Married Experimenting Her

Her

I don't know why I did it. Why I insisted that I be next month's slave. I think I wanted to know how it felt to remove decision-making from sex with my husband. To let him control me. I was uncomfortable at times doing it to him and I knew he'd have even more trouble with me. But the idea of being "forced" to do something I really wanted to do--as evidenced by my creation of the list and having checked "yes" for most of the items on it--made it exciting.

After that weekend, we returned to our normal lives, at least outwardly. I felt my blood was a degree or two hotter than it was before that weekend. While the frequency of our sex did not increase, its quality did as we both dared venture into territory we never would have before. Several times I stepped into the tub while my husband showered and, seeing his hard dick, rinsed off the soap and put it in my mouth until he came. Sometimes swallowing. Sometimes letting him rain over my face and chest.

When I was done, I'd tease him: "You don't want to be late for the train, honey. You sometimes take too long in the shower."

"Thanks. I've always thought I was long enough."

"Not anymore," swatting his dick lightly.

He sometimes asked to clean my pussy before we went to bed after I peed and I always let him. We held hands more often. It was very good. But as we entered the final week of the month, I began to tense, becoming obsessed with what would happen at noon on Saturday. My blood simmering along with my imagination.

As noon passed on the Friday, I lost my concentration at work. I told my boss that I didn't feel well, and she told me to go home. As I rode the train north, I felt a shudder. In twenty-four hours, I would be a slave, at my husband's mercy. While a month earlier that prospect loomed, it was then a fifty-fifty possibility. Now it was a certainty. I was not regretting my decision to change the rules so that I was to be this weekend's slave.

I wandered about the empty house. UPS delivered several large boxes over the final two weeks and I knew their contents were behind the door with the "DO NOT ENTER" post-it note. I stood outside that door. I was not tempted to open it. I put my hands against the wood trying to let the devices within communicate. What was there?

We went through the coin-flipping exercise. Again, I won.

"I will be your slave and you will be my Master. I love you."

"And I love you, honey. Let's both try to relax and try to get some sleep."

Sleep proved elusive. Visions, some arising from my own research and my own fantasies, flashed unendingly through me. My husband pretended to be asleep, but if he was it was restless. When the sun rose, I'd had at most four hours sleep. I slipped out of bed and after using the bathroom and putting on a robe I went to the kitchen. On the table, I found a hand-written note on several pages.

"Honey,

"These are your instructions.

"At twelve o'clock, you will stand in the Master's bedroom wearing the clothing and the shoes that you wore on our twelfth wedding anniversary. Except you will not wear panties. I believe you will have no difficulty recalling that clothing and those shoes.

"When you are dressed, you will open the top drawer.

"You will attach the collar you find around your throat. I hereby permit you to attach my collar around your throat.

"You will find four cuffs. You will attach the two larger ones to your ankles and the two smaller ones to your wrists. You will then lock them with the locks that are in their clasps. I have the keys.

"You will see a spreader bar on the bed. You will attach either end of the bar to the rings on the cuffs on your ankles. When you have done that, you will remove the ball gag from the drawer and you will place the ball in your beautiful mouth and clasp it shut. It will not be locked.

"You will take the blindfold from the drawer and place it on the dresser.

"You will lift your dress so that it is about your waist and lean against the dresser, facing the mirror, so that your dress does not fall. Your ass and your pussy must be visible when you complete this task.

"You will take the blindfold atop the dresser and tie it around your eyes.

"You will place your chest on the dresser so your ass and pussy are completely exposed and available to your Master.

"You will complete these tasks by 12:05 or you will be punished."

He'd signed it.

Just after I finished reading it, he waltzed into the kitchen and got himself a cup of coffee with a "Morning, hon. How'd you sleep."

"Fine. You?"

"Great."

We knew these were lies, but we needed to maintain normalcy until noon. I thought of doing some grocery shopping but just drove into town and walked around for an hour to burn up some energy. He'd gone out for a run with his buddies, and I wondered whether that went more easily for him than my attempt at grocery shopping went for me.

