Ex-Wife Turns Me Into Her Office Cuckold Beta

Terrence adjusted his tie in the elevator mirror, the motion sending a delicious pulse through the lace hugging his hips. At twenty-eight he had walked away from the marriage six months earlier, yet the craving had only sharpened. Renata, thirty and still the sharpest mind in the building, had mentioned an opening in her department and offered a recommendation with no strings attached. He had taken the junior analyst role because the work suited him and the pay was solid. Separately, last night on the phone, he had begged her for the rest.

“I want you to own me again,” he had said, voice already rough. “Lock me, put me in panties, and make me your sissy cuckold beta right there in the office. I miss how you emasculate me. The job is just the job. This is what I need.”

She had gone quiet, then laughed low. “You are sure? You can wear whatever you like under that suit and still collect every paycheck. Nothing about the position depends on this.”

“I am sure,” he had answered at once. “I enthusiastically consent. I want your boss to fuck you while I watch. I want your coworkers to see exactly what I am for you. Please.”

So this morning he had stepped into the soft pink lace himself, then clicked the small steel cage around his cock and handed her the key when she met him in the parking garage. The metal hugged him tight, already warm from his skin, the panties damp where pre-cum had no choice but to soak the fabric. Every step toward her floor made the cage shift, a constant, aching reminder that he had asked for this and meant every word.

Renata waited by the glass doors, heels clicking, blouse open one button more than strictly professional. She looked him over once, slow, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “Still eager, Terrence?”

“Yes,” he said, cheeks already hot. “I want everyone to know.”

She touched his wrist, brief and proprietary, then led him inside.

Bruno was forty-two, tall enough that Terrence had to tilt his head, shoulders filling a dress shirt that strained across muscle earned outside any gym membership the company offered. Kiara, thirty-one, stood beside him with a coffee and an easy smile, dark hair pinned up, blazer sharp. Renata made the introductions in a voice that carried just far enough.

“Terrence, my ex-husband and our new analyst. Bruno, our director. Kiara, senior on the accounts.”

Bruno’s handshake was firm. His eyes flicked once to Renata’s mouth, then back. “Welcome aboard.”

Kiara nodded, friendly. “First-day nerves are normal. You’ll be fine.”

Renata did not move her hand from the small of Terrence’s back. She laughed at something Bruno said about the morning meeting, then let her fingers trail higher, just under the edge of his jacket, while she held Bruno’s gaze a beat too long. The flirtation was open, unhurried, and Terrence felt his caged cock swell uselessly against steel. Heat crawled up his neck. He wanted them to see it.

“Conference room’s free for ten minutes,” Renata said lightly. “Terrence, come help me grab the files I left. Bruno, join us if you have a second.”

Kiara waved them off, already turning toward her desk. Inside the smaller office Renata shut the door, then pressed Terrence against it and cupped him through his slacks. The cage was unmistakable under her palm. She rubbed once, slow, and he whimpered.

“Tell me again,” she said. “Out loud. Do you want this?”

“I want it,” he breathed. “I want you to tease me, to make me beg, to let Bruno fuck you while I watch. I consent. I am asking you to humiliate me. Please.”

She squeezed the cage until his knees softened. “Bruno?”

The older man had already locked the door behind them. His voice was steady, interested. “I am in if both of you are. I have wanted to bend you over that desk since the holiday party, Renata. If your eager ex wants to kneel there and take whatever you give him, I enthusiastically agree.”

“I do,” Terrence said at once. “Please use me. I want to be your beta bitch. Both of you.”

Renata’s smile turned sharp with pleasure. She stroked him through the fabric again, feeling the lace and the rigid cage, then stepped back and crooked a finger at Bruno. “Then take me. Hard. And you,” she told Terrence, “get on your knees the second I say so. You asked for every second of this.”

She turned, bent over the wide desk, and hiked her skirt. No panties. Bruno’s belt hissed open. Terrence watched, mouth dry, as the thick cock sprang free, already heavy and flushed. Bruno gripped Renata’s hips, lined up, and sank into her in one long, wet push that made her moan loud enough to fog the glass.

“Fuck,” she gasped, pushing back. “Deeper. Let him see how a real cock fills me.”

Bruno obliged, drawing almost all the way out before driving in again, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. Each thrust jolted her forward, breasts swaying, the desk creaking. She locked eyes with Terrence over her shoulder, voice dropping into the register that had always unraveled him.

“Look at you. Twenty-eight and already locked up like a good little sissy because you begged me for it. That tiny cage can’t even get hard while Bruno stretches me open. You love it. Say it.”

