Explorations: The Husband

It started innocently enough. It was our twelfth anniversary and because it was a Saturday we booked a room at a hotel in the City. Dinner at a special-occasion restaurant and back to the hotel at a little past nine. There were chilled champagne and a dozen roses on the bed.

My wife wore a favorite blue-dress and three-inch heels. Her hair was done, and it was up in something of a bob that framed her round face. Just a touch of makeup, which is all she ever needed to become glorious. Diamond studs in her ears, a present for our tenth.

I was in my own favorite blue-suit and a white shirt with French cuffs. A soft-blue tie. With her in heels, we were just about the same height, and after closing and locking the door to the room I walked to the ice bucket and removed the champagne. We both had wine at dinner but this was to cap it, and the day. I opened the champagne, turning the cork back and forth in a provocative manner in front of her, and poured us each a glass. The glasses were from home.

After removing my jacket, I sidled up to her, arms around her waist, and we shared one of the joyous kisses that we’d enjoyed from the very first one, the one that told me she was “the one.”

My wife lightly pushed me so I sat on the bed as she stripped. For me. Zipper down a bit awkwardly. Then her dress was off. After she stepped out of it, I reached to pick it up to put it on a hanger, but she wagged her right index finger at me. No. You just watch the show. She was in light-blue lingerie and matching stockings, attached to a garter belt. She bent down and removed her shoes, placing them neatly to the side.

At this point, I was hard as a rock and just wanted to tear off what she still wore. But I was being “forced” to enjoy the show. So I did.

She unclasped her bra and her tits were there. They are perfect tits and I often suckle on them until she tells me I’m making them sore. Now I could only stare at them. Not big so no concerns about gravity pulling them down. Just amazing.

She was topless. Unclasping the garter belt she sat in a chair facing the bed and rolled her left and then her right stocking down. Garter belt and panties were all that remained. She spread her legs and put her arms on her waist.

“Your turn.”

I tried to emulate in her the excitement her stripping caused me, but I doubt it worked. I finally got my clothes off, standing just in my briefs. She walked to me, and put her fingers in the waist and pulled them off. She stepped back, and I did the same to her panties. She leaned in and gave me another passionate kiss.

“Thank you for twelve wonderful years.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.”

With that, we moved to the bed and made love. Eventually, when we were both ready, she was above me and put my dick into her. She looked down at me. It was perhaps our favorite position, her controlling the tempo and me at her mercy. I don’t know why, perhaps it was subconscious, but while she was moving on top of me I moved my hands from her ass and held my arms on either side of my head. She noticed and her own hands were on my wrists, pinning them down and her chest was bent close to mine. She used this to increase her leverage and change the angle. She increased the tempo of her fucking me. It didn’t last long because she came quickly thereafter. When done, she jerked up-and-down on my dick and when she said, “Come for me” I did.

We snuggled for a while when we were done until she got up to get ready for bed and after I followed suit, we said goodnight with a final kiss and we were asleep, with me spooning her.

Gradually in the weeks and months afterward, I put my arms up as I did at the hotel more frequently and she soon took the hint. It was maybe once every four times or so at first—we usually had sex two or three times a week in those days—and then every three. Then when I was on top of my wife, she started putting her hands above her head and her eyes got hard when I pushed her wrists down as I was in her.

Now I can’t do the math here, but when we hit the twelve-and-a-half mark for our marriage, I’d say I was letting her hold me down well over half the time and I was doing the same to her every few weeks.

Then I got home a little late on a Friday. I was stuck in the office getting some papers out and I was hungry and a little pissed when I went through the door and was not greeted by her and the aroma of my dinner. All the lights downstairs were off, and I stormed up to our bedroom. The door was closed, which was unusual, and when I opened it she was standing by the bed. She had the outfit she’d worn on our anniversary on. Down to the three-inch heels. Her hair was up again and she had the touch of makeup that she knew I loved. Her perfume. As I stood in the doorway she reached behind her dress and pulled the zipper down, more adroitly than she had done at the hotel.

Soon my wife was down to her soft-blue lingerie. She bent down to unclasp the bra, aware that I could stare at her tits dropping oh-so-slightly. Aware that I was hard. Standing somewhat stunned by the door. She removed the bra with a flourish—TaDa—and then walked to me, her hips swinging. As she reached me she ran a hand across my cheek and kissed it. Stepping back, she removed my jacket, tossing it on the dresser. She undid my tie and unbuttoned my shirt, kissing each exposed inch of my chest.

Undoing my cuffs, she pulled my shirt off, tossing it and the tie by the jacket.

“Shoes,” and they were kicked off. She undid my belt and whipped it from my trousers. The button and zipper were opened and she pulled them down until I could step from them. They joined my other clothes. She ran her hand up my briefs, which barely contained my dick. I have no idea how it stands in terms of size. All that mattered was that we both knew it was enough.

After three or four caresses, her hands hooked into my waistband and the briefs were soon gone, tossed on the dresser.

I hadn’t noticed until she pointed at the bed that the comforter was off. I turned so she could see me and waddled back until I hit the bed and I got on its center. She undid the garter clasps and after taking her heels off she rolled the stockings down slowly. She then turned to the dresser and took something from the top drawer before turning to me. She smiled as she swayed her hips to get to the bed.

“You know what I want you to do.” My mind was a blur so I honestly didn’t, and she saw that in my puzzled face. Standing next to the bed, she held one of her stockings in both hands and snapped it apart. Her eyes frightened me but I knew what we both wanted me to do.

I put my hands above my head and after saying “good boy” she tied one stocking-end around my left wrist and the other end around the bedpost. She then walked to the other side and repeated the action with my right wrist. Ensuring that the knot was tight-but-not-too-tight, she walked to the foot of the bed. My dick was as hard as it had ever been, even when I was much younger, and she smiled as her eyes moved down to it before returning to mine.

