Jenny took a deep breath and attempted to settle her nerves. Two weeks earlier she had plucked up the courage to tell her husband, Michael, a secret. Now her conversation with him had borne fruit.
...
Jenny grew up in a traditional upper middle class English home. Her parents were pillars of the community in the small rural village they lived in. She had grown up with all that came with that: a fine farmhouse to live in, a pony to ride, regular trips to church on Sunday and a boarding school education. She was undeniably privileged. She had the cut glass accent that went with it.
Jenny was also a true English rose. She had straw coloured hair, porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, a small but perfectly formed bust and a petite figure. Her bottom was the stuff that dreams are made of: round, firm and pert.
She met Michael at university and they soon fell for one another. They married the year after graduating. They were widely seen as a great, but rather vanilla, couple.
But 'rather vanilla' was not Jenny's true self. Although well hidden by her upbringing and manners Jenny was undeniably kinky. The only problem was that she had never let Michael know.
Until two weeks ago that is. Two weeks ago, after a few too many glasses of wine with friends, Jenny and Michael had a row on the way home. In the heat of the moment Jenny had unloaded: she told Michael that he was boring, unsatisfying and that he hardly knew her. She told him that he didn't realise, for instance, that she yearned to be dominated, restrained, thrashed, used and fucked. He didn't know that she needed to be his toy.
Michael had looked astonished and went silent. No more words were spoken. They went to bed and the next morning returned to the rut they had been in all along. Thereafter life continued in the same vanilla manner as before. For 13 days that is.
On day 14, Michael and Jenny had gone to work as normal. At about 11 in the morning Jenny's phone had rung. Michael's voice was as far removed from usual as possible. He sounded steely. A modern day Mr Darcy.
"Good Morning.
I may have neglected my responsibilities. But you have neglected your obligations as well.
That will be remedied this evening.
First, you are to attend your usual beauty salon. They have my instructions.
Second, you must go to the lingerie boutique in Covent Garden whose work I enjoy. They have a parcel waiting for you.
Third, you are to dress in that lingerie and wait for me in the hall. I will be home at 8. I expect you to be kneeling down with your bottom facing the door when I arrive.
That is all."
Without another word, Michael hung up. Jenny felt her pulse start to race. Her mouth was dry and her breathing shallow. She felt her knickers starting to dampen. She had not been so excited in years.
Jenny had been astonished by the result of her visit to the salon. After having been greeted (rather more coldly than usual) and taken to be waxed she discovered what Michael had ordered. Her bush was rather smaller than it had been. It also had "M's" embossed within it.
That evening, Jenny dressed in the sky blue lingerie that she had picked up. She was wearing a balconette bra which emphasised her perky breasts to their best advantage. The knickers were a delicate lace thong. They had yellow daisies embroidered across the front. They were tight against her pussy and displayed her derrière spectacularly. They were accompanied by sheer silk hold ups. Jenny put on her most slutty heals and took up her position, kneeling with her bottom towards the door. She had not felt so vulnerable, and on display in years. She had also not been so excited.
Jenny knew when 8:00 pm came; she heard the clock in their sitting room strike the hour. But Michael did not arrive. Jenny knelt in the hall, desperate for release and utterly frustrated. She longed to hear Michael's key in the lock.
Sometime later (Jenny imagined it was hours, but in fact it was after no more than five minutes) Jenny heard a noise from the front door step. Shortly after, Michael walked in. Wordlessly, he took in the scene. He then walked past Jenny, leaving her kneeling and frustrated.
After a time Michael returned. His voice was colder than usual: "Jenny. You have been exceptionally naughty. You also need to remember that it is I who own your pussy and I who control your pleasure. I will now go to our bedroom. I expect you to come when I call. You will lie over my knee and take the punishment you so heartily deserve."
