Led By Her - Special Femdom Marriage Boxed Set (Books 1-6): A Dominant Female Submissive Male Femdom & Cuckolding Tale

by Tinto Selvaggio

  Both their voices, especially Becky’s, get increasingly loud as time and wine pass.

  Eventually as I’m scrolling through my phone yet again I become aware of a steady clinking sound and realize I’m being summoned by it.

  Sheepishly I round the living room door and the girls are curled up barefoot on separate sofas. The film has finished and Becky is holding the long stem of her half empty glass in one hand and flicking at the top of it with a fingernail of the other hand. She looks across at Lynne and smiles excitedly as my wife speaks.

  “My feet are aching; I think they could do with a massage.”

  Becky stops tapping the glass and puts it down on the table. Her fingers go to her lips, partly covering her mouth.

  Lynne moves her legs from under her bottom and settles back into an upright position. She sticks out her bare feet and ankles towards me.

  “Well?” she tilts her head and stares impatiently at me. I can feel my face burning and out of the corner of my eyes am aware that Becky is starring at me.

  Feeling like my only other option is to laugh and leave the room; I let out a sigh and roll my eyes. Hopefully I look like my involvement in this “silly game” is reluctant. Then, unable to look at either female, I lower myself onto my knees on the carpet at my wife’s feet.

  I rack my brains for something slightly funny I could say to lessen the awkwardness and self-consciousness I’m feeling. I can’t find any words. My mind is blank. Emptied by this belittling in front of Becky.

  “Come on. I’m waiting” Lynne smiles down at me and wiggles her toes in my face.

  Keeping my head low so I don’t have to meet anyone’s gaze, I take one of my wife’s pretty, size 5 feet in my hands and begin to knead my thumbs into the warm, soft flesh. My mouth is bone dry inside.

  “Mmmm, that’s it, right there” she flashes a quick smile over at her friend then settles back deeply into the sofa.

  “Wow, you have got him well trained!” Becky raises her glass at my wife as Lynne opens her eyes and rolls the back of her head across the sofa to grin at her friend.

  As I continue to work her instep with my fingers, Lynne raises her other leg and rests the back of that ankle on one of my shoulders. I take the weight of my wife’s leg on my shoulder and Becky lets out a little high-pitched squeal of delight then falls quiet as she watches.

  “That does feel better. You’ll have to have a go in a minute Becky.”

  “Oh no I couldn’t do that!” Becky is shaking her head rapidly up away to my right and it’s her turn to look uncomfortable now.

  “Don’t be silly, of course you can.” Lynne laughs at her, “Take advantage while you’re here. See how good it feels. You’ve been on your feet all day around the mall after all haven’t you?”

  Becky falls silent and sips her wine.

  “Are you sure? Well, both of you?” I can sense Becky is looking over at my wife but I keep my head down, concentrating on Lynne’s foot, anxious to conceal any emotion from showing in my face.

  “Of course, I’ve told you, Stuart likes it, he likes being told what to do.”

  Lynne withdraws her feet from me and tucks them away under her bottom on the sofa. She looks down at me here on the floor then points across to the other woman.

  “Our guest’s feet need soothing too Stuart. Come on Becky, your turn”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” I hear Becky answer.

  I keep my eyes down and hope I don’t look too ridiculous as I shuffle across the floor towards the other sofa.

  “Have you ever had your feet massaged Beck?” Lynne asks her friend.

  “Only once. It was part of a pamper day in a hotel I think. Dom bought it me for my birthday. ”

  Unsure if I should try to make a start, I wait on my knees before Becky. Her legs are still tucked up under her on the sofa

  “You’ll have to put your legs out for him like I did before.” Lynne points at the space between Becky and me.

  Trying to sneak a look up without being seen doing so, I notice Becky’s face is a little flushed and her lips pursed together as she moves position on the sofa. She looks over at my wife, grimaces then with her bottom lip between her teeth she lowers one bare foot down onto each of my thighs. My cock automatically rouses as sensitive nerve endings are touched into life.

