A Cuckolding: A Story of Surrender

Full surrender is not easy. It’s one thing to submit, and to serve, but to fully surrender my desires—and be Master’s tool for his own—can at times create such a divide between what I think I feel and what I should feel or what I believe. These are the times I fail at submission, when I seek to fulfill my own horniness and desires. Last night was a new experience for this boy, and it went something like this.

Surrender. More than service, more than submission, not even subjugation. Surrender. Knees collapsed, head bowed, palms up, and given over. Surrender.

Sir and I got home from a long day’s drive home from Las Vegas. We sat in our usual positions—him on the couch, me on the floor in front of him, shirtless—smoking some weed and watching some television to unwind. He sent me for some rope and tied a nice tight harness with some fantastic intricate knot work on the front. He decided he also wanted to tie up our house guest.

The house guest (let’s call him R) comes back from walking his dog and strips naked. Sir is just wearing his comfy shorts; that look of dominance that makes me melt is in his eyes. They start the dance.

Damn, they’re both so fucking hot. 

Sir slipped the rope over R’s head. R’s hands are at his side, he plays with his balls a little bit. Sir runs his hands over R’s body as he threads the rope around and around. I watch from my place on the floor, my own harness tight around my shoulders.

Very hot. I want to worship them both. R’s dick is starting to stiffen; I want to make R’s cock hard and swallow him whole, I want Sir to tie us together, to force my head down his shaft and hold it there. I want to be their cum dump. 

I’m getting stiff myself, I’ll play with my own pathetic cock while Sir shares his light and skill with this friend. I’m biting my lip, this is that feeling of growing urge for cock and cum, that fuels my worship and feeds my soul. 

I’m not happy with how I must look right now. I feel fat. Never like being shirtless, but still I feel pretty good about myself; I’m tied up, I’m collared.

R doesn’t look at me, he stares ahead; he glances at me if he makes a comment about Sir’s work feeling good, I nod in agreement, he looked away pretty quickly.

Enjoy it, brother. Damn I want to bury my face in his crotch and make him moan. 

Sir saw me playing with myself. He stared a second longer than a glance. Should I stop? Am I breaking a rule? He didn’t tell me to stop, so until he does I’ll just avoid getting close. 

The harness is tied on R. One rope forms the chest piece, another wraps down around his torso, through his legs and up his back.

Beautiful work. Sir does such great work now, better every time, I’m so proud to see it and be his. 

“Go to your room, I want to do more on your bed,” Sir says to R. He complies, and Sir tells me to follow them.

Will he tie us together on the bed? Will he have me worship R again like last time? I want to be a part, but will wait for Sir.

I stand in the doorway as R turns on some porn in his room, laying on his back on the bed, Sir kneeling between his legs. Sir orders me to the other side of the bed where I can watch closer.

I’m ready however you want me, Sir. 

I watch as R lounges, quietly moaning as Sir begins to tie up his legs, looping the rope around and around with a little knot pulled tight each time.

I want to rub my hands all over them both, I want to make R fall into ecstasy as he feels the rope. It feels good, I want to make them feel more.

Stay at attention, don’t force yourself into it. Sir will tell you want to do when he’s ready. 

R plays with his and Sir’s cocks as he’s being tied. I see them both stiffen, Sir’s well endowed torpedo getting hard as R massages it with some lube.

Sir asks, I answer it looks great. He pulls me over to kiss him, and then I step back out of the way waiting for orders. The tie is done. R’s legs are splayed open, exposing his cock and hole as he lays on his back.

What’s happening now? 

More lube… 

Sir’s moving toward him. 

Sir’s going to fuck him. 

I’m standing here, watching, Sir is taking what he wants. This is Sir’s right. 

Sir glanced at me, does he want me closer? No, he was just checking on me. Okay. I watch. 

Sir’s going to fuck him. His cock is at the door. R says its okay. 

Sir is in. It was like it was no effort at all. 

R barely flinched. I always flinch. R has barely made a sound; I always grunt and scream and shout in ecstasy. Did R barely feel it? I always feel like I’m being impaled, and I love that, but it’s intense at first, and sometimes Sir has to go slower than he wishes he could.

Is R a better bottom? Yeah, probably. I should plug more, maybe permanently. I need to be a better bottom so Sir can just bend me over and slide right in like he can with R. 

