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Beneficially HIS

5/1/2005

Yes, I admit it. I’m a slut, but not a drop to my knees for any
hard cock slut. No, I’m his slut, my husband’s slut, George’s
slut. But it’s our secret.
<br>
Walking down the street, everyone would take me for the
conservatively dressed, former librarian I appear to
be, although they might be perplexed by the contented smile,
as opposed to the overly serious disposition I ought to
wear.
<br>
Only Superman could see that I’ve shaved my pussy and replaced
my dowdy underwear and pantyhose with a lacy demi-cup bra,
hi-cut panties, garter belt and stockings. I tried wearing
a thong ‒ once ‒ but I couldn’t get over that feeling of having
a permanent wedgie; even tried going pantyless, only to
learn of the dry cleaning bill that would run up.
<br>
Woops! I lied (sorry). My best friend Jane (and I suppose,
her husband Bill) know my wicked ways, but she is the one
responsible for my enlisting into this secret slut society,
thereby doubling the membership. Since she is the founder
and president, what does that make me? The recording secretary?
<br>
It started so innocently just a few months ago, although
it seems a lifetime.
<br>
Jane and I got together weekly with my mother and some of
mom’s friends, whom I’ve known as long as I can remember.
We all have an interest in the crafts of sewing, needlepoint
and knitting. So it was convenient to meet weekly and dedicate
time to our projects in a social atmosphere. We rotated
hosting these little gatherings and a few weeks ago at Jane’s,
I stayed behind after the others had left to see some curtains
she had made for her bedroom.
<br>
While I was up there, I noticed this very plain looking book,
entitled At His Command on her nightstand. Normally she
read science fiction and best selling novels. Curious
(and naïve), I asked her about it. Unabashedly, told me
she and Bill had read it and that it had revolutionized their
sex life.
<br>
“I had no idea sex could be this great!” she raved. “Sure,
some of it seemed over the top at first, but once we got started,
we became more adventuresome, and now…Well, why don’t
you borrow it? Maybe you’ll see what I mean.”
<br>
“Our sex life doesn’t need improvement!” I protested defensively,
perhaps too vigorously.
<br>
“Okay. Fine. Be that way. But wouldn’t you like George to
be home more? You certainly moaned about that earlier today.
Did you ever think that maybe he was bored? Honestly, how
often do you guys have sex? Once a week?”
<br>
I was speechless. And pissed off too. Best friend or not,
who the hell was she to meddle in my marriage?
<br>
“Once a month?”
<br>
No words would come, and the feeling was like bringing home
a bad report card ‒ you stand there, defenseless, knowing
they’re right and nothing you could say would change the
awful truth. And the awful truth was that I couldn’t remember
the last time George and I had made love.
<br>
I mean, I knew it was about ten days ago, but was it Saturday
or Sunday? Even worse, it was the same as the time before
and the time before that. A little cuddling, some kissing
and ..poof!...done! It’s not that I didn’t achieve orgasm,
oh no, George always made sure of that, but it was routine,
almost scripted.
<br>
“How long does it last?”
<br>
I could not tune out her words; they bore into me, invading
territory that I was afraid to explore, but was now forced
to venture.
<br>
“Are you trying to drive him into an affair, that’s where
boredom…”
<br>
So there I stood, dreading each word, conjuring up painful
scenarios of George’s ‘working late, ’ paralyzed by the
realization that my complacency was something much more
significant than that D I gotten in French from that witch
Madam Villiers.
<br>
I’ve always admired you’re ability to speak your mind,
but damn it Jane, just this once, can’t you shut up?
<br>
I suppose it was inevitable, that unmistakable stab in
my throat right before the tears filled my eyes.
<br>
At least Jane finally stopped hammering me.
<br>
“Oh god, Lyn, I’m sorry. I was hoping to share something
wonderful with you and all I did was upset you. Guess I touched
a nerve. My big mouth got me in trouble again!” She smiled
slightly at our old joke.
<br>
It helped, but mostly freed my tongue. Slumping down, I
sat on her bed. Then, blubbering and sobbing, I released
a torrent upon Jan of all the thoughts, fears and doubts
that moments ago had held me mute.
<br>
I am attractive, aren’t I? I may not be as thin (some said
skinny) as when I got married, but I’ve still got a good shape.
I exercise at home, maybe not as regularly as I should, but