  There’s so little weight on my lap but the hairs on the back of my neck are stiff with excitement at being in this position and about what I have to now do.

  But I need to play this very straight. I don’t want either woman to know or at least see, how much of a thrill it is for me to be in this position.

  As both women wait, I shuffle myself backwards a little on the floor. My wife has quite slim ankles but the olive flesh below the leg of Becky’s jeans is incredibly delicate as is the tiny, exquisitely high-arched foot I take into my hand.

  The flesh is cool and yielding to the touch, utter smoothness like butter, without any break or flaw. My eyes rapidly dart upwards then back and Becky’s head is tilted to one side looking down at me. In the split second that our eyes meet I see a look of intense excitement. Shame courses through me, coloring my face.

  Then my trembling fingers make contact with a hard, rough texture around the base of one of her perfectly formed toes.

  “I like your toe-ring” I tell her, not recognising my own voice as I try to lighten the situation on feeling her silver jewellery.

  “I gave up hinting to Dom that I wanted a toe ring and ended up buying it myself.” She announces.

  I’m anxious to hide the fact that I’m shaking. I feel completely exposed, like my thoughts are being read. I try to push out of my head an aching desire to tenderly worship the narrow, supple little foot I’m holding in my hand. I shuffle position on my knees, desperate not to reveal the erection straining in my pants.

  Suddenly I become aware how crazy it is to be feeling such excitement at this moment. Is it because this woman with her feet on me is so obviously aware of her own beauty and popularity? Is it her arrogant, superior manner or more the fact that my wife is so clearly in awe of her that inflames my submission and desire as I kneel at her feet?

  Holding the sole of Becky’s foot between the balls of both my hands I use my thumbs and fingers to slowly massage the tiniest adult toes I’ve ever seen.

  “Actually, that does feel rather nice.” Becky voice sounds from above.

  From the corner of my eye I watch her settle her head and shoulders back into her sofa, close her eyes and smile to herself.

  “He must get plenty of practise.” She murmurs

  “Hmmm, probably not as much as he’d like,” my wife replies and they continue to discuss me like I’m not even in the room.

  “Wow, if I had a man this well trained he’d be massaging my feet every single day. And I’d have him doing all the household chores!” she laughs.

  “But I thought you had a cleaner Becky?” Lynne looks quizzically at her friend.

  “That’s what Dominic thinks too! “ Becky laughs over at my wife as I continue to gently caress her foot.

  “We did have one but I fired her. She didn’t have sufficient attention to detail. But, Dominic still gives me the money for her and that does come in very handy for shoes and getting my nails done more often.” Becky holds her talons up to my wife.

  “There’s no chance of Dominic ever doing anything like this.” Becky points down at me, “He’s ‘old school’. He likes to be in control. Well, he likes to ‘think’ he’s in control. The only problem is I’m stuck doing the housework now – and I wasn’t designed for that.” Both women laugh.

  For a moment the only sound is music from the TV in the background as I kneel here holding the beautifully arched foot in my face. One hand supports the heel while the fingers of the other lightly stoke along the length of the silky sole.

  “Oh for a man who likes being in control…” My wife raises her eyes thoughtfully.

  “Men like that can be overrated you know.
” Becky sighs then slowly curls her row of toes downwards so that her sole wrinkles in my hand.

  “Especially when they’re big ‘down there’ and they ‘go on’ for a long time if you know what I mean. “ Then she immediately stretches the foot upwards so that the ball of it tightens in my palm.

  “You’re lucky in that department Lynne.”

  Before I have time to think about what she means I sense Becky tensing above me.

  “Oooh,” she purrs hunching her shoulders as I begin to lightly pull the delicate flesh and muscle up the length of her baby toe. Starting at the base, I then massage up each deliciously-formed toe in turn. Just as I’m finishing working on the last one Lynne excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

  Without a word and with her eyes still closed, Becky withdraws her foot from my grasp and lowers it down onto my thigh. Then, she half raises her other foot towards my face and presents it to me. I take hold of it.

