Their World Part 3

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Their World Part 3

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.

Please comment on how you liked this story and how you think it could improve. and if you're not into cuckold stories please don't reply with comments like "thats stupid" just dont leave a message at all if you're not into this kind of thing

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