The clock had just ticked past sunset on a quiet Thursday, the kind of evening where the fading light casts long shadows. Trevor stood in the kitchen, his hands steady as he plated the evening’s dinner, herb-crusted salmon flaking tenderly under his fork, asparagus spears roasted to perfection with a drizzle of balsamic, and a rice pilaf infused with hints of saffron and pine nuts. The aromas mingled with each element a deliberate stroke in Trevor’s canvas of devotion to his beautiful wife. Cooking wasn’t a chore for him, it was foreplay. The meal wash a quiet ritual that filled not just their stomachs but created a space for what was to come.
His phone buzzed softly on the marble countertop, the screen illuminating with a single notification. Throuple. The group chat name they’d chosen with a wink and a shared laugh over a year ago glowed invitingly. Randy’s avatar, a candid shot of him grinning beside his pickup truck, accompanied the message: “On my way, babe. Craving you tonight.” No emojis, no excess words. Just the signal. Trevor’s pulse quickened, a familiar electricity coiling low in his belly. He knew precisely what this meant. The evening’s script had been derailed when he got the text, he wasn’t sad. He knew how excited Marina would be so it made him glow in a shared excitement.
Wiping his hands on a towel, Trevor moved with purposeful grace to the bedroom closet. His fingers danced over the hangers, finding the neatly pressed outfit, a maid outfit with black satin and delicate lace edging the hem and neckline, a white waistband he could cinch down to hug his frame just so. Beside his maid outfit hung the small velvet pouch, its contents a shiny chastity cage of polished steel, a device that symbolized not imprisonment, but a reverence and restraint to show toward Randy. He slipped into the outfit methodically, the fabric whispering against his skin like a lover’s promise. The cage clicked into place with a soft, definitive click. Security, surrender, anticipation all in one breath. Finally, he approached Marina in the living room, where she lounged elegantly on the velvet sofa, her yoga pants and soft tee a casual contrast to the evening’s pending transformation.
Kneeling before her, he extended the key on his open palm. “For you,” he murmured, voice low and reverent. Marina’s fingers closed around it, her touch warm and possessive, eyes meeting his with a spark of pride and affection. No words passed because none were needed. This was their language, honed nearly a year of exploration from tentative kink discussions over coffee to a structured FLR and a bull whom Marina craved like Trevor’s home cooked meal she was yet to devour.
Rising only to reposition, Trevor knelt by the front door in the entryway, his heels clicking faintly against the tile, back straight, hands folded demurely in his lap. His posture was impeccable, a living emblem of readiness. He was proud of his submission, he was proud of the relationship he had built with Marina and she loved him for it. She loved him deeply for prioritizing her energies.
Marina, sensing the shift, uncoiled from the sofa like a panther. Her movements were fluid, her smile poignant with the essence of feminine power embodied. She glided to her closet, selecting Randy’s favorite, a dark blue silk teddy that draped her curves like midnight waves, sheer panels hinting at the treasures beneath without revealing all. Matching heels, four inches of sleek stiletto, elevated her to goddess status. She adjusted the straps with a mirror’s glance, her beauty commanding yet serene. The image she saw in the full length mirror was suffice to turn her on. She was hot! She made her way to the door, tall and poised, while Trevor remained beside her, kneeling. They both awaited Randy’s arrival, she with her vertical authority, and he with his grounded support.
They waited in companionable silence, the clock’s seconds seemed to take forever as they watched the hall clock tick, tick, tick. Silence was their ritual and five minutes felt eternal, charged with the hum of expectation. Trevor’s mind drifted to their journey, Marina’s post-marital awakening to her dominant desires, sparked by online FLR communities. Trevor’s own discovery of submission and watching his lovely wife with an aura of compersion. How he loved watching the glow of his beautiful wife. He thought back to Randy’s entrance into their lives after months of vetting dates, STD tests, and heartfelt check-ins. This was a unique dynamic, Polyamory with a cuckold dynamic. It wasn’t chaos, they knew their roles, they had honed into the perfect cocktail of their dynamic.
