From Tame To Tamed Ch 02

"From Tame To Tamed: 2. Another Man's Lap"

As I related previously, the normal tame sex life I had with my wife was altered the night we met Karl and his wife, Cynthia. On that first night Karl had expertly manipulated the situation: he got my wife, Laura, to agree to stop in a local strip club, and later (to my astonishment) took advantage of my wife's submissive nature and coaxed her into giving him a lap dance in their kitchen. It wasn't an explicit dance - no clothing was removed - and it ended before anything graphic occurred, but the evening proved that maybe Laura and I weren't as tame as we had previously thought.

In the weeks afterwards, Laura and I never spoke openly about the episode. We never questioned ourselves, never examined why we had allowed it to happen, and never speculated on the consequences. Was it shame or fear that kept us from talking about it? Or were we grappling with understanding who we truly were? And did Laura resent me for allowing, if not encouraging, Karl to get her to submit to him?

However, during the throes of passion, while making love, I would whisper about another man controlling her. My submissive wife never said a word, but as she listened to me talk about her being used by a stranger she always got hotter. As I detailed her being forced to fuck and suck a stranger (never mentioned by name) our passion quickly built to orgasms. And yet, outside of the bedroom, we never broached the subject.

We ran into Karl and Cynthia a month later, again at the local pub where our favorite band was playing. We were having a good time when Karl took the opportunity to slow dance with Laura. What I remember was that he didn't ask her to dance; he told her, "It's time; let's dance," and she willingly obeyed. I watched them on the dance floor, their bodies close but Karl doing nothing inappropriate. It was only later, at home, that Laura told me that she had felt his erection while they were dancing. Oh, she also admitted that it had turned her on.

The following weekend I received a text. "Our place, tonight, 8:30." Again, more a Karl order than an invitation. As we had no plans, we decided to go. Around 7:30 I found Laura changing for our 'date', putting on a white blouse and black skirt. I wondered if she was dressing for me or for Karl, but said nothing.

"You're right on time," Karl joked as he let us in. "Punctuality is next to godliness." He took Laura's hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Cynthia will here shortly. Come in."

We spent a few minutes catching up on the week, talked about the band we saw (Karl gave his approval), got beers in the kitchen, then adjourned to the living room. We were just getting comfortable when Cynthia came in the front door cradling a cardboard box. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said, "but ... wine!"

To me, Karl said, "Al, assist her."

Now Karl could have gotten up to help his wife. And he could have ASKED me to do it. But, no, he TOLD me to assist her, and in such a matter-of-fact voice that, at the time, I thought nothing of it. Maybe I was just happy to help Cynthia. Or maybe I was revealing my own submissiveness. In any event, I got up, took the box of bottles from Cynthia, and carried them into the kitchen.

When we returned to the living room, Cynthia kissed her husband and sat next to him. The four of us chatted for awhile, until Karl asked, "Have you returned to the Paddywagon lately?" (That was the strip club we had gone to the previous month.) We told him we hadn't, and he said, "We'll venture there again some time. Not tonight, of course, but another night. We'll make a date of it."

When our beers were finished, I joined Cynthia in the kitchen to help fetch another round of drinks. As I brought them to the living room, Cynthia excused herself to change upstairs. Karl was deep in conversation with my wife discussing '50 Shades of Gray,' saying, "It was a number one book for months. Number one! It certainly touched a nerve for women."

I joined in. "Laura tried to read them but couldn't take the writing."

"The writing was the turn-off? Not the subject matter?"

"No, no," I said. "I mean: I don't think so."

We both turned to Laura for her response. After some deliberation, she said, "No, not really. I guess it can be ... stimulating as a fantasy. "

"Are we sharing fantasies now?" Cynthia asked as she returned from upstairs, in tee shirt and yoga pants.

Karl gave her an admiring glance. "Yoga pants! Now there's every man's fantasy. Am I right, Al?"

"Oh, he certainly agrees," Laura said as she squeezed my thigh.

"They sure highlight a woman's ass." Karl smiled as his wife playfully pushed her butt out for us to admire. "And look at that awesome ass!"

Slightly embarrassed, she stopped posing. She walked to him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and squeezed herself into his love seat. The room was getting more sexually charged by the minute!

"Are you an ass man?" Karl asked me.

The question took my by surprise - he was so blunt, so direct - but before I could say anything Laura answered for me: "Oh, most definitely."

