Their World, part 3 (Mmf, wimp husband)
by c.w. cobblestone

I still don't know how many hours I spent inside that terrible
aluminum storage shed, tied up like a pig...trying to deal with the
insane heat pounding down through the metal roof...drowning in a
pool of my own sweat. What had I done wrong? What had I done to
deserve this inhuman torture?

That was the worst part of it. I hadn't done anything wrong. 

All I did was help my wife Monica and her lover Randy get ready for
a party they were going to. Then, when they were almost ready to
leave, Randy began slapping me around like a rag doll, for no reason
whatsoever. I had been perfectly respectful to him and my wife all
day. I couldn't understand it.

But, then again, Randy doesn't need a reason to abuse me - I know
that all too well. He often  would beat me for any little thing, and
I couldn't say a word about it. What could I say? He was Monica's
boyfriend! He could do no wrong in her eyes.

After Randy kicked me around for a few minutes, he ordered me to
bring him the gym bag full of bondage equipment that we keep in the
basement. After I retrieved the bag, he began tying me up tightly.
He showed me no mercy, tying the knots as tightly as he could. It
only took a few seconds for my bound limbs to become totally numb.

Where was my wife during all this? She was in the bathroom, putting
the final touches on her makeup, getting ready for the party. She
couldn't care less that I was being beaten to a pulp in the next
room - that's what hurt the most. To her, I was a nuisance at best,
a piece of shit whose only purpose was wait on her and Randy hand
and foot. I knew I would get no sympathy from her.

After Randy had me trussed up to his satisfaction, he grabbed me by
the ear and twisted, causing me to yelp involuntarily. Randy dragged
me by my ear into the back yard. It was impossible to keep up with
him in my bound state, and I fell flat on my face three times along
the way. Each time I fell, Randy would grab a handful of hair and
yank me to my feet, then twist my ear again to keep me moving.
Finally, we reached the metal storage shed.

Randy unlocked the door and kicked me hard in the ass, sending me
reeling into the small structure. I hit my head hard against the
lawn mower. As I tried to regain my wits, I was suddenly plunged
into darkness as Randy slammed the door shut. The sound of the lock
being clasped sealed my fate.

"We'll be back later on tonight, faggot," Randy taunted. "Try to
think positive thoughts while we're away, okay?" I listened to the
sound of his retreating footsteps as I lay there in the darkness,
unable to move, my hands and feet already throbbing from the tight
ropes.

I can't describe the ungodly day I spent inside that horrible shed.
I boiled all day under the hot July sun. The metal roof of the shed
acted as a conductor for the already-unbearable heat. The rope burns
on my wrists and ankles lasted more than a month.

It was the worst day I've ever spent in my life. 

After a few hours, I became delirious. My mind started to wear down
like a spent battery. My tongue began to swell. I was sure that
Randy had left me here to die.

By the time the shed's door opened that evening, I didn't even have
the strength to turn my head and look up to see who it was. Through
my veil of numbness, I heard Randy's voice:

"Did you have fun today, fag? Well, I certainly didn't! The party
was a real drag! They fucking ran out of beer after only two kegs!
Can you believe it?"

He nudged me with his cowboy boot and used his foot to roll me over
onto my back. "C'mon, lard-ass, it's time to get your sorry ass
moving! Break time's over! Me and Monica need you in the house." He
grabbed me by the hair and roughly lifted me to my feet. Once I was
standing, he turned and walked back into the house, leaving me to
follow him as best I could.

I took only a few steps before my wobbly legs gave way and I fell
onto the grass face-first. After several tries, I knew I wasn't
going to be able to regain my feet. So I shimmied across the back
yard like a worm, moving as fast as my tortured body would allow.

I made it to the back door, but I couldn't get up to reach the
doorknob. "Help!" I managed to squeak as I scratched the door like a
cat. "Please help me!"

After about 10 minutes, the back door opened and Monica appeared.
She was still wearing the black miniskirt I'd pressed for her
earlier. She looked down at me and chucked, shaking her head in
disbelief.

"You are one sorry piece of shit, you know that, asshole?" she asked
as she squatted down and began to unloosen my knots. From the way
she was haunched down, I could see her crotch, and the white silk
panties I'd hand-washed so many times. It was enough to snap me out
of my delirium.

"Did you have fun today?" She stopped untying me for a second and
regarded me with amusement, a wry smile playing across her lips.
"Poor thing. I know Randy can be mean sometimes...but he's such a
hunk!"

She laughed to herself and shook her head. "I swear, I don't know
why you put up with this shit sometimes! Tell me - why do you put up
with this? I mean, you cook, you clean, you suck my toes, you suck
Randy's dick - and all you get in return is a slap across the face!
Why do you let yourself be treated like this?" She leaned close to
me and I shivered as I felt her hot breath in my ear. "Is it because
you love me?"

"Yes, Monica, I love you more than anything in the world," I gasped,
tears starting to form in my eyes.

"That's nice, honey. I can't say that I love you back, but it's the
thought that counts, right? You're not much of a husband - but you
do know how to lick an ass, I'll give you that," she bantered as she
continued untying me. "And you're so thoughtful - how many husbands
would allow their wife's boyfriend to live with them? You're a real
peach, honey!"

