Unemployed Husband Becomes Cuckold Maid Part 2 (Patreon)

     Several more weeks had dragged by without any release for John. Each night, he found himself spending hours with his face and tongue buried between Emily's ass cheeks, a routine that brought her ecstasy while serving as chastity torture for John.

     One morning, after a particularly intense session of worshipping her ass, Emily prepared to leave for work. She glanced over her shoulder at John, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

     "If you don't complete all the chores listed on the fridge," she taunted, "I'll be dropping the keys to your chastity into the river as punishment. You need to start doing ALL the chores, sissy"

     "Pick up the groceries..." John read aloud from the list, his heart sinking as he realized what Emily was making him do. The simple task seemed innocuous enough, but in his mind, it loomed as a daunting challenge of humiliation.

     "Everyone will see me. Everyone will know it's me," John muttered to himself, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Yet, he knew better than to defy Emily's commands. The threat of her control, of the chastity device still securely locked, weighed heavily on his mind.

John's walk to the supermarket in his sissy maid outfit felt like an eternity, each step reverberating with humiliation. The click of his heels echoed through the neighbourhood, announcing his submissive presence to anyone within earshot. The delicate fabric of his dress swirled around his thighs with every stride, the chastity device and plug serving as unrelenting reminders of his complete surrender.

     With each movement, the plug shifted inside him, a constant source of discomfort that only fueled his arousal and underscored his obedience to her commands.

     Entering the bustling store, the aisles stretched endlessly before him. Every glance from other shoppers felt like a silent commentary on his predicament, their curious stares amplifying his shame. His cheeks burned crimson with humiliation as he reached awkwardly for items on high shelves, the hem of his dress riding up to expose the glinting metal of his chastity cage and the base of the plug nestled firmly within him.

     Amidst the bustling noise of voices and clattering carts, John's heart sank as he spotted her—his ex-girlfriend. Her eyes widened with disbelief, quickly morphing into a mischievous grin that sent a shiver down his spine. She sauntered over, barely containing her laughter at the sight of him in his humiliating attire, adorned with devices that screamed his subservience.

     "Well, well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. "Look what we have here. John, the sissy maid. I never thought I'd see you like this."

     Her teasing words sliced through him, cutting deep into his already fragile pride. She circled him like a predator, her gaze devouring every exposed inch of his outfit and the undeniable symbols of his submission. With a swift movement of her phone, she captured his shame for posterity, snapping pictures that promised to immortalize his degradation.

     "You're quite the sight, aren't you?" she continued, relishing every moment of his discomfort. "I always knew you were weak, but this... this is a new low, even for you."

     John stood paralyzed, unable to utter a word, his cheeks ablaze with humiliation as she continued to mock him mercilessly. The supermarket had transformed into a stage for his public degradation, his ex-girlfriend revelling in her role as the orchestrator of his profound humiliation.

     "I will have to ask your wife if you're available for rent," she cooed, her warm breath teasing his earlobe. Her words sent a jolt through him, a mix of arousal and shame pooling in his panties, already damp with precum.

     He shuddered, caught between the thrill of her seductive suggestion and the humiliating realization of his predicament. The mere thought of his wife finding out sent a surge of forbidden excitement coursing through him, intensifying the ache in his confined arousal.

     She pressed closer, her body brushing against his, her voice a sultry whisper that promised both pleasure and torment. " How desperate you must be, leaking in your panties just from my words."

     His cheeks burned with embarrassment, his body betraying him further as he strained against the confines of his arousal. Her playful tease became a potent mix of eroticism and humiliation, leaving him utterly captivated and achingly aware of his submission to her whims.

     After enduring the humiliating ordeal of shopping in his sissy maid outfit, John approached the cashier with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Each step sent a wave of embarrassment through him, the gentle swish of his dress a constant reminder of his exposed and vulnerable state. As he handed over his items, he felt the cashier's eyes linger on him a moment too long, their curiosity palpable and unsettling.

     Paying for his purchases felt excruciatingly drawn-out. The clink of coins and the beep of the scanner seemed to magnify the awkwardness, amplifying the attention drawn to his outfit and the devices locked around his body. He fumbled with his wallet, cheeks aflame with humiliation as he hurriedly gathered his bags, desperate to escape the scrutiny.

