Cruel Miss Karin

To be honest, I was amazed when Karin agreed to marry me. I was pretty amazed that she had even agreed to go out with me, or that I'd had the nerve to ask her. She was, as they say, out of my league. Originally from Germany, with a British father and a German mother, she had lived in England since her teens, attending school here before studying psychology at a prestigious university, staying on to complete a Master's degree.

After that, she took various jobs which didn't really interest her whilst training to be a psychotherapist. By the time I met her she was 30 years old and had begun to establish a successful private counselling practice in London. She specialized in proving therapy to high-achieving individuals, mostly male but sometimes female, and as these were also typically of high net worth her practice was lucrative as well as successful.

I was five years her senior, and also starting to establish a practice, in my case as a barrister specializing in employment law. We were introduced by a mutual friend at some after-work drinks do, and I was immediately taken by her. Tall and slim, with fair, shoulder-length hair framing her heart-shaped face, her most striking feature was her flashing green eyes, which, behind her dark-rimmed spectacles, sparkled with intelligence and amusement.

That first time, she had come straight from work and was wearing a smartly tailored long grey skirt and white blouse. There was nothing in any way revealing about it, although I thought I could just glimpse the outline of a black bra under the silk of her blouse, but I found it impossible not to be aware of the contours of her body or, more precisely, of a kind of sexual aura that surrounded her. Her English, whilst almost flawless, had a slight central European intonation that I also found appealing.

Anyway, towards the end of the evening, I did ask her out, and she said yes, and before long we were seeing each other regularly. Soon we were sleeping together and, for me, it was indescribable. I just couldn't get enough of her. I was besotted with her. It wasn't just her body, it was ... well, how do you describe falling in love? And of course we talked, telling each other our life stories and our dreams for the future. I spoke of my previous relationships with women, and why they had not worked out. She said little of her past boyfriends, though there had, unsurprisingly, been several, but it seemed that none had lasted very long and some she described as 'typical bastards', so it seemed I had little to live up to.

She didn't agree to marry me the first time I asked, but I was willing to wait and, a few months later, she said yes. It was the happiest day of my life, followed by a sublime honeymoon in Lisbon. After that, we settled down to what was to be our normal married life. Neither of us wanted children for now, as Karin was still building her psychotherapy practice and I my legal practice. But we found plenty of time for each other, and, even after two years, the sexual aura around her was as strong as ever. Even in her habitual leisure wear of jeans and tee-shirts and jumpers I still felt it. We were -- at least as far as I was concerned -- happy together.

The change wasn't sudden. We didn't start to argue. In retrospect, we began to have sex less often, and sometimes Karin put me off when I initiated it, saying she was too tired. If I thought anything of it, it was just that she was, indeed, tired and, anyway, everyone knows that people don't continue to have it as often as in the early days of a relationship. Plus, I was often pretty tired, too. Possibly she was going out on her own in the evenings more often than usual, but it wasn't a big change -- we'd always kept some independence and our own circle of friends and activities -- and perhaps she was getting back later than she used to, but I didn't think much of it, if anything.

No, what changed was gradual and it really began with her clothes. I began to notice that Karin was dressing differently. Her jeans gave way to skirts, and her skirts got shorter and shorter. She would wear skimpy tops, or tops with low necklines, so that I'd often notice her cleavage, framed by her bra. Then again, her underwear, generally, began to be different. Before, it had been plain white or black panties and a matching bra. Sexy enough, to me, but now she was wearing what would more accurately be called lingerie -- lacy knickers and bras, camisoles, even corsets and stockings. She started wearing more make up, too. And shoes and boots with high heels, though in the past she had said she was too tall to want to. I didn't mind any of this -- on the contrary, I found it exciting. But I knew that she wasn't doing it for me.

Or, at least, I knew and I didn't know. Certainly nothing was said, and I said nothing. Until one day I came home and Karin was about to go out with some friends. She was wearing a tight black micro-skirt and a loose, spaghetti-hooped top down which I could see that she was bra-less, and her firm 34B breasts, with their brown, pert nipples, were on display for anyone who wanted. She saw my glance, and I sensed that she was daring me to say something. I did.

"Um, did you know you're showing quite a bit of flesh, love?" I asked.

She muttered something I couldn't hear.

"Sorry?"

Then she turned her green eyes full on to mine, holding me with her gaze.

"He likes to get his hands on my boobs the moment he sees me," she repeated, speaking very clearly now.

Silence. In a rush I knew, for sure, what I had somehow known for weeks.

"You must have known," she said.

"You're having an affair," I said. A statement not a question.

