Selfless Cunt

He kissed down and down, between her legs, placing them over his shoulders and beginning to use that incredible tongue of his. I could imagine what he was doing to her. He had done it enough times to me. He would nibble the lips, dip his tongue deep inside and then draw it up, teasing, never quite touching the clit. He'd go around and down again, and again and drive you crazy and when you were desperate he'd assault you with the hardened point of it right on your clit and it would be so divine and send zinging pleasure throughout every nerve. I could see him doing it now, her back arching, her fingers pulling at his scalp, her lips begging for more, for release and his endless teasing driving her to the edge of madness. Then she came, all over my husband's face. He looked up, directly into her eyes, and a stab of jealousy and fear went through me. I knew that look of utter devotion and I'd never seen it directed elsewhere until now. I felt lost.

Liz did not. She pushed him back, straddled him, and took him in her cunt in one smooth motion. The whore was so dexterous and nimble, she moved with such grace, unlike my lumbering attempts at meeting his thrusts. She rode him like a seasoned horsewoman and I could see his pleasure building. With me he could last for hours, but it looked like she could bring him off in minutes. I could see him fighting it, but he was losing. He was so close when she stopped and got off of him, only to finish off revealing my sexual failures by taking him all the way into her mouth and her throat, something I'd never been able to do.

He convulsed on the sofa, cumming deep into her mouth. They stared into each other's eyes, lost in their mutual physicality. My finger, diddling my clit, brought me to my own pathetic climax as I watched the intimacy between them. I felt empty and cold, but it felt right. They were beautiful together. I was thankful to have been given the chance to see what sex should be like.

---

That night in bed I kissed and caressed and praised my husband.

"Thank you so much, I needed that so much. You are the best husband ever."

I told him how I'd masturbated to them fucking, how it had made me so horny, that I wanted them to do it again, whenever they wanted. When he got hard I sucked him off and he came quickly, no doubt at the thought of being able to fuck Liz again. When he tried to return the favour, I refused, saying I was sensitive from earlier.

It was a lie. I was desperately horny. My small orgasm had done nothing to assuage the arousal I'd felt at watching my husband fuck Liz. But I had been given so many orgasms by Derek, it felt like I owed him the chance to catch up. I would go without, while he and Liz would fuck whenever they wanted.

The next day I was desperately horny at work. I kept catching myself rubbing up against furniture legs, the corners of desks and other protruding objects. Half way through the afternoon, I couldn't take it any more. I went to the toilets and messaged Derek to ask when he was going to see Liz again. He said he wasn't sure. Pulling down my panties and snapping a picture of my soaked cunt I told him to invite her to dinner tonight. He did and she agreed.

It was so hard not masturbating before going home, but I felt it was rude to cum before them. I had decided that while my husband was unlikely to ever be able to catch up with all the times he'd made me cum, I could at least slow down to his rate. No cumming until he did was my new rule. Derek first. As it should be.

I cooked dinner again for them, having dropped by the supermarket on the way home for some tender steak. I set the table for two and, when they arrived, explained I'd eaten before. I hadn't, I was too horny to eat. Instead I served them. I watched like a hawk, keeping out of the way until they needed something. At first they were slightly awkward, but soon the flirtation came back to their conversation and they were fucking each other with their eyes. Dirty talk followed and before the end of the meal, Derek had Liz bent over the table and was fucking her from behind. They ended up eating the remains of dinner off of each other while I knelt in the corner and diddled myself. Despite my desperate arousal I'd managed to hold off of cumming, but it was making my mind act in funny ways. As Liz collected her things to leave she came to say an awkward goodbye to me. Instead of getting up and taking her hand or embracing her, I remained kneeling and kissed her shoe, thanking her for everything. She hesitated, but just said "ok," before turning to give my husband a deep, sensual kiss.

That night he tried to fuck me, but I didn't let him. Instead I told him how hot he looked taking Liz on the dining table, told him how hot I thought she looked and that I couldn't wait for them to fuck again. For the second time I tasted her sweet secretions on him as I sucked him off, juices dribbling down my quivering legs. I needed release, but I didn't deserve it from him.

Liz came over every night that week and I'd cook a meal for two. Sometimes I'd eat before, sometimes I'd eat the left overs, mostly I wouldn't eat at all. I became addicted to watching my husband fuck Liz and it was all I lived for. When she left I'd thank her for coming and kiss her shoes. It became a bit of a ritual.