     Just as he thought he might slip away unnoticed, the cashier's voice echoed through the store, amplified by the mic, "Can I get assistance with the giant cucumber in aisle three, please?"

     John froze, mortified. The implications of the cashier's announcement were not lost on him, and he could feel the eyes of other shoppers turning towards him with bemused interest. The cashier's smirk was unmistakable, relishing in his discomfort as John struggled to maintain any semblance of dignity.

     The supermarket had become a stage for his public humiliation, the cashier a willing participant in his embarrassment, leaving John to hastily retreat, cheeks burning with shame and arousal pulsing relentlessly in his chastity.

     Stepping out of the store, John's humiliation escalated with each passing moment. A group of builders nearby whistled and catcalled as he walked past, their lewd remarks and boisterous laughter cutting through the air. Their crude commentary on his outfit and his evident submission felt like a barrage of verbal blows, each word lashing at his already fragile pride. The street suddenly stretched out before him, every step under the builders' mocking scrutiny a relentless torment of shame.

     Passing cars added to his ordeal, their drivers honking and shouting obscenities that seemed to pierce through him. John could feel the weight of every beep, every shouted comment, crushing his spirit further with each passing moment. His cheeks burned hotter with each humiliation, the air thick with the scent of his own arousal mingling with shame, intensifying the torment he endured.

     By the time John finally reached home, he felt utterly exposed and emotionally drained. The day's relentless humiliations replayed in his mind like a cruel loop. The walk had transformed into a gruelling gauntlet of public embarrassment, each encounter leaving an indelible mark on his psyche. As he closed the door behind him, a deep sense of shame and arousal lingered, knowing this day would remain a vivid reminder of his submissive journey and the profound depths of his desires.

     Cut off from technology and the outside world, John lost track of time, his existence reduced to worshipping Emily's every command as her devoted sissy maid. Despite his obedience, she had yet to release him from his chastity cage, leaving him to find solace in the daily use of a dildo, desperately seeking any semblance of release.

One languid Sunday, John knelt obediently, his tongue buried between Emily's firm ass cheeks as she casually flipped through a magazine.

    Her offhand remark about her body becoming firmer from workouts with Christopher, a muscular man who could effortlessly lift her in his arms, sliced through him like a knife.

     His cheeks flushed crimson with humiliation, but he dared not pause in his ministrations. The threat of Emily's whip hung over him, a constant reminder of the consequences for disobedience. His tongue continued its relentless worship, tracing every curve and crevice of her perfect derriere, even as tears threatened to well in his eyes.

     The erotic torment of his predicament intensified with each passing moment. John was caught in a vicious cycle of arousal and humiliation, his world revolving solely around Emily's desires and the agonizing denial of his own.

     "Can you believe he asked me out to dinner, knowing I'm a married woman?" Emily teased, her voice laced with amusement and a hint of mischief.

     With a knowing smile, she gracefully rose from her seat and headed for a shower, leaving John to absorb her provocative words.

     When she emerged, her wet hair cascading down her back, she summoned him to take his position while she applied her makeup.

     John's breath caught as he beheld his wife in nothing but sexy panties and bra, her reflection in the mirror a vision of allure and power. The sight stirred conflicting emotions within him—desire and humiliation mingled as he knelt obediently behind her, his lips tracing the contours of her firm ass, his tongue delving between her cheeks to worship her tight entrance.

     "You know," she purred, "Christopher has been helping me work out lately. His huge cock pressed against me in the gym, and I couldn't believe how big it was. It is easily the biggest cock I have ever felt in my life."

     John froze, his heart sinking as her words sank in. She was teasing him, intentionally twisting the knife of humiliation deeper. His cheeks burned with shame as he realized she had been fantasizing about another man while he obediently attended to her every need.

     Her soft moans of pleasure spurred him on, each sound fueling his arousal and reinforcing his submissive role. When she finished her makeup, she instructed him to dress her.