Without her saying anything I spread my legs. Now she took the other pair of stockings, which had been in the drawer, and secured my left and right ankles to the other corners of the bed. My wife stepped to the side of the bed so we could see each other clearly. There she pulled her panties down and off. She brushed them against my nose. They were damp, and I could smell her and a slight hint of her perfume.


When I did, she put the panties in my mouth.

“We don’t want to disturb the neighbors. Imagine what they’d think.”

She got on the bed and crossed over me before lowering herself on my dick. Slowly. Staring at me as she did.

“I don’t care if you enjoy this. I know I’m going to.”

And then she started pounding me into her. Up-and-down. She was so wired that she didn’t last long and speeding up and with me thrusting up into her she quickly came in a flurry of passion, holding onto my sides as she did.

Without missing a beat, my wife then pulled up so I was out of her, close but not quite there to have come, and sidled up so that her pussy was above my mouth. She removed her panties from my mouth, and I missed them. I was helpless as my eyes took in the wonder until she lowered herself to my mouth and my nose. She kindly reached for a pillow for my head to rest on and then started moving herself up and down across my mouth and nose as my tongue did what it could manage to do in the restricted space. More than anything, and more than ever before, I wasn’t eating her. I was letting her use my face to get herself off. Again.

There’d been a few times when she’d come twice. This was one of them. And, again, it did not take long. Soon I thought I might suffocate as she bounced and rolled her pussy on me, particularly when her thighs tightened, covering my ears so the noise of her eruption was muffled.

She then got up and went to the bathroom and I heard her pee and I wondered what it would be like to have her piss on me. Now that was something that I’d never thought of before but it was suddenly there.

After she flushed the toilet, she returned. Standing at the foot of the bed she mocked me.

“Oh. Does my poor Baby need to come?”

I vigorously nodded. I was desperate.

“Oh too bad he can’t use his hands to do it. Does my poor Baby need me to help him come?”

Fuck, again I was nodding, my eyes bulging.

My wife walked to the side of the bed. Sitting down on it and facing my head, she ran her hands along my cheek. Her lips reached mine, but they only glanced across.

“No. I don’t think so.”


With that, she put her panties back in my mouth and walked out the room naked except for her garter belt and I heard her walk down the steps.

I don’t know how long I was there, desperate and staring at the ceiling. I realized I was sucking on her panties, trying to get her juices. Which was not helping my dick. Again, I don’t know for how long she left me like that, but eventually I heard her come upstairs again. Still gloriously naked—but for the garter belt—as she reentered the room.

She carried a tray with food and wine. Dinner. I’d forgotten how hungry I was, having worked late and skipped dinner in the office. She put the tray on the dresser, next to my clothes. I could smell the stew and was even hungrier.

“What? I wasn’t enough for you to eat?”

She walked to the bed and removed her panties from my mouth.

“My. These are much wetter than when I wore them. Has my Baby been sucking on them?” She elongated that pen penultimate word, and my dick shook.

She lifted my head with her hand and put a second pillow behind it. She then brought the wine glass to my lips, and I drank as best I could, some dripping down my chin. She went back to the dresser, exaggerating her hip movement as she did. She knew I loved her ass and I was a mess of conflicting needs, almost out of my mind.

My wife turned with the plate and two large napkins. She returned to the bed and gingerly straddled me again, across my stomach. My god, the view was spectacular. She placed one napkin like a bib below my neck and the other on the bed and to the side. Holding the plate in her left hand, she got a spoonful of the stew and brought it to my lips.

“Open up” and I did and she fed me several spoonfuls. She then placed the plate on the napkin across my upper chest and looked behind her, her right hand grabbing my dick. She scooted back and up and directed my dick back into her. She was still wet and I slid, or I should say I was slid, into her easily. She left the plate where it was but resumed getting spoonfuls of the stew to feed me as she slowly fucked me.

She tried to keep it slow, but she could only hold out for so long. The same was true of me. She was able, though, to feed me everything on the plate and when she did she stopped her movement. She took the plate in her hands and staring into my eyes she slowly licked it clean, brazenly displaying her tongue with each pass. It was too much and as soon as she resumed her pumping, grasping the plate, I exploded in her and she soon followed.

When we were done, she reached down to her pussy and found some of my cum at the entrance. With me still in her, she reached down and put her covered finger to my lips and I tasted it. I’d tasted my own cum when I’d masturbated to see what it tasted like. It tasted far better from her fingers, probably mixed with her juices. As she had licked the plate clean, I did the same with my finger.

When I was done, she rose up to have me come out of her and then she crossed back over me. When she stood on the floor, she leaned and cleaned the head of my dick before standing and, smiling, licking her lips. She put the plate back on the tray and took a swig of the wine and went into the bathroom. In fact, I think she forgot about me. Or at least about the fact that I still tied to the bed and had been for over an hour. I called to her and she rushed out to untie me, with a “sorry.”

She went back into the bathroom, and I heard her turn on the shower. After I got my circulation back, I took a drink of wine and headed into the bathroom. She was waiting for the water to get warm. She’d placed two towels. I told her I’d be right back, and went to the other bathroom to pee. When I got back, she was in the shower—which is actually the tub with a showerhead in the wall—and invited me in when I opened the curtain. We then soaped each other down and after rinsing and toweling off, and brushing our teeth we fell into bed exhausted and after exchanging “I love you”s we were asleep.

*   *   *

We spoke about it the next morning over breakfast. It was almost as if we were talking about what color to paint the den. Very matter of fact.

Later that Saturday morning, as usual, I gave my wife a kiss as I went to meet some clubmates for an easy six-mile run. But when we started my brain was so addled by what had happened the night before that I had trouble with the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and told the guys I wasn’t feeling well and walked back to my car after about a mile.

When I got through the front door I saw my wife in the living room. She was naked and kneeling, her face looking down. On the floor next to her was a note she had written in her neat script.

I need to experience being yours as you experienced being mine. Please take me and use me as you wish.

With all my love.

And she signed it.

