Now there was no way back. Raphael had booked the lay minister, the tattooist and it had cost Adrian eight grand in designer timepieces. A congregation of Raphael and his own wife Judy’s ‘new’ friends were invited. Judy was about to be absorbed into Africa and Adrian was getting sucked down too.

How early was it when he felt Judy’s hand on his cock? the light was yet milky and the blackbirds hadn’t sung in the orchard. Yet she was there. Silently, on bare feet she had come in from their bedroom and taken his cock delicately from out beneath the sheets, even before his eyes had accustomed to the light. Yes the metal cage was there, encasing his cock, restraining it from excess. Yet she knew, she knew that in the night he must have rubbed and rubbed it against the pillow in his frustration. There was leakage, the dried residue of ruined cum, the pointless seed that had no place to go. Usually when she ghosted into his humble bed room that way it was to summon him to theirs. It was to have him attend them, witnessing, admiring, worshipping. This morning though, no.

‘Go and shower’ his wife said crisply, ‘you disgust me. You’ve been rubbing yourself’.

Silently, deeply ashamed Adrian slipped out of the single bed, slid past his wife in her short silk housecoat and into the shower. He started to lather his hair, transferring the shampoo down and around his caged cock. The water suddenly ran cold and through the frosted glass of the shower he could see Judy again. She had reached in and twisted the shower control. Cold water was the order of the day. He jolted as the deluge hit him and then quietly set to work, cleaning himself. It was the day. Their confirmation day. The lay minister was coming.

His wife watched him towel himself dry and change quickly into his briefs, stowing the now clean and caged cock within. He wasn’t paunchy. He wasn’t exactly a slob, but he wasn’t enough. She had decided that. Sometimes a man’s failings were to do with his head, with his attitude. Sometimes they were simply because he wore the wrong coloured skin.

‘Show me the things’ she said coldly once he was half dressed.

Adrian went to the dresser and opened the top drawer.

First he drew out the box of tattoo equipment which he had meticulously cleaned in accordance with the instructions of the artist who owned them. Soon, within the hour, the artist would knock on their door and before winesses they would be marked up. Judy would have the arrogant queen of spades tattoo inscribed on her buttocks just above the bikini line so all could see on any holiday. There would be a scrolled R for Raphael, her lover, woven like a nest supporting the spade. On his own bare shoulder, so that all could see so easily Adrian would be marked too. A rampant male symbol, the arrow pointing proudly up, with R etched inside. It would be jointed to his own male symbol, his arrow defeated, down. As much as the idea appalled him, Adrian was about to be owned.

‘Shave your shoulder again, the skin must be absolutely clean’ Judy instructed.

Adrian dropped his head…of course. Listening to her husky, her beautiful voice, he shivered. It wasn’t only her body that seemed so sensuous and arrogant now, it was her voice too. She commanded so naturally, so easily. He reached inside the drawer again and brought out the red leather gold tooled matching boxes. Within the matching timepieces. Each had cost four grand. He watched his wife slip the woman’s watch onto her wrist and yes, of course, it looked so chic. The bracelet had been adjusted so that the watch hung casually down against the heel of her hand. She lifted the man’s watch and he imagined how obvious things would seem then when they wore them. The obvious couple. The watch looked sophisticated. It would lie against Raphael’s black skin a constant taunt.

‘Have you checked with Raphael that he is happy with it?’ she asked curtly. Now, hours away from the ceremony, it would be too late if it wasn’t.

‘Yes Miss’ he answered, the watch was perfect. Soon, soon he would address her as ‘Mistress’ and Raphael as ‘Master’. The matters of etiquette were prescribed. There were brothers who ensured that he understood, that he too followed the way back to Africa, in the years before them. Judy, his beautiful aloof, well bred English wife, would become an African princess. His wonderful, poised, fertile wife, would become Raphael’s breeding bitch. The lay minister was coming.

The final object inside the drawer was a thick black leather collar with two buckles on the back. On the front of the supple tooled leather collar was a scrolled R. Adrian would wear it after the ceremony. He would always wear it around the house and especially when they welcomed guests. He was Raphael’s.

‘You’re trembling’ she observed, watching his hand as he lifted the collar out.

