Jon Zelig Knihy

I got things . . . wrong. Just no denying that. After five years of marriage, I didn't see who--I didn't see what--my thirty-five-year-old wife Catherine really was: a sex-addicted submissive with a need for a disciplinarian "Daddy."Her painting teacher Andre? He saw. And . . . he took her, relegating me to the status of what he called a HINO, a Husband in Name Only, forcing me to be something between her babysitter and her pimp, caring for her, chastely, and delivering her on demand, like an addict being taken to her dealer. It was going to get worse. Andre had a ritual towards which he was building, for which he was grooming Catherine: the surrender of her "last virginity," something she had never given me or--as far as I knew--anyone else. Once that was done? She would be irrevocably his. I didn't see this all coming in time to prevent it. But I'm PRETTY sure I have the right friends to unwind it, to get back my wife, to get back our life . . . if I can act quickly enough.BONUS: Includes "Sold: A Femdom Triptych, Book II" in its entirety!

This volume contains the full trilogy, “Cuck-Tales for Three.”Book Tell Me a Sexy StoryBook Tipping into Cuckold ChastityBook Finding the Right Cuckie-SitterWhile they do not constitute a single story, they all focus on a married couple heading toward or actively engaged in cuckoldry, something the husband in all of these stories wanted—more or less lobbied for.You might think of the stories, in sequence Feigning, Falling, Finally!As a bonus, this book also contains an excerpt from “Governess Dominates The Full Trilogy.” Book II was originally released as “ A Cuckold in Chastity Femdom Tale.”

Could I trust my femdom, pharmaceutical-rep-wife? I'd thought so. Can someone who utterly dominates you still genuinely love you? I'd thought that, too. Can you be a "Kept Man," while you're being emasculated? It worked that way . . . so far. "The Troll and the Witch," my stepfather called us: sour on me; hot for my wife. Why had she married me? I don't question good luck. But then things began to. . . change. It would take me a while before I learned that-I'd thought she was perhaps "casting spells"?-my wife-the-pharmaceutical rep had been dosing me. A while longer to learn what those meds did, and. . . why. Our life together worked. My wife was my Goddess; the polestar of our relationship: her absolute dominance. What would it mean to discover that she too had a submissive side? What would happen then?

Cara wasn't a bossy wife; she was just in charge. Albert wasn't a submissive husband; he just did what he was told. Then one January, while both of them were on break from the university where they taught, Cara embarked on a project: She began to "modify" the soccer-playing Serbian student who was their J-Term guest. She was working on a muscle enhancement formula. Fed nothing but specially prepared milkshakes, Dragan's muscles did indeed begin to grow . . . one "muscle" in particular. And, of course, you can't have an experiment without doing hands-on testing! As to Albert, chemically dosed in something of the opposite direction: He is first relegated to the role of observer, which he finds frustrating; gradually he becomes more and more of a participant in Cara's experiments with Dragan, which he finds terrifying . . . and disturbingly exciting. How far will she go? How far will he bend?Includes a bonus chapter from Jon Zelig's "Terms & Turns: Sex & Submission, Book I: Becoming a Good Boy."WARNING NSFW, Includes: Cuckolding, FLR, Femdom, golden showers, creampie eating, male chastity, body modification, minor CBT.

How Can They Fight THE HEAT?Viktor had made them rich: husband and wife, engineer and MBA, IPO millionaires who still enjoyed getting up and going to work every day, on the sprawling high tech campus that housed Viktor's company. They were happy, loved each other, were living a good life until. . . The Shot. A Russian émigré, Viktor was odd, but largely in the way that young rich techies tended to be: wandering in and out of meetings, barefoot, in black slacks and a black t-shirt. The company's medical clinic was odd, staffed exclusively by Russians and Ukrainians--that latter group mostly young nurses who were stunningly attractive--the doctors mostly older Russian men. The Shot? Some kind of Eastern European Summer Flu to be vaccinated against. No big deal. A leisurely midday, Friday, stroll to the clinic, then home for lunch, a glass or two of wine, a lazy early summer afternoon. Which is when they begin to feel odd. And their lives start to come apart: the demure wife sexually inflamed; her loving husband rendered. . . ineffective. Their boss--of course!--feels it's important for him to. . . help. How long would YOUR love last, under that kind of assault?

The first two years of our marriage had been good, I thought; Barb had sex with whoever she wanted; I was faithful to her. Ten years my senior and a high-powered corporate lawyer, she was always the one to dictate terms; when she chose to have sex with me, it was always and only with her on top. "Women ride men," she'd say, with utter finality. "Anything else is degrading and unacceptable." Then one day . . . things just blew apart--I had been insufficiently . . . diligent, and what had been subtext came rocketing to the surface: I came home to find my wife in bed with my stepbrother. The next domino to fall? I was surprised by my stepsister . . . with an intimidatingly-sized strap-on. Seemed pretty clear that, if I was to "earn my way back" into my wife's good graces?I was running out of time and--I very much hoped!--stepfamily as well.

Again, he felt her angry patience. There is not the slightest possibility of resistance, her thoughts murmured directly into his brain. That's over-so, so, long over. You are-it was almost as though he felt her sigh, a sound of satisfaction tinged with a chilling but irresistible spice of joyful sadism-You are already broken. That is done. There is no going back. And-he felt her wheel around again, back to the task of explaining the obvious to the dimwitted-this. is. natural. This is the state into which you were born. In utter thrall to your Mother: you fear us, you love us, you desire us; you know that we have created you; you know that we can destroy you; you know that, for every second in between, we control you. You know this. You want this. You accept this. You have always known and wanted and accepted this. That is your Nature. That is how you have been wired. How you have been designed. It is the appropriate and inevitable Course of Life. It is your Destiny. We have simply. . . Undammed.

You go in for routine outpatient surgery; little thing on your leg that your dermatologist wants lopped off and biopsied. They’ll do it under light sedation; you’ll be home in time for dinner; no big deal. And then . . . When you “come to,” in post-op? You know immediately that . . . a little more than skin surgery has been performed on you. You can feel a sting, a burn, a subtle lump . . . in a part of your body that shouldn’t be lumpy. Your wife? She’s simply—terrifyingly!—radiant. Now? She has a phone app that both lets her read your . . . physical state and behavior, AND allows her to administer . . . corrections—which turns her on to just a frightening degree. Plus—the pain and humiliation notwithstanding—there’s also some part of this that . . . turns you on, too.