She hadn’t moved a hair as I read. I stepped back and looked at her. I knew enough from forays into various websites what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know whether I wanted to. Without a word I went into the kitchen to get some water. When I returned, my wife was where she was when I first saw her. I could see that she was shaking ever so slightly. She’d closed the blinds so the room was somewhat dark. And private.

I stood looking at her. Admiring her. But in a way I hadn’t before. Frankly, I’d always been the more submissive of the two. Yet I enjoyed those sessions in which she put her hands above her head and let me take control.

What I did next was something that I would not have done in a thousand years. I was not sure that I even wanted to do it. I knew that she did.

I sat and took my running shoes and socks off. I stepped in front of her and pulled off my shirt, tossing it aside. I then pulled my shorts down. I was surprised, but my dick was growing. I hadn’t run far so only had the hint of sweat on my body. I moved closer to her and tapped her head. My wife looked up and saw my hardening dick. She put her right hand beneath it and her left to its side and caressed it and it was rock hard. Then her lips hit the head and I heard a moan from her. She’d given me blowjobs with some frequency, as I had often eaten her, but this was different. That moan.

Soon she was slowly lowering her mouth, holding my full length as her tongue washed me. She looked up at me and started to back slowly out until I was clear and she again put just the head in. Her hands were caressing my balls and she slowly moved her mouth down, gagging as she tried to deep throat. I felt her hands on my ass as she began to piston on me again and again. I couldn’t last long and I didn’t. I started to pull out, thinking of where I could come, but she tightened her grip on my ass and kept me in her mouth. As she felt I was coming, she backed off until just my dickhead was in her mouth and she swallowed all I had.

When I was spent, she licked the head clean and backed away, leaning back so her ass was on her heels. Her eyes locked on my feet. Still, not a word was said. I was at something of a loss of what to do. I had just come and was happy but I could tell she wanted more. I turned and started to walk to the hall. I stopped and turned back to her and nodded. She crawled on her knees, from the rug onto the wood, and I wanted to tell her to stand but this was her fantasy and that would ruin it. I pointed up the stairs and she went up on her hands and knees ahead of me. The sight of her ass and her pussy lips and her swaying hips got me hard again. I followed my wife into our bedroom.

She had tidied it up while I was out, including by making the bed. She crawled to the side of the bed and turned to await me. She saw how hard I was as she looked to me for instructions. I walked to the foot of the bed and she followed.

“You are to place your stomach on the bed and keep your feet on the floor.”

As she did as instructed, I opened the drawer where her stockings were the night before. They were still there. She had neatly folded them and left them in plain view. I walked to her. I instructed her to turn to face the headboard and I knelt and tied first one and then the other ankle to the bed’s posts. I took the third stocking and after telling her to put her hands behind her back I tied them together. I draped the final stocking across her mouth and secured it. Her breathing was accelerated.

I slowly entered her. She was drenched. I proceeded to fuck her. I held out longer than I normally would since I had come not ten minutes earlier, and I savored the experience. But strangely the experience was all about my wife. My dick was secondary to feeling her respond to my fucking her. I could hear her moans into the stocking and feel the shaking of her legs.

“Don’t you dare come you slut.” The last word seemed to make her more excited.

“Oh you like me finally calling you what you are, you slut. My fucking fucktoy slut. You like that.”

Her head was nodding as she tried to speak, to, I knew, affirm her status.

I slowed down the pace and reached to untie the stocking that silenced her. I knew what she wanted to say and I was not disappointed.

“Please, Sir, please let me come.”

“You will come when I say you will come. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” A pause. “But please sir, I need to—”

“You will be punished for your defiance.”

I slowed my fucking and gave her ass several not particularly vigorous slaps but her reaction was well beyond the physical contact. Her ass was backing as much as it could to get my dick back in her.

I was not in the business of torturing her, just letting her think I was so I didn’t wait long before resuming my fucking. I knew she couldn’t last long and, frankly, neither could I.

“You may come as soon as you feel my sperm inside you.”

That set her to pushing more aggressively, if that were possible, onto my dick. I was so close and the sight of her back, her hands bound behind her, her slightly-reddened ass with its beautiful curve and crack put me over the edge. I grabbed the sides of her waist and came inside her and just as I did she had what was the hardest orgasm I’d ever witnessed. She flopped on the bed like a fish on a boat deck, screaming so loudly that I feared the neighbors would actually hear.

Now that it was done and I was good and truly spent and her lying tied to the foot of the bed with her hands bound behind her, I had to figure out what happened next. I bent down and kissed each of her ass cheeks before rubbing them with my hands. I ran a hand between them, and touched her anus, which generated another moan.

“You are a good slave and I reward you with your freedom.”

I got to my knees and undid the binding of her ankles and then those that held her wrists together. I led her to the bathroom and ran the tub. It is a standard size so there’s not a lot of room, but enough. When the water was not too hot, I got in and reached for her to join me. She climbed in gingerly and sat so her back was towards me.

“That was . . . something.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“But,” she said as she ran her hands along my legs, “I don’t know how often I want to do it.”


“Both. It’s too much.”

I had my arms around her waist and we were quiet. I grabbed a bar of soap and began to delicately, worshiply, rub her tits from behind. Till she grabbed my right hand and pulled it down to her pussy.

“Finger me. Please.”

She didn’t come. It was not about that. It was more intimate. Her hand above mine as my middle finger randomly danced around and in her. Her breath was short.

“I’ll make you a deal. Once a month one of us will be the slave to the other for a weekend.” She paused. “It’ll be random. A flip of a coin.” She was thinking out loud and her hand pushed mine closer to her pussy as her flow of words quickened.

“We’ll each have a list of dos and don’ts. Pain. Punishment. Stuff like that. Safeword. I’ve looked things up.”

I’m sure she felt my dick hardening even as the water cooled.

She removed my hand and twisted so she could face me, her back against the faucet and looking down and grabbing my hardon and slowly pumping it.