going up one bra size and adding an inch to my hips in our fifteen
years of marriage isn’t so bad, is it? My tummy’s still flat,
so I might even be more shapely. George had often remarked
that he likes my shoulder length brown hair and the smattering
a freckles across my small, slightly pointed nose and under
my dark brown eyes. He still said I had the best legs in town.
But those compliments came much less often these days.
<br>
Physically, George was the about same as the day we met and
those soft hazel eyes melted my heart (and still did). His
light brown hair had thinned a bit, but he’d kept his lean
body in pretty good shape. At six-foot and around 190 pounds,
he worked out several mornings a week to keep himself fit,
but he wasn’t the well-chiseled body-builder type either;
nor did I want that. So why didn’t I feel the same physical
attraction I once possessed?
<br>
Did leaving work to become a fulltime housewife ‒ what I
thought I always wanted ‒ and making lists of things in need
of tending turn me into a boring nag? Is that what made work
more attractive to George than me?
<br>
I know I still love him, but sometimes it seems the only things
we share are an address and phone number!
<br>
Best friend that she is, Jane listened attentively, feeding
me tissues. She reassured me that I still look great, but
I wasn’t alone and that she had had similar feelings, just
not as explosively.
<br>
Men, well what could she say, they’re funny creatures sometimes.
That ‘breadwinner’ syndrome can sometimes drive them
to obsess about work and lose sight of other equally important
issues. With George having started his own business, it
was a double whammy since he was responsible not only for
my well being, but those of his employees as well.
<br>
Fortunately, Jane and Bill had found a solution before
it became a crisis. But then again, she was also bold enough
to go buy a book like that, while I surely would have died
from embarrassment.
<br>
Finally, I stopped crying and managed to pull myself together.
I apologized to Jane and started to leave. She pressed the
book into my hand.
<br>
“Give it a try. If you don’t like it, just give it back to me
next week.”
<br>
We said our good-byes. I drove home with my mind in knots.
Part of me wanted to break loose and consider what Jane had
said, while the sensible, respectable me strove to dismiss
the whole matter and conveniently forget about it. By the
time I was home, I had lost my nerve and promptly buried the
book in my dresser.
<br>
It seemed that I had no sooner closed the drawer when the
phone rang. It was Jane, just checking to see that I was okay.
I assured her I was. She again apologized for upsetting
me and told me all that she wanted was to try to share her newfound
happiness, but I was in no mood for discussing it further.
Fortunately, the call waiting tone sounded so I ended our
conversation, but just before hanging up, Jane made me
promise to read the book.
<br>
I just didn’t say when.
<br>
The other call was from George. He was going to be working
late (again!). “Sorry, hon.”
<br>
Damn it! Why is everyone apologizing to me all of a sudden?
<br>
“Probably not until nine, maybe ten…No, don’t wait for
me. Go ahead and eat. I’ll figure something out when I get
home….Bye…Love you too.”
<br>
And so began my roller coaster journey into slutdom. My
first response was to cry some more, feeling very sorry
for myself. There it is again, “sorry.” God how I suddenly
hate that word! Sorry your sex life is so boring, sorry you’ll
have dinner alone again, sorry…Fuck it! I’m tired of being
the object of so much sympathy!
<br>
With that, I took out the book. What the hell did I have to
lose?
<br>
It was far from a Pulitzer Prize winner. The writing was
simplistic and profane ‒ very different from the subtlety
of the romance novels I was accustomed to reading. But George
was never going to be the hero from one of those, and truthfully,
I could never play the part of the heroine either. So where
does that leave me?
<br>
Maybe it was my self pity, maybe I was jealous of Jane, or
maybe even pissed off at George, but the story (such as it
was) gradually took hold of me. Mary, a sexually inexperienced,
newlywed wife whose husband aggressively, but slowly,
took her on a carnal journey. Each chapter detailing a progressively
kinkier encounter and, initially, I could not bring myself
to read more than the first chapter.
<br>
George couldn’t, wouldn’t want a woman like that!
<br>
But over my seemingly endless lonely nights, I grew bolder,
wondering what it would be like to be forced to masturbate
