HUSBAND WITHOUT BENEFITS by Throne (Patreon)

HUSBAND WITHOUT BENEFITS by Throne

"But Marilee, you're being unreasonable."

"Really, Desmond?  I think I've been very reasonable.  For the first three months of our marriage, I let you have sex with me.  But your laughably small dick and the way you shoot off much too soon, well, they disqualify you from being my bedmate any longer."

"I'm your husband."

"In every other way you can continue to be.  But as far as sex goes..."  She waved her hand dismissively.  "PFFT!"

"It's not fair."

"I don't want to be cruel, dearest," she said with some of her former seductiveness.  "That's why I've come up with an alternative plan for you."

"I don't understand."

"Naturally, I'll need other men to take care of my considerable physical needs.  Before we got married, I was used to getting railed several times a week, and I loved it.  Of course, that involved guys with big cocks."

"You mean those... those...?"

"Just say it.  Those Black guys.  They were so confident in bed.  Not hesitant and unsure of themselves, like you."

Desmond could see that he wasn't going to have any success in changing her mind.  What did he have to bargain with?  Sure, he was wealthy.  That was one reason she had wed him.  But he was also short and distinctly unmanly, with his small frame, smooth features, and collar-length hair.  Worst of all for him was his ludicrously small penis.  There was certainly nothing he could do about that.  The only way he had ever given his wife an orgasm was with his mouth, which he hated doing.  Just the thought of licking her pussy and sucking her clitoris turned him off.

He sighed.  "Okay.  What's this plan you have for me?"

She chuckled.  "When I start seeing some of my old boyfriends again, it wouldn't be right for me to still be letting you kiss me or get your hands on my boobs.  Right?"

He looked longingly at her.  Marilee was tall and shapely.  Her best asset was her bust, which was supersized.  The pretty face and long honey-blond hair were great.  That round ass was mesmerizing.  But it was her twin glories, those thrusting multi-G's, that turned him on the most.  The idea of other guys having access to them, while his husbandly privileges were revoked, was unthinkable.  Yet it was what she was offering.

"All right," he conceded miserably.  Hoping for some consolation, he said, "But you told me you didn't want to be mean."

"True.  So, my lovers will own me from top to bottom -- except for my feet.  They will be for you, along with my socks and shoes.   Many men have a fetish for those things.  I'm sure that, with a bit of effort, I can give you the same sort of obsession."

"And that's... all?"

"No, darling.  I'll still let you empty your balls from time to time.  Not often.  When you're horny you behave better around me, and it makes you do a better job of eating my twat."

He hated being reminded of that, especially when she used such crude terms.  His lips began to quiver.  He could barely believe how extreme she was being.  As much as he didn't want to break down and cry in front of her, he couldn't help it.  Desmond's nose started to run.  He sniffled.  With his wife watching closely, he wept, hot tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.  His display of weakness told her that she had easily won.  He was spineless.  Marilee wanted to push him further while he was so vulnerable.

"Let's get you started right now, sweetie.  Get naked for me."  When he didn't move immediately, she raised her voice and snapped, "NOW."

Desmond hurriedly got undressed.  He had almost no body hair and was very self-conscious about it.  His lack of a real pubic bush made his genitals appear even more immature than their size suggested.  It didn't help that what little hair he had down there was fine and pale blond.  He stood before his wife in the nude.  She still had on her pullover top, which clung to her oversized boobs.  Her nipples, with no bra over them, made bumps against the thin material.  She also wore slacks that were so tight they might have been spray-painted onto her attractive legs.

She told him, "You have to get out of the habit of ogling my tits and ass, Desi.  Your attention should be on my feet."

He shuddered.  "Yes, dear.  But if you could at least call me by my right name.  You know I don't like it when you..."

"DESI!"  The sharpness of her tone silenced him.  "From now on, I don't want any backtalk.  You will answer to whatever I call you.  Instead of Desmond, you are now Desi."

