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The living room was a shrine to Mike’s ruin. Tamika had turned it into a stage: ring lights blazing, three phone tripods live-streaming to her private “Cuck Cam” channel, a neon sign above the couch flashing “CUCKOLD IN PROGRESS”.

Mike knelt in the center, utterly humiliated and naked except for the gear. A micro-cage, so small his cockhead bulged through the slit like a trapped mushroom, had been on for 97 days. The spikes inside were dulled just enough to torment, not break skin. His wrists were cuffed to his ankles, elbows wrenched wide by a spreader bar. A pink dog bowl sat bolted to the floor, already half-full of his own pre-cum that Tamika had milked from him earlier with a wand on the cage. A glitter crown labeled “CUCK KING” sat crooked on his head. Across his chest in crimson lipstick: “JASON’S CUM DUMP”. On his ass, an arrow in Sharpie: “FREE HOLE”.

Tamika strutted in wearing only a diamond choker, six-inch stilettos, and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass. She carried a riding crop and the chastity key on a chain between her heavy, swaying tits.

“Look at this pathetic little-dick loser,” she sneered to the cameras, voice dripping venom. “Three months locked and he’s already drooling like a bitch in heat. Say hi to the girls, Mikey.”

She yanked the ball-gag from his mouth. Mike’s voice cracked. “H-hi, ladies…” This was never supposed to be for other people to know about, but one thing led to another and now the whole world knew Mike liked for his wife to fuck other guys, Jason in particular. At the same time, he was horniest when she was fucking him.

Tamika slapped his face. “Louder, cuck. Tell them what you are.”

“I’m… I’m your worthless cuckold bitch, Mistress Tamika.”

The chat exploded: “Make him bark like a dog!”

Tamika snapped her fingers. “Bark, you spineless worm.”

Mike barked, wet, desperate woof-woof-woofs that made his crown wobble. Tamika laughed, cruel and bright. “Pathetic. That’s what happens when you marry someone whose dick can’t get hard to satisfy his woman.”

Jason kicked the door open, shirtless, sweatpants slung low, nine thick inches already tenting the fabric. He took one look at Mike and snorted. Tamika handed Jason the crop. “Warm up my husband’s sorry ass, baby. He’s been a naughty little cheater.”

Jason cracked the crop across Mike’s cheeks, leaving a red welt. Mike yelped. He hated that Tamika gave him power over him. He only wanted to watch them fuck, not be humiliated by him, but he secretly started liking it more and more.

Tamika leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “Thank him, you sniveling cum-rag.”

“Th-thank you, sir, for whipping your cum dump…”

CRACK! Another stripe. “Louder, cuck. Let the stream hear how grateful you are to be Tamika and Jason’s bitch.” Mike’s voice broke. “Thank you, sir! For whipping your worthless cum dump!”

Tamika narrated for the chat: “See this? This is what happens when you encourage your goddess to fuck another man. Now he’s locked, marked, and begging to watch a real man stretch his wife.”

She bent over the couch—ass high, pussy already dripping. “Ruin me, Jason. Show this soft dick loser what a real cock does to a married cunt.”

Jason slammed in to the root. Tamika’s scream was feral. Her tits bounced free, nipples like bullets. Juices frothed around his shaft, splattering Mike’s face inches away.

Tamika locked eyes with her husband, makeup running. “Look at it, Mike. Look how deep he is. If I ever let you fuck me again, I won’t even feel

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