The car is filled with the familiar delicious combination of vanilla and fruit fragrances of her French perfume. “And there was me thinking you were the perfect gentleman.”

  Lynne gets in the back next to Becky and they’re soon whispering and giggling behind me while I drive. After a few minutes Becky unzips her tight motorcycle-style jacket and pushes it open as she talks to my wife.

  When I’m certain they’re absorbed in conversation I adjust my reversing mirror. Becky’s enormous round breasts are shamelessly accentuated by a fitted white angora jumper.

  The rest of the journey is spent sneaking as many looks at as I dare try and get away with under the pretext of checking the traffic.

  When we arrive at the mall Becky tells me where she wants me to park. I still don’t know whether I’ll actually be visiting the shops with them or if I’ll be told to wait and amuse myself until they’ve finished.

  It’s not until I’ve parked to her liking and turned off the engine that Becky tells me.

  “We don’t want him getting in our way while we shop do we Lynne?” her reflection looks down its nose at me in my rear view mirror. My wife clears her throat as Becky continues.

  “But it will still be useful to have you with us Stuart and not just for your credit card either.”

  Next to her Lynne fidgets on her seat. She knows as well as I do how tight money is for us at the moment and yet neither of us seems prepared to deny this other woman

  “You can also be useful by carrying our bags for us Stuart.” Plum-colored lips, almost purple but with a darker seam, pucker as Becky examines herself in the screen of her phone.

  Just make sure you stay behind us, well out of the way unless I say otherwise.” Seemingly satisfied, she puts her phone into her handbag.

  “Let’s see whether you can remember your manners this time as well shall we.” Becky sits back in her seat. My face flushes as I realize what she wants.

  “Waiting...” She says, looking out of her window.

  Self-conscious about whether any other shoppers are watching, I try to appear unhurried on my way out to Becky’s door at the rear. She smirks at me as she gets out. I inhale her scent so deeply. Is it my imagination or does she let her body brush past me on purpose? Tormented, my balls tighten. My long-ignored cock attempts to swell but the spikes dig into my yeaning flesh. Once she’s passed me I try to discretely adjust my chastity belt beneath the trousers of my suit.

  At first it’s impossible not to believe other shoppers are staring at you as you slavishly follow your own wife and the woman you devote yourself to while they browse the shops. After a while this worry dissolves and I start to relax a little. One major benefit which I hadn’t thought of becomes quickly apparent. Trailing behind them both gives me the freedom to exhaustively study Becky’s lovely ass the whole time.

  The heavenly sight of those rolling buttocks beneath her little jacket, sheathed by what look like velvet black pants. It takes me back to that wonderful night at the villa. The night Becky’s twin orbs shrouded my face. My whole body tingles through the mall at the memory of the warmth of the inside of those ass cheeks. The silken, smooth skin of Becky’s most intimate area, most coveted place. Sometimes I wonder whether that night really happened. Can I really remember her ‘fragrance’ that night?

  How much time must I have wished away since it happened, imagining Becky letting me do more than simply sniff around her ass with her panties stuffed in my mouth? When I spend too much time thinking about that I could almost weep with frustration. Stupidly, I’d assumed being squashed under Becky’s backside would become a sublime and regular method of worship for me. But it’s never happened since.

  Ahead of me the women pause as Becky points into a store window. I try to shake out the mental images of my suffocation which are flooding my mind. Walking in a chastity belt isn’t always easy to do even when you’re not aroused.

  I tug at the front of my pants, adjusting the position of the cage around my shaft and moving the spikes of my mobile bondage away from my sore flesh. More than once since we got to the mall I think I’ve seen other shoppers catch me ‘playing’ with the front of my pants. God knows what they must have thought of me.

  Becky directs Lynne into a designer clothes store and I follow them. I’m conscious I might look like a weirdo alone in a ladies’ clothes shop but I don’t want to get too close to Becky in case I annoy her. I try to pretend I’m casually browsing the racks of what seem very expensive dresses and tops.

  I’m tapped on the shoulder before Becky pushes two dresses at me. “Make yourself useful Stuart. I don’t want you mixing them up so put Lynne’s in your left hand.” She taps one of the dresses, “Mine in your right until we’re ready to try them on.” She returns to examining the racks of outfits while I hold their clothes.

  Why oh why does this situation inflame my sexual arousal sending my heart rate rocketing?

  Becky returns to me several times, on each occasion handing me more potential purchases to carry, smirking and looking down her nose at me. Almost as soon as her back is turned I try to discretely and swiftly examine what she’s thinking about buying. Visualizing how she might look in it. At least now I suppose I don’t look as if I’m lurking alone here.

