copyright2001. by: Wormwood
My name is Jason, I'm a thirty two year old machinist, married to a wonderful woman. Her name is Cassandra but everyone calls her Cassy. Everyone but me that is. You see I'm a panty slave, cuckolded, slut, whored out husband that is only allowed to call my sweet wife Mistress Cassandra. I'm only allowed to wear... Well, we'll get to that eventually.
I know exactly when it started, from the beginning I was willing to give the reins to this beautiful woman. At five-eleven, she is the same height as me. With heels on she towered over me but I never minded, and neither did she. It gave me a perverse kind of thrill to reach up to kiss her. She always wore her black hair long and does to this day. When she wears her hair up she looks commanding and severe, but as you may have already guessed I love the way it looks when she wears it that way. Her breasts are not overly large, 34C, with thick eraser type nipples. Her hips are slim with long tapered legs that go right up to what I believe is the world's most perfect ass.
I always let her decide where we went, who we had as friends, and what we did. Not all the decisions, but most of them I left up to her. I'm definitely not the assertive type. She was a pleasant and charming woman but could also be imperious and subtly demanding. I gave in to her almost always. I knew how fortunate I was to have a beautiful and intelligent woman in love with me.
I've never considered myself a prize. Although I tried to stay in shape and generally succeeded I did not posses an impressive physique or any physical talents. In addition to my previously stated height I weighed 160 pounds sopping wet and was I thought amply endowed with the standard 6" penis.
We have been married for ten years. It was about five years ago that the flame started to go out of our sex life. We still had sex quite often but I had found a Penthouse Variations at work one day and I was immediately struck by how reading erotic literature could turn me on so much. I started purchasing copies of the magazine and was soon drawn to the kinkier stories involving BDSM. I would keep the magazines hidden in my truck and ran the stories through in my head as I was making love to my wife. Soon enough, by fantasizing about her spanking me or degrading me this came to be the only way that I could achieve an orgasm. In retrospect, if I had shared my discovery of erotica with my lovely bride I probably wouldn't be in the position that I am today. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.
It was inevitable that Cassy would find out about my secret stash of porn. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to get caught. One day when her car had to go into the shop, she used my truck for the day. I didn't even think of my stash until about halfway through the day, and then I wasn't too worried. Why would she look in a Builder's Square bag underneath the passenger seat of my truck?
Of course she looked, of course she found it and of course she was hurt and curious about my hidden sexual needs. When she picked me up after work I knew that something was wrong. I pretty much got the silent treatment all the way home. When we got home she confronted me with the evidence. She wasn't aware of the nature of the magazines, only that they had "dirty" pictures and "filthy" stories.
I tried to blow it all off, emphasizing that I didn't use them for masturbating and that it was just a whim that I held onto them. She seemed to accept my explanation but she still seemed reserved and I knew I had placed a strain on our relationship.
I went about my normal routine that evening, doing some chores and catching up on some technical reading for work. When I went to bed I was surprised to find Cassy sitting up in bed reading one of the "dirty" magazines. Even though I was afraid she might rekindle our earlier argument, I felt a twinge of sexual excitement as I saw she was actually reading, not just scanning the magazine.
"Find anything interesting?" I tried to make light of the situation.
"Yes, very." She replied without taking her nose from the book.
I quickly stripped and got under the covers next to her, snuggling next to her as I sunk into the bed. A familiar pretense to our usual love making routine.
"I'm still not pleased with finding these." She said in response to my unasked question. Letting me know that I wouldn't be enjoying any sexual satisfaction that night.
"I understand that reading this type of thing can be stimulating," she continued, "but why would you keep this sort of thing from me?"
I did my best to try to explain that it was all an innocent mistake on my part. I apologized over and over, all the time dreading that she would realize that the magazines from my truck had one single theme, BDSM. At the same time I knew that she was bright enough to put the pieces of this puzzle together herself. I asked myself if this would hurt her because it would seem like such a betrayal once it dawned on her, or if her anger over my fantasized cheating would make me the object of scorn or derision. The only thing I could possibly do was try to soften the blow, no matter which way the hammer fell. I made my bed, now all I could do was lie in it.
