Beneath the Marital Veil
Copyright© 2026 by TheNovleist2000
Chapter 3: The Cuckoldress
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 3: The Cuckoldress - Anne cheats on her husband with a handsome hunk.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Coercion Heterosexual Cheating Cuckold Slut Wife Wimp Husband BDSM Humiliation Rough Sadistic
“Everything I’ve planned is meant to bring you pleasure, my love,” Anne assured Luca as she led him to the bedroom. It was the first of April--the day of his release and the day she had promised him an unforgettable weekend of ecstasy.
“I can’t wait to find out,” Luca replied, his face beamed and his gait jovial, full of excitement. He was blind-folded and naked except for the cage that imprisoned his cock.
As much as Luca, Anne had waited for this day anxiously and had prepared hard. She had made sure that the bed was reinforced with iron frames to prevent it from creaking, and four hitch rings had been installed on the headboard--two for hands and two for legs. Each mounting plate was screwed tightly into the wooden frame with four large screws.
Apparently, it wasn’t Luca who did the work--he was never a handyman and lacked the tools for such a grand modification. Anne called in two carpenters from a local furniture store to get them done. She saw the way they leered at her, their minds probably imagining every way she would be used by Luca. “Only if they knew...,” she thought.
It hadn’t been easy to appease Luca in the past four weeks. He had asked for a release since the very first night, and each day his frustration had only grown. But she made sure that his cage was only removed for cleaning, and she did that only once a week. Each time the cage was cleaned, she always made sure to tie his hands behind his back so that he could not touch his tiny dick while she worked.
While Luca struggled with his frustration, Anne regularly got her frustration pounded out of her body by Michael. She visited his apartment every chance she got, and she even stayed at a motel with him for a weekend. Luca was told that she was having a sleepover with one of the girls, of course.
At home, she wore crop tops and short skirts to torture her husband. Every time she bent over to pick up something, she felt his eyes on her backside. She knew exactly what effect it had on him, the tension building with every move. It pleased her, the way she could command his attention without a word.
She also did not allow Luca to see her naked, meaning that every time she changed her clothes, he had to get out of the room. “It’s all for the build-up,” she had told him. “Imagine. How excited will you be when the day comes?” His eyes had always gone bright whenever she had said that.
Now, the day had come. The bedroom was dimly lit, scented with candles, and the queen-sized bed in the center was draped in champagne-gold silky sheets. Luca was propped up against the headboard, two plush pillows cushioning him for comfort. His hands were bound to a pair of hitch rings above, while his ankles were hoisted even higher and secured to two outer rings, folding his body until his blindfolded head rested between his legs.
“Wait here, love,” she said. “Let me go get the key.” Anne left the room, leaving Luca exactly as she had placed him--bound, vulnerable, and waiting.
She stood at the front door, waiting for someone special to arrive. Soon, a car pulled up to her driveway, and Michael stepped out. He was wearing a fitted black shirt that clung to his broad chest and dark jeans that hugged his legs. He looked every bit the man she had been waiting for.
“Have you prepared everything? Is he tied up?”
Anne welcomed him in and gave him a kiss. “Yes...”
When Anne returned to the bedroom, it was Michael who held the key. She walked to a corner and stood silently as she let him take the lead. “He should be the one to break the news to Luca,” she thought. “After all, this was all his idea.”
He had been the one who had told Anne that he could no longer share her with anyone else--not even her own husband. He had asked her to divorce Luca and move in with him. But she begged and begged him to let her remain with Luca until he came up with new terms and conditions.
“Lock him in a chastity cage until he’s desperate, dying, or mad with need,” Michael instructed her. It was the most crucial part of his plan, and she followed his instructions to the letter. But she had also pleaded with him to allow Luca a weekend of pleasure as a final gift before everything changed. Luckily for her husband, he had agreed.
In the dim light of the room, Anne’s eyes followed Michael as he climbed on the bed. He inched closer towards Luca--silent as a shadow. But her husband thought it was her and started talking.
“Where were you?,” Luca said. “You’ve gone for some time.”
Michael didn’t say a word as he grabbed Luca’s cage. He inspected it, eyeing the gold-colored padlock, which took on a bronze hue in the dim light.
“So ... are you unlocking me tonight or just keeping me waiting forever?” Luca said with a smile. He squirmed slightly and giggled when he did not get his answer.