in front of my husband. To satisfy him orally ‒ not just a
little licking and sucking, but taking him deeply (into
my throat?!) and swallowing?
<br>
It seemed so unnatural, and yet, I felt an increased sensitivity
in my breasts and that unmistakable tingling between my
thighs.
<br>
I started masturbating, at first just every few days, but
then it became daily, and eventually several times per
day. Not as I had done as a young girl, just impatiently diddling
my clit and climaxing quickly.
<br>
Oh no, I explored my body, much as Mary’s husband was doing
to her. I intentionally ignored my breasts and pussy, discovering
sensations previously unknown. I let my fingernails slowly
and lightly scrape down my sides, up my thighs and around
my hips and tummy sending shivers and thrilling waves throughout
my body, generating a greater awareness of my swelling
breasts, hardening nipples and the damp blossoming of
my pussy.
<br>
When I could stand it no longer, one hand circled each breast,
at first intentionally avoiding my nipples, but eventually
finding them and discovering the delight of their being
pinched and pulled forcing the contraction of my abdomen
and a tug between my navel and pussy, summoning a hand to
move lower, while the other continued its magic above.
<br>
I delighted in tracing my splayed, tumescent lips, taking
their slickness between my fingers and ever so gradually
uncovering my erect clit. My circling fingers quickly
brought me to the most tummy tightening, thigh clenching
orgasm I had ever known.
<br>
But once I had calmed down and my breathing returned to normal,
I found these novel experiences did have their price. Deepening
guilt ensued, followed by more sinister deception.
<br>
One night, in what had become his maddeningly regular routine,
George arrived home late. I had already climbed into bed,
and was feigning sleep, facing away from his side of the
bed. I felt him climb in beside me and begin to caress my back.
<br>
I did not move, frozen with fear that he would discover the
evidence of my earlier exploits and be repulsed if I confessed
my ‘sinful’ cravings. So I gradually led him to believe
his touch aroused me and, for the first time in my life, faked
an orgasm.
<br>
Of course, this only fed my remorse and I lost interest in
just about everything, except reading about Mary and what
her next adventure would be.
<br>
Oh my god! He’s going to stick it in her backside! That couldn’t…
and yet, there I was discovering the sensitivity…I never
penetrated myself, but wondered if additional pleasure
awaited me.
<br>
I swore I would stop.
<br>
Tomorrow.
<br>
I wish George would fuck me like that.
<br>
At the weekly sewing group, I was very quiet. Sullen would
probably be a better description. Later in the week, Jane
called and informed me I needed to go shopping to get out
of my funk. I tried to beg off, but she would have none of it.
<br>
Jane has always had a voluptuous figure. As we walked through
the mall, I noticed that, with her large breasts, full hips,
long blonde hair and blue eyes, she still turned some heads.
The sassy body language didn’t hurt either. However, no
one seemed to be checking out the haggard brunette accompanying
her.
<br>
She bought some trashy lingerie and suggested that maybe
I should get some too. Inwardly jealous, I cattily told
her she looked like a porno queen. She smiled. I didn’t.
<br>
I imagined her in it, filled with desire, her full breasts
topped with hardened pink nipples poking at the lacy black
camisole, dirty blonde curls trapped behind the clinging
fabric of the matching boy-cut panty. I wasn’t repulsed
by the imagery; rather, I felt a strange stimulation that
only fed my loneliness.
<br>
Obviously disappointed that she could not elevate my mood,
Jane lost her enthusiasm. At least she didn’t berate me
this time and we drove home in silence. A quick good-bye
and she was gone.
<br>
Fold some towels. Match the socks.
<br>
Fuck matching the socks!
<br>
Late again.
<br>
Fake another orgasm.
<br>
George, you bastard, look what you’ve driven me to! Can’t
you see what I need?
<br>
“Tied to the bed, he teased her with his tongue, slowly working
toward her most sensitive spots…licking then biting her
nipples….trailing his tongue down her panting torso,
teasing the hollow of her hips…”
<br>
Lying naked in bed, I let the book slide from my hands to give
them reign over my body. One teasing my nipples, the other
playing lightly over my dewy pubes.
<br>
“So this is what goes on while I’m at work!”
<br>
George’s voice stung and I flinched in panic, pulling the
bed sheet over myself.
<br>
