Their World, part 4 (Mmf, wimp husband)
by c.w. cobblestone

Nine-thirty a.m. The bacon is frying, the biscuits are in the oven,
and the coffee's brewing.

Monica and Randy were up a little early for a Sunday. I was
exhausted. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night with my head in the
toilet. Oh well...such is my life.

When I finished making breakfast, I placed everything neatly on the
silver serving tray, including Randy's Sunday paper. I knocked
lightly on their bedroom door and opened it. Randy and Monica were
still snuggled up underneath the covers. Monica was lying in bed
lazily flicking through the channels on the bedroom television.
Randy lay there propped up on the luxurious pillows, smoking the
morning's first cigarette.

"Smells good!" Monica sat up and clapped her hands as I set up her
tray. "I am starving!"

Randy smiled up at me as I served his breakfast. "Did you get any
sleep last night?" he teased as I poured his coffee.

"No, sir, I didn't get any sleep."

He didn't acknowledge my answer as he began tearing into the food I
had prepared. Monica had taken the TV guide out of the newspaper and
flipped through the pages while she ate her breakfast. Randy stopped
eating to scan the front page of his paper for a moment.

"Hold my paper," he ordered absent-mindedly as he set down his
newspaper and started eating again.

I knew this Sunday morning ritual well. I knelt by his side of the
bed, holding up his morning paper for him, so his hands would be
free to eat. Every now and then, he'd simply say, "turn it," and  I
would turn the page for him. Other than that, nothing was else was
said to me at breakfast. My arms quickly tired after about a half
hour of holding Randy's paper up for him, but I knew that I had
better hold it steady. After the terrible day in the shed yesterday
- and my sleepless ordeal in the toilet last night - the last thing
I wanted to do was to incur Randy's wrath!

I knelt there holding up the paper, trying to ignore the rumbling in
my stomach. I had one more day to go on my starvation diet, and it
was killing me to watch them eat their gourmet breakfast. I hadn't
eaten for 2 days now!

When they finished eating, I took their trays away and washed the
dishes. I was almost done when I heard Monica's voice call down for
me:

"Hey, bring me more coffee. And get my robe."

I rushed to obey. After I ran upstairs and handed Monica her robe, I
went back to the kitchen and poured my wife's cup of coffee.

Then I made a terrible mistake. 

As I was setting the coffee down in front of her, I stumbled over
one of Randy's discarded sneakers, and spilled some of the hot
coffee right onto my wife's lap!

"Owww!" she howled. Then her foot shot out and caught me right in
the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. "You fucking clumsy
asshole!" she screamed at me. "That fucking BURNED! What the fuck is
wrong with you?"

She looked over at Randy and they exchanged knowing glances. Turning
back toward me, she said, "well, you fucked up again, didn't you? I
guess you're just a fuck-up, aren't you?"

"Yes, Monica, I'm sorry," I croaked. 

"You sure as hell got that right - you're the sorriest son of a
bitch I've ever met in my life!" She clapped her hands. "Well, I
guess we're gonna have us a little fun this morning, then, aren't
we?" I didn't like the curious glint in her green eyes as she stared
me down. "Go get the rod, faggot," she said in a low voice. "Randy's
gonna turn your ass into hamburger."

My heart sank. Not another session with Randy's terrible plastic
rod! I had really tried to be good this morning...but it didn't
matter. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't escape
getting into trouble for something or another!

I rushed to get the weapon, then presented it to my wife's lover
from my knees. Randy stretched and yawned loudly before taking the
slim, flexible rod from my outstretched hands.

"Face to the carpet, fuckwad," he ordered. I assumed the position,
trembling. How many would he give me this time? I never knew what
punishment was ahead of me: sometimes, Randy would beat me
unmercifully for over an hour for a minor infraction. Sometimes he
would just give me a few dozen strokes. It depended on his mood.

