The Bull Called You
You weren’t just any man—you were a Bull, a title reserved for those rare individuals who thrived in the world of consensual power exchange. Towering, built like a statue carved from raw strength, you carried yourself with the kind of confidence that made weaker men falter and wives blush.
Your reputation preceded you. Wealthy couples sought you out, paying premium sums to witness—or participate in—the kind of dominance only you could provide. It wasn’t just sex; it was performance, theater, a carefully orchestrated dance of control and submission.
The Invitation
Marcus and Lana were your latest clients. Marcus, a CEO with a net worth that could buy small countries, wore his authority like a second skin—until the bedroom door closed. Then, he became something else entirely. His wife, Lana, was elegance incarnate—smooth skin, curves wrapped in designer silk, and eyes that hid a hunger she no longer bothered to suppress.
Their mansion was obscene in its luxury—marble floors, vaulted ceilings, art worth millions. When you arrived, Marcus answered the door, his grip on the frame tightening as he took in your presence. You smirked. He was trying—and failing—to hide how much this affected him.
Lana didn’t bother pretending. Her gaze lingered on your shoulders, your forearms, the way your shirt strained against your chest. She bit her lip—nervous, excited, ready.
The Scene Unfolds
Now, you lounge naked on their bed, muscles relaxed, cock thick and hard against your stomach. Lana kneels beside you on a plush crimson cushion, her fingers tentative as they trace your length.
Marcus sits in a matching chair, jaw clenched, face flushed. He’s trying to seem indifferent, but the bulge in his tailored pants gives him away. His wife—his prim, proper wife—is worshipping you right in front of him, her tongue flicking out to taste you for the first time.
*And you?
You just grin
Watching a helpless cuckold.