The peace offerings of champagne and flowers he clenched
contrasted disturbingly to the dark anger held in his eyes.
He flew into a rage about his busting his ass, the house being
a mess, worrying himself sick that I might be having an affair,
only to find I was merely here wanking off.
<br>
I unsuccessfully attempted to secret the book under my
pillow. George yanked the sheet and pillow away from me.
The book fell to the floor. He opened it at random and read
briefly.
<br>
So discovered, and threatened with divorce, I agreed to
tell all. As I did so, George’s disposition softened slightly
and he poured some champagne. It was by no means easy for
me to divulge everything ‒ actually I omitted the phony
orgasms; what purpose would that serve?
<br>
As I haltingly progressed, George’s anger ebbed and I saw
a tinkling passion in eyes that gave me hope that all was
not lost, but his transfixed gaze also belied that his mind
was working furiously, which, after I had finished, he
put as an ultimatum. “Do you want to be my sex slave or should
I leave you to yourself and find someone else?”
<br>
As much as I had fantasized about it, the reality was still
frightening, but losing George would be worse, so I cast
my fears aside and agreed.
<br>
However, he did not take me then and there (as I had deeply
desired, still having whatever the female equivalent
of blue balls might be, brought on by George’s sudden appearance).
Instead he sent me downstairs to clean the kitchen! Worse,
he ordered me do it in the nude, compounding my frustration.
Meanwhile, he just sat upstairs and read the book.
<br>
Sure, I found it embarrassing at first, but I was also extremely
conscious of my body, trembling in anticipation over what
George would do ‒ careful with those dishes, you’ll break
something! The swaying of my breasts as I scrubbed the kitchen
floor was maddening, but I doubt we’ll see this in Helpful
Hints from Heloise as a new way to end the drudgery of housework.
<br>
George appeared and informed me he was going out for a while
and to call his cell phone when I was finished cleaning.
<br>
No, no no! You can’t do that! Take me! Please!
<br>
He took me alright, but not in my pussy. While George had
me kneel with my hands behind my back, he brought his cock
to my face. I knew what he wanted, but I must have admired
it too long. The fire in his eyes was no longer from anger,
but from naked, unbridled passion, and, calling me his
bitch, shoved the head into my mouth.
<br>
Finally, I was getting some cock! A magnificently stiff,
throbbing cock ‒ so hard even the head had lost the spongy
texture I expected ‒ that sent an immediate jolt to my pussy.
<br>
I wanted to savor its fullness with my lips and tongue, but
George had other plans. Seizing my hair with both hands,
he repeatedly forced his cock in deeply until I gagged.
I wasn’t going to suck him, he was fucking my mouth.
<br>
“Show me how much cock you can take!” he his throatily hissed
through clenched teeth, his eyes burning into mine, melting
any will to resist.
<br>
Just a few weeks ago I would have resented such crude aggression,
but now it was a gloriously stimulating invasion that liberated
my wicked lust, obliging my throat to welcome the intrusion,
desperately yearning to taste his cum for the first time.
His ragged breathing and chaotic thrusting indicated
I would soon be rewarded.
<br>
George, I’m gonna choke on all this spit!
<br>
Thank god! Swallow. I can breathe again. No! Don’t pull
out!
<br>
But then, with a deep moan, George grasped his cock and released
bursts of cum, thick and hot; its heat coursed from my face
into my body and continued as he painted my lips with the
head, then forcing me to suck out the remain drops.
<br>
Hmmm..salty…slightly musty..or maybe musky…whatever!
Definitely unique, and not so terrible, but most importantly,
HIM.
<br>
George gave me a brief compliment. With a smile of contentment,
and to my consternation, told me to carry on with the cleaning
as he squeezed the object of my desire back in his pants.
Reminding me to call his mobile when I was finished, he headed
out the door.
<br>
What? That’s it?
<br>
My pussy ached. My face itched. Gathering what I could in
my fingers, I sucked up the last of his essence, walked to
the sink, rinsed my face and hastily dried off with…oh what
the hell…a dish towel!
<br>
Back to work girl! No, you cannot touch yourself; you KNOW
that would be wrong! Okay, we’ll just get the spots off the
floor, because if that SOB is more interested in the floor
than me, then we really DO have a problem.
<br>
Good enough! Now, what else? Countertops? That’ll do.