“It’ll be great. We both like dominating and we both like being submissive to each other.”

The water had turned uncomfortable. She released me and got out of the tub, reaching for a towel and handing one to me when I stood.

Then she was gone, wrapped in the towel, leaving me with a towel and a raging dick.

When I got into the bedroom she was still in the towel, typing maniacally on her laptop. When I looked over her shoulder I saw she was making some kind of list. She shooed me away.

“Go. I’ll show it to you when I’m done.”

I sat on the bed, my hand beneath the towel lightly holding and pumping my dick. I was getting impatient, our earlier session seeming like years ago to my current horniness for this woman.

I heard the printer and she came to me with two copies of her list. It consisted of possibilities and boxes for “Yes” or “No.” I looked at it.

“Be sure. You say ‘yes,’ you’ve said yes.”

I watched as she quickly ran down and checked the items on her copy. I turned to mine. In the end I checked “yes” for pretty much everything except for “PAIN.” I said “no” for what she called “pleasure pain,” not quite understanding what she meant. I said “yes” for “punishment pain (no markings)” and “no” to “punishment pain (markings)” after she said the first involved things like spanking, even with an object, and the other got to leaving things like whip marks. She’d done her homework.

I stared at “Anal” for the longest time. I quickly OKed rubbing and “finger penetration” but hesitated on “pegging.” Realizing that she’d never hurt me, I checked “yes.” I suspected that’d draw a smile when she read it.

She did not include “humiliation” on the list but wrote, “limited to the second floor of the house and downstairs rooms WHEN THE BLINDS ARE DOWN.” Also, “NO THIRD PARTIES ARE TO BE INVOLVED AND NO THIRD PARTIES ARE TO BE TOLD.” As a good lawyer, she strove for completeness.



We swapped our lists. I hate to admit it but the first thing I looked for was “Anal,” and she’d checked “yes” for “penetration (fingers)” and “no” for “penetration (penis).” Just the thought hardened me. The balance of her list was similar to mine except she said “yes” for “pleasure pain (no markings).”

“Here’s the deal. On the Friday before the last Saturday of the month, we’ll sit in the living room. I’ll toss a coin and you’ll call it. Whoever wins gets to choose whether to be the Dom or to be the sub. At noon on Saturday, it begins and it continues until noon on Sunday. Then we put everything away and resume our ‘normal’ lives, and have our normal sex, until the next Friday before the last Saturday of the month. Agreed?”

I of course agreed, wondering, though, whether once-a-month would be enough. I also hadn’t thought that the winner of the coin toss could elect to be the bottom. I liked that idea.

“If it’s OK, we’ll each sign our copies of the list and that’ll be that.” We both signed and she scanned the pages and sent them to a cloud somewhere.

When she did, she turned and removed her towel and reached for my hand and pulled me onto the bed where I’d been sitting for the duration. Since she was no longer my slave—me having given her freedom—she did what she wanted to do, which was lie on her back with her legs spread and direct me to fuck her like a wife and not a whore.

*   *   *

A bit about us. We were both 37 on the twelfth anniversary. We met in law school in New York City. I am a partner at a mid-sized law firm in Manhattan and she an assistant general counsel at a large New York-based bank. We decided not to have children and, because you need to know this, she has been on the pill throughout our relationship. Neither of us slept with many people before we slept with each other during our second year of law school and none since about a year before we married. We both grew up in the New York City suburbs—me in Westchester, she on Long Island—and we visited our respective parents on a semi-regular basis.

After several years in a one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, we moved to, and now live in, a three-bedroom house in the suburbs north of the City and keep mostly to ourselves. We have friends who are more acquaintances than anything else. My hobby is running, and I usually spend Saturday mornings going for a group run on the roads or trails near the house. My wife plays tennis and is very good at it, and she usually plays matches on weekends at a tennis club in an adjoining town. For the record, she looks criminally good in tennis whites.

So that’s who we are and were when we agreed to this plan which, frankly, I’d never thought of until what happened in that hotel room on our twelfth anniversary.

*   *   *

As the plan developed, we agreed that if one of us told the other that “a package is expected,” it would remain unopened by the other. We were each assigned a drawer in one of the spare bedrooms that the other agreed not to open. I passed by hers often and was tempted to sneak a peek but that would be cheating. I was assigned a closet in that room and one in the third bedroom for her, although I don’t think either of us had an idea of what we might get that was too big for a drawer. Once the coin toss was held, the Master or Mistress could declare the spare room “off limits.”

*   *   *

My concentration wasn’t there on the Friday before the last Saturday of the next month, and I left work a little earlier than usual. I called my wife and she left early too. We took the train home together. While we chatted, things between us were tense. When we got in the house, neither of us could wait. We sat in the living room and she flipped the coin. I called heads and it was tails.

Holding my hands, she said, “You ready?” and I nodded. “You will be my slave.” It was what I hoped would happen. I thought if I won I might even designate myself as the slave. This made it easier. She made the designation. She told me how and where I was to be at noon.

We went half-heartedly through our normal evening routine of dinner and a movie on TV. Neither of us slept well. I went out for my normal Saturday run with the guys and got back at about ten-thirty, more successful than that other time I mentioned. My wife was out, leaving a note saying: I will see you at noon. My dick jerked a bit. It was happening.

I took a shower and washed my dick carefully. It got hard, with the thoughts and expectations that were bounding around my brain, but I held off. I spent time making sure my ass was clean too, to the point of putting soap on my finger and pushing it in me. Which didn’t help my no-coming resolve. I toweled off and put on shorts and a t-shirt so I could get breakfast.

As I walked down the hall I saw a post-it on the door to one of the spare bedrooms: Do Not Enter in her sweet script. That set my mind into overdrive. After eating and having some coffee and reading the Times I saw it was after eleven-thirty. With a deep breath I headed upstairs. After looking at the verboten door, I sat in the master bedroom. The comforter was removed and neatly folded on a chair in the corner. I saw another note on the dresser:

“At noon, you are to be naked and kneeling in ‘the position’ and facing the door.”