Usually, when Monica was present though, he would really lay into
me, just to show off to her. So, as I lifted my ass and pressed my
nose into the bedroom carpet, I assumed the worst.

As usual, he showed no mercy. I've been trained to not make a sound
when I'm being punished, but it's hard to keep it in sometimes. The
rod slashed into my flesh again and again. Tears started to well up
in my eyes. I sneaked a peek at my wife. She was lying in bed
playing with her pussy. She wore a soft smile as she admired her
powerful lover's prowess with the rod.

Monica always got a big kick out of watching my facial contortions
as I tried not to cry out. I would hold out as long as I could, but
Randy would keep whipping me harder and harder until I broke down
and begged for mercy. It was like a game almost, to see how long I
would be able to hold out until I started crying.

Then, of course, I'd be punished again for making noise!

SLASH! The hardest blow of all landed home, and it broke me.
"Please, sir, please, mercy, sir, mercy!" I cried out. Randy
chuckled as I continued to beg for him to stop.

My blubberings evidently made Monica mad, because she got up and
slapped me hard across the back of my head. "Shut up, wimp, and take
it like a man...even though that may be way too much to ask from
you." She picked Randy's tennis shoe off the floor and stuffed as
much of it as she could into my mouth. It was the very shoe that I
had tripped over...the very shoe that got me into this mess in the
first place! She pushed the toe of the shoe into my mouth,
stretching my jaws wide open. "Suck on that for awhile...and if I
hear another peep out of you, you're gonna do another day out in the
shed!"

I didn't make another sound.

It seemed like the shower of pain would never end. Eventually, thank
God, it did.

"Whew, that was a workout," Randy said as he swung back and lashed
me one more time, catching me by surprise and causing me to jump.

Monica giggled. "And one to grow on!" she said. "Get over here,
wimp."

I crawled to her as she lay on the soft bed playing with her sacred
vagina. She had a strange, faraway look in her blue eyes.

"Suck my toes," she ordered breathlessly. I took Randys shoe out of
my mouth and began softly sucking Monica's toes. This was one of the
few times I was allowed contact with my wife of any kind, and I
tried my best to convey my love for her through my sucking of her
toes. I don't think she noticed: she was too busy making out with
Randy. He started to play with her pussy as they kissed. I watched
with a heavy heart as Randy did as he pleased with my wife, his hand
roaming all over her soft body...his fingers disappearing into the
soft folds of my Monica's vagina.

Soon, they were at it furiously. I have to admit: Randy was quite a
stud. On many occasions I've watched him make love to my wife four
and five times in one day. She just cant seem to get enough - and,
apparently, neither can he.

As the cadence of their fucking increased, it became increasingly
harder for me to continue sucking Monica's toes. I did the best I
could, but she kept moving her foot back and forth each time Randy
rammed into her, kicking me hard in the mouth several times as I
tried to continue worshipping her beautiful painted toes.

With Randy's huge cock pummeling her, and my wet mouth on her toes,
it didn't take long for Monica to reach a loud, protracted orgasm.
Randy wasn't far behind. He tensed up and pulled out his dick and
began shooting his sperm all over my wife's tanned belly. They both
collapsed and hugged for a few minutes, oblivious to my presence.
They lay there and enjoyed their special afterglow while I knelt at
the foot of the bed patiently.

Eventually, Monica looked down at me from her reclining position on
the bed. "Go get me a towel, and another cup of coffee." She looked
at me seriously. "And if you spill this one, I'll put your fat ass
on a starvation diet for another week! Now go!"

I scampered off to get the towel. Sometimes, Monica would have me
lick up Randy's cum, and sometimes she wasn't in the mood. I was
sad, because licking up Randy's semen was one of those precious
moments when I would be allowed any sort of sexual contact with my
wife. But I guess she didn't want to be bothered today.