“I love it,” Terrence whispered, then louder when she raised a brow. “I love being your locked beta. I want everyone to know I wear panties for you and stay caged while real men fuck you.”

“On your knees,” she ordered. “Pants and shirt off. Leave the panties and the cage. Now.”

He stripped fast, fingers shaking with need, not fear. The lace was soaked through, clinging transparently to the steel that trapped his cock in a small, leaking curve. He dropped to the carpet exactly where she pointed, close enough to smell her arousal and the salt of Bruno’s skin. Bruno never slowed. His balls swung with every deep stroke, heavy and tight, slapping lightly against Renata each time he bottomed out.

“Closer,” Renata said. “Lick them. Clean his balls while he fucks your ex-wife. You asked to serve. Do it.”

Terrence leaned in, tongue out, and dragged it over the taut skin. The taste was musk and her slickness where it had smeared. Bruno groaned above him, hips snapping harder, and Renata laughed breathlessly.

“That’s my good sissy cuckold. Tongue every inch. You don’t get to come. You don’t even get to touch yourself. You just stay there in your pretty wet panties and worship the cock that owns this pussy now.”

He licked eagerly, tracing the seam, sucking gently when Bruno’s thrusts brought the heavy sac against his mouth. Pre-cum dripped from his own caged tip into the lace, a useless little pulse he could not stop. Renata reached back, fisted his hair, and held him in place so he could not pull away even if he had wanted to. He did not want to.

“Tell him what you are,” she demanded.

“I’m your owned sissy,” Terrence said against Bruno’s skin, voice muffled and desperate. “Your beta bitch. I wear panties and stay locked because I crave it. I want your coworkers to see me like this.”

Bruno’s rhythm turned punishing, the desk jumping. “She is so fucking tight,” he growled. “You really gave this up?”

“He handed me the key and begged,” Renata answered, eyes bright. “Didn’t you, Terrence?”

“Yes. Please don’t stop. I want to watch you take his cum. I consent to all of it.”

The door opened. Kiara stepped in with a folder, froze for half a second, then simply closed it behind her and leaned against the frame, coffee still in hand. Renata did not flinch. She met Kiara’s gaze and smiled, wide and unashamed, while Bruno kept pounding into her.

“Kiara, perfect timing. This is Terrence, my ex-husband. He is my owned sissy cuckold beta bitch. He wears panties every day and stays locked in chastity for my pleasure because he asked me to do it. He wanted you to know.”

Terrence’s face burned, but he nodded frantically against Bruno’s balls, tongue still working. “I did. I want you to see. I consent. Please.”

Kiara’s brows rose, then she shrugged, a small grin tugging her mouth. “Noted. Carry on. I only needed the signature page, but this is more interesting.” She stayed, watching openly.

Renata moaned, the sound breaking. “He’s going to come inside me. Then you are going to clean every drop, Terrence. With your tongue. Say you want the creampie.”

“I want it,” he gasped. “I want to lick his cum out of you. Please let me. I am asking.”

Bruno cursed, slammed deep, and held there, hips jerking as he emptied himself. Renata shuddered through it, inner muscles milking him, then pushed Terrence’s face lower the moment Bruno eased out. Thick white cum welled at her entrance and slid down. Terrence surged forward without being told twice, tongue plunging in, lapping greedily, swallowing what he could and chasing the rest across her thighs and Bruno’s softening cock when she guided him there. He cleaned them both thoroughly, panties sticky, cage throbbing, every humiliating second exactly what he had begged for the night before.

When he finally sat back on his heels, chin wet, Renata turned, cupped his face, and kissed his forehead with surprising gentleness.

“Such a good little beta,” she murmured. “You took it perfectly. You may pull your slacks on. Leave the panties and the cage exactly as they are. I want the wet spot and the bulge visible when we walk out.”

He obeyed, fingers clumsy, the damp lace and rigid outline obvious beneath the thin wool. Bruno tucked himself away, nodding once in satisfied approval. Kiara simply held the door.

Renata smoothed her skirt, took Terrence’s hand, and led him into the open office. Heads turned. The flush on his face, the way he kept his eyes down, the unmistakable cage shape tenting his slacks over darkened fabric, told the story she wanted told. She paused by his new desk, voice carrying just enough.

“Settle in, Terrence. We will do this again tomorrow after the client call. Bruno already agreed, and Kiara said she would love to watch you clean up a second time. You still want that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, loud enough for the nearest cubes to hear, already aching and scheming how he would beg her tonight to let two more coworkers stand in the doorway next time. “I want it. Please.”