  I dare to sneak a look up at our guest and her chin is in the air exposing her elegant neck and throat to me. Then I become aware I’m being observed as her compelling, judgemental eyes sear down from beyond her sculpted nose, regarding me with strange satisfaction.

  “I’ve had an idea,” Lynne returns, talking animatedly to her friend

  “If you’ve sacked your cleaner and really hate housework that much Becky, maybe I could bring Stuart around to yours to do some of your dirty work for you. I’m sure you’d be only to happy to help wouldn’t you Stuart?”

  Chapter Five

  “We don’t have any plans for the Bank Holiday next week do we?” Lynne is in bed next to me looking at her phone.

  I think for a moment then shake my head.

  “Becky’s asked if I want to go round to hers to share a bottle of wine and have some lunch in the garden. Dominic’s out with his golfing buddies apparently.”

  She puts the phone down and turns to me. I feel her hand on my thigh, shocking me with the realization that she wants sex again. But I’ve been the same. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve jerked-off thinking about last weekend’s humiliation. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve even downloaded a couple of photos of Becky from her Facebook page.

  I feel my erection quickly develop even before the warm, soft flesh of Lynne’s hand reaches my cock.

  Determined to give her an orgasm before me this time, I break free of her urgent hand and slide down the bed under the covers. She raises her knees and I take the creamy flesh of her inner thighs in my hands and push her legs apart. Replaying in my mind the thrill of her bossiness in front of her friend, I press my face through the rough texture of the tightly trimmed triangle of hair and into the musky moistness between her legs. She lets out a low moan.

  I lick up the soft yielding slit and folds inside then let my tongue flick and play with the rigid little button at the top of her opening. I want to role play with Lynne about Becky but don’t dare bring her up.

  I needn’t have worried.

  “I might take you with me round to Becky’s….make you clean her house while we’re outside sunbathing. See how much you really like bring dominated.” Then she moans as my licking intensifies.

  “That would be hot, you two outside greasing each other with suntan oil,” I raise my head and she moans again in response. Then I feel her hands through my hair and tightening around my head, pushing my face back in place. She begins bucking into my face as her climax arrives.

  On the Bank Holiday Monday itself Lynne asks if I’ll run her round to Becky’s. Despite the bedroom talk and the suggestion to Becky herself when she was at our house, I’m fully expecting to just drop my wife off at her friends. Although that’s not to say I haven’t imagined more.

  Lynne looks gorgeous in a low cut pale yellow T-Shirt, tight white shorts that show off her ass and legs and a pair of sneakers. She’s put a bikini on under her clothes and her hair is in a high pony tail for what is turning into a blazing hot day.

  She directs me up to the top of a modern housing estate and tells me to pull up outside a detached property with a black 4x4 and a sporty red Toyota on the driveway.

  “Ok, I’ll see you later then, text me when you need picking up.” I move across to her seat to give her a peck on the cheek. Her brow furrows then she smiles mischievously.

  “What do you mean? You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

  She pushes her door open and the warm air floods in.

  “Come on.”

  My heart is pounding as I sit there unsure about how to respond, what to say or do. I watch Lynne’s butt in her shorts as she starts to make her way up Becky’s driveway.

  As she passes the cars the front door of the house opens and a large thick set guy with short grey hair stands in the doorway. He grins at Lynne then turns and kisses Becky who’s appeared behind him.

  The man says something to Lynne and she laughs then as he passes her he pecks her on the cheek and gets into the 4x4. He swings the car out of the drive and away without a look in my direction.

  “Are you coming?” Lynne calls to me before disappearing into the house.

  I look at myself for a moment in the reversing mirror then I yank the ignition key out and hurry up the driveway, willing myself to calm down.

  The door is left ajar for me and I can soon hear Becky loudly chattering away from somewhere inside the house.

  Sheepishly I close the front door behind me. I’m not sure whether to try and follow them so I stand in hallway on the hard wood flooring, aware of the twin fragrances of what smells like vanilla and coffee.

