Author's note: I decided to give this story one more chapter, somewhat motivated by the comments left on the previous chapters. I must say I'm surprised at how strongly people feel about this subject and I'm also rather taken aback by how strongly people feel that they 'know' what the male character is thinking and what he really wants...
Hope you enjoy this last chapter, I will be continuing the story in a sequel to be called 'Everything Still has a Price', which will be posted under my new name of Robert_Anthony in the not too distant future (hopefully).
Please keep your feedback coming, I do enjoy receiving it (even if I don't always agree with it - haha)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
-------------------------------------------------
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
-------------------------------------------------
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After the session we lay together in silence for what seemed like hours. There was an awkwardness in the air that I'd never felt between us before, each of us wanting to talk about 'it', but neither of us wanting to bring it up. Eventually she got up and went for a shower, leaving me alone to think things over.
After a while I heard her shut the shower off and I got up to have my own shower, my balls felt completely drained and I doubted I would be getting hard again until at least tomorrow morning. When I finished my shower I got dressed and knowing that my wife was downstairs I kind of found a reason to stay upstairs for a while, putting off the inevitable 'discussion'.
Finally I caved in and descended the stairs, finding my wife sitting in a chair reading a magazine as she waited for me.
"You took your time," she observed.
"Yes, I...."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Err....yeah."
I looked over at the dining table and saw a large envelope. Next to it lay a couple of stapled A4 pages, the contract I had agreed to sign. Having seen the contract, I decided to make good on my promise and make a point by walking straight up to it and signing it with the pen that lay next to it. I signed my name, clicked the top of the pen and placed it back down on the table. I was now under her (limited) control for the next six months.
I didn't have a problem with that at all, after all, we hadn't been doing this that long yet, and while I did indeed fantasize about my orgasms being under her control 100%, maybe it was a bit soon to be completely giving up my wanking rights for a whole year? Regardless of this, I knew that we were going to have to have a serious talk about what had happened upstairs.
- - -
The rest of the day was a bit weird. Usually after a session like that the rest of the day was a blissfully mellow experience, but instead we were both tense and uneasy, which wasn't like us at all and grated horribly. Finally I decided to take the bull by the horns (no pun intended) and sat down next to her, my confidence bolstered by the large glass of scotch that I had just poured myself.
"I think we need to talk," I began.
She looked up at me and her eyes gave the impression that she was about to burst into tears. She nodded and bit her lip, looking very worried and nervous.