Did Sir know whether R was cleaned out or not? Did he fuck him anyway? Does he not care?  He just slid right into him, no care, no thought to it. Maybe they already talked about it. He almost always cares with me; if I don’t prepare he defers. I’ve had one too many mistakes, he probably doesn’t—and shouldn’t—trust my ass to be clean? I should be sure to be clean every night, even those days—like this one—he tells me I don’t need to. I need to be a better boy, and I need to be fuckable at all times. 

Sir is fucking him. I’m… not involved. Not yet?  I’m not going to be involved here, am I? Well okay, I can watch, I can watch my Master fuck—I almost never get to see it from the outside. 

It goes on. Sir tells me to come closer to the bed, “Watch me fuck him.”

Surrender isn’t easy. It’s scary.  What happens to me after full surrender? What happens to me when I’m laid out completely bare and vulnerable; when I give up the last shred and breath of power to his will…

Watch me fuck him. 

My hands are clasped behind my back in a standard pose. I look down at their crotches.

It’s beautiful. Sir’s cock … in and out, so big, so long, so thick. Is this what it looks like when he fucks me? 

I don’t think I want to watch his cock this close. So I step back again.

What am I feeling? What is this? I’m a boy, I’m Sir’s boy, and he’s not using me. Okay, that’s okay. He doesn’t love R or like him more than me, I’m still his boy. He wants to fuck this boy and he should. I want him to. This is what we believe.

He’s fucking faster. Goddamn I do love watching him fuck. The way his ass and lower back gyrate, like a fluid wave, constant and deep. I can still see his cock sliding in and out in my mind, even though legs hide it now. 

He’s going to cum. 

And I’m not, at least not now. He likes that I’m watching. I like that he likes that I’m watching. I like that I’m watching, but what else? 

Am I jealous … no, not really. I mean maybe. But what am I jealous of? That I’m not getting fucked? That I’m not getting to participate. That I’m not as good a bottom or boy. That … 

I’m being selfish. Stop being selfish. Stop … 

Maybe Sir will fuck this boy and then jack me off as a reward for watching. 

That’s stupid, that’s selfish. Stop being selfish. 

I’m watching my Master fuck another, and my role is to stand here and watch. Not help. Not participate, but watch my Master fuck because he damn well wants to fuck. 

What am I feeling? What is happening? I’m high, that’s fucking with my self perception. Jesus I want to cum, I want to be having sex right now. But no, I need to feel the pleasure that my Master feels from this; I need Master to get exactly whatever he wants. 

I get to be here. Sir could have ordered me upstairs while he fucks R. He wants me to watch, he wants me to watch and not do anything else but watch. Instead I get to watch my Master experience pleasure. And if he’s getting any pleasure from me it’s from denying me. That’s hot, but it sucks a little bit too. 

He’s going to cum. 

He’s cumming. There’s that final thrust. 

He pulled out. Enough cum that his cock is covered in it. I just watched him fuck another boy, and all I could was watch. I feel a little helpless, a little sidelined. 

I’m happy, I’m happy I got to watch, I’m happy Sir fucked another boy with me watching and without me getting anything and without really caring whether I was or was not being physically gratified. I’m happy to be his boy, standing to the side waiting for orders if they should come, and if they don’t, then I watch and wait while Master pleases himself and pleases this boy. 

No Sir, I don’t really know what I’m feeling. That’s the truth. This was good, this was right, this was hot, this was something I’ve wanted—to be ready to serve while you take whatever you want, my own desires aside—and yet I don’t understand what just happened. I don’t know what I’m feeling.

I want to cum, can I cum? I cannot ask, Sir will say no, and besides, I’m supposed to stop asking to cum, I’m supposed to live in submission until Sir wants me to cum for some reason. No I won’t ask, I will simply wait.  This isn’t about me, nothing is about me anymore, I’ve surrendered all of that. My life is about Sir, and Sir has taken what he wanted and from me, he wanted me to watch. 

There, I can see it in his glance, Sir is done for the night. He’s happy and spent. Good. I will clean up the family room and join him in our bedroom. I will go to sleep. 

My mind continued to turn over what happened, what I was feeling, and I really just didn’t know. In my half-consciousness just before sleep, it dawns on me.

That was cuckolding.

# # #

This was the first time I’ve truly been cuckolded. I’ve seen Sir fuck others before, but every other time I was either sucking or being fucked nearby. This was the first time that my role was to simply and helplessly watch Sir get pleasure from another boy, and I was not to be involved other than giving them an audience. This was a new form of dominance and submission for me. This was entirely new.