  Eventually I’m directed to follow them towards the changing rooms. Becky snatches her six outfits from my arms along with the two for Lynne.

  “Nonsense!” I eventually hear Becky’s voice from the changing area after what seems an eternity waiting. “I’ll be the one to decide if it’s too short for you to wear!” Becky says and it takes a second or two to register that she’s shouting at my wife.

  “Is everything allright in there?” An assistant hurries past me towards the changing rooms.

  Still out of si
ght, my wife sounds like she’s apologising but I’m not certain whether it’s to the store assistant or to Becky.

  “Becky, I didn’t say I wouldn’t wear it” Lynne is trying to keep up with her friend’s long-legged stride as they both finally emerge from the changing rooms. “Just that it’s a lot shorter than I’d normally wear that’s all. I’ll have it, its fine honestly.” Lynne shoves a red lace mini-dress into my hand as she chases after Becky.

  I pay for my wife’s new dress and hurry out of the store to find them.

  By the time Becky finally seems satisfied with something she’s finds for herself I’ve lost count of the number of stores we’ve visited. I’ve carried a seemingly endless quantity of dresses and other outfits and waited out of sight while they’ve been tried on.

  “I’m not sure which I prefer,” Becky says holding up a low-cut black silk dress and a pair of skinny leather pants against herself in the store mirror after trying them on. “So I’ll have to take them both. I just need to look for a new top to go with the pants.” She shoves the clothes at me, still on their hangers. “Once you’ve paid for them Stuart; we’ll be in the shoe shop next door but one.” She grins at me and without another word takes my wife’s arm, sweeping her towards the door of the shop.

  She seriously expects me to pay for her clothes too? After I’ve been eating into our savings for months to pay her what she already charges me?

  Hastily, I try to do the mental arithmetic to work out exactly how much her dress and pants are going to cost me. Whether there’s enough in the joint bank account I share with my wife.

  Considerably poorer and significantly more worried I catch up with them both further down the mall in the shoe shop. Becky is deliciously barefoot, about to try on some sexy patent leather high heels in front of a male assistant with widely-dilated pupils. Close-by, a middle-aged guy waiting with his thick-set wife can’t seem to keep his eyes off Becky.

  She slides the curved sole of a delicate foot into the shoe and my cock heaves at the sight. They may be exquisitely-formed little feet but I know how they feel when they kick you in the balls as well as when your hands caress them.

  “What do you think?” Becky examines herself in the mirror once she has both shoes on.

  “They look gorgeous on you,” Lynne smiles warmly at her friend, all traces of their fall-out seemingly now forgotten.

  “You’re right and they should go with the dress or the pants. I’ll take them – or rather he will.” Becky nods towards me and the assistant smiles at me from the corner of his mouth. Lynne looks as if she wants to say something, biting her bottom lip again. She seems to hesitate but says nothing.

  This is exactly where and when I should speak up. The point when I should say in no uncertain terms: “We can’t afford to fund you any more Becky.” But I look at the adorable bubble-butt cheeks as she leaves the store and of course my objections and logic evaporate.

  In any case, what would the outcome be if I did protest? Would l I really risk losing her? Would Lynne?

  Instead of protesting, I hold my breath and expect an ‘inevitable’ rejection as the cashier charges my card. It doesn’t happen and I’m soon following in Becky’s wake again. This time with the boxed and bagged shoes added to the clothes I’m carrying.

  “I don’t want you both thinking I’m a complete ogre,” Becky says eventually after directing us back towards to the car. “I’m sure I’ve got a top or two at home that will go with my new leather pants. I’m not going to ask you for any more clothes today.”

  I open her car door and she says we still have one more stop to make on the way home. “You’ll enjoy this next place Stuart” she says slyly from the back seat as I pull out of the car park.

  She directs me across town until eventually I’m instructed to pull up alongside a building with a neon “Pet Superstore” sign and a scattering of other cars outside. I didn’t know Becky had any pets.

  “I need to pick up something special for the party. Do you want to come inside for a look around Lynne?”

  “Pet shop? Do you mind if I just wait here Becky?” Lynne checks her phone, “I’ve had a message from my boss and he might call back.”

  “Stuart - my door please.” Becky says flatly.

  It’s cold as well as dark outside as I hold the car door open for her.

  “You can come in with me Stuart.“ she smiles and puts her lips right against one of my ears, “You can pretend we’re together if you like.” she whispers and moves away. I take a quick look inside the car and Lynne is still checking her phone so once more I follow Becky.