I finally gave up and drove home a little after eleven. The house was empty, and the door to the master, or master's, bedroom was closed. When I walked into the bathroom, I saw my dress from the twelfth on a hanger with a bra, stockings with garter belt, and neatly folded in the sink with my three-inch heels on the floor. A large, folded towel was on the down toilet-seat.

I stripped what I wore and tossed it in the hamper. I peed and pooped as I waited for the water to warm up. After letting the flush clear and the shower water to get back to normal, I stepped in when the water was right. The shower is in the tub, with a shower curtain, which I closed. I soaped myself down, spending more time than usual on my boobs. I made sure my pussy was clean.

I ran a soaped finger down my ass crack and put it into my anus and rolled it around. I didn't know whether I would be in for an enema treatment as my husband had enjoyed but I wanted it to be clean. I figured a plug would at the least be going in there. I didn't often finger my anus, but I moaned a bit as I rolled it around inside me that morning. I removed the finger and put it on my tongue for a moment. It was putrid, and I pulled it away. That was a place I was not going.

After washing my hair, I toweled off. I sat on the toilet seat and removed a pair of scissors from the bureau. I used it to trim my bush. I keep it neat but wanted it as neat as could be. After drying my hair, I applied makeup. I tried to match what I wore that night over a year ago when this whole venture began. I put dabs of the perfume I wore then behind my ears and sprinkled several drops in my bush.

Done, I put on the bra and the garter belt. I sat and rolled up the stockings and attached them before letting the dress fall over me. I got into the heels.

Throughout this, I had not heard anything in the house. But the bathroom door was closed and that might have explained it.

I checked my phone. "11:54." I opened the door and looked down the hall. No signs of life so I walked into the Master's Bedroom, leaving the door open. The shades were pulled--he was home--and the side lamps lit the room. Softly. The bed was made. A spreading bar at its center. I walked to the dresser. On top was a hand-written note:

"I love you. RED is your safeword."

I opened the drawer and followed my instructions. It was 12:01. My hands were shaking. What had I gotten into?

The collar was blue. It would complement my dress. An inch wide. I held it and stared. The clock was ticking. With a last, free breath I placed it around my neck and secured it. I was in.

I then followed the instructions, aware of the passage of the seconds. The attachment of the spreader bar took a bit--it was about a foot-and-a-half long--but once that was done I quickly got the ball gag attached. Again, after a long breath, I pulled the dress up over my waist, securing it by leaning against the dresser. Looking at myself in the mirror one last time, I wrapped the blindfold around my eyes and bent over.

I don't know how long I was like that when I heard footsteps. He was wearing shoes so I thought he was dressed, likely wearing his favorite blue suit, the one from the anniversary. I felt my dampness, afraid but not caring that it would stain my dress. It was so bad that some drifted down my left inner thigh. Spit was escaping around the ball gag.

I felt fingers run up my left ass-cheek and down my right. I was visibly shaking as a finger ran from the top of my pussy to my anus. It lifted off and then pushed into my pussy.

"My slave is wet. This pleases me."

I began to be fucked by the single finger, soon joined by a second and then a third. I was thrusting my ass to meet it and nearly cried when it was pulled away. A moment later, it was replaced by a tongue. A glorious, exploring tongue.

"I wish you could taste my slut's juices but, sadly, your mouth is otherwise engaged. Which means more of you for me," and the tongue resumed its licking. Ten minutes in and I was completely gone. He always loved eating me but I was his slave and his dick was supposed to be in my mouth so I could service him. Did he not understand that I was his slave?

His tongue pulled away. I was having difficulty breathing and I felt fingers on the clasp of the gag and it was removed.

I felt a kiss at the back of my neck and a moment later his dick shot into me. My hands grasped the back of the dresser top so I could hold myself in position. A pounding not unlike what he gave me that Saturday morning when I first gave myself to him. My newly freed mouth started sprinkling gibberish as I neared my orgasm. Till he pulled out.

"Patience, Baby. Patience."

This was the message that went to my brain but my body would not listen. I was shoving my ass out. I didn't give a shit how it looked. I needed him in me.

He repeated his edging of me twice more. Bringing me close and then stopping. I knew it wasn't easy for him. He jerked off almost every day so while he had built up his dick's strength he also needed to come. Yet as my Master he was holding it off.