"Most men are. It's a primeval sexual impulse." And now more sex talk. At first it was mostly generalities - the difference between men and women, the change in fashions and attitudes - but gradually Karl got more personal, letting us know about their sex life. He said that for them sex seemed to get better as they got older, that they enjoyed an active and interesting sex life, that Cynthia was quite the 'willing and able' bed partner. Through all this, Cynthia sat quietly. When he began asking questions about our sex life - about how adventurous we were - my wife remained quiet and squeezed my hand tightly. Clearly uncomfortable with the openness of the topic she welcomed Cynthia's offer of a second beer, hoping the break would bring a change of subject.

Cynthia headed to the kitchen and returned with a round of drinks. She handed us ours, then walked to the love seat. She set her glass on one side table. As she leaned over Karl to set his glass on the other side table, he gave her butt an ungentle slap. To us he said, "Isn't it surprising ow many women enjoy a good spanking?" He grabbed her wrist to keep her in position, but continued talking to us. "I'm guessing most women are like Cynthia here - sexually submissive. She'll do almost anything I ask her to."

He tried to gage our reaction. Had he shocked us? Offended us? Scared us away? Realizing that he hadn't, he continued: "And she enjoys a good ass spanking - the harder the better." He looked at his wife approvingly, then turned to us. "Do you ever spank Laura?" he asked me.

Again Laura squeezed my hand tightly. I knew she didn't want me to answer, and normally I wouldn't have, but being a little buzzed from the beers and a little turned on by the situation I was ready to go where Karl led us. "Sometimes."

"Does she enjoy it?"

"Yes, she does."

"Do you enjoy doing it?"

"Yes. I do."

"Is she like Cynthia? Is she sexually submissive?"

I knew we were discussing Laura as if she weren't in the room, but Karl was controlling the conversation. Peripherally I saw that my wife was staring at the floor. I gave her a few seconds to stop me, but there was only silence. "Yes, she is," I finally answered. Laura released the pressure on my hand. Her legs, which had been parted only an inch or two, now closed tightly.

Karl was still holding his wife's wrist with his right hand. With his left hand he began rubbing her ass through the yoga pants. His hand moved in a seductive circular motion. Laura and I watched in silence. "Cynthia will do anything I ask her to do. Will Laura do anything you ask her?"

I thought about this for a second. Again I waited for Laura to object, but her lack of response revealed the true answer: "Yes, I think she will."

Karl then slapped his wife's butt, hard. To me, he asked, "Do you enjoy seeing other women spanked?"

Hopeful to see what I thought I was about to see, I nodded.

He looked up at this wife: "I want to show them." Cynthia glanced at us as if to see if we objected. When we didn't she took a step to his side, then gracefully slipped onto his lap. She lowered herself to rest her stomach on his lap. Her knees almost touched the floor. At first her arms hung down, touching the floor, but without being instructed she crossed them behind her back.

"She's well trained," Karl told us. He grabbed her wrists with his left hand, and held up his right hand, open palm above her rear. "How many, Laura? How many shall I give her?"

Both he and I then looked at Laura, awaiting her reply. Even Cynthia - who had been looking down at the floor - turned to look. Laura hesitated. Karl waited patiently but after a short while he spoke in a firmer voice. "Answer me."

And she did: "Ten."

Karl smiled. Then he grabbed the waistband of Cynthia's yoga pants, and with a sharp tug he yanked them over half her butt, exposing most of her ass and a pink thong. When she raised her torso up from his lap he pulled the pants lower, about halfway down her thighs. He was right - she had a great ass: firm and round.

Then his hand came down, not too hard. "One," Cynthia let out, counting without being instructed. Karl lifted his hand again and looked at us. He slapped her again, harder this time (we could tell by the volume), and Cynthia counted 'two'. Karl rested his hand on her ass and rubbed her cheeks, then slid it between her legs, forcing her to spread them as much as the pants around her thighs allowed. He pulled the thong's elastic band away from her and let go. His hand went up; his hand came down, harder this time: We could see the redness it left behind, we watched her hands clench, we heard a tremor in her voice when she counted 'three'. The fourth slap was softer and her hands unclenched. The fifth was harder; Cynthia flinched in pain. Then 'six'. And 'seven'.

"Is this turning him on?" Karl asked my wife.

"I'm sure it is."