Before I could react, I heard the front door open and my wife coming up the stairs.

She looked into the bedroom and said calm as can be, “Hi honey. I’ll be with you,” she glanced at her watch, “in fourteen minutes.” I heard her open the door with the post-it note. At about five-to, I stripped and put my clothes out of sight. The room was a bit chilly, but I figured things would heat up pretty quickly. At eleven-fifty-nine, I knelt on the floor in the master bedroom—an apt name that day—naked with my hands behind my back and my ass on my heels, eyes focused on the floor in front of me. I heard her steps march to the door.

As I raised my eyes from her feet after she said, “You may admire me,” I saw that she was wearing leather boots with four-inch heels that extended just below her knees. Moving up, I met black silk panties and continuing a black leather corset that covered, barely, her breasts. She stood with her hands on her waist, her legs spread. My dick was instantly hard.

She strode in and walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. With her back to me, she assembled a number of things, but I couldn’t see what they were. She turned her head.

“Don’t be impatient. You’ll see my ‘toys’ when I’m ready to use them on you.” She resumed her assembling. When she turned again, I did see the first ‘toy’ she had for me. It was a leather dog-collar. She held it open and walked until she stood directly in front of me.

“You must ask me to allow you to wear my collar. Can you do that Baby?”

“Baby.” So that’s what I was to be called. Normally I was “honey.”

“Please, may I wear your collar?”

“Please what?”

“Please, Mistress, may I wear your collar?”

“Am I your Mistress.”


“And what are you?” She held the collar, still open, in front of my face.

“Your slave.”


“Your slut.”


“Your worthless servant.”


I was desperately running words I’d read through my brain.

“Your bitch.”

“Very good. And since you are my ‘bitch,’ you must wear my collar.” She put it around my neck. It was perhaps two-inches wide and its presence could not be ignored. When I felt it tighten and felt it closed around my neck I felt liberated. From that moment on, my only thought was to do what she instructed me to do.

Were I to have thought about it, this would have frightened me but, as I say, I only had one thought and that wasn’t it.

She looked down.

“Oh, look how hard your—I mean my little friend is.” She walked to the dresser. She opened an ice bucket, which I hadn’t noticed, and took out a cube of ice and ran it against the bottom of my dick, which reduced my erection. I also hadn’t noticed that she had a plastic cock ring in her left hand. She put the ice cube in my mouth and put the ring in her right hand and pushed it down my dick.

“We don’t want anything to happen prematurely now do we? This is for your benefit, not mine. To be clear, as if I have to say it, you may not come without my permission. You can come, but you may not.” I’d often chided her about the different meanings of “can” and “may” and she was having her revenge.

She walked back to the dresser and lifted a small whip. I’m sure my eyes got large.

“We don’t want to have to use this now, do we?” How I didn’t come right there I will never know. I wondered whether I should have checked “yes” for “pleasure pain” on her damn form.

She placed the whip down and lifted a set of soft ropes.

“You know the drill. On your back and open up.”

I rushed onto the bed, on my back, and spread-eagled. She tied each of my wrists and each of my ankles to the bedposts. She moved a chair from the corner so it was next to the bed and I could see it. She’d placed a towel on it ahead of time. Retrieving the whip, she sat down.

“Baby, how often do you jerk off each week?”

I looked. Not expecting this.

“Two or three.”

She flicked the whip.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“OK. At least five.”

“You do it in the shower in the morning, don’t you?”



“Almost all the time.”

She stood.

“Let me make one thing crystal clear. If you lie to me once more, I will batter that dick of yours so hard it will never recover. So let me try again. Do you masturbate whenever you take a shower.”

“I try. Sometimes it’s just . . . doesn’t happen.”

“And when you jerk off, do you think of anyone but me?”


“Do you sometimes think of me?”


“And when you think of me, do you think of doing things that we’ve never done?”


“I may come back to that. But what about other people. Do I know them?”

“Some of them.”

“Are they neighbors?”

“Yes. Some of them.”

“And videos? Do you watch?”



“Lesbian. Crossdressers. Dommes. And the usual.”


“Men and women fucking, eating each other. And mature.”



“And when you jerk off, do you ever think of a man?”

A pause.

“Do you?” as she lifted the whip.


“And what do you do with a man in your brain as you’re jerking off.”

“I think of sucking his cock and sometimes I think of being fucked by him.”

“Any men in particular?”

I waited a moment too long.



Jerry was a member of my running club. He was about ten years older than me but was still in very good shape.

“Anyone else?”

“No. Just him.”

“Do you think of fucking him or only being fucked by him?”

“He always fucks me. Or I suck him.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now. If I told you you could fuck anyone, male or female, you want without any consequences, who would it be?”

I thought desperately. Who was it? I saw her right leg, now crossed over her left, bouncing slightly as my wife waited. I had not anticipated truth-and-consequences in doing this.

“Pam Johnson.”

Pam Johnson lived a few houses down. She was about ten or twelve years older than us and had lost her figure to some extent. There was something about her, though, that made me desire her. Yes, she was the one I’d fuck if I had a freebie.

“Pam Johnson. That old hag. I was afraid you’d pick one of the college girls or young women you know with the big tits. The ones you stare at when you don’t think I notice. Pam’s a good choice.”

She stood and undid the corset and pulled her panties down.

With her legs spread, she began to lightly rub her pussy. Very nonchalant.

“I wouldn’t mind getting into bed with Pam. Oh, does that surprise you? I pleasure myself two or three times a week. I like it in the shower and when I take a bath. I almost always fuck myself with a dildo when you go for your runs on Saturday mornings and I’m not playing tennis with the ‘girls.’ Don’t worry, we only play on the court, not in the locker room.”

Fuck, my dick twitched at that.