  Our feet crunch across the gravelled car park until we’re inside the warmth of the earthy-smelling store with its 80’s rock background music. There are more people inside than I would have expected at this time, but a spotty young assistant almost instantly approaches us. He colors up when he gets close.

  “Where are your dog collars and leashes?” Becky asks the youth. His oversized Adam’s apple bobs as he points a scrawny arm down to the far end of the store. Becky tells me to follow her -something I’ve got very used to today. My heart is pounding itself into a frenzy.

  I stand in silence, trying to will my pulsating cock to deflate as her long fingers with polished red nails caress the rows of chains, leads and collars. She pulls out a thick black leather collar with several ringlets through it.

  “Perfect I think” she smiles to herself as she opens up the collar. “Let’s try it on you.” She smiles warmly, like I’m about to be bestowed with a huge favour. I’m speechless.

  In a daze I bow my head. She moves the collar around my neck, her face so close to mine as she fastens the straps. Further down the aisle another young couple are staring at us whispering. Becky stands back to look at me collared as the assistant approaches. He stops several feet short of us, mouth gaping.

  “I’ll take this.” She tilts her head at me as if expecting a response but I can’t speak. I just want to get out of here.

  “I’ll pay for them Stuart” she says at the checkout as she takes her purse from her handbag. “Save your money and spend it on your own wife. I know my monthly fees stretch you.” My face reddens in front of the check-out operator.

  “Although of course he does like to be stretched by me don’t you Stuart?” Becky smiles as she hands over her cash.

  “Are you working from home tomorrow as usual on a Friday?” Becky asks over her shoulder when we’re outside and crossing the car park.

  “Yes Becky,” I say, still in a daze but my heart pounding at what her question might mean for me.

  “There’s a lot to do before Saturday night and there’s no reason I should have to do it all myself. It would be helpful if you could make some time for me tomorrow.”

  “What time would suit you Becky?” I don’t even think about the size of the business workload I need to get through before Monday. All that matters is more time in her company. Possibly being tortured by her if I’m lucky.

  “Around 1:0’clock” she replies with no pause in the movement of her long legs or the muscles of her buttocks on which my eyes are locked.

  “I want you talk to Lynne tonight, make sure she isn’t having any second thoughts about what I expect from you both on Saturday night Stuart. I expect you both to attend and I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t.” She says and I nod my head at her before opening her car door.

  Chapter Four

  I’ve hardly slept. It’s been so long since Becky asked me to go to hers by myself. My mind has been spinning in circles since the early hours. I’m going to look rough after so little sleep but I’m desperate to find out what she has in store for me today.

  Lynne was very quiet after we got back in from the mall last night. I tried bringing up the subject of tomorrow night’s party with her in bed later but she wouldn’t talk about it. So I don’t really know how she feels about going there and ‘performing’ like Becky clearly wants us to.

  The wind is cold as I knock and wait
at Becky’s back door. Just the stubborn dirty gray remnants of last weekend’s snow remain scattered on the ground. More is due to fall tonight apparently.

  “It’s open.” Becky calls from inside. The fact is; it’s always open when I call as arranged but I wouldn’t dare enter the house without her say-so. I take a deep breath and proceed inside.

  She’s leaning against a granite kitchen worktop talking on her mobile phone. Her hair is up behind her and she’s dressed for the gym. She’s wearing a black and white zip-up bralet crop top with an Aztec-style pattern. I steal glances at her as she continues to talk on the phone. The bralet is cut to reveal several agonising inches of the bare olive flesh of her shoulders, arms and stomach. The material is taut across her chest as if straining to hold the abundance of her breasts in place. They look so proud that inside I shudder with desire.

  Below Becky’s bare waist are mid-calf length white leggings and her pink Reeboks. With the phone still at her ear she tugs at a corner of her top to indicate I should strip. Then she gestures towards the breakfast dishes still scattered on the breakfast bar and the overflowing pedal bin on the floor.

  Automatically my balls contract as I obey her and hurry through to the laundry room to remove my clothes.

  I’m cold as I scurry around her kitchen again collecting her breakfast things away while she laughs and chats on the phone. Occasionally I feel her eyes on my naked physique, the chastity belt clacking and knocking away as I move. I must look so ridiculous to a woman like her. No wonder she seems to have no qualms about treating me the way she does.

  I run hot water into a sink still filled with further unwashed plates and cutlery - presumably from last night’s dinner. Is it just ‘spitefulness’ that prevents her using her dishwasher the night before I come around here? Each time I arrive I’m expected to wash and dry what she and Dominic used the previous night as well as wash and put away the morning’s breakfast dishes. After that there’s always a dishwasher full of plates, cups and cutlery they’ve used earlier in the week that I’m expected to unload and put away.