I felt his hands on the blindfold as he undid it.

"Look at yourself in the mirror.... Kiss yourself."

I hesitated.

"Can you not hear, Baby? Kiss yourself."

I stared at my image in the mirror and slowly moved closer to it. It was silly, perhaps, but in that moment I wanted to kiss the lips of the beautiful, flushed woman I saw. I placed my lips against her lips, regretting that my tongue could not taste hers. I held it with closed eyes. As I pulled away, I stared at myself and my lustful eyes and then I watched my eyes bulge as I felt him re-enter me. It was clear from the moment he did that there would be no edging now. I pulled my sight from my eyes in the mirror to look at his face. A gluttonous smile. Evil yet kind. And manic eyes as he took me, powerless to stop. Powerless in thought, mind, and body as I screamed and shook when my first orgasm of the day hit and while I was shaking I felt him explode inside me.

He quickly pulled out and I felt his lips at my pussy's entrance, sucking on the goo, the combination of his semen and my juices. I felt his fingers enter and then he stood and brought them around to my mouth. He said nothing as I suckled on them for dear life, this wonderful combination of our sex.

"Stand."

What remained of that combination leaked down my thighs. The dress fell below my waist.

"Turn."

I turned and he held me and his lips crashed into mine. Much as I wanted to kiss myself in the mirror, it was nothing compared to the passion I needed to have in a kiss with my husband.

After who knows how long, he pushed me back. I pouted.

"You have pleased me, Baby. So far. Let us not have you spoil that."

"Yes, my Master."

He knelt to undo the spreader bar. He placed it on the dresser.

He was in the suit and had pulled up his trousers. As far as the world could see, he was ready to walk into a courtroom. He walked to the armchair in the corner. He sat.

"Strip."

I proceeded to put on what I hoped was a good show for him. Legs spread I unzipped and pulled my dress over my head. I stood there in bra, stockings, garter belt, and fuck-me shoes. I unclasped the bra and teasingly (I hoped) revealed first one and then the other of my tits. I put my arms to the side, displaying myself and then turned, slowly, around. When my back was to him my husband said, "Stop."

He walked to me and I felt his hands again caress each of my ass cheeks. I heard him sit back down. "Resume."

I slowly finished my turn till I again faced him. He rose and came to me, this time his hands caressed my tits. He placed each of my nipples between his thumb and index finger of each hand. He turned and opened the drawer. He turned, his hands in fists.

"You may choose whether you wish to wear these. If they are too painful, I will stop tightening them."

He opened his fists and I saw two nipple clamps. They were like the ones he wore with me; they had screws that tightened them so the pain was not overwhelming. I reached for each and placed them in the palms of my hands.

"Please, my Master, allow me to wear your jewelry." At that point, my only jewelry was my wedding band.

He placed one on my left tit. As he turned the screw I began to feel pain. It was uncomfortable but not entirely unpleasant. He continued turning until he heard me gasp. That stopped him and we repeated the process with my right tit. He reached into the drawer. Extending from each clamp as a small ring. I now saw its purpose. He attached the ends of a silver chain to the two rings so the chain dangled between my tits.

He moved to the side so I could see myself in the mirror. My tits never looked so good. I have good tits. Neither too large nor too small, and my husband adores them. His eyes may be pulled by big-titted women on the street or elsewhere, but he adores my mid-sized boobs. They never looked better, though, than with the clamps and the chain.

He moved back in front of me and turned me so I faced into the room.

"My turn," and he stood in front of me. I reached to remove his jacket and opened the closet and put it on a hanger. I returned and removed his cufflinks. On the dresser. I loosened and removed his tie and folded it and placed it next to the cufflinks. Next were the shirt's buttons. I undid each and once I got to the third I kissed his chest with each revealed inch. When all of the visible buttons were undone, I pulled the shirt from his trousers and undid the final buttons. I slowly removed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms before folding it and placing it too on the dresser.

I love his chest and stomach. Not six-pack looking. More mature and solid and a flat stomach from all his running. I wanted to kiss his belly button but resisted. I had things to do.

