The following is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams.
>>> My erotic stories are generally written as private commissions and do not necessarily reflect my own interests, fetishes, or personal history. <<<
My stories aren't for everyone! This story contains depictions of abuse and non-consensual sex. If this bothers you, move along.
Contents: Sub female POV. M/f, f/f, M/m, F/m. BDSM, Master/Slave. Bisexual. Office setting, office sex. Pantyhose. Professional women. Cheating wife. Tattoo/Marked subs. Consensual BDSM. Orgasm denial/delay/control. Behavioral correction, discipline, praise. Piercing play (mention). Oral (f/f, f/M). Whipping, paddling. Cock warming (mention). PiV sex. Sex toy use (vibrator, double ended dildo). Oral (f/M, rough, deep throat). Oxygen deprivation/choking. Bondage/immobilization. Abuse, violence, marital abuse (mild to moderate). Sub put on display for others. Revenge beating, violence, explicit, kicking, scratching, punching. Bruises. Hair pulling. Cuckolding. Exhibitionism (abusive towards viewer). Cervix pounding. Creampie. Rape, non-con. Anal (f/m, non-con). Masturbation. Teasing. Derision, degradation, insults. Oral (M/m, non-con). Anal (M/m, non-con). Crying. Kissing. Scissoring, girl on girl play.
**Special note: For those coming from Pt 1, please note that the husband's name has been changed at the story patron's request.
Let's begin!
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The days that followed my giving myself over completely to James were a mix of anxiety and bliss. On one hand, I was finally receiving the care and attention I'd been craving for so long, which had been completely absent from my marriage -- and had, quite frankly, been absent for my entire life. On the other, I was terrified that Joel would discover my new tattoo, would somehow figure out what I had been doing during my days in the office. The evening I got it, still fresh and wrapped in a protective plastic film, Rebecca had helped me to loosely bind my hand in bandages at my request.
I'd honestly been a bit sad to lose sight of it so soon, there was something exhilarating but also strangely comforting about having it there. I could also sense something like disappointment from Rebecca. Not for me -- no, she couldn't stop her giddy adoration and excitement over my joining them -- but seemingly in the situation itself, my inconvenient marriage perhaps, or my having to hide this part of me. Afterwards, while she softly stroked my hands and arms, we crafted a story together that I could tell Joel about how I had injured my hand at the office.
Not that it mattered. Joel never asked about my bandaged hand. Not for the days that I kept it wrapped, carefully redoing it after every shower, taking it off upon arriving at work and putting it back upon leaving.
James made it very clear that leaving the wrapping on throughout the workday was unacceptable, in part as a matter of pride, both his and my own, and, more pragmatically, for the health of the tattoo itself. The way he made this clear was, on the first day I forgot to remove it, for him to whip my ass and thighs with a cane until the whole of it was red and swollen, marked with stripes and growing bruises. He'd fucked me after, each thrust of his hips slamming his cock against my insides and his hips into my sore skin. It was the most delicious agony I had ever known. The whole time he'd commanded me to tell him, over and over, who my owner was. Which I gladly did, my exultation rising higher and higher until I was nearly screaming his name in pain and pleasure. James. James. James.
I thought I would need more time to gradually get used to this new state of things, of being owned by my master, but I was neither granted an adjustment period nor, as it turns out, had I even needed it. Everything just felt so right in a way it never had before. I could feel myself blossoming and flourishing and truly becoming the person I was meant to be. With each passing day I felt my thoughts increasingly consumed by James, my devotion to him becoming more and more complete and unwavering.
I was now receiving the same incentives and punishments I had seen lavished over Rebecca -- even more dramatic in nature now that I had joined their fold and there was no longer any reason to hold back. It was an endless parade of experiences, dreamlike and intoxicating, an oasis from the rest of reality.