Adrian gulped down a breath. Yes, he was trembling and he was ashamed. But they had spoken so many times. He was ready, he had promised her that.

‘You admire Raphael, you respect him?’ she asked, guessing the answer to her own question. Of course he did. He had sometimes spoken whilst licking her remodelled sex how he admired how Raphael had changed her. With him, well, Judy was the complete woman. No one could disguise the awe she had seen in Adrian’s face when he had watched Raphael taking her. She knew the answer!

‘Yes, yes I do….very much’ her husband whispered.

She nodded. There were always nerves. When husbands were confirmed as owned, when wives committed to breeding with their black lovers. It was a rubicon.

‘You’ll feel better once you’ve been marked up’ she said firmly.

Adrian bowed his head. Of course.

His attire for that day was very simple. It had been fashioned by one of the black women in Raphael’s extensive circle and comprise of cheap white linen trousers, tied with a cord about the waist. The white linen shirt was similarly cheaply constructed. It was open necked so that his new collar would show clearly above the neck line. If you thought it sounded a little sugar planatation, well, you’d be right. There were no shoes or sandals, Adrian would spend the day in their immaculately cleaned house, bare foot.

Once dressed Adrian moved into a frenzied hour of activity. First he went to their bedchamber and carefully sucked on Raphael’s cock as he lay watching him. The man had a handsome and a large cock. It was, honestly, it was beautiful too. His pallus was sculpted, circumcised, with a hefty and a powerful looking dusky pink helmet on top. Naturally it tasted of his wife. Raphael had been taking her again that night. Down the corridor, Adrian had heard her deep and husky groans. Judy watched him. A white husband, from a banking backgound, sucking her black lover’s dick in the bedroom of their smart suburban English home. Adrian’s mouth bobbed up and down on that black cock, teasing, coaxing an eruption. He had learned to welcome semen in his mouth and to swallow. It was part of the changing. Today though, that was enough. Raphael batted him away and told him to prepare breakfast. Judy watched, finishing her makeup, checking the look of her tight black cocktail dress in the mirror.

‘I love you’ she said, smiling at Raphael.

He stirred out of the bed and came and kissed her.

‘Go!’ he snapped, urging Adrian out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

No one tells you about the drudge of the cuckold’s life. No one warned you about how tired you would feel. Adrian cooked the eggs the way Raphael liked them and set outhis home made Seville orange marmalade for Judy’s toast. He poured the pineapple juice and he brewed the coffee. Then when they had settled to their meal he went and opened the front door to a caller. It was the tattoo artist.

The fellow was just as smooth skinned as Raphael and he had much the same arrogant manner. This wasn’t the land of parlours was it? This was leafy surburbia in a nice part of town. But Winston was here, smiling and instantly checking that the first etch marks on Adrian’s shoulder was still visible. Inking took time. You didn’t usually take a tattoo quite this way. But marking up for the ceremony was a ritual, it had to be done on the same day. Behind the man stood the two female witnesses, friends of Raphael, Lola and Angie. They smiled at him, dressed in the simple white garb as he opened the door. Breezing in Lola said,

‘See you’re ready boy, very nice.’

Boy.

Adrian closed the door, showed them through to the lounge and fetched Judy and Raphael who had just finished their breakfast. Adrian was to go first, having hurried up to fetch the tattooing equipment. He seated himself on a chair witb his flimsy white shirt pulled down off the right shoulder.

‘You needing a master?’ Lola asked. The words weren’t written. They were indeed still being worked out, repeated and confirmed through other ceremonies that humble white men had gone through that year. Lola had attended a few.

‘Yes’ said Adrian. His mouth felt fucking dry. It tasted still of Raphael’s cock.

‘You ready to worship Raphael as your lord and master?’ Lola persisted.

‘Yes…I am’ Adrian stammered.

Judy kissed Raphael. It was a slow and indulgent matter.

‘And you ready to serve your mistress Judy, fervently and faithfully, admiring the righteousness of her choice?’

Adrian had wanted to laugh when he heard the challenges rehearsed by Lola in a preparatory visit. He thought there should be church music or something. May be there should be a gospel choir? He didn’t laugh now though. Winston was poised.

‘Yes’ said Adrian. It sickened him that he wanted this. But want it he did. He needed this. Licking his mistress and sucking cock, fearing the loss of the same had brought him to the matter in hand.

