Author's Note: This is an introduction to a pair of stories in which a married straight couple decide to delve into the world of BDSM. Part 2 is his submission. Part 3 is hers.
It started innocently enough. It was our twelfth anniversary and because it was a Saturday we booked a room at a hotel in the City. Dinner at a special-occasion restaurant and back to the hotel at a little past nine. There were chilled champagne and a dozen roses on the bed.
My wife wore a favorite blue-dress and three-inch heels. Her hair was done, and it was up in something of a bob that framed her round face. Just a touch of makeup, which is all she ever needed to become glorious. Diamond studs in her ears, a present for our tenth.
I was in my own favorite blue-suit and a white shirt with French cuffs. A soft-blue tie. With her in heels, we were just about the same height, and after closing and locking the door to the room I walked to the ice bucket and removed the champagne. We both had wine at dinner but this was to cap it, and the day. I opened the champagne, turning the cork back and forth in a provocative manner in front of her, and poured us each a glass. The glasses were from home.
After removing my jacket, I sidled up to her, arms around her waist, and we shared one of the joyous kisses that we'd enjoyed from the very first one, the one that told me she was "the one."
My wife lightly pushed me so I sat on the bed as she stripped. For me. Zipper down a bit awkwardly. Then her dress was off. After she stepped out of it, I reached to pick it up to put it on a hanger, but she wagged her right index finger at me. No. You just watch the show. She was in light-blue lingerie and matching stockings, attached to a garter belt. She bent down and removed her shoes, placing them neatly to the side.
At this point, I was hard as a rock and just wanted to tear off what she still wore. But I was being "forced" to enjoy the show. So I did.
She unclasped her bra and her tits were there. They are perfect tits and I often suckle on them until she tells me I'm making them sore. Now I could only stare at them. Not big so no concerns about gravity pulling them down. Just amazing.
She was topless. Unclasping the garter belt, she sat in a chair facing the bed and rolled her left and then her right stocking down. Garter belt and panties were all that remained. She spread her legs and put her arms on her waist.
"Your turn."
I tried to emulate in her the excitement her stripping caused me, but I doubt it worked. I finally got my clothes off, standing just in my briefs. She walked to me and put her fingers in the waist and pulled them off. She stepped back, and I did the same to her panties. She leaned in and gave me another passionate kiss.
"Thank you for twelve wonderful years."
"It's me who should be thanking you."
With that, we moved to the bed and made love. Eventually, when we were both ready, she was above me and put my dick into her. She looked down at me. It was perhaps our favorite position, her controlling the tempo and me at her mercy. I don't know why, perhaps it was subconscious, but while she was moving on top of me I moved my hands from her ass and held my arms on either side of my head. She noticed and her own hands were on my wrists, pinning them down and her chest was bent close to mine. She used this to increase her leverage and change the angle. She increased the tempo of her fucking me. It didn't last long because she came quickly thereafter. When done, she jerked up-and-down on my dick and when she said, "Come for me" I did.
We snuggled for a while when we were done until she got up to get ready for bed and after I followed suit, we said goodnight with a final kiss and we were asleep, with me spooning her.
Gradually in the weeks and months afterward, I put my arms up as I did at the hotel more frequently and she soon took the hint. It was maybe once every four times or so at first--we usually had sex two or three times a week in those days--and then every three. Then when I was on top of my wife, she started putting her hands above her head and her eyes got hard when I pushed her wrists down as I was in her.
Now I can't do the math here, but when we hit the twelve-and-a-half mark for our marriage, I'd say I was letting her hold me down well over half the time and I was doing the same to her every few weeks.
Then I got home a little late on a Friday. I was stuck in the office getting some papers out and I was hungry and a little pissed when I went through the door and was not greeted by her and the aroma of my dinner. All the lights downstairs were off, and I stormed up to our bedroom. The door was closed, which was unusual, and when I opened it she was standing by the bed. She had the outfit she'd worn on our anniversary on. Down to the three-inch heels. Her hair was up again and she had the touch of makeup that she knew I loved. Her perfume. As I stood in the doorway she reached behind her dress and pulled the zipper down, more adroitly than she had done at the hotel.
Soon my wife was down to her soft-blue lingerie. She bent down to unclasp the bra, aware that I could stare at her tits dropping oh-so-slightly. Aware that I was hard. Standing somewhat stunned by the door. She removed the bra with a flourish--Tada--and then walked to me, her hips swinging. As she reached me she ran a hand across my cheek and kissed it. Stepping back, she removed my jacket, tossing it on the dresser. She undid my tie and unbuttoned my shirt, kissing each exposed inch of my chest.
Undoing my cuffs, she pulled my shirt off, tossing it and the tie by the jacket.
"Shoes," and they were kicked off. She undid my belt and whipped it from my trousers. The button and zipper were opened and she pulled them down until I could step from them. They joined my other clothes. She ran her hand up my briefs, which barely contained my dick. I have no idea how it stands in terms of size. All that mattered was that we both knew it was enough.
After three or four caresses, her hands hooked into my waistband and the briefs were soon gone, tossed on the dresser.
I hadn't noticed until she pointed at the bed that the comforter was off. I turned so she could see me and waddled back until I hit the bed and I got on its center. She undid the garter clasps and after taking her heels off she rolled the stockings down slowly. She then turned to the dresser and took something from the top drawer before turning to me. She smiled as she swayed her hips to get to the bed.
"You know what I want you to do." My mind was a blur so I honestly didn't, and she saw that in my puzzled face. Standing next to the bed, she held one of her stockings in both hands and snapped it apart. Her eyes frightened me but I knew what we both wanted me to do.
I put my hands above my head and after saying "good boy" she tied one stocking end around my left wrist and the other end around the bedpost. She then walked to the other side and repeated the action with my right wrist. Ensuring that the knot was tight-but-not-too-tight, she walked to the foot of the bed. My dick was as hard as it had ever been, even when I was much younger, and she smiled as her eyes moved down to it before returning to mine.
Without her saying anything I spread my legs. Now she took the other pair of stockings, which had been in the drawer, and secured my left and right ankles to the other corners of the bed. My wife stepped to the side of the bed so we could see each other clearly. There she pulled her panties down and off. She brushed them against my nose. They were damp, and I could smell her and a slight hint of her perfume.
"Open."
When I did, she put the panties in my mouth.
