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Michael

Emerald got home late the night. Looking back, Michael would always remember it as the night before the new rule went into place, but of course he had no way of knowing that at the time. Emerald and Christopher hadn't told him yet.

"Good to see you, cucky," Emerald said as she collapsed onto the sofa and took the glass of wine he brought her, kissed him before she took a sip. "I mean that selfishly tonight though. My feet are killing me."

"I bet," Michael told her.

She snapped her fingers and put her feet up on the sofa's armrest. It was Michael's signal to drop to his knees and slip off her shoes, but it was largely performative. He would've done that anyway.

She'd worn the flats she knew he loved: pink, scuffed up, one of her older pairs. She hadn't worn them in a long time -- and looking back he'd recognize this was something of both a gift and a cruel taunt, something he didn't pick up on at the time. The sight of them alone was enough to make his penis strain against the chastity cage in his pants. The sight of the key to said cage on her anklet inches from his face did nothing to slow it down. He slipped off her shoes; she rolled her ankles and scrunched her toes and sighed. Michael breathed in the smell -- vinegary with a dash of leather like always -- and now the strain in his pants was painful. He put his hands on her sweat-slick soles -- flecked with dirt from her after-work excursions around downtown Galina City, whatever they may have been -- and started to rub.

Emerald sighed.

"Mmmmmm that feels so good," she whispered.

Foot-play had always been intimate for them. Emerald had been self-conscious at first about the way her feet had smelled, but she'd gotten over that as she realized how much Michael actually loved it. Especially as it became clear he just wasn't great in your run-of-the-mill penis-in-vagina sex situation. The after work foot worship and massage had become one of their little rituals, one of the ways they'd preserved intimacy even after Emerald had started dating Christopher and she'd put Michael in chastity.

Now, Michael planted a series of gentle kisses on her soles and toes and ankles and her giggle made him warm inside. Maybe he couldn't satisfy Emerald sexually the way Christopher could, but he valued this too.

Emerald

Emerald put a hand over her lips to hide a smile she knew Michael likely still couldn't see.

This was almost too mean. Michael wasn't going to know about the new rule for another 24 hours, of course, and maybe that was even part of why this was so filthy fucking hot -- her and Christopher knowing; her husband not -- but it was going to be a mindfuck.

She stifled a giggle again and pulled her phone from her purse, shot a text over to her lover.

"He's rubbing my feet now," she told Christopher. "Am I the asshole for enjoying this too much?"

Christopher responded in 30 seconds, nothing but a devil's face emoji. He'd been at the bar when they'd gotten drinks after work tonight, but they hadn't hooked up. Not everyone at work knew about the arrangement, and anyway, they had big plans for introducing the new rule to Michael tomorrow night.

Fuck, she thought, and leaned back on the armrest behind her. This did feel good though. Her feet really had been killing her, and Michael had gotten pretty good at this over the years. Even his lips and his tongue on her feet felt good.

To say nothing of the implicit power exchange

(I just got home from work where I make way more than you ever have, house-husband, rub my fucking filthy feet at the snap of my fingers)

that had always kind of turned her on.

A warm, comfortable desire had lit in her core now, at the thought of seeing Christopher tomorrow. At the thought of Michael watching. At the thought of Michael hearing about the new rule.

She was going to miss this after work ritual, she decided, but not as much as she was going to enjoy the new rule going in place.

She put her phone down, yawned, closed her eyes, and thought about Christopher and tomorrow night.

Christopher

Early on, Christopher had loved an audience. Especially Michael, who always did look a little lost when he had to watch his wife get fucked. Back then, the performance, the look on Michael's face, the palpate sense of warring emotions -- all of that had been the spiciest part about the whole damn arrangement.

That had changed after he and Emerald started connecting though. He didn't think he could ever date her outside of bed, but in bed? Fuck. These days he could all but forget her loser husband was still in the room when he picked her up and put her where he wanted her, pinned her wrists to the mattress and had his way with her, made her scream in ways Michael had never even knew she could.

Every now and then, though, he still loved an audience.

Which was where Emerald's rule came in.

Just the thought of it -- of what Michael was about to hear, what was going to happen next -- made him harder, drove him deeper into her. It was even more mean -- and hot -- knowing how much Michael despised the smell and taste of cum.

Christopher was getting close, he could feel it now.

He pulled out of her and took his dick in his hands as Emerald rolled over onto her stomach and put her feet up in the air so that her toes were just barely scraping the bottoms of his balls.

There was no word in English, really, for how good that felt, with Emerald's husband looking on.

"So Michael," Emerald said, just as they'd planned it.

She giggled, which was not just as they'd planned it, but was insanely hot anyway.

"Christopher and I have decided on a new rule," Emerald said to her husband, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

Christopher was close and fuck was this going to be earth-shattering.

"We've decided you don't deserve to just kiss and touch my feet whenever you want," Emerald continued. "We think you're being selfish in that way. So."

She paused and Christopher looked down, at the tip of his dick just brushing the bottoms of her feet.

It was enough. He came, his whole body wracking and writhing with pleasure as his mind went fully blank and he came all over her feet.

"So," Emerald said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "From now on, you aren't allowed to touch or kiss or smell my feet at all unless they are covered in Christopher's cum. We think this will help you remember your place."

Christopher took a deep breath and let it out, basking in the afterglow.

The load hung from Emerald's feet in thick, ropy strands.

"You can start right now," Christopher said, and pointed to her feet.

Michael blinked, and he could tell the guy hadn't fully registered this yet.

"Clean up that mess, cuck. I got to go piss."