I handed Monica her towel, and she wiped up the sticky goo from her
belly. She then vigorously began wiping off the stray ropes of semen
on her pubic hair. When she finished, Randy took the towel from her
and wiped off his fat, glazed dick. Then he rolled up the towel, the
way kids do in the locker room, and popped me in my groin. His
second hit caught me square in the balls, and I doubled over in
pain, groaning.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you sissy. That didn't hurt," Randy said as
he popped me in the face with the towel, then threw it at me. It
landed on my head, covering my face. "Go get me a cup of coffee,
too."

As they lay in bed sipping their coffee and watching TV, I roamed
around the room picking up their discarded clothing from the night
before. They were such slobs! I'd just cleaned the bedroom yesterday
morning. How could it have gotten so messed up already?

Cleaning wasn't a concern for either of them. In the two years I'd
been serving my wife and  Randy, they'd gotten quite used to having
me there to pick up after them. Now, they didn't even think about
it. It was just expected that I would go behind them and clean up
all their messes.

"Excuse me, Monica," I interrupted my wife's TV watching after I'd
straightened up the bedroom and stood before her submissively. "You
wanted me to remind you - Debbie and Ron's picnic is today."

"Oh, that's right, it is today" she said, sitting up in the bed. I
tried not to stare as the blanket fell down and exposed one of
Monica's soft breasts. She held out her hand expectedly. "Get me the
phone," she ordered casually.

I handed her the phone and she dialed her friend. While she gabbed
on the phone, Randy took a shower. I went into the basement and
began separating Monica and Randy's dirty clothes. I took the clean
clothes from the dryer and began carefully folding them.

After awhile, I heard Monica call me. I scampered upstairs to see
what she wanted and found both my wife and Randy sitting on the edge
of the bed naked, engaged in conversation.

"I want my white shorts and blue navy top," she announced, not even
looking up at me.

"And get my jeans and my red T-shirt ready," Randy piped in. Then
they continued their conversation as I went to got their clothes
ready for them.

After they dressed, Monica announced that they would probably be
back from the picnic at about 6 that evening.

As they started to leave the house, Randy turned toward me and
smiled.

"Hey, you remember what tonight is, don't you?" he asked me.

Of course I knew what night it was...he just wanted to rub it in.

"Yes, sir. I remember," I said respectfully. "Tonight's 'Fashion
Show Night,' sir."

"You know it!" he said. "Get everything ready for us," he said over
his shoulder as they walked away.

"Fashion Show Night" is a special time in our household. Let me
explain: As I've said, Monica loves nothing better than to spend my
money. On her frequent shopping excursions, she always loads up on
new lingerie for the love of her life, Randy. She has two dressers
full of teddies, babydolls, corsets - you name it, my wife probably
has it.

Anyway, "Fashion Show Night," is where Monica shows off all the new
lingerie she's bought. While Randy lays on the bed like a king,
Monica models the new lingerie for him. Then, she'll go into the
bathroom, where I am waiting with the next outfit, ready to help her
change. It always makes me sad to watch my wife go through so many
changes to please Randy.

After Randy has seen all of the selections, we have a little ritual:
I kneel at the side of the bed and ask the reclining master of the
household which nighty was his favorite. Most of the time, he picks
out a few, and I have to go get them one by one. I hold each of them
out for him again so he can narrow his decision down to one piece of
lingerie. After he picks one, I am to go back into the bathroom and
dress Monica in the outfit he'd specified.

Then they make love like crazy.

After I watched Monica and Randy drive away, I began my chores. I
finished their laundry, made the bed, picked up the discarded wet
towels from the bathroom, and wiped down the toilet where Randy had
pissed and missed. It was the first Sunday of the month, so it was
wall-washing day. I thoroughly scrubbed down all the walls in the
house, which took about five hours. Then I did my daily scrubbing of
the kitchen floor. By the time I'd finished my chores, it was
nearing six, so I lit candles throughout the house to welcome my
master and my mistress from their outing.

PART 5...COMING SOON!!!