Karin shook her head.

"No, I've got a boyfriend," she responded.

"What's the difference? You mean you're leaving me?" I asked, horrified.

"God. I've been dreading this. No, look, it's complicated. I ... listen, I'm going to have to make a phone call."

Karin took her phone out of her bag.

"It's me," she said to -- I realized with a sickening feeling -- her 'boyfriend'. "Look, I'm -- he -- I'm telling him about us."

There was the sound of him replying, but I couldn't hear the words.

Then Karin continued, "I'll call you later, I promise."

There was another reply.

"Love you," Karin said, and ended the call.

I flinched as I heard her say she loved him, and she must have noticed.

"Ah, Nick," she said. "There are different kinds of love, no? I love you for your intelligence, your humour, your kindness ..."

"And, him," I interrupted. "Whatever his name is? Is he intelligent and humorous and kind?"

"Joel," she said. "He's called Joel. And, yes, he is intelligent and humorous, though in very different ways to you. Not kind, though. Rather the reverse, I would say."

She paused, smiling what seemed to be a rueful smile about some private memory. Then she turned her eyes to mine, locking them in contact again.

"But it's his cock I love," she said, calmly and not cruelly, though firmly. "His cock and what he does with it and how it makes me feel at the time, and how it makes me feel about him."

I gasped. Partly with shock, as I had never heard Karin speak in such a crude way before. Partly with hurt. But partly because I was flooded with the most intense feeling of sexual excitement I had ever experienced in my life. And Karin must have sensed something, too, because, with her eyes now on the bulge in my trousers and the spreading dark patch of pre-cum seeping through their fabric, she said, in a cool, slightly contemptuous, slightly amused voice: "well, now, isn't that interesting?"

As she spoke, she unzipped my trousers and pulled my penis out. Grasping its head firmly between her thumb and index finger she said: "I've got a feeling this excites you. Excites you sexually. Am I right?"

I looked from her face, which had a haughty, arrogant look, down to her delicious boobs, naked under her top. I thought of her voice when she spoke to ... Joel, and what she had just said to me about his cock, and without quite being able to say it, I nodded my head.

She tugged roughly on my penis.

"Yes," she said. "My boyfriend and I thought this might be so when we discussed you."

As she said the word 'discussed', I ejaculated, spraying my semen over her black skirt in livid, whiteish gloops. Karin stroked the last drop out of me.

"So," she said. "I think we need to talk, no?"

***

We sat together on the sofa. Not close, like husband and wife, but more like friends. I had done my trousers up again, but my sperm stains were still visible on Karin's skirt. However, she had put a sweater on over her top, so I could no longer see her breasts. I was the first to break the silence.

"So, this -- thing. It's just about sex?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, um, you said what you loved about him was his ..." I couldn't finish.

"Oh. His cock? Well, yes, sure. But sex is never 'just sex' is it? I mean, what kind of person do you think I am? I'm in a relationship with Joel -- a sexual relationship, of course. He's my boyfriend."

"Well, where does that leave us, then?" I demanded.

"Just about where we've always been, I guess," Karin replied, coolly. "You're my husband, and I love you."

"So why are you seeing -- him?" I demanded.

"Joel. You'd better get used to using his name. Well, are you really sure you want to know? Because, I warn you, anything you ask me I will answer truthfully. I don't want to upset you, but I won't lie to you. So, I'd suggest, be very careful what you ask," Karin warned.

"Well, I've got to ask this. Does this mean that I don't satisfy you ... sexually? That he gives you something I don't?"

"I'll ask again, Nick. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course, just tell me!" I snapped.

"Well, then, I will. But, Nick, first you tell me something. You are aroused again, yes? I mean, sexually aroused?"

I had to admit that I was.

"Yes, I thought this was so. Would it maybe be easier for us to talk if your arousal was openly acknowledged? I mean, if I were to provide you with manual stimulation whilst we explore the issues? I don't mind, if it would be helpful."

I was slightly nonplussed by the clinical way she was speaking, but I agreed.

"So," Karin said. "Go to our bed and remove your clothes. I will change and join you."

I went to our bedroom and stripped, waiting. I could hear my wife talking in the sitting room and guessed she had called Joel again. Why? What was she saying? I went to the hallway, but could only hear a few tantalizing words.

"... coming to terms with it ... no, of course not ... god, your cock! ... no ... no, not at this stage ... trust me ... no ... yes, of course I'm thinking about your cock ... no ... no, sorry ... I'll make sure he knows his place, don't worry ..."