Naked and afraid, he couldn't summon up the willpower to even meet her gaze.  Instead, he obediently lowered his eyes to her feet and mumbled his acquiescence.  Her pedal extremities were narrow, with small toes.  At that moment they were in anklets with lace tops, and delicate slippers.  She ordered him to kneel and he did it.  Marilee extended one foot.  The way she did it reminded him of the way a royal might move.

"Kiss it," was all she said.

He whimpered as he bent over and pressed his lips to the toe of her footwear.  Unseen by him, she grinned briefly in triumph.  Then she put a cool detached expression on her face.

He asked uncertainly, "Am I doing it right?"

She exhaled, in a way that suggested annoyance.  "It's a start.  Take off the slipper and kiss again."

He did it, this time getting his mouth on the material covering her toes.  He caught a whiff of perspiration.  Was this really going to be the center of his erotic life from then on?

"Let's move to the big chair," she decided.  Marilee stepped away, as if he wasn't even there.  She went to the thickly upholstered piece of furniture and got comfortable on it.

Desmond picked up the slipper he had removed.  When he started to rise, she said, "You can just crawl over here.  That will keep you at the proper level in relation to me."

He went to his wife on all fours.  Without being told to, he gave her covered toes another kiss.  She had intentionally made excuses for not having sex the past several nights.  All he had been allowed was to lap her pussy and give her orgasms.  His needs had been ignored.  Marilee wanted him horny for this initiation into his new lifestyle.  He felt his penis twitch.  Desmond couldn't believe that he was responding viscerally to his wife's feet.  Had she been right about being able to turn him into a foot freak?  He got her other slipper off and paid tribute to that foot too.  Then she had him remove her anklets, sniff them repeatedly, and finally kiss her bare feet.  She had him licking the soles.  Finally, she commanded him to suck her toes.  He started crying all over again at the indignity of it, but he also got a hard-on.  His arousal continued while she made him get is tongue between her toes.  From how hard he was breathing she suspected that he had gotten excited.

Marilee said, "Sit up on your haunches, Desi.  Like a begging dog."  When he did it, she was rewarded with the sight of his straining member.  "Ask for permission to play with your pitiful little dingus, foot boy."

He was shamed to his core.  Nevertheless, she had somehow gotten him into a state of neediness.  He wanted some relief.  Stumbling over the words, he requested, "May I please... um... touch myself?"  She peered imperiously down at him.  He understood that she expected more.  Desmond went on, hoping to appease her, "May I please play with my dick?"  His wife raised one eyebrow.  He tried desperately to figure out what he had omitted.  Then it struck him.  "May I please play with my tiny dick?"

She granted him a thin smile.  "Yes.  But don't you dare make yourself finish."

"I'm not allowed to...?" was as far as he got before he censored himself.  "Yes, my love.  I understand.  You're right."

He suddenly felt dependent on her for permission.  His sex life was under her control.  He automatically returned his attention to her feet, at the same time taking hold of his penis.  She pointed out that just his thumb and index finger were enough to handle such a runty pecker.  He nodded and adjusted his grip accordingly.  Feeling foolish but also wildly involved, he slowly stroked himself.  In moments he was panting.  His eyes were glued to her toes.  He could still taste them.  Desmond moaned.

His wife stood.  "Stop that now.  Undress me from the waist down.  Then I'm going to sit back on this chair, edge my bottom forward, and spread my legs nice and wide.  Then you will get your face in there and slurp my snatch until I have an orgasm.  I get to experience those on demand and you can have them only when and if I say so.  Right?"

She stood.  He conceded, "Yes, dear."