She ended up staying over night on Friday, the night when we'd usually have marathon sex sessions. Instead she benefited from Derek's delicious cock for hours on end. I slept on the sofa, listening to their moans. I hadn't cum since Monday despite the constant stimulation of sex all around and I had reached a zen-like state of arousal. Everything I did was tinged by sexual overtones. I was cleaning the house to make it nice for Liz to fuck my husband, I was buying food to feed Liz and Derek before they mounted each other. Work paid for that food and the cleaning materials and the little touches that made their lives better and more sensual. That night I humped the cushions of the sofa without finding release, staining them with my juices which I licked up, in my fevered mind imagining I was cleaning for them still.

I revelled in how pathetic I was, giving my husband to another woman to fuck and love and have as a companion.

Saturday morning I walked in to my bedroom. They lay blissfully asleep, my husband's arm protectively surrounding Liz, cupping her breast as he spooned her. The sheets were in disarray, clothes all over the floor and without thinking I started to clean up. I gathered clothes of all sorts, caressing Liz's lacy underwear and bringing them to my nose. I inhaled her scent. This is what my husband desired, this woman's cunt. I licked at the dried secretions, somewhat familiar from my husband's cock. I felt a strong desire to climb under the covers and taste her on his cock again, but I knew my repulsive body would be offensive to them. Instead I contented myself by stuffing my mouth with her underwear and letting her flavour soak in to my mouth.

I took their clothes to the wash and began to prepare breakfast. A few minutes later a bleary eyed and naked Liz stumbled in, making an effort to cover her private areas.

"Um, I should go," she yawned, "I don't want to overstay my welcome. Do you know what happened to my clothes?"

I smiled at her over my shoulder as I scrambled eggs.

"Don't go, I've just put your things in the wash. You're not overstaying your welcome at all. Please, sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

A bemused looking Liz lowered herself into a seat and cleared her throat.

"Did you check the..."

"Don't worry, I did a light wash on thirty, I promise not to shrink your underwear."

"Are you sure it's ok for me to be here? I don't want to impose."

"Honestly, it's fine." I started serving bacon, eggs and toast on to her plate. "I like you being here and so does Derek, believe me."

"You do?"

"Derek is so happy since he started fucking you. I've never seen him so horny, or happy."

A blush went through Liz's cheeks.

"Well I'm sure when you first got together he was as vigorous."

"No, honestly you are so much hotter than me, you turn him on so much," I said, kneeling down beside her chair and biting back the tears. "He really wants you and I can't deny him anything!" I looked up at her perfect face, gorgeous even without make-up, and my ugly face crumpled. "He needs someone worthy of him."

Liz reached down and stroked my face.

"Is it because you are fat?" she asked.

The words stabbed me through the heart and stomach all the way to my pussy. I nodded, tears starting to well up. She wiped them away kindly.

"Is it because you're an ugly wale?"

Again I nodded, the truth of her words hurting so deep inside that my entire being ached with them.

"Is that what you want me to say? Like in school?"

I nodded.

"I thought so," she said pensively.

She ate in silence while I knelt and studied her elegant naked movements. She was so confident in her body. Even bare in the kitchen of the wife of someone she was cheating with, she didn't seem to care about her body being on display. Or maybe she considered me beneath caring, like an animal, a pet. I shivered at the thought.

"You're perfect," I said in awe, and bent to kiss her naked feet.

"What is it with you and my feet?" she asked suddenly. I jerked back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it's just you're so much better than me and I wanted to thank you for giving my husband the pleasure he deserves."

"Then thank me properly," she said, lifting her foot to my face and pointing her toes to me. It took me a moment to realise what she meant, especially as I was distracted by the sight of her well fucked cunt leaking my husband's semen as it was spread by the movement of her leg. I did get it though when she prodded my lips with her toes and I opened them to accept her inside.

"Thank you" I mumbled around a mouthful of dainty digits. I licked at them, tasting the grime of the floor and the sweat of the previous day's and night's activities. I took her foot in my hands so she could relax her leg muscles and I laved the whole surface of it, top and bottom with my tongue before taking each digit in my mouth and sucking them like little cocks. I bobbed my head, imagining it was Derek I was pleasuring and felt my fresh underwear beginning to get soaked. I stroked her silky legs as I pleasured her foot, feeling the softness and suppleness of her skin and the complete absence of cellulite. I was so jealous. That was how Derek found me.