Michael paid no attention to what Luca had to say and was busy fondling. He placed Luca’s scrotum in his palm, weighing it. His balls were small--bluish-whitish structures beneath the thin, veiny skin. From the corner, Anne watched as Michael grabbed one of the testicles, his thumb brushing it softly while his other fingers supported it below.
A shrill shriek escaped from Luca, echoing throughout the house as Michael crushed the testicle in his fingers. Horror struck, Anne watched as her husband writhed and jerked against his restraints. The sound took her by surprise. Though she knew Michael was careful not to cause permanent harm, the shrill cry was so intense that it made her instinctively feel her crotch for the balls she didn’t have.
Tears rolled down Luca’s cheeks while Michael’s hand covered his mouth, muffling his cries. “Shhh ... shh ... don’t cry, boy. I won’t hurt you again,” he said. “Shh ... Don’t be afraid. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. You are not in any danger.”
Michael pulled away his hand when the cries died down, letting Luca speak. A small voice escaped from Luca’s lips, the fear palpable in his tone. “Wh ... Who are you? Wh ... Where is Anne?”
Michael cupped Luca’s scrotum again, the gesture making him tremble with fear. “Don’t you worry about Anne,” Michael said, his fingers gently brushing against the skin of his scrotum. “I’m Michael and I’m your keyholder. That’s all you need to know about me for now.”
“Key ... keyholder?” He fidgeted, his head turning left and right, searching for any trace of the stranger.
“Yes ... I have the only key to your chastity cage. It’s me who will decide when, where, or why you are allowed release, and I will make sure you wait as long as I see fit.”
Luca’s face finally found the man. “Did Anne set this up? Are you a professional dom or someone she’d hired on the internet?”
“No.” Michael shook his head, seeming indignant at the guess. “It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you have an important decision to make today.”
“D--Decision? ... Where is Anne?”
“You already asked me that”
“Sir?” Even blindfolded, Luca appeared confused, his brow furrowing as he searched for a reply. Anne wanted to go to him, to embrace him, console him, and ease his pain--perhaps even kiss him. But she knew that she wouldn’t be doing any of those things. She couldn’t. She belonged to Michael now, and she had to obey him.
“Do you love your wife?” Michael’s words echoed through the room.
“Yes, Sir ... very much”
“Would you like to keep her?”
“Sir?”
“Answer me.” Michael ran the back of his hand along the inside of Luca’s thigh, making him shift slightly in his restraints, his body reacting despite the tight hold on his limbs.
Luca seemed worried for her now. “Yes, Sir ... Of course ... She is my wife.”
“Wife huh?” Michael said. “What if she would no longer perform her intimate wifey duties?” HIs voice was soothing and calm. “Would you still want her by your side?”
“What’s going on?” Luca grew restless and started straining against his restraints.
Michael kept his cool. One hand grabbed his scrotum, which was now slightly swollen, and gave a gentle squeeze. “Yes or no?
Pain flashed across Luca’s face. He winced for a moment, but soon, his expression softened as he steadied his breath. “Yes ... I need her ... I--I love her.”
Michael looked back to Anne over his shoulder before turning back to Luca. “Now, you have to make a decision...,” he said. “ ... whether to keep your wife or not.”
That got Luca’s attention. He listened to him intently as he continued. “Keeping her entails that she will remain with you in this house. She will still cook and clean for you, give you emotional support, wifely devotion ... and even love--why not?” His voice grew tense. “But she’ll belong to me--her body, her soul and her desires.”
Michael stared at Luca’s cage as he continued with the terms. “You won’t touch her--not so much as kiss her on the lips. You’ll surrender your sex life to me. I’ll keep the key to your chastity cage, and I’ll make sure that you get your relief as I see fit. It won’t be your wife’s cunt, but it will be sufficient.”
Michael gave Luca a few seconds to respond, watching his expression. But her husband remained silent and seemed impatient to hear the second part. Michael continued. “If you choose the other way, the divorce papers are already signed by her, and she will be out of your house by tonight. Once you are ready, she’ll accompany you to the court for the divorce. You’ll never see me again, but I’ll leave you the phone number for the fire department because you ain’t getting the key back either way.”
Anne gazed at Luca’s face as shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She had been standing in this corner for quite some time, and her thighs ached. But she wouldn’t dare to sit down now and interrupt them. “What would his answer be?” she wondered.
