Big Shot Gets Humiliated and Cuckolded

Matthew King was a powerful man, and he knew it all too well. He chaired the board of a massive financial company, and with his salary, he could easily afford a new yacht every two years if he fancied. He was just past fifty, still charming as ever, and knew how to wield his charisma like a weapon – though he rarely needed it in the office anymore. People feared him, and he liked it that way.

“Cut the crap,” he growled at Clint, the bloke in the dark suit who he’d appointed as CEO seven years ago. Under Clint’s leadership, the company had flourished. But now Clint was rambling on, showing off charts he should’ve just emailed, like Matthew always preferred. So, Matthew cut him off harshly. Anyone else would’ve snapped back, but Clint, well, he swallowed his pride and shut his mouth, though Matthew could see him grinding his teeth.

Everyone turned nervously towards Matthew, who leaned back in his custom-made luxury conference chair, enjoying the tension.

The silence, though, was rudely interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Matthew recognised the ringtone immediately but had no intention of letting it distract him. The sudden light-heartedness it brought to the room annoyed him. He liked it when his managers nervously chewed their lips, waiting for his verdict. So, he ignored the call and carried on.

“I don’t give a toss about a 28% profit increase. I made it crystal clear I want a clean thirty, or you’re getting the boot. If you can’t count, that’s just another reason to sack you.”

That idiot CEO started stammering something about rising energy costs, but Matthew didn’t have the patience for excuses. Arms crossed, he was about to lay into him when a text popped up on his phone. One look at the screen, and all the fire drained out of him.

He glanced at the board. They were still sitting there, huddled like rats backed into a corner, waiting for him to blow up as usual. And he would have, too, but suddenly, he had no time for it. He grabbed his phone, shoved it into his pocket, and walked out without a word. As he passed his secretary, he barked, “Get in there and tell them to head back to their offices and wait. No one’s going home until they’ve got an email from me spelling out what I expect on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

And with that, he was gone.

At first, he instinctively reached for his phone to call his driver and have the limo brought round, but after a moment’s thought, he decided to walk to his own car, parked in the prime spot right by the entrance. He toyed with the idea of stopping by Cartier to smooth things over with his clearly furious mistress, but she’d texted, NOW.

So, he’d have to turn up empty-handed.

The drive took longer than usual—had to navigate around a bloody traffic jam—and when he was just two streets away, the lights turned red. He decided to shoot through them, fully resigned to the hefty fine that would no doubt arrive in the post.

He pulled up in front of her building, parked in his reserved spot, and looked up at the windows of the penthouse apartment he was paying for through his offshore accounts. Taking a deep breath, he hunched his shoulders, walked up to the entrance, and let himself in with his own key.

He would never have dared unlock the apartment door himself—not unless she ordered him to. So, he rang the bell and waited, patiently. Soft music drifted from inside, not loud enough to miss the sound of the bell, though.

She made him wait nearly twenty minutes.

He knew better than to leave. He couldn’t ring again, couldn’t call or text her, so he just stood there. When the neighbour with the hideous poodle came out, he even managed a friendly smile and made a half-hearted attempt to pet the little beast.

Finally, there were footsteps, the sound of a chain rattling, and at last, the unmistakable click of the key turning in the lock.

The door swung open, and there she stood—Dominique. She insisted he call her Dom, and he wouldn’t dare disobey.

She looked magnificent. His eyes devoured her curvy figure, wrapped in the sexy pink lingerie he’d, of course, bought for her. Her enormous breasts were completely exposed, and beneath the lace, her soft, rounded belly beckoned. She usually favoured black, latex outfits that highlighted her complete dominance over him, and the pink? Well, that was just to rub in the irony. He knew full well that whatever was about to follow, he wasn’t going to like it one bit.

“You’re late,” she said, sweetly yet stern.