Gravel crunched outside. Randy’s truck rumbled to a halt, headlights sweeping the drive before winking out. Randy’s keys jingled as he got out of the truck, he had his own set of keys to their house because he was welcome in their home. Anytime. The door swung open slowly, and Randy filled the frame with his six foot three inches of solid, sun-kissed muscle from his construction job, faded jeans slung low on his hips, work boots leaving faint imprints on the mat. His bearded face split into a grin, eyes locking immediately on Marina with unfiltered hunger. “Hey, babe,” he said, his deep voice a cheerful rumble that filled the space.
Marina’s lips curved into a sultry smile, stepping forward with heel-clicking precision. “Rough day at work, lover?” Her hand trailed his chest, fingers splaying over the flannel shirt.
“Brutal out there,” Randy replied, shrugging off his jacket “I’ve been bricked up thinking about you all damn day.” His gaze flicked to Trevor as he his jacket to his expectant, kneeling maid. Thank you sir, Trevor replied with quick nod and warm smile. No condescension, just seamless integration. This ritual was theirs, when Randy arrived he was the apple of Marina’s eye. His arrival claimed all of her sexual energy and Trevor’s energy transitioned to a place of service.
Conversation flowed effortlessly between Marina and Randy as he approached Trevor without pause. The rasp of a zipper, and Trevor opened his mouth to him, oral service rendered with devoted focus. It was routine, expected, exquisitely good. Trevor continued his conversation with Marina with uninterrupted rhythm, the quiet power exchange unwound Randy’s day like a balm. Trevor poured his submission into it, every motion a testament to acceptance of Randy’s dominance. A bridge strengthening their throuple bond and there was no shame in his submission, only elevation as their bond was placed on a pedestal. Randy’s pleasure amplified by Trevor’s service, the smile of Marina’s approval lighting the room.
After lingering moments, Randy withdrew, tapping Trevor’s cheek with firm affection. “Good boy,” he commanded softly, voice laced with that dominant timbre that sent shivers through both listeners. “Corner”, Randy spoke. Trevor rose smoothly, skirt swishing, and took his position facing the wall with hands clasped behind his back, heels planted, mind attuned.
Marina beckoned Randy to the dining table to the spread that Trevor had made for the two of them. Your timing was impeccable, Marina said. Trevor was just making some salmon. The nicely plated salmon aglow with Trevor’s culinary artistry and wine glasses pre-poured with Chardonnay, plates steaming with the lovingly prepared meal. They settled close, thighs brushing, forks clinking in harmony. Trevor listened intently from his corner as Randy shared the details of today’s worksite (a beam mishap that nearly toppled a scaffold), Marina sharing her freelance graphic design wins of landing a big client. Trevor, from his corner, absorbed it peripherally, the sounds weaving him into the tapestry. He was proud of the dinner he cooked and the wine he had poured only moments before receiving Randy’s text to their “throuple” group.
The two lovers dined languidly, savoring each bite, conversation dipping into flirtation. Plates emptied, but not cleared with a deliberate mess of crumbs, sauce smears, lipstick-rimmed glasses. Randy leaned back and spoke in the direction of Trevor’s corner “That was excellent. Clean up, then bring more Chardonnay upstairs.” From the corner, Trevor murmured, “Yes, sir,” emerging only as their footsteps receded up the stairs.
The kitchen enveloped Trevor in its hush, underlit by pendants casting golden pools. His wife had left a bite of her salmon on her plate, he ate it hungrily. Wow, I did good. He thought to himself. He transformed disorder to divinity as he cleared the plates and stacked them in the sudsy sink, washed the silverware and wiping the counters to a mirror sheen. He wasn’t upset about serving his plate of dinner to his wife’s boyfriend, he was pleased that they enjoyed his service. His chores were an erotic extension and his submission was a spiritual practice honoring their passion.