<br>
Dishwasher. Oh shit, everything’s not gonna fit. Alright,
I’ll wash them, but set them in the drainer to dry.
<br>
Done! Finally! Now, how long ago did George leave? Oh good;
almost half an hour. We don’t want him thinking I’ve done
a half-assed job. Ha-ha!
<br>
I dialed.
<br>
“George?...Read the letter you left in my dresser?...
Okay. Bye.” Click. “Love you.”
<br>
That certainly was brief and to the point. But what did he
write? Run up the stairs. Ouch! Running naked can be hard
on your tits! Rip open the envelope.
<br>
Dear Lyn,
<br>
Or should I now call you slave? If you are going to continue
to live in my house there will be the following rules:
<br>
1. When we are alone, you will always address me as SIR.
<br>
2. You will follow my orders immediately
<br>
3. Failure to follow 1 or 2 will result in severe discipline
<br>
For tonight, go take a warm relaxing bath and while you are
there shave off all of your pubic hair. Then put on a lot of
make up ‒ so you look like a slut. By time you finish, your
outfit will be on the bed. Put it on and await my arrival.
Be on your knees with your head bowed.
<br>
Call me again when you finish this letter.
<br>
Love, Sir
<br>
I’m in it now! What’s with this SIR crap? I know it was in the
book, but all I really want is for him to fuck me ‒ hard! And
maybe a little bondage. And that mouth fuck in the kitchen
was…what? Erotic? Whatever! I’ll gladly do it again.
<br>
But shaving my pubes? Now that’s a little scary. I know THAT
wasn’t in the book - must be George’s ‘dark secret.’ Looks
like I’m not the only one who might have repressed urges,
hmm?
<br>
But it’s happening so fast. Are you sure you want to go through
with this?
<br>
Come on Miss Librarian. We can do this. Start the tub. Call
George.
<br>
“Do you agree to the terms of the letter?”
<br>
“Yes, sir.”
<br>
Click.
<br>
But I’m scared, I wanted to say; a little reassurance would
be nice right now.
<br>
Quit your whining. How’s the water? Any hotter and I’d cook
myself. Now where are those damned scissors? Right, buried
in this vanity drawer. God this is weird, I’ve trimmed for
bathing suits before, but sitting here on the toilet….snip,
snip, snip…never realized there was so much.
<br>
Oooo…that’s hot…just go slow…aaah, that feels good.
<br>
He loves you, doesn’t he?
<br>
Yes.
<br>
He wouldn’t hurt you, would he?
<br>
No. Damn, this water’s so hot, it’s making me sweat.
<br>
It’s good for you. Relax, it’ll be alright. Let’s enjoy
it for a while.
<br>
Okay, your five minutes are up and besides, my scalp itches.
Time to wash up.
<br>
Now who’s in a hurry? But you’re right… and we’ve still got
to…shave.
<br>
Drain tub, start shower, lather, rinse, repeat. Conditioner.
Soap.
<br>
If you’re so scared, why’d your tummy tighten and nipples
perk up when you washed your boobs?
<br>
I didn’t say I wasn’t excited. Final rinse. Better get a
new…
<br>
Blade? Maybe two. Damn the edge of this tub is slippery.
<br>
The tub ain’t the only thing that’s slippery. Careful you
horny bitch! Don’t want George coming home to find you bleeding
all over the place.
<br>
Shut up! You’re just making it more difficult. It’s really
tough down..
<br>
“I see you’re being a good slave and following my instructions.”
<br>
I didn’t know George was home and flinched at the sound of
his voice. It was a damn good thing I was between strokes
when he said that. Could have meant a very embarrassing
trip to the emergency room!
<br>
I’d bleed to death first!
<br>
“Yes, sir, but I am having some problems with the hair at
the bottom of my…”
<br>
“Cunt. Say it. It’s your cunt.”
<br>
I can’t believe you said it.
<br>
I had to; we had to. What, you wanted to say vagina? Vaginas
have boring, unmemorable sex. Cunts get FUCKED! And don’t
try to tell that’s not what you want too.
<br>
Okay, we’ll get down on our hands and knees, ass in the air
so he can finish shaving.
<br>
Mmmm. His fingers; the razor. It’s so wickedly and wonderfully
decadent.
<br>
Oh god, he’s even shaving…do you think he would want to..?
<br>
Fuck my ass? Of course I know I’ve never done it before, but
right now I wouldn’t deny him anything.
<br>
“All done slut. I’ll let you finish getting ready. Call