“And while I often think of men fucking me, I also think of women. And, yeah, I have thought of having Pam between my legs or being between hers. Maybe we could have a threesome. I’d love to watch you fuck her while she’s eating me. . . . Or maybe watch Jerry fuck you while you eat me.”

Now, this was not helping my dick, which was straining. But it was nothing compared to what happened when she reached over to the dresser and picked up her vibrator and began to fuck herself. She’d placed her right leg over the arm of the chair to open herself more. I really think she forgot I was there as she “pleasured herself.” “There, Pam, there, right there,” until she exploded.

When she came down, she looked into my eyes as she cleaned the vibrator with her tongue.

“Yes, maybe a threesome with sweet, old Pam. Oh, did Baby want a taste” as she waved the dildo side-to-side. I nodded. How could I not? She pushed it back inside her pussy and rotated it several times. She carried it to me. Holding it out, I leaned as far as I could to taste her. I could only get my tongue on its tip.

“Think of it as Jerry’s right after he’s fucked me senseless.” With that she pushed it so I could suck on it, unencumbered by the vision that it was a man’s dick coated with my wife’s come. She rotated it several times and pulled it back. I missed it. She spread her legs slightly and staring at me put it inside her one, final time. She took it out and cleaned it herself. She leaned and kissed me, shoving her tongue into my mouth and letting me have a last taste before abruptly pulling away and walking out the door, waving the vibrator like a trophy.

I heard the toilet flush.

“Where were we?”

She had taken the corset and panties when she left and had put them back on. She’d not taken the boots off. She climbed over the foot of the bed, and her right hand gently rubbed my dick.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful he is?”

She kissed its tip.

“I am going to adore him. Do not come until I tell you to. If I tell you to.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She proceeded to lick up and down my shaft before putting it completely in her mouth and holding it. She resumed bobbing up and down and when she sensed that I was close—I was beginning to lift my ass—she pulled off.

“Tsk tsk. You are doing so well. Don’t spoil it.”

“Yes, Mistressssss.”

She resumed and the stop and “tsk tsk” was repeated four or five times. Finally, she sat back on her haunches.

“You have done well my bitch. You will be rewarded. I will give you a signal—you will know it when it happens—and then you may come. You may fill me with your wonderful seed.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She resumed her adoration of my dick and I was lost in time, only thinking of what the signal would be and when I would get it. Suddenly, when I was well past the point where I could have normally held it, I felt her finger caress my anus and I burst more than I ever have. My wife swallowed nearly all of it, although I still do not know how, and leaned over my mouth and gurgled “Open” and that of my come that was still in her mouth drained from her into me and in that moment my brain, I think, did explode.

She punctuated the moment with a kiss in which her tongue wandered about my mouth until it pulled back, and sensing what she wanted my own tongue I then explored her mouth and we were embracing, with her hands holding my head in position.

When I softened, she gently removed the cock ring and gave it a kiss, with her tongue licking its inner circumference before returning it to the dresser.

She turned with the whip in her hand. The whip itself was not large. It was maybe two-feet long with a leather handle and strap and a solid part at the end. A horsewhip.

“I have not forgotten that you lied to me about how often you masturbate. You must be punished.”

Now I know my eyes were bulging. She ran a left finger along the top of my dick several times and then held the whip in her right hand about a foot above it. She paused and her right wrist was shaking the slightest bit until she pulled the whip up and flung it against my dick. Holy fuck did it hurt.

“Thank you Mistress. One.”

She seemed more confident. She struck me nine more times, and I thanked her after each. In truth, the blows weren’t very hard as she pulled back the slightest amount just before they struck, although they were still enough to redden me.

She paused after the tenth. While part of me was glad she stopped and I didn’t know how many more even light-hits I could take, by the last one, my dick was rock hard again and I think we both knew that we had crossed the threshold from punishment pain to pleasure pain. My wife, however, remained in control throughout and however tempted she may have been, she made sure not to hit me with the full force that the horsewhip in her hand gave her.

I had no idea what time it was. Strangely, I had come in her mouth and she had come on her own. But I’d not done anything to actually make her come. She untied me and it took me a bit of rubbing to bring life back to my limbs.

She removed her boots, bending as she did so I was blinded by her ass and her pussy. “Come.”

I followed her into the bathroom. She pointed to the tub, and I got in. Was she going to bathe me?

She was, in a manner of speaking. She pulled her panties off and straddled me as I lay in the tub’s bottom. She looked me in the eye, waiting, and I nodded. She put her right hand to her pussy and spread her lips and a torrent of urine poured out. She was aiming only slightly and I felt her spray first on my chest and then as she bent back on my face. Somehow I decided to try to taste it, and with my eyes closed I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out like a child hoping to catch a snowflake.

My wife finished and after the final drop fell, she stood there and backed up slightly. I leaned up and placed my hands around to hold her ass and my tongue began to lick her clean. It was acidic but it hit me that I could come to love the taste of her piss, mixed in with her own cum. My tongue began exploring her more and while I held her ass she held my head and began to rock, neither of us caring about the danger of a fall-in-the-tub—”well, you see doctor”—and she was grinding her pussy into my face until she began to shake and for the first time that day she came thanks to my ministrations.

For a moment, just for a moment, she was out of character.

“That was wonderful Baby,” which seemed to snap her back.

“Thank you, Baby. You have pleased me. Before you shower, there are things we must do. I will leave you alone here to take care of them. You will not touch your dick except as you need to pee. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You understand what I mean about ‘taking care of things’?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” And she left.

So I peed and pooped and brushed my teeth and waited.

After what I assume was five minutes—I had zero idea about time and barely had a grip on space—the door opened. She did not knock I noticed.

She wore a clinician’s white coat and nothing else. It was buttoned and she opened a drawer in the bathroom and removed several things. Again my eyes bulged. An enema kit and surgical gloves. She had me stand as she put the nozzle into my ass, without preparing me in any way. She then filled the bag with water and released it so it filled my bowels.

“That should be about right. I will back in five minutes,” and she was gone again, after removing the nozzle.

