Her private scene had just started, but she was already sweating. She struggled against the cuffs holding her feet to opposite corners of the bed and reveled in the feeling of being restrained. Ropes were wrapped as tightly as she could stand around each of her wrists. They weren't tied to the bedposts, but self-bondage came with limits.
She pulled a leather mask over her eyes, and slipped slowly into sub-space. The words were hers, but she dreamily imagined her husband's voice.
"Are you ready Baby Girl?"
"Yes Sir."
"Red, yellow, or green?"
"Green Sir."
"Good girl."
"Good girl", made her shiver, and she let one hand tease her juicy folds while the other drew the prickly wheel over her tits. She moaned from the pleasure that came from her pain, then increased the pressure as she tortured her creamy globes. A cry left her lips, and sticky wetness oozed from her cunt. Her imagination began to run away, and she pictured her husband chuckling, "Such a dirty little slut."
If only he knew, she was a dirty little slut. For now though, this was just her secret. It thrilled and shamed her while feeding a deep-seated need that emanated from her core.
"Nnnnngghhh, Ahhhhh!" She screamed as the pricks penetrated her skin and put her over the edge. She licked her fingers and as she slowly came down she let her mind drift into thought.
How did she get this way? She was raised in a good Christian home. Her parents were very loving and supportive, but she was left on her own when it came to sex. They never even gave her "The Talk". She learned the basics both from mandatory classes and hushed conservations with her friends. All of that sounded exciting, but even then, she felt like there was something more.
She was a virgin on her wedding night, and after a little fumbling, he made her cum with his mouth, but even with that, she felt a little disappointed. Over the next two years, they grew together as a couple and as lovers. He was caring and generous, always making sure she orgasmed, but it wasn't enough. Deep down, she still felt she had a need that wasn't being met.
She looked online a couple of times, but that wasn't for her. It wasn't until one day at the library that she found what she was looking for, or more correctly, it found her. She sat at a corner table, empty except for one book. The title intrigued her, "The Story of O".
The title wasn't nearly as intriguing as the contents, and time seemed to stop until she finished the last page. She didn't know how to phrase it at the time, but her inner slut had awakened.
It took more reading and research for her to settle into who and what she was. She was a submissive. Yes. She was a true submissive with the desire to be restrained, teased, whipped, and lovingly degraded. It wasn't until she said it aloud for the first time that she felt truly free. That had been some time ago.
The alarm on her phone brought her back to the moment. Her husband would be home soon, and though it caused her great feelings of guilt, today too would pass without her telling him her secret.
He was a good man, and treated her with such care. She just didn't know how he'd respond to her depraved desires. She still wanted to be his wife; loved, cared for, and pampered outside the bedroom, but inside, she wanted to be his whore.