“Sorry, Dom,” he blurted out.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” she shot back, her voice sharp. He stood there, silent, fully aware that if he wanted to speak, he’d have to earn that right. A smile played on her full, alluring lips. She opened the door wider and let him in. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and waited for her command.

“To the living room. Now,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

He followed her, unable to resist sneaking a peek as they passed the open bedroom door. He was hoping they’d end up in there later with Dominique, but of course, that was entirely her call. The bed was neatly made, candles flickering around it, and two champagne glasses sat waiting. It sparked a flicker of hope in him, the promise that this late afternoon could take a very pleasant turn.

“How much longer am I supposed to wait?” came her voice from the living room. That snapped Matthew out of his thoughts, and he quickly strode towards the last door at the end of the hallway. Anticipation stirred the longing in partial, making him horny. That feeling, however, vanished the moment he stepped into the living room, where a surprise awaited.

Sitting on the sofa—one that had cost him as much as a regular family’s three-month budget—was a complete stranger. And judging by the look on his face, the guy wasn’t expecting Matthew either.

The man was a much younger stud, dressed in jeans and an unbuttoned dark shirt that revealed his hairy, muscular chest. When he saw Matthew enter, the young man sat up in surprise, looking at Dominique with a mix of confusion and anticipation for some kind of explanation. However, she had no intentions of providing one. She straddled the guy’s lap and, without even glancing at Matthew, pointed to the chair and said in a playful voice, “Sit.”

He sat down, helplessly watching as she began kissing the handsome young man. The guy was still reeling from the shock, but after a moment, he joined in, returning the passion as if they’d both forgotten Matthew was even there.

But he was there, grappling with a whirlwind of mixed emotions. Dom was his dominatrix. She wasn’t just his lover; she was his Mistress with a capital M. He was there solely to satisfy her every need and desire, relying on whatever affection she deemed fit to show him.

It excited him, yet he loathed it. Both feelings coursed through him at the same time, equally intense and utterly conflicting.

In the end, it was the young stud who gently pushed her away, demanding an explanation. Dom looked annoyed, perhaps even disgusted. She then stood up and poured herself a modest glass of port from the bar, which only stocked the finest top-shelf spirits, without offering either of the men a drop.

She took a sip, her gaze lazily flicking between the two of them. Then she settled into a large black armchair, positioned perfectly to keep both men in view, crossed her legs, and a cheeky grin spread across her lovely face.

“Okay,” she uttered. “That’s Bob,” she pointed to the handsome man in jeans. “I’ve known Bob for about three hours, and all I know about him is that his name isn’t Bob, he teaches Italian in high school, and he has a cannon in his pants.”

And she added.

“Right, Bob?”

Before the younger man could say anything, she continued. She looked at Matthew, grinned, and said, “This is Matthew. I’ve known him for seven years and he’s madly in love with me. I let him satisfy me from time to time. But there’s a definite problem with Matthew. Tell Bob here what’s wrong with your prick.”

Matthew blushed, looking at the ground. He was silent.

She didn’t like that at all. She stood up, took a few steps toward him, and as she looked down at him, she ordered again.

“I told you to reveal what’s wrong with your cock. If I have to repeat that question again, trust me, you’re not going to like it. Well?”

Matthew licked his dry lips and mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

Her voice was clear, distinct and annoyed.

“I said,” Matthew chimed in, “that I have a small penis.”

“Exactly,” Dom said, satisfied. “So here we have a situation. Mat is kind enough to pay me a decent living, but he’s unbearable in bed. So I’ve decided that I’m not going to put up with it any longer. I like sex, I need sex, and here’s where we go back to Bob. I’m gonna have sex with Bob. But there’s a teeny, tiny problem. What about Matthew here?”

A wicked smile appeared on her face and Matthew expected the worst. Even so, what came exceeded his lowest expectations.

“Undress,” Dom ordered him.

The initial shock wore off and he was back in his role. Here he is a servant, a miserable, useless existence who partially justifies his pitiful life by pleasing his Mistress.