"There's only one way to be sure. Feel him."

I was worried that Karl had crossed the line, but Laura, as entranced as I was, reached over and set her hand in my lap. She felt my erection through my pants. "Yes, he's turned on."

"How do you know?"

Her voice grew softer. "He's hard."

"Louder," he ordered. I was surprised to find him commanding her, and equally surprised to see that she fell under his control.

"He's hard." Her hand began to massage my hard-on. I avoided looking at her, afraid to break the spell.

Karl's hand went up, then applied a milder slap. Cynthia counted 'eight' and Karl rubbed her now reddening ass. For the ninth stroke, he gripped her wrists tighter and gave her the hardest slap yet. Her whole body flinched. Her face clenched up. Even Laura jumped. Karl reached and stroked Cynthia's head and waited for Cynthia to moan a 'nine'. The tenth slap was barely a tap. He let his hand rest on her ass, then it dipped down into her crotch.

"As you two seem to be enjoying the show I can continue." He looked at my wife. "It's up to you, Laura. Shall I stop? Or shall I give her five more?"

What would she say? I thought she give her new friend some relief or want this to end quickly. Or was she truly enjoying this? Was she as turned on as I was? "Yes," she said firmly as she squeezed my cock. "Five more."

Karl nodded and smiled. Another slap, a hard one, and Cynthia counted 'eleven.' Then came the twelfth. After the thirteenth he asked Laura: "Does watching this turn you on?"

She was still rubbing me. I watched as she nodded to him.

"How do I know this is turning you on?"

Laura shook her head.

Karl pulled his hand from his wife's crotch. "Cynthia's panty is wet; that's how I know this is turning her on." He rubbed his fingers with his thumb, to show the dampness he had felt. "So how do I know if this is turning you on?"

Her voice was shy, meek. "If my panty is wet?" We both watched him nod his head. Then, without looking at me, Laura slowly and tentatively moved her free hand to her thigh and up under her skirt. She nodded. "Yes, this is turning me on."

When she started to pull her hand away, Karl said, "Don't stop," and she didn't, she continued lightly rubbing herself under her skirt. "Very good," he said. Then another slap, and Cynthia counted 'fourteen.' Karl smiled. Then came the final slap, loud and hard. Cynthia flinched, counted 'fifteen,' and then slowly let her body release its tension. In a fluid motion she slid off his lap until she was kneeling at his side, the pants still stretched around her thighs. Her erect nipples stretched against her sheer blouse. She looked up at her husband. "Thank you."

"Later, my dear," he laughed, as Cynthia pulled away, but remained kneeling on the floor. Karl looked at us, and we at him, and no one spoke. He reached over and petted his wife's head. "As you can see, she'll do anything I ask her to do. If I want her to be spanked in front of strangers, she'll do it. And she enjoys it." He picked up his drink and took a long sip, then set the glass down carefully. "Now, you, Laura, are also sexually submissive. And you would do anything your husband asks of you. So if he wanted to spank you in front of strangers you would let him do that. Wouldn't you?" A brief pause. "Of course you would. And do you think it would turn him on to spank you in front of someone else?"

She finally spoke. "Yes." She placed her hand in mine again. We now knew where this was headed - it was now our turn to put on a show - and since we were both under Karl's spell I knew we wouldn't stop now.

When he told her - ordered her? - to stand up, she did as instructed. And when he said, "You too, Al - Stand up," I also obeyed him. I faced my wife and took her hand. This was so exciting; I was going to spank her here, in front of these strangers.

Karl had other ideas: "Now, Laura, would it turn your husband on to have another man spank you? For him to watch you in another man's lap, spanked by another man's hand? Would that turn him on?"

She squeezed my hand hard and grimaced. Was she recalling all the nights I had fantasized about seeing her with another man? Did she wonder if that was just fantasy? Would I really want it in reality? She looked at me but I said nothing.

"Well? Would that turn him on?" A pause. "Ask him if he wants it."

What was she feeling- was that fear or excitement? Was it uncertainty at what could transpire or desire for a new experience? She cleared her throat. When she spoke it was like she was issuing a challenge. "Do you want to watch Karl spank me?"

Now it was my time to decide how far this would go, how far we would go. But I had trouble deciding took too long to reply. Laura bit her lip, giving no clue to as what she was thinking, what she was feeling. My final reasoning was that this was just a spanking, just touching, not sex, not fucking, nothing else. And we could always trust Karl to stop if it tried to go too far. "I do," I finally answered.

