It's been a long day at the office. My present client is an obnoxious asshole, and today he did not disappoint. Angry that his wife was winning the case, poised to take half of his entire material wealth, he never fails to somehow place the blame on me. I constantly tell him that if he wanted an easy divorce he should have got a prenup. Or better yet, he should never have cheated on his wife. Of course he doesn't care, only concerned about his money. Fucker. Thankfully in my marriage, we can barely keep our hands off one another. Plus actual love, and cheating has never once crossed our minds.
As I pull into my driveway I let out a long sigh, and immediately loosen my tie. Next to my Audi R8 Spyder sits my wife's Lincoln MKZ. She's always preferred a more luxurious lifestyle. I'm a little more fast-lane, and am the subject of much teasing for it.
"So, Mr. Fast, how do you manage to last so long?" she winks, followed by a quick flick of her tongue across her lips.
The memory of that day makes me chuckle under my breath. And it was a day to remember.
As you may have guessed I am a lawyer, not too shabby of one if I do say so myself. My wife is a well-known real estate agent, and her work can sometimes be trying. I sometimes end up on the receiving end of her pent up sarcasm and frustration, but it is a role I am more than willing to hold. Her satirical sense of humor is one of the many things I love about her.
When I step through the front door I immediately feel it. Our sixth sense. Her desire calling out to me as clear as if she were saying my name. The door to the basement is open, and I can see the dim lighting from the top of the stairs. I take my time walking down them, removing my clothing piece by piece. When I reach the bottom I am left only in my shirt and pants. And she is waiting right where I expect her to be.
Her slight, slim figure waits on the bed. Legs tucked underneath her, hands laying on her exposed thighs, eyes cast downward. The traditional submissive pose. She is allowed to perform this on the bed instead of the floor so that her legs are given some relief. I fling my jacket on the black leather couch in the middle of the room, positioned over a faux tiger skin rug, and stand before her.
Placing my thumb and forefinger underneath her chin I tilt her head back. Those beautiful emerald green eyes lock onto mine, already begging for release. I feel my cock twitch in response.
"How long have you been waiting?"
She runs her tongue across her lips before answering, "Too long without my master."
It is very rare that she is ever this eager, and it shocks me for a fraction of a second. This is definitely going to be fun.
"Lay down," I order, and she obeys immediately. Turning to reach into the bedside table I choose from a selection of handcuffs. Pulling out four pairs, 2 leopard print, 2 pink, I hear her moan her approval. They are soft, and gentle. Not quite as biting as other pairs that we own.
"Spread out."
She stretches her arms and legs wide, and soon I have restrained them with the cuffs. She is now spread before me, virtually immobilized. I gaze at her for a few seconds, then place a hand between her thighs. Her body jerks in response, and a smile spreads across my face. Removing my hand I feel her hips buck in an attempt to follow me. Pressing my lips to hers, I gently whisper, "Patience, my dear." Her whimpers of frustration and desire continue, but she remains still. "Good girl."
On the wall on the opposite side of the bed, there are shelves with various tools of pleasure. I trail my hand across them, the whips, a modified cat-o-nine tails(barbs removed) until I pause at the rods and canes. I hear her inhale deeply in excitement and anticipation, but that is not the mood I am in today.
Moving down to a larger set of drawers I open the second to last one. The wand I remove is her favorite, and when I turn around, holding the weapon of mass pleasure in hand, her entire body tenses, almost jerking straight upward.
"Patience baby," I think to myself. "The best is yet to come."