‘You going to raise their offspring, lovingly, and with admiration?’ Lola’s face was stern.

Adrian shuddered.

‘Yes’ he said.

Winston set to work. Adrian felt the pricking and the inking, the darkening of the outline symbols. Back to Africa he thought. Back to instinct. Raphael, he’s bigger. He’s better. Judy wants him…..

The tattoo was simple, quick to complete and because he took it with stocism, Angle held a swab over his hurting shoulder whilst Judy bared her buttocks, hitching up her dress so that Winston could work on her more elaborate marking.

‘Goodness you have a sweet looking ass Judy darling, don’t she boy?’ Angie observed, nudging her charge.

‘Yes M’am’ Adrian agreed. He stared at Judy’s bottom. It had been what first attracted Raphael to her. Her ass in that pair of leather jeans. Winston inked, filling in the ace save for the carefully etched Q. It was fine work to finish and Judy winced. Adrian stared at her bare buttocks and at her sex. His wife was naked down there, no thong, nothing to hide what Raphael had done to her these last months. Her lips were pulled, swollen and well, they were ‘lush’. Neither Angie nor Lola seemed to notice, but Adrian did.

When Winston had finished, lightly wiping off the surplus ink, Raphael beckoned Adrian forward. He was to kiss his wife’s pretty rear. Adrian blushed but did so. It was the first time, the first time in front of witnesses.

‘That’s lovely’ observed Lola, ‘that’s just so meek and so so sweet!’

The frenzy of activity continued. There were drinks to be served to Judy, Raphael and their three guests. A tray of bruschetta had to be presented to them. Adrian worked frantically, his brow beaded with perspiration. Setting out the food, Adrian heard Lola ask how many children they planned to have and he winced when Judy said four. But there were twins in the family, who coul tell!? He winced and hurried back into the kitchen to bring out more champagne.

By ten that morning the other guests had arrived, may be twenty of them. More food had been set out in the dining room. Bottles of the best white wine were ready in the cooler. There were canapes that Adrian had sweated over the day before. He’d asked just the once for catering help, but was told that wasn’t tradition. The effort had to be all his. A dozen of the guests were Afro Caribbean, from Raphael’s circle, but there were five or six white women too. They wore the watches of their black lovers. This sort of thing had been spreading. When he poured those women first champagne and then fine French wine, they ignored him. It was as if he was invisible or else furniture. Their own subjugated weak males had presumably been left at home. The women dressed for their lovers, tight dresses, short skirts, a pair of leather jeans that showed the young woman’s buttocks off pert. Adrian guessed, he guessed the rest.

‘The minister will be here in a moment, it’s almost eleven’ Judy told him.

‘Yes M’am’ He felt like an automaton programmed with but one phrase.

‘Your greeting, remind me’ she said, her eyes narrowing. He HAD to get this right.

‘I kneel before him at the door, kiss his feet and then the ring on his finger. I don’t offer him libation until after the ceremony’.

His wife nodded. It would be shaming if he got this wrong.

Still, when the door bell did then ring, Adrian actually shook! He shook as though he had a terrible fever. His wife glanced at him. He was to be prompt. So he hurried to the door and barely glancing at the older black lay minister who stood there, he prostrated himself. It could have been a leaflet pusher, a salesman, but Adrian had already dropped to his knees. Lola watched him. She was a stickler for protocol too. He kissed the man’s shoes which were dusty from the walk up from his car. He kissed both as prescribed and then reached up, looking at the stern looking man, kissing the red carnellian signet ring on his finger.

‘Good boy,’ said the man, then more kindly, ‘show me in.’

Anothe round of drinks were served, Adrian moving as quickly as he could. One pretty blonde woman in the clutch of her beau said,

‘He’s sweating, that’s disgusting.’

When the ceremony began Adrian had mopped his brow and placed the watches in their red leather cases and the leather collar upon the floor. The guests had arranged themselves in a circle, watching, waiting, drinks in hand. Adrian dropped onto all fours and Judy tied the cord from around his trousers about his neck instead. She glanced down at him and led him on all fours to the centre of the circle.

‘This is mine to give’ she said, before the minister and handed the cord to him, who in turn handed it to Raphael who stood beside.