me when you’re done.”
<br>
Not again! Don’t leave me like this!
<br>
Turn on the shower. Ow! Wow that’s hot.
<br>
And that’s a surprise because? You’re the one who was so
eager to shave your vagi…I mean cunt. There, I said it. Happy
now?
<br>
Very. But now it’s time to dry off and put on…look at you and
those erasers on your tits and those puffy, glistening…if
I had a slinky for a spine I could…
<br>
Stop daydreaming girl. Get busy with the makeup. Good thing
George asked for a trashy look. You’re shaking so badly,
you couldn’t help but be heavy handed…I must say it goes
well with the rest of your appearance.
<br>
What’s next? Oh yeah, George was putting an outfit on the…oooo,
red. What an appropriate color! Stockings, garter belt
and matching bra, but what’s this? I get it, my nipples stick
out through...damn that feels good getting them in right.
<br>
Come on girl! You’ve put on pantyhose plenty of times before
and you’ve only got to put these on one at a time…..success!
<br>
In an uncontrollable discharge of energy, I shouted “I
am ready, sir!” And wondered if the neighbors heard.
<br>
As instructed, I awaited George on my knees with my head
bowed. Forehead on the floor and highly conscious of my
ragged breathing, the waiting seemed an eternity. I dared
not look up as I heard him enter, accompanied by the clinking
of ice in a drink. Bastard must have fixed himself another,
but he did set it down.
<br>
“That’s a good little slut, ” he announced sternly. “Now
look at me.”
<br>
Rise slowly, knees together, don’t reveal too much too
soon. Who knows where that involuntary shudder came from,
but it was the perfect conclusion. He may be trying to talk
tough, but I see the lust burning in those wanton eyes. I’m
onto you mister and oh yes! I’ll play.
<br>
“Spread your knees and show me yourself!”
<br>
That’s it! Feast your eyes on the cunt you just shaved.
<br>
“Excellent. You have become a very alluring slut and I am
tempted to fuck you right now, but first we must consider
the proper punishment for your behavior over the past two
weeks. Do you agree that you were a bad girl for hiding your
desires from me? For making me wonder what I had done wrong?”
<br>
Getting a bit melodramatic, aren’t we?
<br>
“Answer me slut!” he yelled while pinching my nipples,
not really hard, but more vigorously than he’d ever done
before.
<br>
“OW!” I yelped, more in surprise at the sudden stimulation
than in pain and regretted pushing his hands away instinctively.
<br>
“I see you have a lot to learn slut. Don’t ever try to stop
me again, unless you want further punishment. Now put your
hands behind your back.”
<br>
He knelt beside me, held my wrists in one hand and with the
other recommenced pinching me in a crescendo of intensity.
<br>
“So do you agree that you deserve to be punished for your
behavior of the past two weeks?”
<br>
Now it is starting to hurt. Time to answer.
<br>
“Yes sir, I do, but please don’t pinch my nipples so hard.”
<br>
“I’ll decide what happens, slut, but I don’t plan any more
for your tits.”
<br>
He released me. Did I just make a mistake? He won’t leave
me hanging on the edge again, will he?
<br>
“Now, your ass needs a good spanking.”
<br>
That’s certainly not being ignored.
<br>
“One swat for each day you lied and hid your secret from me,
so 14 is the total. Now, back down on your elbows and spread
those legs more. But, if you put your hands up to stop me,
we’ll start over from the beginning. Do you understand?”
<br>
“Yes sir.” Actually it had been more than two weeks, but
I wasn’t about to up the ante and complied with his order,
as George stood and moved behind me.
<br>
Relax, take a deep breath. It’s not helping, my heart’s
gonna explode! Afraid? A little. Mostly, I just want to
cum.
<br>
I heard a paper bag being opened. Curious, I turned my head,
but all I could see was George peering into the bag, with
that same lusty smirk on his face that he’d shown in the kitchen.
<br>
“Would my slut like to know what I have for her?”
<br>
“Yes sir.”
<br>
“Oh, you’ll find out alright, but you’ll feel them more
than see them. Let’s start with this blindfold.”
<br>
It was black satin. George carefully arranged the blindfold