His fingers went under the waist of her tight slacks and he gently eased them down.  As he bared sweet pink flesh, he averted his eyes.  That was only for other men to see.  Real men with real cocks.  Black men.  Not a loser like him with a shrimp dick.  When her slacks were around her ankles, she stepped out of them.  Marilee sat back down.  He dipped his head to reverently kiss her toes.  Then he came back up.  She had her ass pushed forward, so that her pussy was lewdly displayed, inches in front of him, so near that he could smell her female musk.  He sobbed from self-pity as he got his lower face against her mound and ran his tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top.  He kissed his way back down, along her narrow nether lips.  She purred happily.  He licked inside his wife's furrow, going as deep as he could.  For the next twenty minutes he served her.  She cautioned him more than once to take his time.  In the past he had sometimes rushed the unpleasant act, to get it over as soon as possible.  That was no longer an option.  It would be all about her satisfaction and not at all about his distaste for what he had to do.  Desmond allowed his hands to drift down and grope around until he found her ankles.  He lightly stroked her feet as he ate her twat.  His fingers went into the interdigital spaces, which were still damp with his saliva.  He didn't want to be reduced to a pussy-eating foot addict, yet that was what he was rapidly becoming.  He wanted to turn his eyes up, to at least be able to see his wife's gigantic bust from below, but stopped himself, all too aware of the new rules.  Those globes were for her returning lovers.  He wondered how soon she would be bedded by one of them.  While he was thinking that, his wife had a short sharp climax.  She got extra wet, more than he was accustomed to, and he dutifully slurped up her excess juices.  His unspoken question about the appearance of the first of her bedmates was answered all too soon.

That evening, there was a knock on the door of their classy home, that his considerable wealth had paid for.  Desmond had more than enough family money to keep them in the lifestyle to which they were accustomed.  He didn't have to work.  Until then he had held a consulting job, more symbolic than actual, for a firm his family owned.  Marilee told him he would be resigning so he could stay home and see to her needs.  After that she had ordered him to stay nude, except for one of her old robes that she permitted him to put on.  It was short and satiny, quite feminine, with a belt that featured fringe on its ends.  As emasculating and inadequate as it was, still he considered it better than nothing.  She told him to answer the door.  Blushing with shame, he went to do it.  What he found waiting for him on their front step was a tall muscular Black man.  Desmond's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.  He involuntarily took a step back, took hold of the front of his brief robe, and pulled the halves together modestly.

"Yo,"the threatening dark man said.  "You better get out of my way, candy-ass."

Desmond fearfully stepped aside.  The thick-chested man brushed past him.  The meekened husband closed the door and turned.  He saw his wife going to the man with open arms.  The new arrival wrapped her in his embrace and kissed her hard.

She cooed, "Oh, Jamar.  I've missed you so much.  My sad excuse for a husband has a dick the size of a roll of dimes."

Jamar's laughter boomed.  "Miss you too, bitch."  He looked back at Desmond and snarled, "Get over here, fool.  Let's see how puny that pecker is."

Shivering, Desmond put himself alongside the couple.  He unhappily opened his effeminate robe.  When Jamar saw what was between his legs he howled with amusement.

"That ain't no man's tool," he declared.  "It's barely big enough for a little boy.   You want to see a full-size one, sucker?"

Desmond was overwhelmed by a sense of inferiority.  Not knowing what else to do, he nodded mutely.  Then he managed to say, "Yes, Sir.  Please."

"I got the real thing in my pants, sissy.  How about you take it out for a close look?"

"Oh, I couldn't.  I mean, it wouldn't be right."

Marilee told her husband sternly, "When a superior man tells you to do something, Desi, you do it.  Get back down on your knees, where you belong."

Stunned by the enormity of it all, the defeated man sank down.  There was an enviably massive bulge under a layer of black denim.  With fumbling fingers, he undid Jamar's wide belt, opened the button on his jeans, and lowered his zipper.  He got the pants partway down, so he could access the fly of his boxer shorts.  Hating every second of it, he reached into the narrow opening, like someone feeling around blindly for a venomous snake in its lair.  What he encountered made him gasp.  It couldn't be as huge as it felt.  Or could it?  Desmond slowly liberated the big Black cock.  It lay across his trembling hand, long and thick and heavily veined, with an impressively large head.

Jamar proudly announced, "It gets a sight bigger when it's hard."