"Then bring her." He patted his lap, looking like a king on a throne. I guess that made me his obedient servant. And being under his spell I obeyed. Laura and I avoided eye as we walked across the room and approached Karl's throne. He sat up straight and again patted his lap. We squeezed each other's hands as if both waiting for the other to stop this, but when neither of us did I helped my wife lower herself onto his lap. She squirmed to find a comfortable position, and soon was in an all-fours position, but with her knees and hands not reaching the floor.

Cynthia, still kneeling, watched in silence.

"Put your hands behind your back," Karl ordered, and Laura's obeyed, moving first one then the other arm, finally gripping her left wrist with her right hand. "I think she's going to enjoy this," he told me. "And you, too. Now, go, sit back. Enjoy the show."

And so I returned to the sofa and sat alone. Across the room my lovely wife was laying across another man's lap. I watched him rest his left hand on her crossed wrists, while he lifted his right hand up in the air. I held my breath - I'm sure Laura was too - as we waited, one, two, three seconds. "How do you want this, Laura - gentle or rough."

Her answer shocked me. "Don't be gentle."

Seconds later his open palm came down, a muffled thump against her skirt fabric. Without being asked, she let out a firm 'one.' I was surprised to hear her count - she had never done this with me. The next slap was a little harder, and Laura counted 'two.'

"Unfortunately this skirt is getting in the way." He grabbed the hem and flicked it up and down. To me: "Do you mind if I..."

Laura glanced over at me. I remembered the very revealing thong she had put on, but still I nodded in approval.

But Karl needed more from me. "Say it. Tell me." This was the beauty in Karl's manipulation: while he was surely controlling the situation he always made us complicit in every step we took.

"You can lift up her skirt." There, I did it. I gave another man permission to expose her ass.

Karl smiled as he roughly tugged the skirt up over her ass, bunching it at the small of her back. "Ah, yes, much better," he said as he revealed her nearly naked tush. He rubbed the back of her left thigh, then the right, squeezing the flesh, before letting his large hand rest atop her the back of her rear. I was amazed to see this - another man's hand on her ass - but felt only excitement. As he began to rub her ass, he looked over at me, sizing me up, pleased to have both her and I under his power.

The third slap - the first on flesh - was gentle, but the fourth was so hard I saw her body flinch. He then slapped the inside of her thigh to force her to spread her legs. A louder slap. "Five." The sixth slap was gentler. The seventh was hard.

Without even thinking I moved my hand into my lap and started rubbing myself through my jeans. When Karl noticed this he shook his head. "Stop."

Without thinking, I obeyed. I allowed Karl to stop me from massaging myself even while he was spanking my wife. Instead, I sat quietly on the sofa, my cock straining against my pants, as I watched Karl gently stroke the white flesh of my wife's ass. Her butt wasn't as firm and round as Cynthia, but I had no complaints. Neither did Karl, who was smiling as he examined it. He kneaded the flesh, and pinched it a few times. At one point his fingers dipped between her legs. Was that a moan I heard?

The next slap came down harder than anything she had ever experienced before. Her whole body rocked and she screamed "Ow!" I could see the red marks forming. I waited for her to count, but she didn't. This would not do; Karl grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. His roughness took her by surprise. He didn't care. "I didn't hear you."

She instantly remembered what was required of her: "Eight."

After a gentle ninth slap, he commanded her to look at me. "There he is, your husband. You're lying half naked in another man's lap and he's..." I could see his hand settle onto her ass. Laura's eye had a glassy stare. "Ask him if he minds me touching your ass?"

She was breathing heavy as she spoke. "Do you enjoy watching Karl ... touch my ass?"

I nodded unsurely.

She let out an erotic smile, but then her face clenched when the tenth slap came suddenly. She started to lift herself up, but Karl used his hand to push her down, restraining her in his lap. "Cynthia, dear." He waited for his wife to look up at him. "Shall I stop at ten?" She shook her head; hers was an almost cruel smile. And then came the eleventh slap. And the twelfth. Karl placed his hand on the back of her head and massaged her scalp again. "Do you think I'm enjoying this?" he asked her.

"Yes."

"How can you tell?"

I could barely hear her, but hear her I did: "You're hard."

"What's hard?"