Matthew stood up and obediently took off and carefully folded his jacket, then slipped off his shoes and gradually put away one piece of clothing after another. Bob watched him in confusion, probably not knowing what was coming either. When the only thing that separated Matthew from complete nudity was his Gucci boxers, he shot Dom a desperate look, but she didn’t bat an eyelash.

So he took off his underpants and in order to at least partially hide his nakedness, he wanted to sit back down. But she wouldn’t let him and ordered him to stand. She walked closer to him, pointed her finger at his erect pecker and said with a smirk.

“That diclet of his is so small, you can’t even tell when he’s hard. What do you think, Bob, does he look like this and boner?”

The younger man wasn’t comfortable with the situation, but Dominique looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Bob shrugged his shoulders.

“Looks to me like he’s a little rocked.”

Dom shook her head doubtfully. She came even closer, kneeling in front of Matthew, her lips just inches from Matthew’s cock. She poked his dick with her finger.

“I don’t know, shouldn’t it get bigger when he’s boning?”

She turned to Bob and ordered him to undress as well. When he did, his cock was only partially hard so Dom walked over to him, knelt down and took it into her mouth. Matthew was still standing, completely naked, his tiny cock rock hard, watching with both excitement and humiliation as his endured mistress gave BJ to a total stranger.

This went on for several minutes, Bob closing his eyes in pleasure, enjoying her lips sucking his cock skilfully. After a while she stopped, pulled away, and Bob’s nine inch long hard, veiny cock drew the attention to itself like gravity. She looked up at Matthew and tepidly uttered.

“See, Mat? This is what a hard cock looks like. See the difference?”

He just stared helplessly at the blob.

“I want to hear it,” she insisted. “Tell me what the difference is between that pebble that’s barely to be found under your belly and Bob’s rod.”

“Um,” Matthew began, “Bob’s cock is big and mine is… tiny.”

“That’s it?” she growled.

He continued.

“Bob’s cock is stiff, ready to fuck you hard, while my tiny, permanently soft and pathetic dicklet is ridiculous and useless.”

“Very good,” she complimented him. “And next?”

He looked down at Bob’s boast and Matthew’s arousal grew stronger. As humiliated as he felt, it made him all the more hard and horny.

“I know I’ll be watching you fuck your new lover,” he added.

Dom looked at him sternly, then her hard gaze softened and she smiled tenderly at him.

“Exactly.”

She reached over and pulled something black out of a small plastic bag and tossed it at his feet.

“Put this on. We’ll wait.”

Bob was so excited he didn’t want to wait, but when Dom gave him a questioning look, he obeyed. Matthew reached down and picked up the strange looking thing from the ground. He immediately realized what it was for. He shot Dominique a desperate look, but she was relentless. So he reached for the chastity belt and stuffed his tiny erection under the rigid, leather lock, and immediately felt intense pain. He yelped in anguish, and when she looked at him contemptuously, he lowered his head.

“So sorry, Dom.”

Dominique looked at Bob seductively, with smooth movements she removed the miniature pink panties that were part of the lingerie set. She walked closer to Matthew, pressed his head against her crotch and commanded.

“Take a nice sniff so you know what I smell like when I’m aroused. Before Bob’s hard giant cock satisfies me. What do you smell?”

She held his head so close he couldn’t breathe, but he still managed to take in the scent of her cunt in his nostrils. She was right. She was aroused, wet and eager. Ready.

“What do you smell?” She repeated.

“I feel you deserve to be fucked by his gigantic member.”

“And?”

“And…” he continued, “I’m happy to at least watch, be there, and be happy with my tiny, worthless dicklet.”

She smiled at him. She was still looking Matthew in the eye when she sat back down on Bob’s lap. This time she gently took Bob’s big cock in her hand and guided it expertly. She sat up, grunted in pleasure and commanded. “Now fuck me.”

Hey, Boss Man—Time to Unleash That Financial Power and Fund My Little Desires!