     The latex dress she handed him barely covered her curves, threatening to expose her with every movement. With trembling hands, he slid it over her, the delicate fabric clinging to her body like a second skin.

     Placing her high heels on her feet, John felt a surge of shame and longing. His wife's transformation into a seductive goddess before his eyes, coupled with his own submissive duties, intensified the erotic tension between them. He knew then that his existence was intertwined with hers, bound by the intoxicating blend of desire, obedience, and the unyielding power she wielded over him.

     She then led John into his bedroom, now entirely painted in pink, and secured his wrists and ankles to a bench, bending him over.

     Turning to the training machines, she transformed them into devices with giant ten-inch dildos that moved back and forth, occasionally squirting out a cum-like substance at random intervals.

     Placing one dildo against his lips and the other against his ass with a small drop of lube, she switched them on and giggled as John began to gag on the dildo penetrating his throat, while simultaneously experiencing the painful intrusion of the other one in his ass.

     She proceeded to whip him, taunting him as her pathetic sissy cuckold.

     Once she set the whip aside, she said to John, "Of course, I said yes to the date with Christopher. That's what you were preparing me for tonight."

     Her words hit John like a ton of bricks, realizing all his efforts tonight were unwittingly preparing his own wife for another man's pleasure. His face flushed with embarrassment as he grasped the depth of his unwitting role in her newfound excitement.

     "We both have exciting nights ahead, from the looks of things," she winked, before turning off the bedroom light and closing the door.

     John felt a tear slide down his cheek as the two dildos continued to mercilessly pound his throat and ass, only pausing to explosively release their cum-like substance into him. It was going to be a long and agonizing night for John.

     The next day, while his wife was at work, the mailman knocked on the door. With no other choice, John answered wearing his humiliating outfit, greeted by the postman's mocking laughter.

     "Hi, John," the mailman chuckled. "I've heard rumours about your crossdressing, but I never believed it until now." He quickly snapped a few pictures on his phone.

John nervously smiled and reached for the letters.

     "Hold on," the mailman interrupted, holding up a hand. "If you don't want me posting these pictures to everyone in the neighbourhood, you're going to have to do me a favour, sissy..."

     The mailman proceeded to step into the house, closing the door behind him with a decisive click. John's heart pounded in his chest as he dropped to his knees, fully aware of the compromising situation he was in. He glanced up at the mailman, whose smirk only added to his humiliation and arousal.

     With practised ease, John undid the mailman's trousers, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. He hesitated for just a moment, his mouth dry with nervous anticipation, before obediently taking him in. The mailman let out a low groan of satisfaction as John's lips closed around him, feeling the weight and warmth of him against his tongue for the first time.

     John's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and need as he began to move, slowly at first, his tongue tracing every ridge and vein. The mailman's hands tangled in John's hair, guiding and urging him on, the power dynamic shifting unmistakably to one of dominance and submission. John's own arousal surged at the sound of the mailman's breath hitching, at the knowledge that he was being used in such a debasing manner.

     As he continued, John's mind whirled with conflicting emotions—shame at being caught, excitement at the taboo thrill, and an undeniable craving to please. He felt the mailman's grip tighten, signalling his impending release. With a final, deep thrust, the mailman emptied himself into John's mouth, the taste both bitter and intoxicating.

     John swallowed every drop obediently, his throat working to take it all in, knowing that this act sealed his submission. As the mailman pulled away, John remained on his knees, breathless and overwhelmed by the intensity of his first encounter.

     Afterwards, the mailman left, John opened a letter addressed to sissy cuckold on the front and saw it was from Christopher.

"I had an amazing time with your wife, you pathetic cuck. I can't wait to see your sorry face for dinner next weekend."

     Attached was a photograph of Emily lying in bed, adorned in seductive lingerie, completely drenched in semen. It coated her from head to toe, leaking from her pussy, glistening on her breasts, and even dribbling from her mouth.

     The image was a vivid testament to her intense encounter with Christopher, serving as a humiliating reminder of her pleasure with another man.

John couldn’t believe that his wife now had a lover. He strained in chastity looking at her pleasured by another man.

What did he mean by dinner next weekend? John shivered.