I watched Emily look at her image in the full length mirror. She smiled her satisfaction. Whatever happened this night, her life and mine would be changed forever, and hopefully for the better. Was she certain she even wanted to do it? Was I, her husband? In truth, though each of us was excited, we were likewise both nervous as could be.
It had all started two weeks ago when I had been called out on the job, I'm a computer hardware specialist; learned the trade in in junior college, and had since taken a number of techie courses to keep me up to snuff in the field. The company I worked for, Wildwood Technologies, paid handsomely for my skills which made it possible for Emily and me to have a nice standard of living. At any rate, I'd left the computer in the den on standby instead of shutting it down, big mistake. When she opened it to get a document on the desktop that she needed, she had been shocked to find what I had left there.
The open page was part of a folder of back and forth emails I had downloaded and saved. Curious, she had begun to read them. Closing the computer two hours later, she was confused and very upset at what she had discovered: that I had fantasies, that I was a closet wimp, a wannabe cuckold; and, that I had been communicating with other husbands, anonymously, who had like fantasies and proclivities.
That night she confronted me. "So how long have you had these fantasies?" said Emily.
"I don't know?" I said, "a long time, I guess." I was shaking in my boots, and it was obvious to her. She actually smirked.
"Since we've been married?" said Emily. "Before?"
"Before," I admitted. "But, they're just fantasies. They're nothing. I was never going to ask you to do anything, honest," I said.
She was tapping her foot as she watched me. I found it almost impossible to meet her gaze. I was embarrassed, but I was also turned on talking to her about it, a fact more than testified to by the bulge in the front of my pants which she also noticed.
"Really? Then, how about that request for information about that big cuckold fest two weeks from now?" she said, nodding toward the still open page on the desktop.
"I—I don't know. I was just curious about what they do at those things that's all," I said.
We talked for hours, well two. Emily had become intrigued. I had become concerned; I was sweating.
Well, that was two weeks ago, and now we were getting ready to go to the big cuckold fest as she was continuing to call it. I had emailed for information about it, at her insistence, and I had gotten an answer back in two days. It turned out that what it actually was, was a kind of monthly get together where wives and their husbands could come and explore the cuckold lifestyle up close and personal. No pressure was exerted on anyone, or so the e-brochure claimed, but the opportunity for a wife or girlfriend to cuckold her significant other was there if the couple decided it was for them.
I had at first tried to get my wife to believe that I was only interested in the mental side of it. But, after the long discussion alluded to, I had been made to admit that I would like to look into it a bit more. We made the decision to attend.
And so here we were about to leave to go to it. "Ready?" said Emily, taking a deep breath.
"I think so," I said. "But, we're going to stick to our deal, right?"
"Yes, if either of us is uncomfortable about any of it, we will just leave and no more will be said about it," she said.
"Yes, and tonight we do not take our clothes off for any reason," I said, "at least not this first time." I was hedging my bets. Yes, the idea of really doing it was appealing, but I was also more than persuaded that it could also be a threat to our marriage; hence our deal.
"Also agreed," said Emily. "This is nothing more than a little information gathering expedition."
"Okay then, I guess we better go," I said.
The ride to the mansion, where the do was to take place, took over an hour. As we found out, a man named Robert Stahl, a black businessman, had founded the club as he liked to think of it. A millionaire, he'd created the twenty-five room mansion from the shell of a former apartment building. He'd made his money in the soft porn industry, and had parlayed that, through some clever stock buys, into a truly large fortune. The manse, besides the twenty-five rooms alluded to, sported a courtyard, two group gathering halls, a large basement, and other appurtenances.
We were met at the door by a white man liveried like a footman in a bad movie. "May I take your coat, ma'am," said the servant.
"Certainly," said Emily, with more confidence than I know she felt.
I noticed that the man had not asked to help me. "Can I get my coat hung up too?" I said.
"You know what this place is don't you?" asked the man.
"Not exactly, first time for us," I said.
