To Wear the Horns: A Cuckold Family Pt. 03

Warning to anyone who clicked in because this is in Incest - it's there because that's what this series is all about, but this particular installment features minimal actual incest. Proceed at your own risk!

This story deals extensively with femdom, chastity, cock and ball torture, BBWs and bigger women still, incest, small penis humiliation, gay sex, straight sex, cuckolding, electrical play, urethral play, and pissing. If you don't like those things, well, don't say I didn't warn you, though by now if you're following this series you're probably down with whatever sick nonsense I put on the page.

***

Living under the thumb of three cruel, beautiful goddesses brings with it a great many rules. Some have flexibility - rules about domestic chores, about exactly how the toys should be arranged, that sort of thing. Others are rigid, not to be broken or upset. And I'd upset one of the most rigid: I had ejaculated on my own mother without her permission, something we were absolutely never to do. Her body was reserved for the cocks and cum of superior men with superior dicks, not our sad excuses for little penises, but I had nonetheless sprayed my weak, watery jizz against her fat belly as she smothered me beneath her enormous, divine ass.

It was that act of insolent disobedience that saw me to my current predicament. Mother, when she so desires, can be so very cruel that it beggars belief - and draws plenty of views to our constant live cameras. The thought of the numbers ticking upwards was a small solace as my calves began to shriek at me again. It was a simple punishment, but an effective one - I was left to stand in the garage with my heels over a simple pressure switch connected to a car battery. That car battery was, in turn, hooked up to the urethral insert of my tight chastity cage. Any time my weight rested even slightly on my heels and not the balls of my feet, the on switch toggled and a powerful electric shock ran straight through my offending organ.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on as well as make me suffer. Every torment, every degradation, every outrage and abuse against me by my Mother or my beloved fiancée only ever served to heighten my sense of submission, my sense that this life was not only exhilarating, it was right. That not only could they punish me, but they should. And the viewers on the website agreed. Our way of life was slowly spreading, with divine women across the world taking control of their adult sons, husbands, and fathers - taking their dicks in hand, locking them away, and fucking better men in front of them.

It helped to take my mind off my predicament - off the screaming ache in my calves, the trickle of sweat from trying to maintain the posture, the lingering burning ache in my pathetic little boy penis - to think of them. Our website is the only one that offers the full, twenty-four seven experience of a true female led lifestyle, but there are others who dabble. One of our sister sites was a forum full of user generated content from across the world. African booty-queens keeping their men in check with painfully tight cages and circumcision. Japanese mamas making their thirty-year old sons bathe them while keeping them denied orgasms with drugs and monitoring. Celebrity mothers posting photos with their faces cropped out of them pegging their successful husbands or using their sons as urinals.

One particular poster always stood out, always with new content whenever I checked - a strict German woman named Anna, a lesbian with enormous heaving breasts, and her twenty-year old son, who was never allowed an erection, let alone an orgasm, and whose cage was welded shut. The sole extent of his sex life was to serve as her full toilet and a whipping toy, as she had exactly no sexual interest in men, though from time to time she did permit her partners to anally abuse him with fists and toys. The very thought of permitting him anywhere near her cunt was enough to make Anna laugh.

That frightful thought - a life totally deprived not only of orgasms, but of the sexual pleasure of eating my mother's pussy - sent a shiver through my body, and with that small tremor, already shaking muscles gave. Suddenly my heels were on the floor, and even as the muscles all but sighed in relief, I was screaming into my ball gag as the electrical current ran through my penis again. Long moments of agony stretched into an eternity before I managed to force my feet back up, gritting my teeth, gleaming with sweat and aching all over.

Oh yes. My mother can be so wonderfully, awfully cruel.

***

My punishment lasted until I finally collapsed and couldn't rise again, when I was sent to bed without supper. That wasn't a particular punishment compared to what came with it - I had to lie there awake, deprived of the opportunity to serve any of our three Goddesses during the evening. Ordinarily, dinner was a small meal for me, eaten late after spending most of the night beneath one, two, or all three of their asses or standing by the bed while they entertained men and women, handing lube, fluffing, or cleaning as needed. Missing that was a far greater punishment than being sent to bed without my supper!

I only learned how much greater the next morning when our usual ritual repeated itself, and I sunk my abused asshole down onto the large black dildo mounted to the bench in front of the television. There was no preamble to the video this time - it cut straight to the action. It was footage from the fixed cameras in Shandy's bedroom, multiple angles of her greedily sucking the cock of one of our house guests for the evening all displayed at once in a grid. I didn't need to see his face to recognize him, as he possessed a truly enormous and very black cock - the sort of dick that spawns legends, one of those one-in-a-million freaks of nature. Alex was one of Shandy's favourites, not only for his immense penis (it was easily as thick as my wrist and frighteningly long even by my standards) but for his sense of humour, his charm, his intelligence and his incredible perversity.