"What's going on here?" he asked, a note of concern creeping in to his voice.

"I think your wife has a foot fetish," said Liz, offhandedly, as I continued to suck on her toes.

I stood, the words registering in my mind, causing my face to flush.

"I'm sorry, love," I said, "I'm so sorry, let me get your breakfast."

I hurried to serve my husband and then, unsure what else to do, knelt beside the table and stared at their feet.

"Well why don't you worship your husband's feet as well?" demanded Liz. I jumped at the tone in her voice. More of a command than anything else. I heard Derek opening his mouth and drawing breath to object but I hurried forward to obey on my hands and knees, silencing his concerns.

As I kissed and licked and sucked at his feet beneath the table I could see his cock rising. My juices flowed down my legs, already overwhelming the fabric of my underwear, as I saw how I was giving him pleasure. My husband who had worshipped me the entire time I had known him. Now I could worship him properly without selfish thoughts of my own pleasure. The only pleasure was for Liz and Derek.

I felt Liz's foot between my legs, her toes prodding my sodden underwear.

"Someone's enjoying being a good little foot licker." I could hear the smirk in her voice and Derek laughed. I cringed inside. How pathetic was I? Her other foot came over my shoulder. She rested her leg there as she played with his cock using her toes. I could see him humping her foot, as I was beginning to. Suddenly he pulled his foot from my mouth, stood and strode around the table to kiss Liz loudly. Then she was up and off and they were at it.

I emerged from below, in time to see her legs wrapped around him and his carrying them both back to the bedroom. My dress was starting to get clammy from the sweat I'd worked up while pleasuring their feet and from my leaking secretions running down the inside. I tidied up, washed the dishes, ate a few of the remaining scraps left from their plates and went to change again.

In the end I decided I should not wear anything. I was only going to soil it by being a sweaty pig or by creaming my underwear. My vagina was a constantly leaking faucet at this point and their cries and grunts of pleasure were not helping matters. I had a shower and went to watch, kneeling just inside the doorway.

I watched in awe as my husband hunched over her, nibbling at her flesh while she writhed beneath him. She came on his face and then he rolled her over, pulling her up on her knees and fucking her doggy style. She turned her head and saw me watching.

"Look at the flat-chested whale-pig," she sneered.

My husband slowed his movements. "Hey," he said, annoyed, and I could see that things were about to be ruined.

"No!" I said, drawing his attention, "no, I like it, I want it. Call me that, please?"

"I can't," his eyes went soft and sweet and full of the love which I'd grown accustomed to over the years. "I can't say such horrible things about you, you are beautiful to me."

"No, no I'm not, please. Please say it!" I crawled to the edge of the bed. "Please tell me I'm flat chested."

"But..."

"Please!" I was fierce. Fiercer than I had ever been with anyone ever. I needed to hear him say it, know he understood I could take the truth. "Please tell me what I really am." I kissed his fingers still grasping the flesh of her rump. "I know I'm ugly, I know I'm fat. I want you to get what you deserve. Show me you understand."

"Ok, you're a little chubby, but..."

"No, I'm fat! Fat and ugly. Say it!"

"I can't."

"Say it, please, I need it, I need you to say it, please. I'm fat and ugly!"

He stroked my chubby cheek, his eyes looked so sad that I wanted to melt, but I held firm.

"Say it."

"You're fat." Dear god, the pain. My husband felt I was fat. I knew I was, but hearing him say it... I recoiled a little but pulled myself up again, forcing myself to look into his face.

"And the rest?"

He swallowed. "You're ugly."

My heart stopped with the crushing truth of my husband's words. I griped his leg tight.

"Tell me again."

"You're fat and ugly," he almost whispered.

"Louder!"

"You're fat and ugly."

"Fuck her and tell me why you are fucking her."

He started pounding Liz's pussy and she yelped with surprise at the force.

"YOU'RE FUCKING FAT AND FUCKING UGLY," he shouted, grabbing me by the throat and throwing my face into the bed by her leg. He started slapping my face as he fucked Liz.

"Melissa, you're a fat fucking pig and I can't believe I've spent so much of my life fucking your worthless fat hide. You have no fucking tits and your cunt stinks like a fucking skunk. I'm ashamed to be seen with you in public and your dress sense is so fucking ugly. I've fantasised about cheating on you every time we've had sex from the beginning. You are a worthless fucking piece of shit and I wish I'd never met you."

