Chapter Five: Wednesday, April 1, 2020.
I woke up groggy and aroused from a dream about sex. About Sonya, I thought. It was hazy, but I thought that part of it involved my fucking Sonya as she made out with Katherine. Maybe I was just remembering. I wasn't sure. As ever, the first thing I did was roll over to pick up my phone and see the time. 7:33. Ugh. Why was I up so early? The next thing I did was roll over to snuggle with Katherine and try to do something with my hard-on--but I discovered she wasn't in bed. Ugh. Where was she?
My confused, dreamy arousal was fading into confused irritation when Katherine came in the room, wearing the sexy negligee she'd brought when we thought we were going on a one-week vacation with our friends and carrying a cup of coffee. "Good morning," she said, and knelt on the floor by my side of the bed, holding up the coffee cup as an offering, and looking down submissively.
As I took the coffee cup and had my first sip, I remembered what was going on. The previous evening at dinner, Katherine had been complaining about her senior colleagues who were refusing to stay out of their offices and then--once the department had turned off their ID-card access to the building--had started emailing her to demand access. And if her senior colleagues were being irritating from above, so too were the department's grad students from below, by cc'ing her on every petition and complaint about how the university had not agreed to extend their funding by an extra year. Later in the week, she had to meet with other departmental officers to start planning what to do about adjuncts in case of enrollment drop-off next term. It was a lot of responsibility with very little authority, she had complained.
"Being associate chair sucks," George had said sympathetically. He had reached over and stroked her head somewhat patronizingly. "I think it's time we give you the day you asked for."
Katherine had immediately blushed and squirmed slightly. Just that hint had turned her on.
"We will all give you directions, and you will not have to make any decisions tomorrow. But remember that if you mess up in any way, any of us get to punish you as you see fit."
Katherine bit her lip slightly as she looked at him. "Thank you, sir," she said tentatively, as if trying on the words.
"I like my coffee black at exactly 7:15," Sonya said. "George likes his with a splash of milk."
With that, the conversation had gone back to normal, as if the promise of a day dominating my wife had not been quickly floated and accepted over dinner. We went back to talking about the news that evening: that Trump had seemingly done a 180 and decided that Covid and the mass death of tens of thousands of Americans really was something to be worried about. It was as if he hoped we'd miss how his months of negligence had left the whole country vulnerable and sick.
Indeed, that's how the past several days had been: odd switches back and forth between normal friendship and extreme sexcapades. On Saturday, George and I had come home from shopping, bleached everything down, and I'd come upstairs to find Katherine lying in our bed lying in a puddle of her own cum after Sonya taught her to squirt. She'd pulled me into bed to fuck her, and as we were doing it, Sonya and George had come into our bedroom, naked, and Sonya knelt on the floor to blow George as he watched Katherine and me fuck. That evening, a clothed George had led a totally naked Sonya to the living room while Katherine and I had been watching tv and bent her over the back of the sofa facing us. While we'd watched, he'd spanked her ten times--he'd made her count aloud--for fucking Katherine without him. When he was done and marched her out, we could see the red handprints on her ass. Katherine had been so turned on by the display that she took off her pants, undid mine, and mounted me then and there.
On Monday I had come down from teaching my class to find George plowing into Katherine on the same living room sofa. I'd stood there, watching my friend fuck my wife, and while at first I felt a bit left out, I couldn't help but appreciate how her tits looked, flying around with each of his thrusts. It wasn't that I was upset that they were fucking; it was that by teaching I'd missed my chance to join in. But in general, I was rather pleased and proud, actually, at how easily the four of us slipped into our new sexual order. It was proving to be a good distraction from the horror outside our shared house.
I wasn't sure about this power-play, though, and on Tuesday evening, as Katherine and I were getting into bed, I'd broached the topic. Katherine wanted to experiment with submission and spanking, but I was worried what that would do to our marriage. I'm a good feminist, and I wasn't especially interested in dominating my wife. And the idea of leaving her black and blue, as George's spankings apparently did to Sonya's ass--that I found really upsetting. George's handprints on Sonya's ass on Saturday night were hot, and I had to admit, at least to myself, that the idea of leaving such marks on Katherine's ass was arousing. But the bruises that Sonya bore on Sunday freaked me out.
Katherine pouted. "I don't want you to dominate me in real life either," she said. "I mean, look at George and Sonya. He dominates her and spanks her in bed, but when they're not fucking, they're partners. If anything, she's the more dominant one in their relationship." I nodded; she wasn't wrong. But I wasn't convinced that we could so perfectly compartmentalize our sex from the rest of our relationship, especially now that we were living in an orgy house.
She continued, "I just want this experience of powerlessness for the day." By this point, Katherine had climbed on top of me and had put my cock in her waiting cunt, grinding herself on me. She told me about how on Saturday, Sonya had slapped her in the face in the middle of their fucking. I could feel her getting wetter as she remembered her submission. Described the sting of Sonya's palm on her face, she nearly lost her ability to talk, she was so worked up. Just remembering it seemed to bring her to the brink of an orgasm, and I reached down to rub her clit with my thumb.
As I fucked up into her and rubbed her clit, she tried to explain. "It surprised me, and I didn't really know how to feel about it," she admitted. "But it made me even more turned on than I had been. I don't know what it is. Part of it is the combination of pleasure and pain. But it's also that I just want to be used. It's just a sex thing. Bodies and pleasure."
"But it's not just bodies and pleasure," I objected. "That's the whole point. You can't escape discourse and culture." I punctuated
discourse
and
culture
with especially forceful thrusts up with my cock. "Power play is power play because of the way it's embedded in society, and I'm afraid it will reshape
our
society, our relationship."