  “Oh Becky you’ve got a lovely place” I hear my wife coo.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, hoping that as I scroll, I’ll look less awkward than I’m feeling.

  “Let me show you where most of the action takes place in this house.” Becky laughs as they pass me on their way to the stairs.

  Our host’s coal-black hair is piled up off her shoulders on top of her head and she’s barefoot in a sleeveless, white cotton dress that buttons up the front and finishes half way up her thighs. No-one could be left in any doubt about just how long and shapely her legs are.

  For several awkward minutes I remain standing in Becky’s hallway until her voice on the stairs takes me by surprise.

  “Don’t be shy Stuart; come on through to the kitchen with us.” Becky breezes past with her nose raised. She seems smaller than I remember from last week but then I remind myself she’s barefoot. Lynne follows her and I make my way uncertainly behind them both, my eyes fixed on the movement of my wife’s ass in her shorts.

  I reach the kitchen where the sun reflects off sparkling silver speckles in the black quartz flooring and brilliant white granite worktops. A filtered coffee machine purrs away in the corner.

  “So, you weren’t joking! You really did bring him here!” Becky has her back to us, reaching into the cupboard for cups. The gossamer-thin material of her dress clings to her buttocks as she stretches and her white panties, or possibly bikini bottoms, are clearly visible around the mouth-watering curves beneath.

  “Well, I did promise you help with your housework – and here he is!” Lynne slips into character as the kind of domineering wife she clearly wants Becky to think she is. I feel my whole groin throb at her demeaning words.

  The women smile at each other and Becky shakes her head at my wife.

  “Coffee in the garden before lunch?” Lynne nods her head enthusiastically.

  “Seriously Beck, if you’ve got any housework that needs doing - just say the word. That’s what he’s here for.”

  “Oh,…I couldn’t really do that.” Becky steps back and leans against a worktop, facing us with her coffee mug in one hand. She crosses her bare legs, raises an arm to adjust the shoulder strap of her dress then pushes her wedding ring around her finger with her thumb.

  I raise my eyes and look out through the window to the garden to stop my eyes descending to Becky’s bare feet. It seems incredible to believe I was made to
kneel and hold them only a few days ago. If either of them knew how I’d imagined being made to lick and kiss them at the time and ever since…

  “Of course you can let Stuart do some chores for you Becky. Don’t be silly.” Lynne steps across the room to her friend and rubs her arm reassuringly. My wife seems to be enjoying this, basking in Becky’s continuing approval and astonishment of her power over me.

  “Well, if you’re really sure…” Becky smiles slowly, an inner glow igniting in her eyes.

  “Come with me Stuart.” She directs me to follow her out through the back kitchen door and I’m treated to an unobstructed view of her backside in motion.

  Beneath the veil of her dress the swollen cheeks of her ass and hips sashay from side to side around the axis of her long silky legs. I struggle to catch my breath as my heart thumps inside me.

  She leads me into a little laundry room just off the kitchen. There’s a window with a view of the garden and patio area outside. Above it is another smaller, open window.

  An ironing board and iron are already set up in the middle of the room. Clothes are piled up high in a deep semi-transparent plastic box on the worktop beyond the ironing board.

  Becky extends a finger immaculately manicured with French nail-polish and clicks the wall switch. The light on the iron jumps to attention.

  “Right, there you are Stuart. It’s all yours. Check each label and do NOT burn my clothes. Have fun.” A spiteful little smile plays across Becky’s face before she leaves me alone in the room.

  Laughter rings from the kitchen as I look at the mountain of clothing in the box. How long has all this been waiting?

  Movement outside in the garden catches my eye and I see the girls, both now in sunglasses, take their places at the table on the patio area.

  Am I really in this little room about to do this? Iron the clothes of my wife’s friend while they both lounge outside enjoying themselves in the sun?

  I look at them through the window, at least being able to see them together there should help while away the time – especially if they do strip to their bikinis.