I had trouble falling asleep that night, and the strain of those next few evenings as I would go to bed and find her there before me, reading another magazine, made it difficult for my exhausted self to find any peace or sleep. Her denial of my sexual needs didn't help matters either. When I did sleep I would have nightmares, usually of a semi-sexual nature. Dreaming that I couldn't achieve an erection, or once I had, dreaming that I couldn't come. Images of my wife in the throws of orgasm as I was just a lowly spectator haunted my nights, waking me in a cold sweat with an erection that you could drive nails with.
Cassy never acknowledged that I was having bad dreams. She seemed to grow more distant the further she got into the pile of magazines. Finally by the end of the week I couldn't take it anymore and I lay awake after the lights had gone out waiting for my wife's steady breathing, the signal that she was asleep. I entered our adjoining bathroom with the top magazine from the stack next to Cassy's side of the bed and by the light of the nightlight I started to read and jerk off. It didn't take long for me to realize an orgasm was quickly on it's way when the light snapped on and there in the doorway was my beautiful wife Casey with a look on her face that was part disgust, part surprise and part "GOTCHA".
"What are you doing?" came from her mouth as her eyes looked from the softening dick in my hand to the open magazine in my other. She covered the space between us in a flash and grabbed the magazine from my hand, artfully reserving the page that I had turned to. I was so stunned I hadn't even let go of my dick.
"Is this the type of thing that turns you on?" She asked me as she held out the pages with the undeniable title of, "Make Me Wear Your Panties, Then Spank Me".
She grilled me about the magazines once again, making me admit that the kinkier stories were what drew me to them. She accused me of lying to her when I said that I didn't masturbate to them. When I feebly told her that it was the first time I had ever done it she looked at me with contempt.
The argument ended with her crying while walking out the door with a hastily packed overnight bag. She told me she was going to her parents house in the next town over and that she needed a few days to think this, and us, over.
To say I was devastated was an understatement. I roamed the house all weekend, cursing myself for being such a fool. I tried calling her at her parents house but her father told me she wouldn't come to the phone. I drove by but lacked the courage to stop and ring the bell. I told myself that I would do anything to get Cassy back in my life. She was my soul mate, my best friend and my wife all rolled into one. I realized that my life without her would be nothing.
By Sunday evening I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and worry that I stopped jumping up every time I heard a car come down the street. I lay on our bed, missing Cassy, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
The thing that woke me I think was the lack of air. That was the first thing that penetrated my fogged brain, that I couldn't breath. The next thing I realized was that it was my wife's pussy and ass that were suffocating me. I could feel her long slender fingers grasping my hair on either side of my head, forcing my face into the cleft between her legs. When I went to get her off me so I could breath that was the next thing that penetrated my clouded brain. My hands were tied! Apparently so were my feet. Recognition clicked on as my synapses started firing too fast for my overwhelmed senses. I was tied up in bed and my wife was either trying to kill me or reach an orgasm on my face, or both. I did what any red blooded male would do at that point and stuck my tongue out and started licking for all I was worth.
"Ah, that's it, come on, come on, yeeeeaaaah!" I could hear my lovely wife crying out as my tongue hit home on her clit and she let me up for a little air. I gave all my energy and focus on that spot between her clit and her vaginal opening, flicking my tongue back and forth, up and down the way I knew she liked it. I could feel her impending orgasm like electricity in my mouth.
The only thing new about this was that I was tied up. Cassy knew that I was a devout cunt licker and had often ridden my face to many pre-penetration orgasms. But when her orgasm came and went she kept riding me, telling me with a definite edge to her voice that I'd better not stop. My tongue was getting tired and my jaw ached but I hung in there like a trooper. She didn't get off me until she had cum three times.
I lay there with my face bathed in sweat and cum, breathing like I had just run a marathon. My cock was rock hard, pulsing with every beat of my heart. Cassy lay on her side, one hand propping her head up as she looked at me with love in her eyes and a Mona Lisa smile on her face.
She explained that she hadn't meant to tie me down when she first came home but when she saw me sleeping like a little lost boy with dried tears on his cheek she just couldn't resist. She was going to have a long talk with me first about my hidden desires and then make her decision about what to do based upon my response. Then she realized that I loved her and would do whatever she wanted me to do anyway.