Finally, my hands and feet were free. "Thank you, Monica," I gasped
as I tried to regain my feet. She didn't answer me as she turned and
walked into the house without a glance back.

I struggled to my feet and followed her into the living room. Randy
was sitting on the sofa watching television. Monica flopped onto the
couch next to him.

"Go get me a cold beer,," Monica ordered when I first walked into
the living room.

"Me too," Randy added.

When I returned from the kitchen, Randy was struggling to pull off
his cowboy boot. As I set his beer in front of him, he put his feet
up on the coffee table. "Get these damn boots off," he ordered,
agitated.

It was tough, but I finally managed to pull his stubborn boots off.
I noticed that they were scuffed; I would have to polish them later.

"Massage my feet," Randy said casually as he brushed his
sock-covered foot on my nose.

I knelt before Randy and devotedly started rubbing his feet. He
didn't pay much attention to me as he lounged on the sofa with his
arm around Monica. He began absent-mindedly playing with my wife's
tit as they sat back and watched TV.

I was still recovering from my ordeal in the storage shed. My tongue
was still swollen, and I hadn't had anything to drink all day. Every
time I saw Monica or Randy take a swig of their beer, my heart
filled with jealousy. But I was afraid to ask them if I could get a
drink.

What had I come to? I couldn't even get up the nerve to ask for a
drink of water! I had been kept down for so long that I knew I'd
never be able to get back up again. For the thousandth time, it hit
me: this was my sorry lot in life - and there wasn't anything I
could do about it.

But finally, I had to ask. I was practically foaming at the mouth, I
was so thirsty.

"Uh, excuse me." They both looked at me curiously. I rarely
initiated conversation with them, especially while they were
watching TV.

I was terrified, but I had to ask. "I'm sorry, but could I please
get something to drink?"

Monica looked over at Randy and winked at him playfully. "I don't
know, fuckface," she taunted me. "How far are you willing to go for
a drink?" She put her finger to her chin. "Hmmm....let's
see....would you eat some dog shit?"

"Yes, Monica, please, I'll do anything!"

Randy piped in: "Would you eat one of my boogers?"

"Yes, sir, I'll do anything you say."

Randy turned to Monica. "What do you think, honey? Should I make the
fuckwad eat a booger?"

Monica crinkled her pretty nose. "Yuck. That's gross! If you're
going to do it, I don't want to see it!"

"No, that's okay," Randy said. He waved his hand majestically. "Go
ahead, asshole. Go get yourself a drink."

I was as relieved about him giving me permission to get a drink as I
was about the fact that I wouldn't have to eat one of his boogers.
As I turned to crawl out of the room, Randy stopped me.

"Wait. Why don't we make that a mixed drink?" he said, getting up.
"Follow me."

I gulped. I knew what was coming.

I crawled behind him as he strode to the bathroom. I watched from my
knees as he took a long piss, splashing it all over the rim of the
toilet.

After Randy finished, he motioned to the toilet. "Go ahead. Get your
drink."

I crawled with apprehension toward the commode. I knew I had no
choice, so I closed my eyes and stuck my face in the piss-water and
began lapping it up slowly. It wasn't what I had in mind, but at
least it somewhat quenched my thirst.

I heard Monica's voice call in from the living room: "Randy? You
meany, what are you making my poor husband do now?"

"Come in here and see for yourself," Randy answered.

After a moment, I heard Monica giggle from the doorway. "You're
terrible!" she chided him playfully. "Making him drink your
piss-water...you're embarrassing the poor dear!"

Randy chuckled. "Aww, Monica, he's a slimeball...and slimeballs
don't get embarrased! Slimeballs like him like sticking their face
in the toilet. Don't you, slimeball? Don't you like sticking your
face in the toilet and drinking my piss?"

"Yes, sir," I gurgled the best I could with my face in the toilet
water.

"Well, since you like sucking up piss, move out of the way," Monica
said. "I've got to go, too."

She lifted her miniskirt and lowered her white panties. She hunched
forward as she began to pee. Randy grabbed me by the hair and stuck
my face close to her thighs.

"Look, needledick...that's Monica's pussy! Isn't it pretty? Look,
she's pissing! Isn't that the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
in your life?" He twisted his grip on my hair and put my face closer
to my wife's sacred vagina. "Look how pretty the blonde pubic hairs
are...look at her pink pussylips. You really ought to try it
sometime...you wouldn't believe how tight it is when you first put
your dick in there. But, oh, I forgot - you've never had the
pleasure, have you?"

"Hell, no, he's never had the pleasure," Monica snorted in disgust,
reaching for the toilet  paper. "Can you imagine anyone wanting to
actually fuck this fat slob?"

With that, she wiped herself and then stuffed the used toilet paper
into my mouth, causing me to gag. She stood up, pulled up her
panties, and grabbed me hard by the scruff of the neck. "Back to
pissworld, honey!" She moved me over to the toilet once again. I
felt her foot come down onto the back of my neck as she pushed my
face into the water, now blessed with her urine as well as Randy's.

"Stay there until we tell you otherwise."

I heard them leave and walk up the stairs. I didn't hear from them
again until the next morning when they called for their breakfast.

PART 4...COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU!