Marilee asserted, "Desi needs to see that."  To her quivering spouse she said, "Get it stiff, dummy.  Try a few strokes.  And then a few kisses."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Did she expect him to manually and orally stimulate that anaconda of a cock?  He was strictly hetero, despite a stature, physique and hair that sometimes got him mistaken for a player on the opposite team.  Naked except for the inadequate robe, he tightened his slender fingers on the warm meat and gave it a few experimental pumps.  To his alarm, it grew and grew.  Soon it was thrusting at him, more than a foot long and proportionately girthy.   His wife didn't relent on her second command.  Instead, she repeated it, backed up by Jamar glaring down at him.  Desmond puckered up and pressed his lips to the knob of that imposing shaft.  He realized he was kissing the pee slit and jerked his head back.  His wife scowled at him in disapproval.  Afraid of earning some punishment, probably from her Black lover, he repeated the smooch and held it.

She giggled and suggested, "Give it a few licks, too.  Get him all ready to bang me the way you never could."

Desmond lapped the underside of the head, along the sensitive frenum.  He swirled his tongue around the wide corona.  Jamar began to leak drops of clear pre-cum, which the defeated husband tongued away.

"All right," Marilee decided.  "We're heading to the bedroom.  You can crawl along behind us."

"Yes, my love," he answered in a small voice.

She reminded him, "Jamal gets free pussy and you get to be pussy-free, Desi."

He trailed along on hands and knees.  In the bedroom, the Black stallion made Desmond assume a deep squat with his hands on top of his head.  It was physically uncomfortable.  What he had to witness was even more uncomfortable, emotionally.  The eager couple finished undressing each other, kissed again, and got onto the bed.  Marilee lay on her back and Jamal got on top of her, with his rigid capable cock aimed at the center of her femininity.  Desmond looked on in horror as the stud entered her.

"OMG," she gasped.  "That's incredible.  Not like my no-cock husband.  You fill me up so much, Jamal.  With him, I couldn't tell if he was in sometimes.  And when I could tell, it still wasn't worth noticing."

The big man began to pump her in earnest and she was driven into an ecstasy of moaning and writhing.  Her legs came up to wrap around him.  He used long strokes that nearly made her swoon.  The blond erupted into a loud orgasm.  Her legs dropped back onto the mattress.  She threw her arms out to the sides and lay there passively.  Desmond consoled himself that at least her ravishment was over.  But the sexual dynamo atop her began again, slowly at first, building her toward a second climax.  Because she was already primed for it, he didn't need long.  She wailed from an overload of pleasure and arched her back, before slumping down again.

Jamal wanted to know, "You up for one more, girl?"

Desmond couldn't believe his staying power, his control, and his calm demeanor after furiously fucking Marilee.  She nodded.  Her eyelids and cheeks were flushed,  A few strands of hair were plastered to her forehead with perspiration.  Jamal smiled and set up an unhurried tempo.  He effortlessly set her on the path to yet another culmination.  She murmured wordlessly and grabbed his muscular shoulders.  It went on like that for another ten minutes, with the expert cocksman regulating his partner.  At last, he drove her across the finish line, at the same time letting himself empty his balls inside her.  Desmond was appalled.  He was shocked to realize that his puny dick was rock hard again.  Why had that happened?  Surely, he couldn't be enjoying this scene in some perverse way.  She swung one leg to the side and let it hang over the edge of the bed.  Her husband's attention shifted to the dangling foot.  All at once he was back under the spell she had cast earlier, the first step toward giving him a deeply imprinted fetish.

She noticed his interest and told him, "Waddle over here and give that foot a tongue bath, Desi."

He whimpered but duck-walked to his goal and dropped down onto his knees.  Moving his hands away from his head, he reverently cradled her heel on his palms.  Then he got his face close enough to smell the fresh sweat from her sexual exertions.  Desmond licked the strangely alluring extremity all over, shamed beyond telling but also aroused to his limit.  His balls ached from the need for release.

Jamal said, "There's something else your tongue boy needs to lick.  But he ought to look more sissy to do it.  Get him prettied up, babe."

"Whatever you say, Jamal," she agreed.