It took some time for Luca to answer, and Michael had been patient--the most patient she had ever seen him. “Does Anne agree to all this?” he asked. He seemed very tired and exhausted, dried tear streaks marking his cheeks.
“Yes ... she does. I’ll let you talk with her once you’ve given me your answer,” Michael replied. He looked a bit tired as well--though, in the end, what did he have to lose?
Her heart went out to her poor husband instead. He sniffed as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. His blindfolded eyes turned toward the ceiling, as if searching for one last divine intervention. When he finally found his voice, it was a whisper. “I want her to remain with me.”
“Well done.” Michael said with a pat on his head. With that, he left the room.
She emerged from the corner and walked towards the bed. She slowly climbed on the bed as gently as she could. When she got close to him, she took off his blindfold.
He looked at her, and she saw a mix of love, pain, and fear in his eyes. His eyes were red, and his face was marred by snot and tear streaks. His scrotum was flaming red now, and her heart ached, knowing she couldn’t release his restraints immediately.
She gave a kiss on his forehead. “You’ve done well, my strong man.” She stroked his cheeks gently, and when more tears trickled down, she wiped them with her sleeves. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for choosing to stay with me.”
Luca seemed more comfortable when she adjusted the pillows behind his back. The jerks of pain he had earlier made them shift out of place. “What now?” he said, his eyes yearning for freedom and perhaps his reward.
It tore her heart to tell him that his torment wouldn’t end anytime soon. She turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the champagne gold color of the bed sheets. “Michael ... He... ‘ she sighed. ‘He’s going to take me here ... in front of you. He said you need to understand your new place.” Her eyes met his again. “And I think the sooner we settle into our new roles, the better it will be for all of us.”
She moved closer to him, gently cupping his face in her hand. “I’ll convince him to reward you afterward. I know he’ll agree. He isn’t that cruel.” Without waiting for his reaction, Anne climbed out of her bed and left the room.
When she arrived in the living room, she found Michael getting himself comfortable on the couch. There was a can of beer in his hand, and on the coffee table was ... a long white garment bag she’d never seen before. “What’s that?” she wondered.
“Sit down,” Michael said. “We don’t need to hurry. We’ve got the whole night for us.”
Anne sat down by his side, her hands clutching his arm. “What’s in that bag?” she asked.
Michael put his beer down on the carpet. “You think I’ve come all this way here to fuck you in a sweater and a pair of joggers?”
Only then, Anne realised what she was wearing. She’d been nervous the entire day and forgot that her lover liked her more in skirts and small slutty tops. “I can change quickly now if you want.”
“Oh! You’ll change, but not into your usual clothes. But into this...,” he said as he leaned forward and pulled down the zipper of the garment bag. “You are usually my whore, but today you’ll be my bride.”
Anne’s heart fluttered as he pulled out a wedding gown from the bag. It wasn’t just any wedding gown--it was what she wore to her own wedding with Luca six years ago. Awestruck, she put her hands to her face. “Where did you get that?”
Michael smiled, sipping his beer again. “You forget that my wife works in the fashion industry. I found your photo on Instagram, and after that, it was just a matter of a few phone calls--first to her, and then from her to a friend of a friend.”
“You asked your wife for this?” Anne’s eyes widened with shock.
“Why not? She’s worried about me whoring with married women, not marrying a whore.” He took another sip of his beer before continuing. “Buying a wedding gown for you would be the last thing Catherine would suspect. I just told her that a colleague was searching for that design for her wedding. In her mind, a woman who is about to get married would be the last thing I’d be involved with although she’s obviously wrong about that”
Anne nodded, her eyes downcast. She knew that even with Luca out of the picture, she would never become his wife. In his heart, Catherine would always be the wife, and she a whore.
“Do you have your make-up stuff in the bedroom or outside?” Michael asked. “I wouldn’t want to ruin Pinky’s surprise by letting him see you before you’re fully ready.”
“They are in the bathroom,” she said. She marched towards the bathroom with the garment bag in her hand. She knew what he wanted. He would want her to look the same way she looked at her wedding.
She pulled out her phone and searched for the wedding photo on Instagram. Although a make-up artist did the make-up for her on that day, a girly girl like Anne had already learnt the necessary skills to replicate their work over the years.