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.