Silence. I returned to our bed and lay down. I heard Karin go to the spare room, where we had our wardrobes. Minutes, which seemed like hours, passed, until I heard the click-clack of Karin's heels on the passage, and she came in. Somehow, I'd expected her to have put on some sexy bedroom outfit but, in fact, she had changed into jeans, slip-on shoes, and an old tee-shirt with, I could see from the straps and the outline under the shirt, an old, now off-white, cotton bra with seamed cups.

Glancing at me, she saw my surprise.

"Haven't you understood yet? I only dress sexy for men with big cocks," she explained.

Actually, I found this outfit deeply arousing precisely because -- though I couldn't quite identify why -- it was so lacking in what would normally be thought of as arousing.

Karin flopped down on the bed next to me. We lay side by side, facing each other, and she took my penis in her hand. Immediately, it hardened, despite my recent orgasm.

"So. What do you want to know? Remember, though, anything you ask I will answer truthfully," she said.

"Er, well, what I was asking is whether I satisfy you sexually?" I began.

"No," Karin replied. She didn't elaborate or explain. Just: no.

"Does he? Joel?" I asked.

"Oh, yes -- yes," she replied. As she did so, she ran her hand, up and down my cock, once, then held in tight in her fist.

"What's the difference" I gasped.

"Well, I think you know that already, don't you? It's his cock. It's huge. Much bigger than yours."

As she spoke, my own cock twitched in her fingers, and she snatched her hand away, to stop me coming.

"I mean," she continued "it's much longer and much thicker".

She reached into her pocket for her phone. She fiddled around, then showed me a picture. It was of an erect penis, far bigger than mine. What really struck me, though, was that wrapped around it was a hand I recognized, with an engagement ring and a wedding ring that I had paid for on one of the fingers. She must have realized.

"Oh," she said. "Well, why would I take them off? He knows I'm married. But, anyway, he really likes to see them. To remind him that he is taking another man's wife. This is something he likes very much about me, he talks about it all the time. 'Fucking a nice middle-class married woman, making her into my little slut' as he says. He can be very crude. Actually, I like that in a man, if he is a real man, that is."

Her hand returned to my penis, gripping it tightly but without moving her fingers.

"So, what else do you want to know?" she asked.

"Well, everything, I suppose. I mean, is it really so important, the size of a man's ... cock? And, I don't know, how often have you seen him? What have you done with him? What does he mean to you? I just want to understand what is going on," I replied.

"Hmm, such a lot of questions," Karin giggled. "Well, let's see." And she began a long speech.

"So, yes, to me, a big cock is necessary, and what goes with it. A swagger, a confidence, even a certain cruelty. Always I have wanted this in a man. You never seemed to wonder why my previous boyfriends had not lasted. Well, sometimes it was because they were too small. And other times, with the big-cocked ones, it was because this kind of man does not usually want to stay with one woman. Even if I would do anything for him, for his cock. So, then, I met you. Of course, your cock was too small, and never satisfied me, so I thought I could not be with you. But, then again, in all other ways I loved you, and I thought it was time to settle down, and I thought that I could live with it."

"Well," Karin continued. "I was wrong. I felt dissatisfied, frustrated. I started to hook up with men on dating apps, just for one-night stands. Yes, just for sex, as you said. Then, I met Joel, and it was different. I really like him ... love him, as you observed. For his cock. For treating me like a little slut. Like, when I meet him, he just grabs me, flips up my skirt and sticks it in what he calls my tight little fuck-hole. Like when he comes all over my face and my titties and calls it marking his territory. And, really, I have you to thank for this because, like I said, what really gets him off is that I am married and that he is making a cuckold of you. You know that word?"

"Cuckold?" I answered. "Sure, I mean it's a bit old-fashioned, but, yes."

"Well, so you are a cuckold now, yes? I am kind of glad you know it. Joel has wanted you to know it for weeks now, but I could not quite make myself hurt you, although ... well, I'll come back to that. But I thought you must guess, because Joel makes me dress sexy, the way a real man likes a woman, you know? But you never said anything. But now let me ask you a question. You're upset, I know, but you are so aroused. So aroused. Why so?"

It was something I had been wondering myself.

"I don't know, exactly," I began. "But it's true. I'm so jealous, so sick with jealousy and yet ... I feel not just incredibly turned on by you ... by the thought of you with another man ... I also feel free."

