Watching

 

I stood just inside the bedroom doorway in the outfit she had chosen for me tonight: a sheer baby-pink babydoll that barely reached the tops of my thighs, white lace-trimmed thigh-high stockings, and the matching panties that did nothing to hide the pink chastity cage locked around my shaved, useless cock. My toenails were painted a glossy cherry red. My face was carefully made up with smoky eyes, long lashes, and lips painted the same whore-red as the marks she liked to leave on her lover's neck.

She had spent an hour getting me ready earlier, humming happily while she smoothed foundation over my cheeks and told me how much prettier I looked this way. "My sweet little sissy husband," she'd cooed.

And now here I was. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Penis straining painfully against the cage as I watched him, tall, broad-shouldered, confident, slowly lower himself over my wife on our marital bed.

She looked breathtaking. Her long hair fanned out across the dark sheets, her body already flushed with anticipation. The delicate lavender lace bra she wore pushed her breasts up invitingly, and the matching panties were still on…for now. Her left hand, wedding ring glinting in the low lamplight, rested against the soft swell of her chest as she reached with her other arm, found the back of his neck as he hovered above her.

He kissed her slowly at first. Teasing. His lips brushed hers, then pressed more firmly, tasting her. I could hear the soft, wet sounds of their mouths meeting. Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she moaned that low, needy sound I used to live for but hadn't earned in months, maybe years.

A hot wave of inadequacy washed over me. I used to kiss her like that. Or at least I tried. But I was never this commanding, never this male. My kisses were always gentle, hesitant. His were possessive. Dominant. The kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her back arch off the bed.

"Look at her," I thought bitterly. My wife. The woman who once promised me forever. Now she was melting under another man while I stood there dressed like a cheap whore, makeup already threatening to run from the tears of humiliated arousal pricking at my eyes. But the thing was, I asked for this, I wanted this, I needed this.

He broke the kiss just long enough to trail his mouth along her jaw, down the elegant line of her neck. She tilted her head back with a sigh, giving him full access. One of his hands slid up her side, cupping her breast through the lace, thumb brushing over her hardening nipple. She gasped, hips shifting restlessly beneath him.

"God, you feel so good," she whispered, her voice already breathy. Her eyes fluttered open and found me in the doorway. A slow, loving smile curved her lips. "You're so good to me," she said to me.

I whimpered. Actually whimpered. The sound escaped before I could stop it, high and feminine, exactly the way she had trained me to sound. The plug in my ass seemed to throb in time with my caged clit. I hated how much I loved this—the burning shame, the way my body responded so eagerly to my own degradation.

He chuckled against her skin, the low sound vibrating through her. "Still got your sissy watching, huh?" he asked, not even bothering to look at me.

"Mmm-hmm," she purred, running her hands down his back. "He loves it. Don't you, baby?"

I swallowed hard, my voice cracking as I answered the way she expected. "Yes, Ma'am," I said softly.

He returned to her mouth, kissing her harder this time. Deeper. Their tongues danced visibly as I stood there transfixed. One of her legs hooked around his hip, pulling him closer so she could grind against the obvious bulge in his jeans. The wet spot on her lavender panties was growing. I could smell her arousal from across the room, sweet, musky, intoxicating.

His hand drifted lower, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties before slipping beneath the lace. She moaned into his mouth as he found her clit, circling slowly, deliberately. Her hips rolled up to meet his touch, chasing the pleasure he gave so effortlessly. I had spent years learning her body, yet I'd never made her react like this. Not even close.

The discomfort twisted inside me. Part of me wanted to look away. Part of me wanted to cry from the crushing knowledge that I was inferior in every way that mattered. And the worst part, the part that made my cheeks burn with shame, was how desperately turned on I was by all of it. My caged cock leaked steadily into the lace, my plugged ass clenched around the toy, and my nipples were hard against the sheer babydoll. I was enjoying being reduced to this pretty, useless spectator.

She broke the kiss with a gasp as his fingers slid inside her. "Fuck baby…right there," she moaned, head falling back. He kissed down her chest, tugging her bra down with his teeth so he could latch onto one stiff nipple. The wet sounds of his mouth sucking on her breast mixed with the slick sounds of his fingers pumping slowly into her pussy.

I shifted my weight, thighs rubbing together, the lace whispering against my smooth, shaved skin. I wanted to run but couldn't.

He took his time. There was no rush. He kissed every inch of her chest, her stomach, the tops of her thighs as he slowly peeled her panties down her long legs. She lifted her hips to help him, eyes locked on mine the entire time, daring me to keep watching. When he settled between her spread thighs and lowered his mouth to her glistening pussy, she let out a long, shuddering moan that went straight to my locked penis.

"Oh, my god…" Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him as he licked and sucked at her clit with practiced skill. Her other hand reached out toward me, fingers beckoning. I stepped closer on shaky legs, the heels she'd made me wear clicking softly on the hardwood.

She grabbed my hand, squeezing it almost tenderly while her hips bucked against his face. "He's so good," she gasped between moans. "This is why I need him. But you…you get to be my pretty girl instead. Isn't that better?"

I nodded, tears of shame and twisted pleasure slipping down my cheeks, smudging my mascara. "Yes, Ma'am…I'm just your pretty little girl now."

She smiled through her pleasure, pulling me down so she could kiss my painted lips while her lover ate her pussy. The contrast was overwhelming, her soft, familiar mouth against mine while another man brought her closer and closer to the edge.

I was completely lost in it. Humiliated. Inadequate. Feminized beyond recognition.

And I had never been more painfully, helplessly aroused in my life.