Domme Finds Her Cuck and Bull

Joan stood and said with a smile, "Well, now that that's settled, Tim. Time to show the cuckyboy who's his boss now."

I looked at Tim and rolled my eyes. He shrugged. "I can't do this, Joan," he started. "Tom has been my friend for years."

"Do you doubt the contents of the files of what was found of your online adventures or my commitment to keeping my word about circulating that information? "

"No, Joanie, I don't doubt you will. I just need a moment to collect myself."

"Certainly Sir," she replied with a big smile."

"Tim, for starters, let's drop the Tom or tommy, shall we? It's just too confusing. It will confuse the boy to hear his old name, when you are the Alpha Male around here now."

"It will confuse me. Tim, tom, Timmy, tommy, makes me dizzy."

"So, let's just figure you're meeting this pathetic cuck who's awaiting his fate in a new role for the first time. Boy, wimp, cuck, cumdump, pigslut,or anything else fitting that comes to mind is his name now."

"OK, with the names straight, let's go on to a little attitudinal role adjustment."

With this, Joan snapped a wide leather collar around my neck and wrote something on my forehead with a black marker and gave a hard tug on the collar.

"cuckyboy, do you remember a little webcam show you did for a certain SlaveMaster86? No? Shall we look at the video? Or, perhaps re-create it right here? Let's do it here so that Master Tim can't see just what a disgusting boy you are so he won't feel quite so squeamish about keeping you in your place," she said with a definite menace in her tone.

Actually, I didn't remember SlaveMaster86. There were so many and it was so long ago, back in the Wild West days of Yahoo chatrooms.

Moving with relish now, Joanie went on, "Let's see. This tape would indicate that this was happening 2006. Just a wild guess here, but figuring that Slavemaster86 was born in 1986, that would put him at about 20 and you at about 57. Delightful. Did it occur to you that you had a son and a daughter older than that at the time? Are you even sure that it wasn't one of them on the other end of the wire?" A shudder went through me. Actually I had thought of that or something like that.

"What did the lad make you, boy? Don't remember? It was indeed a long time ago. Let's re-stage it now. Look behind the desk for your props, subby4U."

There was a large blue plastic tarp, a drinking glass, and a bottle of salad oil.

"OK, it's showtime!! Are you having fun yet, boys? I am," Joan gleefully giggled. "Watch carefully Tim and see if your feelings for this poor, non-consensual sub cucky change at all."

"Spread the tarp. No, leave all your clothes on. I know that isn't exactly how he did it, but this is better. You'll see. Stand right in the middle."

"Fill the glass with pee. Hurry up, dickhead. You didn't seem to hesitate when Slavemaster86 was typing in the orders. Let's go, slut. Master and I don't have all night here." So I filled the glass as ordered.

"Now, drink it, creep, but don't close your lips around the rim or the glass." Oh, lord! Now I remembered.

"That's right. Oh what a messy boy. It's running out of your mouth all over you! Your clothes are a mess." When I'd done this exact thing before I had been naked. Even then I was amazed at how fast hot piss turns very cold, but in clothes it happened even faster and it didn't dry."

Joanie was on a roll now with some tips from Slavemaster86. "Oh baby! ," she cried out, "what a wet smelly mess. Take the bottle of perfume and pour it over your head. All of it! That's right. Rub it in everywhere." Thing was that it wasn't perfume. It said salad oil right on the bottle. One kind of cold, wet mess turned into a worse one.

"On your knees, cuck! Drop your pants."

Turning to Tim, Joan said "There now is your cuck waiting for his bull to own him and take his wife. Take your time. He will be happy to wait all evening on his knees there if that's what you want."

"Take a good look at him, naked, soaked in his own urine, slick with oil, collared, marked, kneeling, waiting. Waiting for you to proceed, just as a good, sub, cuck should. Ready to follow your commands. Ready to accept any indignity as appropriate. Easier now?"

Looking carefully at me, Tim sounded surprised at himself when he said, "Yes. Definitely."

Looking Tim right in the eyes Joan said with great intensity, "You must see to it that the cuck obeys, serves, crawls, cries, begs, suffers, makes a fool of himself and more until he knows his place without thinking, without being told. The old saying about sparing the rod and spoiling the child wasn't good for children, but it's vital for subs and cuckolds."

"Your job, Tim," she went on, "is to make him do a perverse limbo dance. Remember that one, where the singer asks how low can you go? That's the tune you're to call until he can't remember he ever danced to a different one."

"Do you think you can do that for me, Tim?" Joanie asked in a tone so seductive that I wished with all my heart that the roles were reversed so I could say yes to her.

With a funny, sideways look and then a smile he finally said "Yes, I can."

I shuddered when he went to the kitchen and came back the biggest wooden spoon we owned in his hand.

My once friend who now ruled my life and would be sleeping in what had been my bed with my wife, said "Let's establish who's who and what's what right away. We'll see how much it takes before we have you squealing and then you can roll up in this old army blanket and get some sleep tonight so you can get up early and clean up this mess you've made."

"Drop your pants and grab your ankles, bitch."