"So," Karin said thoughtfully. "I can explain this to you. In fact, in my practice, I have heard this from some of my clients. You feel free because your big fear is that you cannot satisfy a woman. Oh, yes, it is true. I know from what you have told about your previous girlfriends. You never said it in these words, but you feared it, and you feared it because you know you are not very well-endowed, let's say. Then you got to marry me, and, if I can say so, I am really a very attractive woman, gorgeous, as you often say, yes? So of course your fear is all the greater. But, now, the worst has happened. You have been told that you do not satisfy me sexually, and that I have found a real man who can. There is nothing left to fear. So you feel free of fear, finally. Do you see?"

As she spoke, Karin slowly but firmly masturbated my engorged penis.

"I ... I don't know. Yes. Yes. Maybe you are right. But I don't want to lose you, anything but that," I said, my eyes filling with tears.

"Ssh, Nick," she said. "Don't be scared. You won't lose me. Don't you see? I'm not going to leave you to be with Joel. That would just be like all my previous relationships, and sooner or later he would leave me. But for so long as I am married to you, I will keep him, because then he is making you a cuckold. We've talked about it a lot."

"What do you mean? Talked about what?" I demanded.

"Well, in the beginning, he loved me to tell him how much bigger his cock is than yours, and how you don't satisfy me. And that was easy, because it's true. And, then we talked about other things. Um, this isn't going to be easy, but, well, we talked about ways we could humiliate you, be cruel to you. He wanted me to tell you about us, and we kept discussing it but, like I said, I couldn't bring myself to. But ... I wanted to, or part of me wanted to. I wanted ... I want to be cruel to you, I think."

As she said this, a new and even more powerful wave of lust came over me. I would have ejaculated again had Karin not sensed it, and immediately removed her hand, leaving my penis twitching in the air.

"So. This gets very interesting, again. It was the word 'cruel', wasn't it? Do you want me to be cruel to you, Nick?" Karin asked in a strange, intense voice.

I did not know quite what I meant by it, but I replied.

"I ... I think." I stopped. "Karin, I know this will sound weird but -- I don't know if this was a dream, or something I once read or what, but there is something about the words 'Cruel Karin' or, actually, 'Cruel Miss Karin' that does something to me, something very powerful."

She began to stroke my penis again.

"Well, Cruel Miss Karin it will be, from now on," she said. "But it's going to be very different, you know, living with her. Very different and very difficult. Do you think you can take it, me being cruel to you?"

"What would it mean?" I asked.

"What do you think it would mean?" she countered. "How do you picture Cruel Miss Karin?"

"I picture her as a disciplinarian," I began, my face reddening with embarrassment.

"Tell me", she said. "Tell Cruel Miss Karin."

"I think she would cane me," I blurted out.

"Oh? Why would she cane you? For looking at her inappropriately, perhaps? For touching yourself, thinking about her? For going through her underwear drawer when she was out?"

I nodded, mutely.

"Well, I think you are right about that. Cruel Miss Karin will certainly have occasion to use traditional corporal punishment. And Joel and I certainly won't allow you to look at me in inappropriate ways. In fact, we would be most cross about it. Yes, that's right 'we'. Because my boyfriend will certainly want to make sure you know your place, and we have discussed many times exactly how we will do it. Do you want to know?"

I nodded again.

"Well, for a start," she said. "My boyfriend will master you. We will make you kneel naked in front of him, and I will masturbate his massive real man's cock until he ejaculates all over your face. And I will laugh."

As she said this, Karin stroked me past the point of orgasm, then removed her hand, so that I ejaculated painfully and pleasurelessly on to her tee-shirt.

"I think it's time for your mastering," she said in a cold hard voice. "I will call my boyfriend now."

"Yes, Cruel Miss Karin," I said, addressing her in that way for the first time.

As I lay, physically and emotionally exhausted, on the bed, my wife stood up and picked up her phone. Soon she was talking again and, of course, I knew who to.

"It's me again, darling," she cooed, in a girlish, almost subservient way. "So, I've told him ... yes, pretty much ... Yes, we were right about him ... Yes, that's right ... Yes ... No, I just ruined his orgasm and he is still recovering ... Yes of course."

She stopped talking for a moment, and giggled, before continuing.

"He says he wants to stay with his 'Cruel Miss Karin' ... yes ... yes, exactly as we thought. Anyway, darling, I think it's time for you to master him now, like you said ... Yes, of course I'm sure ... it's like you said, I want you to make me feel contempt for him ... ok ... great ... yes, of course I will be dressed nicely for you, the way you like ... see you in a bit!"

The call finished. I began to talk, but she shushed me, saying that she had to change for her boyfriend. And left the room.

