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The Count       The Count nodded and I went to the bedroom where my wife was waiting. "The Count waits for you at your pleasure, mistress," I told her, kneeling at her feet. She sat at her makeup table putting the last touches on her face, glowing as she looked down at me. "Then you may put my shoes on me, Cyrus," she told me primly while lifting one high arched, nylon clad foot. Picking up one of her black, designer pumps, I used an elaborately carved black rosewood shoehorn to lever it onto her slim foot. The shoehorn had been a gift to me from her, my wife, a very fitting gift. I bent to place a kiss on the toe of her shoe and inhaled the musky scent of fine kid. Madam wore only the finest footwear and it was my responsibility to care for all of it. I slipped the other pump on her left foot, again bending to place a kiss. My wife rose and stood in front of the mirror. "Oh Cyrus," she said to me. "I am so ready tonight. Come feel my cunt." I crawled over to her and, as respectfully as possible, dipped two fingers into her cunt. She was indeed ready. She stood before me in all her voluptuous glory, her body reflected in the mirror. She had on a filmy, transparent wrap beneath which she wore a full-cut white girdle with garters attached to her stocking tops. Her long and luminous red hair flowed down her back. Her large and succulent breasts were bare. There was something about Anastasia's breasts; they seemed to change when she was sexually excited, to grow rounder and fuller, to blossom from her chest, her brown nipples becoming stiff and jutting from her pink flesh. I teased her sometimes that she had tit erections and she certainly had them now. "Madam is truly beautiful," I mumbled. "Madam truly looks ready to fuck." "Yes," she answered. "I'm ready." I held the door for her and walked dutifully behind her as we went to her lover. I was tremendously excited. Count had not visited us for at least three months. Usually he came at least once a month and sometimes he would even pay us weekly visits. Once we had vacationed together for two weeks, he and my wife occupying the bed while I, the servant, slept on the floor at their feet. But it had been a long time. The Count had lately been out of the country on business, but last night he had called, giving me his instruction as to how I was to dress my wife and prepare her for him. It was he, of course, who had designated the girdle and the bare breasts. The Count, my master, had always enjoyed my wife's breasts. He loved to fondle and kiss them and would do so often, even in public. Anastasia often told me how much she enjoyed the Count doing this. "I love being his whore," she would say, sometimes kissing my lips lightly or ruffling my hair. When we had first met, The Count told me, it was Anastasia's breasts that had first attracted him. It had been at a New Year's party, Anastasia was a little tipsy and Count was the best looking man at the party. They had stared at each other the whole night and finally ended up in our host's bedroom, Anastasia's cries as he fucked her for the first time echoing down the hallway so that some of the guests glanced at each other and smirked behind their cocktail glasses. Of course there was nothing that I could do. My wife had long since brought me to heel as her servant and slave. My whole life was structured around my obedience to her. From that evening to this the Count had been my wife's lover and that fact had changed our lives. We had begun our married lives as a more or less normal couple. Then she had discovered my weakness for her footwear and her feet. She had immediately reduced me to her servant, gradually increasing her dominance until I was reduced to her slave. Anastasia and I still made love but now we adopted only those positions where she could have her feet or shoes in my face the entire time. Our Mistress-slave relationship, which had started as a secret then evolved into a game, had now transformed into a way of life. Anastasia stood before her lover, her bare breasts jutting. She said nothing as his eyes drank her in. I stood beside her, bowed. "My wife is ready for you, master," I told the Count. This was usually how he wanted it, for me to present Anastasia to him like that. His eyes inspected her, running over her body as she stood, her chin lifted, not looking at him. They both enjoyed this, I knew. Both were savoring this moment, as I was. I fell to my knees between them. After a moment the Count reached out and drew her to him, running his hands inside her thin wrap and over her white girdle, across her breasts and her stomach. He turned her and felt her ass, running his big hands over her full cheeks, kneading and hefting them, then touching her thighs, spreading them a little, forcing her to move her legs a little apart so that he could explore freely. The white corset was open on the bottom and his randy hands found their way to her exposed cunt. A small moan escaped Anastasia's mouth when he parted the lips of her cunt and flicked his middle finger over the tip of her clitoris. My wife's legs parted further as his fingers went