I could hear Liz laughing at his words, I could feel my insides solidifying with fear. Had I lost my husband completely? Had it all been a lie? I guess it must have been, how could anyone ever have wanted to be with my fat, ugly arse?

I took his slaps to my tear-stained face as they got harder and harder. I lay there and took it because that's what I deserved. I'd somehow tricked this wonderful man into a marriage with someone he hated and I deserved everything he threw at me.

Liz started hurling her familiar insults at me as well.

"I always said she was a worthless whale-pig," she crowed, her golden hair tossing as her body undulated under my husband's fucking.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," I wailed as Derek abandoned his assault on me to focus on using Liz's cunt.

"Come over here, worthless shit," came Liz's harsh words. I crawled around to the side of the bed she faced, leaving a trail of tears in my wake. She reached out and grabbed my hair, pulling me forwards painfully and spitting into my face.

"You are nothing, you have nothing, you're going to give everything to Derek," she panted between moans of pleasure. "I'm going to move in and we're going to have beautiful children. You might," she gasped from a particularly powerful thrust, Derek clearly excited by the idea of impregnating her, "you might be allowed to stay on as an unpaid maid."

Liz's eyes closed as waves of pleasure shuddered through her body. Her grip tightened on my hair urging a new pain-inspired wave of tears from me. Her grip didn't loosen until she came down which took a couple of minutes of agony. When she did she grinned at me.

"I think we can find a space for you on the kitchen floor to sleep."

"Thank you," I whispered, truly grateful that I would not be thrown out on to the street.

She slapped my sore face and twisted my hair. "I can't hear you!"

"Thank you so much for your incredible kindness, I don't deserve it, I don't deserve anything. Thank you for taking my husband," I wailed.

"You'd better keep working, too, I want a whole new wardrobe, and I think we can fit a Jacuzzi in the bathroom if we re-arrange things."

"That is a great idea," said Derek, pulling Liz up into an embrace and a kiss. Liz dropped my hair to enjoy his attention and I watched with deep envy and despair as his hands that had once caressed my body slipped over her delicious, perfect curves. I ached to feel that again, but knew I was unworthy.

Released of her grip, my head dropped to the mattress. They continued fucking and it didn't take long for one of them to kick me in the face to remove me from the bed. I lay curled up on the floor, paralysed by fear, of what I was losing, what I was willing to lose because I hated myself so much. What I was willing to lose because it gave me a sick, perverted sexual pleasure to be dominated in this way, in a way which I found myself to crave more than anything I ever had before.

I lay there, listening to them fuck, and masturbated to the idea of being nothing for the rest of my life. I came and came and came.

---

Signing over my rights to the house and everything else to Derek in the divorce and then my right of attorney to Liz ended up being simpler than you'd have thought. It got some weird looks, and they separated me into another room for the signing just to make sure that I wasn't being coerced, but the real manipulation wasn't external, it came from inside myself.

And just like that I had no power over my life, no belongings. If anything I was now a belonging, an item to be used and abandoned at an owner's whim. Changes came thick and fast. Out went my wardrobe except for the bare minimum clothes I'd need for my admin job. In came Liz's, a wide array of pricey designer items in elegant styles. Out went most of my beauty products except for some essentials. "After all," Liz had said, "I don't want you contaminating any of my things." They bought, with my money of course, a new fold up camping bed that I'd use to sleep in the kitchen, and then went and spent the entirety of my meagre personal savings on a new TV. I was there to carry it for them, and did the honours of putting in my pin to complete the purchase. It was no doubt a thing of beauty to watch, but along with the rest of the new house rules, came one that prevented me from setting foot in any room other than the kitchen or utility room except to perform an expressly specified service such as vacuuming, dusting, tidying, or some other menial task. I was to avert my eyes from them at all times, have dinner ready and hot when they got home, whenever that was, and have the house spotless at all times. I would wear nothing around the house except an old sheet with a hole cut in the middle for my head and tied around the waist with an old bit of rope to avoid unnecessary clothes, expenditure on detergent or wear and tear of the washing machine. My person was disgusting to them, they made this clear, so I was to stay out of their presence as much as possible, only to clean when they were not in the room, and if it was not possible to avoid them, apologise for sullying them with my presence.