One day I was rewarded with Rebecca's tongue slavishly tending to my pussy, sliding in between my lips with practiced motions as I desperately tried to stay concentrated on my computer screen, the next I got my nipple rings chained to my desk so I was forced to crane over it for hours as I retyped all of the mistakes I'd made while getting eaten out. I was used as a cock warmer under James's desk while he made long phone calls, or as a human foot stool. I was given lavish gifts, jewelry and sexy new lingerie to wear under my tidy office clothes, garter belts and sheer stockings to replace my department store hose. I was drug to the back room and unceremoniously bent over and fucked, or strung up on a rack and paddled on the tits and ass, or just left there to stew on my own with a vibrator tied to my thigh. Rebecca and I even had a double ended inflatable dildo inserted into both our pussies, locking us together as we worked doggystyle on the floor with our laptops, ass to ass, ostensibly as a "team building exercise".
That particular event ended with us grinding on each other until we both came, which honestly surprised me a bit. I had never considered being sexual with anyone but Joel before, let alone another woman, but I found that -- though I still desperately, almost constantly, craved James's cock -- I was growing fond of Rebecca, her adoring kisses, her soft touches, even her sweet and sensitive pussy and the way she, and it, responded to my untrained but eager and curious touches. She belonged to James, and in a sense was an extension of him and his world, as I was now as well, and playing with her filled me with a sense of belonging.
Still, despite feeling more at peace than I had ever felt in my life, I couldn't help but feel a certain tension in almost every moment spent working there. Thoughts of Joel plagued me relentlessly. Not the guilt I had anticipated, but rather a fear of being discovered, of having all of this taken away again. What if he suddenly took some uncharacteristic interest in me and decided to stop in to the office? What if I forgot something, and he, against all odds, took it upon himself to bring it to me? What if he came in and saw the tattoo, or worse, what if he dropped in, say, during our morning ritual, when either myself or Rebecca sucked off James while the other teased her with a vibrator through her clothes?
Hell, at one point I was splayed out face up over my desk, head bent back facing the ground as James slammed his cock into my mouth over and over, hands wrapped around my throat to hold me down as he pounded directly into my throat, and even as I felt myself blacking out I couldn't help but think to myself what if Joel came in right now? What if he somehow found out about this? I knew it was impossible, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it all the same. I hated thinking of him in those moments, when all I wanted was to be filled with James -- physically and mentally.
After the bandages on my hand came off, which they inevitably did -- even oblivious Joel would have noticed something had I continued to wear them for months at a time -- I started covering the tattoo with makeup. This went well, for a time, but looking back now I suppose it was impossible to keep it hidden forever and in the end I must have grown too careless. One morning, after I'd stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel but before I'd started my makeup routine, Joel stepped into the bathroom to grab something he'd left behind. I'd neglected to lock the door.
He saw the tattoo of course. How could he not? Bold and black against my skin, in plain sight. He didn't know what it meant, obviously, which was at least some small blessing, but he was still furious. I don't want to dwell too long on it, but I will say that in the moments that followed he really showed me his true colors, the kind of person he really was and how little he truly thought of me.
He screamed at me, berated me, even got violent with me, hitting me and slapping me over the head. How dare I mar myself like that? Do something so ugly and low class? How was he supposed to be attracted to me anymore? (A laughable statement when he hadn't seemed all that attracted to me before I received my master's brand.) He demanded I justify my actions, explain it to him. I struggled to speak, let alone answer him. Not that I'd intended to anyway. I barely got out, desperately insisting I had to get dressed and go to work or risk getting fired. The threat of potentially losing money was at least enough to stave him off.
Even so, when I checked myself over at the bus stop, I found I'd been left with a rapidly darkening black eye. I hurriedly covered it up with the makeup I usually used for my hand, thankfully still tucked away in my purse. For some reason I was afraid for James and Rebecca to know what had happened. Like they'd disapprove of me failing to take care of the situation better. On some level I was scared they'd look down on me for not being as strong, confident, and capable as they were. That they might think I didn't deserve to be with them anymore. My stomach was in knots at the thought.