"Oh, okay. No, you have to hang it up yourself: over there on the cuck wall," said the servant. I looked and saw what he was pointing to; I went to it and hung up my coat.
Returning to the man and my wife, I asked what I thought was a good question. "My wife and I can go in together, right?" I asked. I was feeling very weird, not nervous, weird.
"Yes, you can, unless she's spoken for by one of the studs and accepts being with him, that is. If she does accept, well, then, I'm afraid, you'll have to adjourn to the basement with the other cuckold husbands; that's what we call cuck country; it's mandatory. A woman who is responsible for taking you there will do so and lock you up while your wife entertains her man." Suddenly I was frightened.
"Lock me up," I said. "The online brochure didn't say anything about that."
"Hmm, it's in there; I'm pretty sure," he said. "In any event, I'm afraid it is expected. It's what we are about here.
"And, just judging by the look of your lady, I'm positive she is going to be claimed pretty quick; I mean if I'm any judge. I mean if she wants to, you know," he said. I nodded.
"Since you folks are newbies, I'm going to get you an escort to kinda show you around and orient you. How's that?
"Oh, and my name is David. I'm a cuckold husband myself. As you might guess, we husbands are required to do the work here on kind of a rotating basis. You will be too," he said to me, "once your lady has made you one of us, and you'vr been initiated. Anyway, it works for us and for the group," he said.
"The escort would be good, David," I said. "But, I'm saying right now that I do not want to be locked up." David just shrugged.
"Definitely, no ball and chain for you dear. I know that would be way too hard for you," echoed Emily, she giggled. "If they really require it, we just won't join, that's all." I felt a little bit better, less apprehensive, with her supporting me.
We made our way into what looked like a large receiving area. Twenty or thirty white couples, and a number of what were apparently black escorts were in evidence. All of the couples were mixing and laughing and sipping cocktails. The black studs were strolling around and smiling and talking to the women; they seemed to be studiously avoiding talking to the husbands, who, however, did not seem to be taking offense at the snubs.
"A glass of wine, honey," I said as we bellied up.
"Yes, please, dear," she said. She was looking around surveying the place.
I placed the order for two glasses of burgundy, paid, and turned to see a man, a white man, coming toward us. The orientor, I thought, as he neared us.
"Hi, I'm Arnold," he said. "You folks are the newbies, correct?"
"Yes, we are thank you," I said. "I'm Danny Lawson and this is my wife Emily."
"Nice to meet you. You have a very lovely wife, Danny. I know she'll like it here. Uh, you will too; I hope," he said. He seemed nice. "Let's have a seat at that table over there, and maybe I can make this an easy introduction for you."
We meandered the twenty feet or so to a table by a large picture window. The view was of the expansive patio area with lots of verdure.
"Let me do a bit of rambling, okay. I can answer most of your questions in one go, and then if you have anything else you'd like to have answered, I will do my best. How's that?" said Arnold. Emily and I both nodded our agreement.
"David mentioned he'd spoken to you about being locked up while your wife is being pleasured. It is a requirement, I'm afraid. But, since this is your first night, and you're just touring—right?" We nodded. "You'll get a bye, that is unless, Emily here decides to indulge herself." He looked to each of us separately and waited to make sure we were all on the same page. Satisfied, he continued.
"Anyway, we always start these affairs with some socializing. We've found that when Candace takes the cucks down to cuck country, that sometimes, really usually, they need a drink or two before they are locked up for the evening. Certainly in the cases of the newbies like you," he said, looking at me. "I admit, it's hard on us husbands at first, but we get used to it. Being caged is kind of a symbol of our submission to our wives and their lovers. We're cuckolds after all, really our wives' and their lovers' slaves. Am I making any sense?"
We both nodded. "Sure," I said. "But, I just don't feel comfortable..."
"I understand, but it is a requirement locking up the hubbies. But, if it is something you just can't do. Well, at least it's been nice to meet you folks—sincerely.
.... There is more of this story ...