Being cuckolded for the first time drums up myriad conflicting thoughts and feelings. I’m sorting through them. On the whole, this is good. This is what should happen as a boy in service. I want to give Master all my power, I want to surrender fully, and this was a big new step in that direction. My sincerely held beliefs in submission, hedonism, polyamory, all say “this was right” and I believe and feel that, truly.

So what is all the other stuff going on? For starters, I was feeling pangs of inadequacy. The usual stuff. The usual silly stuff. That Sir just slid right in seemingly without worrying about cleanliness (though maybe they talked about that… remember this was just what I was thinking at the time), and that R barely flinched whereas I can really be a screamer. Is this more of what Sir wants and needs, I wondered. Am I being all that Sir needs of me? I feel like I’m not a good boy when I can’t take him on demand.

Another conflict … I wanted to be a part of it—physically. I wanted to worship them both, to touch, to feel, to get hard and help them cum. My initial feelings were all about me, and what I wanted. I wanted to worship, I wanted suck their cock, I wanted to get hard, to be fucked. I wanted to be allowed to cum. I was part of it, but my role was not to cum. That was forbidden, if unstated. That was also selfish. I hate that when I read through my thoughts above, that it starts out all about me. My role was to stand there and surrender my desires in favor of Sir’s pleasure.

When Sir fucks me, I am usually left riding high and hard. I have a habit of asking if I can jack myself off to release that pressure. More and more, the answer is no, because his fucking me should be enough. And I know that, which is why I didn’t bother asking last night. Because I should be made complete by Sir’s pleasure—I must channel his pleasure as my own.  Sometimes I do; when he is fucking me and orgasms, I can feel that energy and it almost feels like I’m orgasming too. I love that, and need that, and at the end of the day, that’s all I really need.

Last night was the first time where I really experienced a sense of being where Master’s pleasure was enough. I was taken to new depths of submission, where I was truly nothing more than furniture or an audience. My new role in life—my submission—was laid out bare for me to watch: complete denial of myself.  This was the first time where my only pleasure was Master’s pleasure. Nothing was in my ass, my cock was not hard; all I could take from this situation was Master’s desire and right to fuck another and have me watch.

I’ll be accused of being jealous. It isn’t jealousy. The only jealousy is that I didn’t get to cum, or worship, or be fucked… but that’s not the emotion I’m actually trying to process, because the reality is, I want Master’s pleasure to be enough for me, I want to be that sort of boy, and so I give up that desire to his whims willingly and happily.

No, not jealousy. Surrender. That’s what I’m feeling. More than service, more than submission, not even subjugation. Surrender. Knees collapsed, head bowed, palms up, and given over. Surrender.

This feels like I’m pushing through a sticky, hard, organic membrane of thought and feeling and self. This is the first inkling, the first moment in this journey, where I’ve actually experienced surrender. It’s not comfortable. But it’s what I want as a boy. As Master’s boy. If he wants to cuckold me and have me watch, or to do nothing more than help him take what he wants and then go to bed, then so be it. This is my power and it’s the power I give to him. Surrender.

Surrender isn’t easy. It’s scary.  What happens to me after full surrender? What happens to me when I’m laid out completely bare and vulnerable; when I give up the last shred and breath of power to his will, when I no longer even think of myself as Rook but instead merely Master Kukris’ boy, his object, his thing, his slave and devoted servant. What happens then? What will he want from me or do with me when I’ve given up that final drop?

This was my first time being cuckolded. This was my first time experiencing what it means to surrender.  This was the first time that I saw what it will truly mean to become Sir’s boy—beyond adapting our vanilla past to a kinky present … a future, a new kind of relationship.

I’m still processing it. I still feel a bit raw about it but—and this is important—not in a bad way. It’s like having cast removed and flexing muscles for the first time. These are new feelings, new perspectives, that need to be understood and explored.

I think about the next time. Do I want this to happen again? Yes. More surrender, more denial, more of Him and His will. I want Him to be proud of his boy because his boy surrenders and enjoys Master’s pleasure no matter where it comes from. I want Master to be proud of me, because I surrender.

As this bubbles around in the back of my mind, occasionally I find myself smiling. Because I’m a little bit closer to what I can become. Because this is the life of a surrendered boy. I’m scared, but I’m excited. And I smile because Master smiled, because Master had a good time, and I smile because he allowed me to be there to experience it, and I smile because, whether he knew he was doing this or not, he has cracked open a door to whatever’s next.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *