Slave In My Own Home Ch. 01

After fifteen years of marriage, I knew that some of the spark was gone between us even if I still loved her and thought the sex was pretty good, if infrequent. Claire and I were on opposite and overlapping work schedules with different days off and we probably didn't see enough of one another to qualify as more than roommates nowadays.

Seeing as things were not perfect, I suppose I should have been suspicious when Claire suggested that since neither of us had much time between work and sleep to tend to the house, we should consider hiring someone. We had just made love for the first time in nearly a month and I was almost asleep when she mentioned it. I told her that I didn't think we had enough to keep anyone busy full-time but it might be good work for a student. This was what she had in mind all along and I had been manipulated into agreeing, though I did not realize it at the time. I said that we could place an ad for a college or high school student to cut the lawn, rake the leaves, weed the gardens, trim the hedges, shovel the driveway, and all of the other things we needed to do and had to struggle to find the time for. She seemed to agree and then suggested (with what I later realized was a pretended spontaneity) that we ought to ask Matthew if he was interested.

Matthew was my nephew, or rather I should say, since there is no actual blood tie to me, the son of my brother's wife by an earlier marriage. He was nineteen, a lanky youth with longish brown hair and brown eyes. He was lean and fit though I wouldn't call him athletic really. Handsome in his own way I suppose. I assumed that Claire had thought of him for the job because he had done some house-sitting last fall for us while we were away on holiday. To tell the truth, we didn't know him that well, only having had him take care of the house at my brother's suggestion when I told him that we were looking for someone. I later realized that she had been considering him for some special work for quite some time. But at the time it seemed a good idea. We had just made love and I was feeling very agreeable to her whims.

Now, I should say that the shift I work takes its toll on the body. To get to work for three in the afternoon, I have to leave home before two. Then I work eight hours until eleven at night. By the time I get home it is after midnight, but as Claire is usually asleep and the prospect of sex is minimal, I usually don't go to bed right away. I tend to watch a movie, read, play around on the computer and internet and generally unwind until I am ready for sleep. A bit of a night owl, this is my "personal" time. Often it is four or five in the morning before I can get to sleep and it is noon before I wake up. This is one of the reasons that I find it difficult to get around to working in the yard through my work week and Claire's suggestion to hire a student would keep me from having to spend my weekend on chores. I actually thought she was doing me a favour.

I called my brother the next day and asked him if he thought Matthew would be interested in chores for cash at our house. He said he would have Matt call us back when he got home from classes. He did call back later in the day and even after I told him how little we could pay him at hourly rate he still expressed a real interest, saying that he would like to come over and see exactly what he would be responsible for. I was on my way out to work when he called, but it was Claire's day off. I told him to come on over and she would show him what she needed done. In hindsight, that was terribly stupid of me. Anyway, he agreed, and I mentioned it to Claire as I was leaving for work. Her face lit with delight, I assumed because she was pleased that I had made the arrangements so promptly and that was probably true since I had no idea what it was that I had actually arranged for her. She kissed me goodbye and I was off to work.

I was working a swing shift, starting at three in the afternoon, so it was close to midnight when I got home. I was surprised that the lights in the house were still on as Claire tended to go to bed earlier as she was an early riser for her day shifts. She was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, wearing her housecoat and smelling fresh from the shower. It was odd that she was up, stranger that she had just showered as she was a morning bather normally. She smiled up at me prettily and asked how my day was and I told her it was fine. I also told her how beautiful she was to come home to and she actually blushed a little. I suppose I was hoping that since she was still awake that there was a chance of repeating our performance of the night before. Sure enough, a few minutes later we made love. Lying back, satisfied, and drifting off to sleep, I remembered to ask Claire how it went showing Matthew what needed to be done. Fully awake, eyes wide open, she smiled at me and said that he was going to work out just fine. I said that was good and drifted off to sleep without having given any rational thought to her unusual behaviour, only grateful for the sex I had just enjoyed for the second night in a row. I would have felt differently indeed if I had realized that it would be the very last time we would have sex together, at least in such a way in which one would truly call it "making love".

From the very next day, Matthew began coming over in the early or mid-afternoon as his lecture and tutorial schedule permitted. He would start right away, weeding the driveway and sidewalk, or cutting the grass, or even washing the car. I could not fault the results of his work, though as weeks passed I began to notice something odd. He would start working before I left some days, but very often seemed not to have made any progress while I was away. I mentioned it to Claire one day but she was dismissive of it. That was strange I thought, because it was painfully obvious to me that I was right to wonder what he got up to when we were away, or rather when I was away, because Claire gets home from work normally very soon after I leave for my job.

Finally, the first seed of suspicion was sown. And my home was fertile ground for suspicion to thrive. It occurred to me that Claire was taking great care of herself just lately, better than she ever had. She was spending a small fortune on sexy new clothes, manicures, pedicures, hairstyling. I rarely saw Claire and Matt together except briefly on my days off when Claire would usually try to send me out on some errand or other or suggest that I spend some time with this friend or that. I realized at last that she was trying to get me out of the house, just as I began to realize that Matthew favoured me with superior smiles and smug comments that could easily be given double meanings. His gratitude on pay days was way too cheerful for what I was paying him, as if he thought it was funny that he wasn't paying me for what he was taking from me instead.

A month went by. By this time, if small hints and clues were bricks, I could have built a neighbourhood. I was sure that Matt and Claire were having an affair. It remained only to prove it. And I didn't want to prove it. As horrible as the thought of being a cuckold was, I didn't want to lose Claire entirely and I would really lose her when I knew for certain that she had betrayed me with my own brother's stepson, not to mention the strain it would put in place between my brother and me, my brother and his wife. It was a mess. But I had to know.

Eventually, I formed a simple plan. I would book a day off from work without telling Claire, dress for work and leave as usual, wait a while and return to see what was going on at home when Claire and Matt thought I was at work. I made all of the arrangements.

The day came and I followed the plan. It was Claire's day off and she was dressed casually but provocatively in a low-cut top and tight jeans. She smelled as divine as she looked and ever since I got up she had seemed fidgety as she waited to see me out the door and off to work. I went out to the car at the usual time and Matthew was working nearby, trimming the hedge. "Don't worry," he said with a smug smile, "I'll take care of everything here." He probably thought he was pretty clever.

"I'm sure you will," I said as casually as I could.

I left precisely on time as if going to work. Since I actually had the day off though, I stopped at the bar for a beer. I only had one because if something was happening at home, it seemed to me that it couldn't happen too soon for Claire. She couldn't get me out of the house fast enough after all. So just one drink. I would drive home sober and soon, hopefully catching them in the act. And then what would I do, I asked myself. I wasn't planning a murder, I didn't want to divorce her. I had been thinking about my feelings over the past month as my suspicions grew. I knew that I was a pretty open-minded sort of guy. I could forgive Claire for wanting more, to want to try things with someone new, but she didn't need to sneak around. I could have gone for the open marriage concept and would have had I ever suspected she was up for it. So maybe that was it. I just felt left out. I shrugged to myself. I would confront her and we would talk about it. I wasn't set to do anything crazy.

I had been gone barely half an hour when I pulled up in front of the house. Another hedge prevented the car from being seen from the house, so I knew I could probably sneak right up to the house unobserved if they were busy in the bedroom. I didn't want to look too sneaky though in case I walked in on a completely innocent situation. The front door was locked as I expected it would be. I fitted my key to the lock, turned it quietly and entered the house stealthily. Through the kitchen to the hallway and immediately I knew that I had my proof.

Sounds were emanating from the bedroom. Masculine grunts and feminine moans drifted into the hallway where I was standing now right outside the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and after at least two minutes of listening to the sounds of lovemaking, I found the courage to push it slightly further open so I could see the action inside. Turned out that the view from there was perfect.

There on the bed was my wife completely naked under Matthew as he fucked her missionary style. I could see her face and it was obvious to me just how much she was enjoying this. My God, her eyes were rolling back in her head.

I stood there as if in a dream, knowing it was all really happening and yet not fully believing it. My wife was fucking another man in our own bed and enjoying it intensely. A far stranger realization dawned on me and I was a little disgusted to find that I was not angry with Claire nor Matthew near so much as I was actually aroused by the scene before me. Aroused! My cock was hard as a lead pipe. I was turned on beyond words to watch my wife fucking this boy and enjoying it more than she did fucking me these past several years. Her pleasure in this case should have infuriated and frustrated me–somewhere deep inside I think it did to some small degree–but instead it was giving me pleasure. I couldn't tear myself away from the scene.

Matthew and Claire were sweating from their exertions and so was I from watching them and restraining myself from taking any action. But what action was I going to take? I almost despaired of my sanity when I realized what I was about to do. Was I going to charge in there and declare their obvious guilt? Beat the boy to a pulp? Beat her? No. My hands were already unbuckling my belt and unzipping my fly, reaching inside to assist my cock with release of the irresistible pressure that was building up inside me. I began stroking myself as I stared into my own bedroom and watched my wife getting fucked by a man half her age. I watched Matt's ass rise and fall faster and faster as he prodded my wife's cunt artlessly and desperately until they were both on the edge of orgasm. My own stroking matched their fucking and as they bucked through powerful simultaneous orgasms, I was sure I was about to erupt as well, and no doubt I would have had not fate intervened. The awkwardness of my voyeuristic pose was my undoing. I was leaning a shoulder against the wall outside the door with my whole body weight as I jerked myself closer and closer to cumming and just as my body was wracked with the first convulsions that would have ended in ejaculation, somehow I lost my balance and pitched forward through the bedroom door.

There I was on my own bedroom floor, fully erect cock out, pants jerked down about my ankles by the force of my fall. Hardly the authoritative entrance I had envisioned for this confrontation.

In contrast to my clumsiness, Matthew, barely finished cumming himself, jumped up and out of my wife, landing on his feet facing me, obviously startled but in full control of himself. Claire had cried out at the clamour I had made and from under the sheet she pulled up to cover herself was now staring at my prone self, prostrate on the floor before them.

As soon as Matthew realized who I was and guessed at what I had been doing at the bedroom door, he laughed with contempt. His magnificent cock was still at full mast, wet from my wife's pussy juices, while my own cock was shrivelling from humiliation into a tiny little knot a fraction its usual size.

"Well, Uncle Brian," Matt said with real amusement. "Enjoying the show are we? Learning anything new?"

I couldn't believe that I was the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes downcast, trying desperately to cover my nakedness with my shirt while this brat gloated in total confidence.

I tried to ignore him and looked at Claire. "Claire..." I began. What would I say? How could she? How could I have watched and gotten off on it? My mind was whirling and I was at a loss.

Her face had gone hard and cold, her initial shock turning to disgust with me, my actions and now my inaction. "You little worm," she said.

"He does have a little worm, doesn't he?" Matthew laughed. His own cock was still standing up straight while mine continued to try to burrow into my body for cover. "Well, I guess now you know so we may as well tell you our news." He looked to Claire for support and she nodded to him as if any doubts about whatever announcement they had to make were completely evaporated by my foolishness.

Matt crouched down beside me, absolutely confident in his nakedness in my bedroom. What was wrong with me that he wasn't even slightly intimidated about my having found out he had abused my trust and insulted me grievously at the most primal level by making me a cuckold in my own house?

"Seems you haven't been doing the job for Auntie Claire here, Bri," he began with a casual familiarity. "Not really giving her much attention and not much of the high hard one either." He paused to laugh. "If it can get high and hard that is. Anyway, you can't blame her for wanting someone who can take care of her needs, can you?" I knew that our conflicting schedules had been as hard for Claire to endure as it had been for me and I found myself agreeing that I couldn't blame her for wanting her needs fulfilled. Bizarrely, I found myself nodding my agreement. What was wrong with me?

Matt continued. "To make a long story short, that someone is me now. I'm her new old man, Bri. Now you can either like it or lump it. In fact, I'm moving in here, into this very room."

My jaw dropped. Lots of guys at work had found their spouses cheating and been through separations and divorces and they had some real horror stories. It was starting to sound like my story would top them.

"Now don't go getting the wrong idea. You can stay. In the guest room down the hall. But there are some conditions."

Conditions? Matthew, the snot-nose little puke half my age who has just fucked my wife in my bed is offering me conditions by which I may continue to live in my own house while he continues to screw Claire? What the fuck?

My anger must have shown on my face at last. Matt scowled and stood up again, looking down at me, forcing me to look up at him and that hard pussy-polished shiny-wet cock that wouldn't quit. "Now Uncle Brian," he said sternly, "this is the way it is going to be. There's a new pecking order around here. I am number one here now and you are number two and if you get your head around that you can stay. You can stay as long as you do what we tell you. Everything we tell you, exactly as we tell you, when we tell you and don't do anything we tell you not to. Including touching your wife without my permission. Obey and you will get your rewards. Don't obey and you're out. That's about it. Is it clear?"

I looked at Claire but she was looking at Matthew with desire. She was turned on with the way he was dictating to me. We would see how that would change when I got up and knocked his block off. I started to rise to do just that, but I quickly realized that I couldn't get up... right now. I didn't dare.

Matthew smiled and I knew he knew. "Oh, you want to start something do you? But what?" He reached down and grabbed me by the arm, pulled me to my feet and pushed me against the door and I was like putty in his hands. I stood there with my eyes down, pants around my ankles, my hands in front of my cock. "Move your hands so we can see, Bri."

I didn't move.

"Do it," he shouted and impossibly I obeyed instantly to my horror and humiliation. Claire gasped and Matt laughed out loud again.

"You like to be told what to do, Bri? Just a word from me about how your home life has just changed and your shrivelled-up little baby carrot cock is a full-size hard-on. And that's just at the thought of another man taking over your territory. Guess we know what turns you on." I was so ashamed and embarrassed. It had all gone horribly wrong.

"Watch this, Claire," Matthew said. "Listen closely, Brian, and look at me when I talk to you." Somehow I did. "You're our slave now to do with whatever we please, not because you would be embarrassed if word of this little episode got out, that your little nephew took your woman from you, not because you would never be able to face my step-dad–your brother–again, not even because it is the only way you can maintain the appearance of your marriage.... but you'll be our slave because you like to be a slave." Claire was watching as he told her to and she saw that as he told me I would be their slave that my cock twitched in its arousal. She discovered then at the same moment as I did that I was completely sexually submissive, that I was not even man enough to chafe against the new order in my own house and that even the idea of being their slave was turning me on more than almost anything in my life ever had.

Claire was turned on too at the idea of having achieved utter dominance over her former equal. Her new partner was the only real man in her life now. I was just to be a plaything now, completely unmanned.

And God help me, I liked it.

"Do you agree to stay on here on our terms, Brian?" Matthew asked.

I did the only thing it should never have crossed my mind to do. I nodded my agreement. They were pleased.

"Good," Matt said. "Are you ready to receive your orders?"

I said I was.

"Not good enough," Matt said. "From now on, you can call me Master. Over there is Mistress."

"Yes, Master," I said, eyes down, watching my cock twitching in its pleasurable betrayal of my dignity. I nodded to Claire and acknowledged her "Mistress". I was amazed to see that she had uncovered herself and was playing with herself openly. I had never seen her do that in all our married life and by God it excited me to think that somehow I was exciting her so much in my submission. I wondered what would happen next.

"Good," Matt said. "Strip."

I undressed quickly for my master and my mistress. I stood naked and exposed to the gaze of my new owners, but somehow there was more dignity in total nudity than there had been standing there with my pants around my feet trying to hide my erection.