Again I had no sense of time, but it seemed way longer than five minutes. She finally returned. I was desperate to clear myself.

“Good Baby. Sit and release it.” She stood watching me as I did it into the toilet. “Good Baby. Clean up and meet me in the bedroom. The Mistress bedroom.”

When I got there she was holding a butt plug in her hand. It didn’t look very big, but since I’d never had anything “there” I thought it enormous. She put the business end into my mouth and I did what I could to coat it with spit.

“Bend over.”

I placed my hands on the dresser, feeling ill by a combination of the enema and what I saw spread out on the dresser. Then that was gone as I felt her twisting the plug into my ass. My sphincter closed and it was in.

“Yes, Baby. You are being prepared for later when I take your virginity.”

This, of course, caused my dick to shoot up. Her white coat was now gone and she was naked. She walked to the bed, swaying her ass, and lay down on it on her back.

“Fuck me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

While I was in her, I felt her hand playing with the butt plug.

“Again, you may not come unless I authorize it,” she whispered in my ear. God, I wanted to come, but I feared doing something stupid. For the first time I rode her to two orgasms in a row. Maybe three. They starting coming fast and after the second or third my wife grabbed the butt plug and ripped it from my ass and said, “Fill me” and I did. I cannot say which of the two orgasms so far that day was the better, but they were easily the two best I’d ever had.

I pulled back so I was kneeling between her legs, and she scooted off.


I flipped so I was on her back. She straddled my face and I knew my orders. She lowered her pussy to me and I licked her hole, tasting my cum as it dripped down. As with her pee, I feared I could become addicted to this as well. Not from the source. But from this most precious spot.

When I cleaned her to her satisfaction she said, “I’m tired. You may nap on the floor.”

I got up and saw that she had placed a pillow on the floor near the bed with a blanket. I lay down, and shortly heard her light snore before I too fell asleep on the floor beside her.

It was dark when I felt her sucking my dick. She’d pulled the blanket off and moved me to my back and she was sucking my dick. I didn’t know how this fit into the I’m-the-slave thing but I was past comprehending. Her hair was loose and dangling astride her face as she bobbed up and down. When she knew I was awake she said, “Your Mistress needs an appetizer” and then she turned to swing her legs across me so I could eat her, and we 69ed each other. It was not manic, as it sometimes was when we did it. It was gentle. Truly as if we were both babies suckling a mother’s teat. Finally, her thighs tightened around my head and she had a nice, low-level orgasm. Normally she’d keep going on me until I came but she rolled over and stood. I could see her hesitation. Would she let me come?

She began to walk away. She grabbed something on the dresser.

“You may come if you allow me—yes it is your choice—if you allow me to put these clamps on your nipples.”

Insofar as my dick softened when she stopped sucking it, it was immediately hard again. That whole earlier pain/pleasure thing was paramount in my mind.

“Please, my Mistress. I want you to mark me with the clamps.”

Without a word she straddled me and put me in her. She did not move, only leaned forward and put a clamp on each of my nipples. They were not snap clamps. I don’t know if physically I could handle that. They were clamps that she had to tighten, and she tightened them only enough to make me know they were there with just a slight pain. They hurt at first but the pain diminished, in part forgotten by the fact that she was bouncing up and down on my dick.

It wasn’t long, maybe three minutes, before she said, “Baby, Come for me” and I promptly did. She quickly moved so I came out of her, and she placed her pussy again on my face.

“Time for your appetizer,” and I fell into the joy of cleaning her out and swallowing my cum and her cum and regretting that there was not more for me to savor.

She turned on a light and went to the dresser and picked up a leash. She held it in her two hands. I got up and got on all fours. She attached it to the collar.

“Good Baby. You may stand.” My knees thanked her for this. I said, “Thank you, my Mistress.” I hadn’t realized it or thought about it, but at some point, I’d added the “my” to her identity.

She led me out of the bedroom and we started down the stairs. The blinds and curtains were closed. The floor was in play, according to the rules.

We entered the kitchen. She’d ordered food. My wife removed the leash and directed me to put the food on a large serving-plate and put it in the microwave. I noticed a dog bowl on the floor for food next to one that had water in it. She went into the living room and came back with a bottle of red wine and one glass. She uncorked the wine, and poured a glass. She then went to a cabinet and removed a plastic glass with a built-in straw and filled it with wine before placing it on the counter.

When the Microwave rang, she opened it and put the serving plate on the table. She reached into the cabinet and removed a plate and a bowl. She put the food—a beef stew with mashed potatoes—on them and placed them on the table in the open area next to the kitchen.

“You have pleased me. You are not only my slave. You are also my husband. Had I been displeased, you would be using that bowl on the floor. But, as I say, you have pleased me and you may eat at the table. And while you are my husband, you are also my slave. You may not use your hands to eat or drink.”

I sat across from her, and she placed my wine down.

“You should have no problem eating this dinner. You have proven yourself quite adept at eating without your hands.” I loved the smile, no matter how devious it was on her lips.

We ate in silence but I saw that smile each time I looked across at her. When her plate and my bowl were clear, she got up and poured herself another glass of wine. She topped off my cup, which was still about half full.

“After you clean the kitchen, you may come upstairs to me.”

It was likely a record for cleaning up the kitchen and I raced up the stairs when I was done. When I got to the bedroom she was lying spread on the bed. A strapon was fixed around her waist and lust was in her eyes. And likely in mine as well. Only one lamp was on, and its light was soft.

“Do you remember how you tied me and fucked me Slave?”

“Yes, my Mistress.”

“Did you enjoy fucking me like that Slave?”

This was getting very real very fast. I stuttered a bit.

“Yes, my Mistress.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sashayed to me. She detoured to the dresser to get lube and put it near the foot of the bed, next to where I knew my chest would soon be.

She returned to the dresser and lifted four ropes, two much longer than the others.