over my eyes to make certain I could not see.
<br>
“Don’t remove it unless I tell you.”
<br>
The sudden loss of sight was torturous, heightening my
other senses - the rough carpet against my nipples, the
empty longing in my cunt and the anticipatory twitching
of my butt.
<br>
More rustling of the paper sack, followed by the unmistakable
sound of him unbuckling his belt ‒ oh my god! He wouldn’t
use THAT on me? The sound of a zipper. Whoo, that’s a relief!
Clank. The buckle must have hit the floor. A brief silence
broken by the sound of him hopping on the floor, as he must
have gotten his foot caught in his underwear. I smiled,
but only momentarily, as the conjured image evolved to
include the bobbing of his gloriously hard cock.
<br>
I was about to scream at him for keeping me waiting when I
felt him kneel between my splayed calves. My butt tightened
expectantly. Wrong again! Just fingertips trailing lightly
down my cheeks, then across my naked lips. Are they really
opening for him or does it just seem that way? He’s found
my clit. ‘Finally!’ my mind screams as I push back on his
hand, rocking my hips.
<br>
“So, my little slut is still excited?”
<br>
What a stupid question! But I only reply, “Yes sir.”
<br>
A sudden buzzing sound gives me pause. No doubt about what
that must be. Holy shit, that vibe is incredible, even just
sliding along my lips, and when it reaches my clit, the intensity
is almost unbearable. (Emphasis on the almost.)
<br>
SMACK! Startled, I lost contact with the vibe. The sting
returns me to earth, but it’s stimulating in its own right
as a different kind of heat alloys itself with the fire between
my thighs.
<br>
An ‘ooo’ escapes my mouth, although I am reasonably certain
that this is not the first sound I have made.
<br>
“That’s one, only thirteen to go!”
<br>
The vibe returns as do the smacks on my ass, but at irregular
intervals, keeping me on a sexual bungee, but just as I am
about to cum, I’m aware of another new sensation. The now
very slick vibe is not only tracing the length of my cunt,
but it’s also sliding around my asshole. I had previously
experimented touching myself there while masturbating,
and liked it, but this was so much more intense, and pushed
my ass up each time the vibe reached that point in its journey.
<br>
But it all suddenly stopped.
<br>
“So, my little slut likes her asshole played with?”
<br>
Why are you asking me questions at a time like this? I’m in
no state to talk! Come on Lyn, say something!
<br>
“I never thought I would, but I feel more turned on than ever.
Would you please fuck me sir?”
<br>
“Oh yes. I’m going to fuck you, but not as you might expect.”
<br>
The vibe returned. To my ass. And lingered before sliding
along my cunt, only to stop again at my ass.
<br>
Panic attack, panic attack!
<br>
“Sir, you can’t mean…”
<br>
“That I’m going to fuck your ass? Not exactly, you’re going
to do it.”
<br>
Huh? Not sure what that meant, but I’m certain I will.
<br>
The vibe returned to my cunt.
<br>
“Keep riding this vibrator while I get you ready.”
<br>
No problem there. Riding the vibe, that is, as he held it
against my cunt once more. But then I audibly gasped as a
thick, cold liquid ran down my butt crack. Damn, I wish I
could see what he was doing….hmmm, maybe not…as a finger
began to trace my pucker. So gentle. I was afraid he might
just ram it in me. I couldn’t help but moan.
<br>
“Is it really so bad my little slut?”
<br>
“No sir, just different. You’ve never touched me there
before.”
<br>
“No, I haven’t, but it’s a pleasure too long denied.”
<br>
His finger began pressing for admission and the way he worked
the vibe forced me to push back in order for it to touch my
clit. How wonderful! I could accept it at my own pace and
get rewarded at the same time. And then, oh my god, it’s in.
Not much, but in nonetheless. And it didn’t hurt as much
as I expected, definitely bearable.
<br>
He’s moving with me now, going deeper.
<br>
Two fingers! I don’t know if I can…ugh! Easier than the first
(really!). A little more pain, but with the vibe on my clit,
it’s an intoxicating combination.
<br>
No, don’t stop! OOOH, something larger and oh so familiar.