The sight of it writ large on the glowing plasma screen made me moan and rock my hips against the large dildo in my asshole. The gaping pit in my stomach grew deeper, wider, a great chasm of intense jealousy, anxiety, and with it, a peculiar and desperate arousal. Drool ran down my chin around my ball gag. Knowing that she was attached to Alex, that there was emotion as well as raw physicality, made the sweet pain of her cuckolding me run so much deeper. It curled around my brain, suffocating reason, and tingled in my aching penis, buzzed in my prostate, surged to my toes and my fingertips.

It was a struggle not to orgasm on the pole, a rare struggle. Hearing my beloved fiancée beg Alex to knock her up with a mulatto baby while watching him pound down into a velvety pussy I hadn't fucked in eight months filled me with such exquisite, painful need and love for her that my penis strained against the bars so hard that the base ring crushed hard against my testicles. She did things for him on that tape that I could never hope to have her do to me even if I weren't her cuckold, things that made me melt and made her all the more beautiful in my eyes.

Most men, I admit, would not love their fiancees more when seeing them drenched in another man's semen and urine. But I'm not really a man. I'm a slave, a cuckold, a boy. The proof is that I did, that I wanted to marry her more than ever. To stand beside her at the altar while her belly swelled with another man's child, and beg for the privilege of having her fuck me in the ass with a strap-on for my wedding night - I wanted nothing more in that moment.

I was pulled away from my near-orgasmic reverie by a loud laugh as Alex, who always rose early, strutted into the living room with a bowl of cereal in one hand. He was naked, as he usually was - he had no need to conceal his body in the house, and it was a thing of beauty. He was strong, but not bulky, with fine proportions and supple dark skin like patent leather - and of course, between his powerful thighs there hung a cock that had fucked all three of the women in my life many times, thick and fat even when flaccid. It made my mouth water through my gag to see it, because in truth, it had fucked me as well more than once to a shameful orgasm through my cage. Alex was not only a perverse degenerate, but a fluid pansexual who saw holes instead of gender, and felt just as at home plowing a chastised sissy as he did a woman or a real man.

"Well would you look at you three, huh? You enjoying my work last night? Don't answer that. Not that you can." He laughed again, picking me out for the special torment of standing in front of me, slapping my face with his hefty penis over and over as he spoke, bouncing it on my nose, wobbling it against my forehead. The scent of Shandy was still on him. "When you're done watching this little video, bitch boy, you can clean me up and then go lick my jizz and my piss off your girl. I hear you're getting married, and I just want to say, I'm happy for you. Really, Billy, I am. You and Shandy are a lovely couple, at least when she's not begging me for a baby."

It was degrading and exciting all at once, having him taunt me. He meant his words - as I said, Alex was a friendly and quite pleasant man beneath his extraordinary tastes - but that gave them no less sting, and did nothing to soften the heavy thuds of a flaccid cock that easily twice the size of my own (at full mast, no less!) against my face, or the way precum beaded at his tip to smear over my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell Julian and my father were relieved not to be the focus of his attention. They still deluded themselves with the idea of being straight, as if slaves could have orientations, as if they hadn't eagerly used my holes just the day before. I harboured no such delusions - not that my body would let me. Not with how I nearly had what my mother so happily called a 'sissygasm' then and there from being in the presence of a real man, a real man with a real dick beating down on me while a huge toy stretched my boyhole wide.

Even if I hadn't been caged, there wouldn't have been a contest between my cock and his. The way his beat down, thudding on my face, slapping my cheeks - it was powerful, awe-inspiring. Mine was a pathetic little worm next to it, pale and scrawny, a stick of chalk before an obsidian obelisk. I couldn't hear the rest of his words for the blood rushing in my ears, the pounding of my heart in my chest so loud I could hear and feel it both. Alex finished with a final heavy slap of his limp dick across my cheeks, smearing precum over them, before he moved away to the kitchen island counter to sit, eat, and take in the morning paper, leaving me to my degradation, my shame, my burning need and lust - and to the video of him taking my fiancée, bringing her off, making her scream and squirm and squirt in ways I could never, ever hope to.

There is a very fine line between pleasure and pain, between heaven and hell. For me, the line has all but evaporated, spreading like mist. Watching Alex finish in and on Shandy, his jizz glistening like pearls on her heaving breasts, oozing out of her pussy in sticky strings, it was impossible to decide on which side I lay. But one thing is for certain. The throbbing in my cage wasn't just from the Viagra.

***

Yep, a quick one this time folks. Billy got his punishment and we got to meet Alex, who'll be reappearing now and then. I know a lot of cuckold stories get into a very weird racial place of ghetto stereotypes and heavy duty racism, so don't worry - Alex is a black man with a big black dick, but I'm not going to jump into that particular deep end with Billy and his family any time soon (though if that's your thing, more power to you!). Spinoffs from the sister site - which does not exist, by the way - will follow, with a wide range of dreadful perversities, and the saga of Billy Bitchboy and the Bountiful Beauties will continue sooner or later too.

If you made it this far, don't forget to comment. I love hearing what you guys and girls want to see next, and the last person to email me a request is going to get it in the next story. I'm especially interested to hear if there's any interest in a sort of 'atlas' of the To Wear the Horns world full of story seeds, snippets, and minor setting details like that frightening German woman, since I could (and have, actually) fill pages with the stuff.