I walked to the foot of the bed and spread my legs. My dick was hard and bouncing on the mattress. She knelt between my legs and tied my right and then my left ankles to the respective bedposts.


I lay my upper body on the bed as well as I could.

My wife went to the head of the bed and hooked one of the long ropes around it and then roughly grabbed my right wrist. She bound the wrist to the rope. She repeated this with my left wrist. She went to the dresser yet again, returning with a ball gag.


I did and the gag was unceremoniously placed in my mouth and secured. She placed a pillow under my head. At this point, my thoughts were a complete jumble.

“You cannot use the safe word. If you want me to stop, bang your head against the pillow and I will stop immediately. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded. Vigorously.

I felt a finger caressing my ass crack. I heard a squirt and after a pause I felt a cold, lubricated finger circling my anus. I tensed.

“Relax, Baby. Relax.”

I tried to and the finger felt soothing as it circled and then slowly entered me. It was joined by a second and a third. I was grateful that the butt plug had opened me a bit and got me accustomed, at least a little, to an open sphincter. The three fingers started rhythmically pushing in and out of me as they twirled. Spit started pouring around the gag as I began to moan, my dick hard and uncomfortably between my stomach and the mattress.

There was another pause and I didn’t have to see to know what was happening.

“Are you sure?”

I hesitated. A dream. But . . .

“Baby, are you sure?”

I nodded.

“I love you” and as she said it I felt the head of the dildo against my anus.

“They say you’re supposed to imagine taking a dump.”

Her hands were on my hips as she slowly pushed. She had to increase the pressure and the head started to open me.

“Relax my Baby, relax.”

More spit was coming out around the gag and suddenly I felt the strap for the gag released.

“I won’t restrict your breathing,” and I took a number of deep breaths.

“Thank you, my Mistress.”

She resumed her push. My wife had well lubricated the dildo and soon I felt the head was inside me. She stopped so I could get used to the invasion.

“I love you” and she slowly pushed in until the dildo was all the way in. It was not a large dildo but we were beginners and my wife was being careful. It felt huge and was big enough for a first time. Again she held it.

“Ready Baby?”

“Please, my Mistress. I don’t deserve to be fucked by you but I need to be fucked by you more than I’ve ever needed anything. Please fuck your bitch. My Mistress.”

Whether these were my exact words I’m not sure. I was sliding into insanity.

So, too, had my wife. She pounded me like a demon and I felt her thighs hitting my ass. My initial “ah”s became smoother, more elongated and more moaning than anything.

“Don’t you dare come Slave. If you do I’ll whip that dick within an inch of its fucking life.”

I lacked the physical ability to respond, uttering guttural nonsense. She must have had something that rubbed against her clit with the strapon because suddenly she sped up and started cursing as I’d never heard her before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” And then she grabbed the front of my hips tightly, her nails biting, as she shook and lost all control of her body, her voice, and perhaps her mind.

I somehow had not come much as I wanted/needed/dreamed of coming. Had she reached around and touched my dick, still trapped between stomach and mattress, I would have been gone.

I don’t know how it happened. I was in a daze and she quickly got the ropes untied and as I tried to recover she was on all fours on the bed.

“Fill me, Slave, fill me.” I knelt between her legs and shoved my dick into her pussy. I started pounding her now, my thumb finding its way to rub her anus. Neither of us could last. She’d come just minutes before and she came again as I, following instructions, filled her with what little I had left. When I was done, she collapsed on her front and I was out of her. With her legs spread, I scooted back and pushed her legs apart more and began to lick her clean, hearing nothing but the swish of my tongue and her gentle moans until I realized she’d fallen asleep.

I stepped back to look at her, standing at the foot of the bed. Her arms were above her head, which tilted to the side, and somehow she had as angelic an expression as I’d ever seen. Her legs were spread and I could see the wet, outer folds of her pussy. Her ass and her upper body rocked slowly in time with her breathing.

I’d never seen her like this, exposing her back and her ass and the wet, outer folds of her pussy. Somehow my dick began to harden, but it too was exhausted and however valiant the effort, it did not succeed. I opened the closet and took down a blanket, which I draped over her.

I had no instructions about where to sleep but after peeing and brushing my teeth, I returned and lay on the floor beside the bed on the pillow and covering myself with the blanket that she left there earlier. I was soon lost to sleep.

At some time in the night, I awoke to my wife’s breathing. She’d gotten off the bed and was spooning me on the floor. It was very dark, and my movement awakened her. I turned to face her on the hardwood, although it was too dark to see anything. She could feel my growing dick and I held her as I turned onto my back, her atop me.

I waited.

It was, as I say, dark but I felt her hands at my throat. She somewhat clumsily undid the collar.

“Honey that was incredible. But when I woke up and you weren’t in our bed, I was lost. So I joined you on the floor. I think I need to release you, to give you your freedom.”

She gave me a slight kiss.

“Can we get back into our bed now. This floor’s doing nothing for my back.”

And we got in the bed together and were asleep within minutes of each other.

I woke up before my wife did. While technically I was free, I went to the kitchen and put the coffee on. About ten minutes later she stood at the entrance. I’d opened the blinds throughout the ground floor, and it was a bright, sunny Sunday morning. She wore one of my long t-shirts and I doubted she had anything on beneath it. I had put on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt of my own.

I waited.

“Honey, don’t worry, you are free.” I walked up to her and put my arms around her waist as she put hers around my neck and silently we moved our lips to one another’s and channeled our passion.

I turned abruptly to stir the eggs and she poured us each a cup of coffee and put in some toast. After the eggs and toast were on the plates and the coffee was in the cups we sat at the table where we’d eaten the night before.

I waited as we began breakfast.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.”

“I loved it.”

“So did I.”

“But I want to change the rules.”

I looked at her for a moment.

“OK. How exactly?”

“No matter who wins next month’s coin toss—”

“So there’ll be a next month’s coin toss.”

“Yes, honey, there will. Whoever wins next month’s coin toss, I will be the slave.”