Remember, exhale, push out and back, just like with his
fingers. Try again! Dammit I want him in my ass! Once more.
Oww! Hurts a lot, but…Yes! The head was in.
<br>
As George dropped the vibe, we both paused; sure it was nice
to let me adjust, but more importantly, there was an unspoken
pact, a moment of quasi-silence (the vibe wasn’t in on it)
to honor the passing of my anal cherry.
<br>
“I can’t work the vibe any more, my love. Here.”
<br>
George picked up the vibe and held it to my tummy.
<br>
‘My love, ’ the words had never sounded sweeter. Oh, right.
He won’t be able to reach any more once….I eagerly took it
and brought it back to my clit. Mmm.
<br>
Until today, he’d only ever cum in my vagina, but now he’d
already fucked my mouth and now he would take my ass. I am
truly HIS.
<br>
“Now fuck your slut’s ass!” I cried, as the moment overwhelmed
me.
<br>
George started slowly stoking into my ass, going progressively
deeper. So full. His pubes touched me. So complete.
<br>
Sweet Jesus! I came. I clapped the vibe to my clit and came
so more, my ass spasmodically squeezing his cock. He grabbed
my hips tightly and slammed into me one final time, his cock
dancing in my ass and filling me with hot cum.
<br>
Gasping and totally spent, we collapsed onto our sides,
with his cock still inside, intermittently twitching
and sending ripples through my body. As our heavy breathing
subsided, he removed the blindfold, planted soft kisses
on my neck and lightly stroked my hair. Regrettably, his
cock finally withdrew. I sighed in disappointment, but
it did allow me to roll over and give him a long, slow and very
wet kiss. We held each other, amidst sighs and coos as we
had not done in a very long time, maybe ever.
<br>
With my head tucked between his neck and shoulder, I contemplated
the day.
<br>
No, not now, go away you stupid tears! It’s no use, I never
could control that. There it goes, down my nose and onto
him.
<br>
The tear startled George and he twitched slightly, then
gently brought my face to his.
<br>
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
<br>
“You didn’t really hurt me. I mean, it hurt at first, but
the sex was incredible. I’m just sorry for what I did to you,
not trusting you and all. I’m you’re wife for Christ’s sake.
This was a wonderful night and if I hadn’t been so stupid,
it could have happened weeks ago.”
<br>
“Who’s to say what would have happened? I’m just overjoyed
we found the way to release our inner desires. Because,
if the truth be known, I often wondered what it would be like
to dominate a woman, but I was afraid to tell you. Now, it
has made me love you more than I could have imagined, especially
considering how I felt when I came home. But you must promise
me one thing.”
<br>
“What’s that?”
<br>
“Keep being a bad girl.”
<br>
“Count on it, my love”
<br>
“Yes, next time I will make you count out your punishment-
ha-ha. But right now, I bet our bed would be more comfortable
than this floor. So next time, I think I’ll tie you to it.”
<br>
“I hope you can get what you need soon, I have a feeling I’m
going to be a bad girl tomorrow.”

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Member Responses Post Your Comment

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It was a great story I was right there wishing my wife would
read such a book. I'm shocked that no one has made a comment.

5/9/2006

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this was a great..i really cold feel myself submitting
to him...one of the best i've read in a long time..thanks





s

5/10/2006

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Very well writen story. I would love to have my man dominate
me. Maybe i will tell him tonight.

5/10/2006

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Guess What My Wife Will Learn Tonight??

6/8/2006

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quote tabody2:
Very well writen story. I would love to have my man dominate me. Maybe i will tell him tonight.
I bet he will, especially if you have him read this story.
If he doesn't, I and and lot of others would be happy
to oblige. My thanks to YourSpankMaster for a great story.

4/20/2008