***

I could hear Karin moving around in the spare room as I lay, rigid with a mixture of shock, excitement, and fear. I could hardly believe what had happened in the space of barely a couple of hours. Then I heard the doorbell ring, and the clatter of Karin's heels as she went down the hallway to answer it.

The front door opened and closed, and for a moment there was silence. I suddenly realized that they must be kissing. Then I heard their voices, his deep and slow, hers unusually fluttering and giggly, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Then footsteps, her heels followed by a heavier tread, approached the bedroom door. I was suddenly aware of my nakedness and grabbed a duvet to wrap round myself as I half-rose from the bed.

I had the impression of a large, powerfully-built man, a dark tee-shirt tight on his torso, and a rather thuggish appearance. But I could hardly give him attention, so striking was the sight of my wife. A tiny black skirt barely covered the dark top of her black stockings, which ran down to black, knee-length, high-heeled leather boots, and above she wore a black jacket, open at the front, with nothing beneath but a half-cup lacy black bra.

But it was the expression of adoration on her face that really held my attention, as she clung to his arm and proudly said to me: "this is my boyfriend."

Ludicrously, as if it were a normal social situation, I put out my hand to shake his. He ignored it. Instead, he turned to my wife and said: "I hope your little fuck slit is ready for me."

"Of course, Joel," she replied. "Wet and hot and all yours. But would you mind dealing with him, first? I want him mastered. Will you make him kneel and kiss my boots, for starters?"

Joel turned to me, and ripped the duvet out of my hand, snorting with derision at me.

"Well, you heard her," he snarled. "On your knees and kiss the lady's feet. Grovel!"

I stood, rigid. Not exactly defying him but too shocked to do anything.

"You see," Karin said, in a spiteful, singsong voice I'd never heard before. "He needs to be taught respect. Go on, Joel, force him."

The man grabbed me by the back of the neck. He was far too strong for me to resist. With one hand, he pushed my face down to the floor, to Karin's black leather boots.

My wife giggled.

"Start licking," she ordered. "Start licking Cruel Miss Karin's boots."

I started to obey, and as I did so Joel released me, stood upright, and he and Karin began to snog passionately again as I groveled beneath them.

"Now master him for me," she said to her boyfriend.

My head was pulled up, and in front of my eyes Karin unzipped Joel's trousers, gasping with excitement as she released his cock. I had seen the photo, of course, but in the flesh it was even larger.

"See," Karin said, matter-of-factly. "That's a real man's cock. The kind of cock that turns Cruel Miss Karin into slutty little Karin for its owner. The cock of a man who can stretch me, open me up, in ways that you are incapable of."

"Suck it," Joel ordered.

For a moment I thought he was talking to Karin, but, suddenly, with horror, I realized he meant me. I started to protest.

"Do as he tells you," Karin said quietly, but with compelling authority.

Hesitantly, I took the monstrous thing in my mouth, retching at the unfamiliar taste. I felt Karin's hand on the back of my head, working my mouth backwards and forwards, so that Joel was face-fucking me. After what seemed like an age, she told me I could stop. By this time, my spirit was broken.

"We're not finished yet," Karin told me, her voice still calm, as if this were just a job to be done, and she was oblivious to the turmoil in my head. "You need to know your place."

She began to masturbate him, the glistening end of his erection just inches from my face. I was terrified they would make me suck it again, but, instead, after she had stroked it for a while, he pushed her hand away and, with his own, wanked it with a few quick strokes until his ejaculate spurted all over my face. Through the shock, I saw and heard Karin's laughter.

"That was fantastic," she said, not to me but to him. "Thank you, thank you darling. I'll never think of him as a man again now you've mastered him. I'll always see him like this, on his knees, naked, half-crying, with your spunk all over his face."

Then she turned to me.

"Say 'thank you for mastering me, sir' and then thank Cruel Miss Karin," she said.

I was too broken to do anything other than obey, and again Karin laughed.

"Now go out and close the door behind you, and wait outside until Cruel Miss Karin calls you. I need a good seeing to from a real man," she sneered.

Before I had even left, they were kissing again, and Karin was hitching her micro-skirt up over the black satin of her tight panties, which strained across her backside. Her hand had returned to Joel's cock, which was already hard again.

As I closed the door, I heard her say: "Oh god, darling, that was even better than I thought it would be. Now do me. Do me as hard as you want. Stretch me out. Split me open. Then jizz all over naughty little Karin's boobs. Mark your territory so that my husband knows he'll never have me again. Ruin me for him."

I could have left. Left the flat. Left my wife. Instead, I remained, standing outside the bedroom door, listening to their noises, and masturbating myself.