into her and explored the inner recesses of her vagina. When he withdrew his hand and I saw that it was wet with her bounteously flowing love juices. I was incredibly aroused. I don't think my penis had ever been harder. The sight of my wife in another man's arms, her body fondled and explored, aroused me as nothing else could. She moved into his arms and clung to him, her body responding to the caresses of his hands. Their lips were glued together in a long, passionate kiss. I watched as my wife unzipped the Count's fly, reached into his shorts and drew out his erect penis. She wrapped her hand around its girth and squeezed so that it leaped and twitched in her hand and his bull- like member swelled into its hugeness like some great weapon, its head standing proud and ready to fuck. The Count had the largest prick by far that I had ever seen. The first time I had seen it, I wondered if my petite Anastasia could actually take it. Tearing her lips away from her lover's my wife turned to me, snapped her fingers, and hissed: "Cyrus! Get down her and suck your master's cock. Get him ready for me! Now!" Please understand I am not a homosexual. I am a submissive male caught up in a situation where I have no choice. I had sworn to give my mistress my unconditional obedience. I had to obey her. So I crawled on my knees to the embracing couple. Looking at the Count's penis I could hardly blame Anastasia for preferring this man to me. His penis outclassed mine like a Ferrari to a Yugo, like Michael Jordan to Elmer Fudd. Anastasia's hand grasped his penis once again. She looked down at me, a predator smile on her lovely face. "Dear husband," she cooed at me and her hand caressed my forehead. "I want to see you do it." Her hand continued its way against my cheek, insinuating. "I want you to kiss my lover's dick." Then she grabbed a fistful of my hair and shook my head. "Kiss my lover's dick, Cyrus. Do it!" I obeyed. I bent my head and placed my lips on the head of the Count's cock. I kissed and a deep involuntary moan escaped my mouth as I did so. The Count moaned at the same time and suddenly his hands were holding my head and he was guiding me face up and down his manly shaft as I kissed and licked and sucked. I was surprised at how actually hot his cock was. His flesh was burning and my lips could feel the heat. I ran my tongue from the root of his cock where it met his balls, up to the tip. I glanced up at my wife's face. She was obviously mesmerized at the sight of her husband going down on her lover's cock. She sat on the wide couch fingering her open cunt. "Cyrus,"she moaned out. "I think you should thank your master for allowing you the privilege of preparing him for your wife." I mumbled something like thanks while she spread her legs, exposing her glistening wet cunt. Sensuously she moved her hands down to her pussy and pulled the lips apart, writhing toward the Count, her face a mask of lust. Seeing her like that, he drew himself from my mouth and went to her. She lay back on the couch, her legs opening wider for him. She was staring at his dick. It was hard and wet from the sucking I had just given it. The knob on the end was almost purple, engorged with the rushing blood of this stallion of a man. The Count was in no hurry. Standing at the side of the bed, he slid his big hands beneath my wife's shoulders and deftly slid her over to the edge of the bed till he was standing between her legs. With her high heeled pumps propped on either side of his head, he nudged the tip of his penis between her pink lips, beginning to fuck her. On my knees beside them, I took out my own small cock and lightly began touching myself. This was what I lived for now. This consummate moment when I could see this man take my wife. That I called him "master" was no game. He was my superior as much as my wife was my superior. I knew instinctively that I belonged at their feet, their obedient and willing slave. I felt the universe jog a little and suddenly felt that incredible feeling of rightness. I was where I belonged. I was in my place. Then I caught Anastasia looking at me. As the Count ran his cock up and down the slim lips of her pussy my wife beckoned me to come to her. I knew what she wanted. We would kiss while the Count toyed with her, while he played within the folds of her pussy lips, teasing her with that big, purple knob, entering her a little then pulling out, then entering her again, fucking her only a little. While the Count did this our lips met and we kissed. It was a kiss in which I delivered up my soul to my wife while another man entered her, a kiss in which Anastasia and I felt our love for each other as at no other time. As the Count slipped more and more of his long prick into the damp folds of her vagina we continued to kiss. Then suddenly she pushed me away. "I want to see you kiss your master's ass while he's coming into me," she whispered in my ear. I moaned with the humility of it and moved away, going to my knees again behind the Count. From that vantage point I watched for a moment as he set himself strongly at the entrance to Anastasia's cunt and then began truly fucking her with long, slow