His breathing had picked up, his hands back to his sides. I reached down and removed his shoes and then his socks, putting them on the floor. I looked up at him. He had an artificially impassive expression. His breath gave him away. I undid his belt and then the top button of his trousers before pulling down his zipper. I began to pull them down when his dick popped out. He was not wearing underwear and I felt a tinge.

I pulled the trousers down and he stepped up so I could remove them.

Naked and with a chain dangling between my tits, I walked to the closet and put the trousers on a hanger. I figured, though, that leakage meant they'd need to take a trip to the cleaners.

I turned and walked back to him. I knelt so that my ass cheeks were on my heels and looked down. His dick was hard and pointing up.

"Service me."

I didn't realize how quick my own breaths had become. I proceeded to make love to his dick. It and my mouth, teeth, and tongue became my universe. Whatever I was before, I was now his slave, existing only to please him, my greatest desire to please my husband in the way that he deserved.

"No hands."

I dropped them and now was dependent on my neck muscles to control my mouth's movements. I had of course lost all track of time, but it did not seem long before I felt his hands briefly on my head. He pulled them away, though. I felt him begin to tremble as his orgasm began to hit. With my mouth moving to hold only the head, his dick exploded my husband's seed into his slave's mouth. Before his dick was out of my mouth, I'd swallowed every drop and cleaned the head.

He stepped back and sat on the bed. He was not controlling himself as he pretended to; I could see he was shaking slightly.

Again breathing heavily, he said, "You have pleased me, Baby. Follow me."

He walked down the hall into the bathroom. When I entered, he remained silent. I knew what he wanted. This was a line for me. Part of me wanted to shout "RED RED RED." I ignored it. I stepped into the tub and lay down. My husband reached down and undid the two nipple clamps and put them delicately by the sink. He unlocked each of the cuffs and put them there too. He followed me into the tub, standing above me and his feet on either side of my body. He waited a moment, as did I. Finally, I nodded and he let out a torrent of piss. He, of course, had an easier time aiming than did I and he washed my tits and when I nodded again he pissed on my face. Suddenly I found my mouth open and my face trying to catch a bit of his acrid stream. When he understood, he no longer moved his dick and let what remained of his urine go into my mouth as I desperately swallowed until the stream slowed and a strip of his piss traced a path through my midline down to my navel.

He stepped back and I lifted myself so I could put his dick in my mouth to clean it and get the last, few drops.

"Stand."

I did. It is a conventionally sized tub with a shower. He stepped out and turned the shower on. I nearly screamed from the icy water but let it wash over my chest as it slowly, so slowly, warmed. When it was warm, he stepped in and closed the curtain.

He handed me a bar of soap and I washed his front, lingering on his dick. He turned and I did the same to his back, including running a finger through his ass crack.

"In."

Making sure my middle finger was well soaped, I put it in his anus to the second knuckle. He was silent so I began to move it around a bit. Suddenly the water was off.

"Eat."

Another line. "RED RED RED" ignored as I knelt down on the hard and wet porcelain. His hands opened his ass cheeks and I looked at an anus for the first time. It was crinkly and a bit brown around the surface. My tongue, tentative at first, poked at it. It was not so horrible, unlike my own shit that I tasted earlier that day, and I began to twirl around it, running my tongue down to his balls now and then.

His breathing was again accelerating, his hands flat against the wall so he would not fall. I joined my tongue with fingers from my right hand, which found their way down and then around his leg so my hand could grip his dick. My husband was now moaning, with it echoing through the bathroom. He'd ripped open the shower curtain to help us cool down. Sweat was dripping off both of us.

My hand slowly began pumping his dick. He'd just come so I didn't know how long it would take to reload. But he'd proven well able to have lots of orgasms the last time we did this.

My tongue was getting more curious and I made it into a cylinder as I tried to enter his anus. I felt his sphincter open slightly and then snap shut. Finally, my tongue was through, allowing me to wiggle it slightly inside him. Somehow the notion of being "inside him" struck me as momentous. But I did not have long to ponder that as my hand had increased its tempo and his moans became constant except when he needed to take a breath.

His knees bent and suddenly I felt his cum shoot through his dick. I assume it hit the tub's wall but couldn't see since my head was against his ass as my tongue tried to retain the bridgehead it made in his anus.