Marilee made her spouse sit on the chair at her vanity table.  She went to work with mascara, aquamarine eye shadow, rouge, and plenty of lipstick.  The color she used on his mouth was Magenta Madness.  In his reflection from the mirror, he saw himself gradually transformed into an androgyne.  She fussed with his hair and used some product to maintain its new fullness.  Locks of it fell over his forehead.  He almost didn't recognize himself.  She got back on the bed, alongside Jamal, and summoned Desmond to join them.  He nervously took his place on the foot of the bed.  Was he supposed to worship her feet again?  Or would she tell him to do the unacceptable and use his mouth on her messy puss?

Jamal told him, "Time to get busy... Desi girl."  The naked husband leaned toward his wife but her Black lover stopped him with, "That ain't it.  You got a clean-up job to do for me.  My piece is all sticky from me nutting inside your wife and her getting so wet while I was doing it.  I need a knob polish and then my whole stick washed."

Marilee said, "Good idea, Jamal.  After that, the idiot won't ever mistake himself for a man again.  He'll never be anything but a wimp sissy.  His idea of sex will be slobbering all over my tootsies while he plays with his miniature pecker."  She laughed derisively.  To Desmond she said, "So get with it."  His wife propped her pillow against the headboard and sat herself up to lean back on it.  "I'll be watching and enjoying the show."

Desmond gagged.  He looked to Jamal for some hint of mercy but all he saw was the threatening man brandishing a fist in the air.  The hapless husband sobbed as he got between those long dark legs.

Jamal observed, "Sucking the cock of the brother who just nailed your woman.  That's as low as you can go.  And you're going there right now, rod-gobbler."

With a long moan, Desmond fitted his mouth around the limp tool's business end.  To his amazement, it rose again.  As he sucked, it enlarged.  His mouth was overfilled.  The taste of spunk was thick on his tongue.  Marilee leaned forward avidly.  Her husband took Jamal from between his lips, but only so he could run his tongue all over his length to remove the coating of sex sauce.  What he was doing caused Desmond to make retching noises.  Tears streaked the cosmetics on his cheeks.  His darkened eyelashes were wet with tears.  He got Jamal's jumbo sausage back in his mouth and bobbed his head up and down on it.

"Damn," the recipient of all that attention enthused.  "I love the way sissies suck cock.  Pretty soon I'm going to bust my nut again."  He sighed luxuriously.  "Give me a lip-lock, girl, while your Desi has a lip-lock on my Johnson."

Marilee gleefully complied.  While the pair swapped spit, Desmond sensed that Jamal was on the verge of spurting.  The converted husband tried to brace himself mentally.  Once it happened, after he had given head to another man, he would be forever branded as a sissy.  Gagging down a load of semen was the ultimate identifier of faggot status.  His mind reeled.  Marille would never respect him again, yet there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.  If he stopped now, Jamal would punish him terribly.  So, Desmond finished the blowjob with a performance that could earn a hooker a hefty tip.  Jamal grunted loudly and fired his weapon.  Desmond had to struggle to swallow the spunk as fast as it came.  Even so, a drop escaped from the corner of his painted lips.  His colored eyelids fluttered.  At last, the worst of it was over.  He used his hand to milk out the final drops, onto his tongue.  Marilee rewarded her Black sex expert with more deep kisses, which Jamal spiritedly returned.  His broad hand pawed her supersized breasts.

"Not bad, Desi" the sated man allowed.  "But you'll get even better with practice."

"Right," seconded Marilee, smiling at the heavily made-up face of her humiliated husband.  "And you'll get plenty of that."

"But right now," Jamal decided, "you got one more job to do, cum-eater.  There's another mess for you to get rid of with your mouth."

Marilee added, "Cream pie for dessert.  Start eating."

Desmond looked at his wife's vulva, her nether lips swollen from overuse, Jamal's thick slime oozing from between them, her modest triangle of pubic hair sticky with it.  The beaten bridegroom felt sick to his stomach.

He said, "Yes, dear.  Right away, darling."

And then he got busy while the lovers looked adoringly into each other's eyes.