thrusts until he was buried in her to his balls. The three of us moaned in unison at the moment when his great ball sac crushed against my wife's bottom. It was an exquisite moment, one my wife and I had anticipated for the past three months. We would lay in bed, idly making love, talking about the Count and the various things he would do with her. Several times Anastasia reached a climax when she spoke of the exquisite feeling of that moment when the Count would first sink his prick in her and fuck her deeper and deeper with that huge cock of his until she could feel his hairy balls slamming against her butt. I loved hearing my wife tell me of her sensations as the Count fucked her. But even more I loved watching those sensations run across her lovely face while the real thing was happening. I moved my face up to the Count's muscular ass and, spreading his cheeks, began kissing. It was a trick to move my head in time with his stroking of my wife. I kissed around his hole, moving closer and closer until finally I planted my lips directly on his anus and kissed it again and again. I kissed my master's asshole while he screwed my wife. I licked it, then I sucked it. Finally I began running my tongue up and down the length of his crack, licking his ass and occasionally placing small kisses on the anus itself. The humility of my position was an excruciating torture. I was, after all, kissing my wife's lover's asshole while he fucked my wife. At the same time I was incredibly excited. I felt the same raw abandonment to my humiliation as when I was made to lick the filthy soles of my wife's shoes. I groveled behind the Count as he fucked my beautiful Madilene. At that moment I would have done anything that either of them told me to do. Absolutely anything. Suddenly I could see that the Count was going to come. This was a very short time, he could only have been inside her for a few minutes. Nevertheless I could feel that he was ready to ejaculate. I moved around so that I could but my lips against them both. That was how they had both instructed me to be at the moment of climax. The Count began fucking into her hard. My lips were partly against his shaft and partly on the lips of Anastasia's cunt. My tongue slid over the meeting place of cock and cunt. The man began pounding against my wife, fucking her hard, thrusting his belly against my face now where I was licking and sucking them both. Anastasia was moaning and crying out. Then she began sobbing, her breath coming in great long signs in time with the stroking of his huge dick. The Count let out a huge moan and set himself against Anastasia so that he was in her right up to his balls. Then he began to shoot. He pounded into her with each ejaculation, ramming like a cannon. And with each stroke his long dick came almost out of her, the head of his prick exposed so that she was receiving the entire length of his enormous shaft just before each ejaculation. Anastasia lay back swooning, coming, swept away in the great waves of lust and sex. He shot in her this way any number of times. When he was through he reached beneath her ass cheeks where the rivers of his ejaculation were already starting to pour, and, taking up a great gob of his own white come in his hand, began to smear it over my wife's face. He gave her his finger to suck for a moment and then dipped for more. He did this until Anastasia's face was entirely covered with his come, the slick stuff spread across her face in an oozy web and running out the sides of her mouth. The Count, after rubbing more of his ejaculate around in my wife's pussy hair, moved aside. "A bit more for you to clean up, Cyrus," he muttered. Now I was allowed to enter her. I can hardly describe the intensity of my feelings at this moment. I slid into Anastasia's hot, wet cunt, sliding my dick against her slick surfaces, so well lubricated by my master's sperm. I took her lovely face in my two hands and began to kiss her, reverently and worshipfully, for I was her slave-husband, her chattel, her servant. As I kissed her the Count fed more of his white come between our lips with his fingers so that as I kissed my wife I sucked his seed into my mouth as well. I began licking her face, coming back to her mouth again and again to drink from the well. Then I moved down to her pussy, the great running stream of her cunt, and began to lap and sip and finally drink. The amount of fluid the Count had deposited in my wife's sweet cunny was hardly to be believed. It ran copiously from her, a running stream with occasional gobs oozing forth. I licked and sucked and swallowed until I had consumed it all and cleansed all of her cunt that I could reach. I sucked up the Count's come where it lay in my wife's pussy hair. I lapped up the trails of come that had leaked down her thighs and sucked it from the tops of her stockings. Of course the inside of my wife's womb was still coated with the Count's white seed and would leak from her for hours yet, hours in which she and I would come back to the bed and fuck many times. And many more times I would drink at the sacred white spring.

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