Kitchen perfected, he selected a fresh bottle of wine and ascended the stairs. Navigating stairs in his heels and balancing the two spotless glasses and a bottle of wine wasn’t easy but he did it with poise and a heart of service. At the master bedroom threshold, lamplight spilling warmly, he paused. Waiting for invitation into their space was protocol and his adherence to boundaries showed respect.
“Enter,” Randy’s voice drifted.
The room breathed decadence, Marina had lit vanilla candles and their flickering scent filled the air with a delicate scent. Marina and Randy reclined nude on the king-sized bed, bodies languidly entwined, skin aglow in shadow-play. Trevor approached the nightstand, uncorked with reverence, poured golden liquid into flutes.
“Wait.” Randy’s tone: firm silk. “Sauvignon Blanc. What have I told you about details, Trevor?” Marina’s giggle tinkled, her fingers tracing Randy’s bicep. “Uh oh.”
Trevor’s gut twisted. Mistake. “Serving is a privilege,” Randy intoned, hand drifting to the bedside as he produced a worn leather strap scarred from loving use.
“Outside? So Marina doesn’t have to see?” Trevor asked, vulnerability threading his plea.
Randy’s response boomed gentle: “No. Lift your skirt, bend over the bed.”
Surrender and shame overtook reluctance. Fabric rose, exposure bared. The first swat cracked with a sharp catharsis, skin turned red and felt warm to the touch. Pauses between the ten lashes more built crescendo, each a lesson in focus. Randy paused at and looked to Marina “More, my love?” “Five more, I think” Marina bubbled as she watched her boyfriend swat her husband’s skirted bottom. The final swat tapped his caged core, wrenching a wince, face muffled in duvet. “What do you say? Cuck.” Randy bellowed. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Trevor stammered.
“Now get the right one. Triple-check.” Trevor hobbled down the stairs, holding the banister, his heels treacherous on fire-laced bottom. Even the touch of his skirt’s delicate fabric felt like knives on his cherry red bottom. He grabbed the new bottle, verified the Chardonnay, twice and ascended anew.
Marina beckoned. “Thank you, babe.” Pour complete: “Corner,” Randy commanded.
Wall-facing, Trevor tuned to the orchestra of their sound. Giggles evolved to sighs, rhythms cresting like ocean swells. Imagination vivid of Marina’s arching grace, Randy’s powerful drive, ecstasy shared. Chastity strained, posterior throbbed, humiliation’s beautiful cocktail, hated yet craved. Loathing the love for his wife’s eclipsed pleasure, yet soaring in compersion and joy in her joy. Time blurred—an hour’s ache in legs, senses electric.
“Ok cuck, It’s your turn. Randy made such a big mess, come show me how much you love me.” Marina cooed.
Kneeling, he tended her first with the tender absolution. Purpose flooded, erasing any guilt she may have for the way the night’s plans had changed. His actions fortified his love for her and then he moved is focus to Randy. He cleaned his wife’s lover and primed him for a second round with a heart of pure submission.
“Corner.” Randy spoke as his energy and firmness reignited.
God, I’m a lucky man, Trevor thought to himself, facing the wall as he heard bed creaks and pleasure cries mere feet away.
After a time, he heard the pinnacle of Randy’s lovemaking and Marina summoned him once again for cleanup and a refresh of their wine glasses.
“God I love this” Marina said aloud as she breathed, fingers combing Randy’s hair.
“I’m just glad you’re both happy,” Trevor choked in almost a whisper.
“Thank you for serving our love, you make us happy,” she affirmed. “This trust—it’s us.”
Randy just smirked in contentment as Marina nestled up to him, hands linking. She thought back to the wicked happiness she felt when she saw the “Throuple” text light up on her phone. God, I love this. She repeated to herself, silently this time.
Side note to Emma. Welcome back from your break, we missed you. ❤️