‘This is mine to own’ he answered.

Adrian kissed the man’s highly polished shoes.

‘Is the man humble?’ asked the minister, his eyes narrowing at Judy.

‘Yes’ she said, ‘I will show you sir’.

It was the first disgusting point. Adrian shuddered. He would have to publicly lick pussy, an alpha woman of Judy’s choosing. Judy had said that she would probably chose Lola. Lola liked the turn of tables, she liked to see a husband kneel. Adrian had accustomed himself to the terror of that.

But Judy said, ‘I chose Francesca’. She pointed to the young woman who had commented on his perspiring service. What was the woman, 23 may be 24. Now the remark of distaste made sense. She knew that this was coming. Judy or Raphael had spoken to her. The young woman stepped forward holding the hand of her man, Carl. She smiled at Judy and lifted the hem of her tiny skirt. Her sex was shaven and her own mark had been made close to her sex, another ace of spades. Francesca waited there, uncertain, tremblng too. it was an intimate moment.

Adrian looked up at her. She seemed blurred. He realised suddenly that he had tears in his eyes, tears of emotion, and tears of shame.

Francesca nodded. ‘Lick it’ she said, using the words that became text with each passing ceremony.

Adrian inhaled. He inhaled her signature and then not trusting himself to breathe in a second time, he licked upwards through her petulant lip crease. She tasted of salt and of musk. She tasted of sex, arrogant, perfect, chic sex. He licked again. Convention stated that he did so until the minister was satisfied.

After half a dozen more licks, the minister intoned, ‘the boy is humble’.

The circle politely applauded. There was no comment, no laughter, just polite applause and Francesca and Carl returned to the others.

‘Who begs to loyally serve Judy as his mistress and Raphael as his master?’ The minister adopted a sonorous voice.

‘I do’. Adrian’s voice was hoarse. He thought for a moment that the words wouldn’t come out.

‘Do you worship your master?’

‘I do’ managed Adrian, he turned to one side. Raphael had already presented his cock. It was already engorged. The ceremony had frisson, man it did!

Adrian kissed it.

‘Do you worship your mistress and trust Raphael to take her back to the promised place?’

‘Africa. I do!’ said Adrian. Now his voice cracked.

Judy presented her beautiful sex. Adrian kissed again. Lola couldn’t resist an ‘aah!’ soft beneath her breathe.

‘Do you bear them gifts, begging that they are fertile together?’ The minister looked down.

Adrian reached for the finely tooled cases. He took out the torneu cased watch for Raphael and carefully clipped it on his wrist. He repeated the act for his mistress and watched the timepiece slip down onto her hand in so fine a way. Judy stroked his hair. The gifts were beauiful. All the guests stared admiringly at hs sacrifice.

In the midst of the murmurings Francesa turned to Carl and whispered,

‘darling I’m pregnant!’

he kissed her hard. That was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

‘They have insignia for you, will you wear it?’ asked the minister.

Adrian dropped his head. It was the agreed submission, the final capitulation to seal the ceremony. Judy collected the collar before the assembled guests. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes!’ they chanted softly.

She buckled it tight about his throat and Adrian caught breath. It was a notch tighter than before!

The guests erupted into applause, hugs and mutual congratulations.

‘You told the servant yet?’ Carl asked his woman.

‘Not yet, i want you to!’ said Francesca. He kissed her hard again.

Afterwards, Adrian thought that he might die. The collar was so tight that he felt he could barely speak. He felt the caress of the leather and the amused gaze of the guests as he served them trays of dainty food. The minister signalled that he was ready to leave. Adrian had to attend him. There were goodbyes, kisses frm the women and then Adrian led him to the door.

‘It’s going to be hard…Raphael is proud, he is arrogant, he will work you hard’ the minister said.

Adrian nodded. He pointed to the collar which wasn’t to be adjusted. May be the silencing was ritual as well.

‘But if you attend Mistress and Master as directed, they will have chldren. That softens things boy. You look as though you will be obedient.’

Adrian nodded again. His cock was pulling in that cage. His cock was pulling like crazy and he hadn’t touched himself. He could still smell Francesa, still taste his mistress from the kiss. The road to Africa beckoned.

Lutheran Maid