"Hello?! I'm home!" I shouted as I threw my keys and purse on the counter. Taking a look around, I shook my head at the clutter that was scattered across the table and into the kitchen. Housework never ends, especially with two kids and two roommates that were just renting a room, and felt no more effort was needed.
My husband? Well, he tries. In his own very spoiled way.
"Hello?" I said again, starting to get curious at the lack of sound in the house. Normally, I had to stand in front of the television just to get acknowledgement that I was, in fact, home. This time, though, the house was completely silent- no television, no bickering children, not even a breath of a roommate.
Where the Hell was everyone?
I peeked into each room as I passed, heading back to my room to put on my slippers. They all stood glaringly empty.
As I approached my door, I noticed a bag on the floor, and a note taped at eye level.
Curious, I reached for the note.
Take the bag into the bathroom and change. I will be waiting.
Hmmmm, I thought to myself. This was very unusual. My husband never planned anything, claiming spontaneity is the spice of life.
Whatever.
Regardless, I bent, picking up the surprisingly light bag, and walked slowly to the bathroom. My mind was racing a mile a minute, and I couldn't seem to slow it down. Where were the kids? Where were the roommates? What does my husband have planned?
At that thought, butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and my breath hitched in anticipation.
I opened the bag, my eyes widening a little at the sight of what was within. A small black lace bra rested on top, one of the one's that barely covered your nipples, with matching thong underwear. Below that, in sharp contrast, was a white mesh midriff tank top. Resting on the bottom of the bag was a small black leather mini-skirt. Along the lines of the bra, the skirt would barely cover my ass, much less any of my thighs.
Nestled on one side of the skirt, there was a plastic baggie that held makeup. Dark brown eye shadow, black eyeliner, and fuck-me-red lipstick.
I grinned. Well, maybe the man had been listening after all!
Taking my time, I stripped out of my jeans and tee-shirt, then bra and underwear. Naked, I looked in the mirror, contemplating what would happen in the night ahead. My nipples puckered at the thought of hot, raunchy sex. My hands came up to cover my breasts, rubbing my hardened nipples across my palms. The fluttering butterflies multiplied, making me wet.
Excitement was making me giddy.
The makeup was applied first. I never thought standing naked in front of a mirror applying makeup could be an erotic thing, but damned if it wasn't. When my arms brushed against my bare flesh, I got turned on a little bit more. My ass was bared to the world, making me feel naughty as I bent forward to see better in the mirror. My makeup finished, I straightened, looking at my face with a critical eye.
My eyes were green today, and stood out beautifully with the help of heavily applied eyeliner that circled my eyes completely. The lipstick shined, making my lips look full and pouty.
Satisfied, I turned my attention to my outfit, putting it on as slow as I had undressed. The black lace thong went on first, then the matching bra. I paused to look at the set, admitting to myself that they made me feel sexy. The black leather skirt went on next, sliding up my legs, then thighs, to come to a rest just below my hipbones. I had been correct in my assessment that the skirt would barely cover my ass- Hell, two inches lower and the thin strip of pubic hair that I kept groomed on a daily basis would be visible. Nice. The midriff mesh top went on last, completing the look.
I couldn't help but grin wickedly at the sight of myself; a mother, student, and pre-school teacher, looking like a stripper.
The only thing missing was...my eyes rested on a pair of black patent-leather stiletto lace-up boots that were sitting beside the hamper. Oh, yeah. Now I really would look like a slut.
I took my time slipping on the boots, then lacing them up, tying them where they came to a stop, just below the knee. I sat for a moment, letting my eyes close, and my mind wander.
My husband had never wanted to play out this particular fantasy, and damned if I wasn't ready to fuck him silly for being willing. I was ready for anything.
I smiled, letting my hand wander. From the top of my boots, up my thighs, circling my clit, which had began to throb and swell, past my bare midriff, and up to my breasts. My still hard nipples were clearly visible, poking through the barely-there bra, and white see-through mesh top. I pinched both nipples hard, tugging, and rolling, until they were sensitive to the touch. I was wet enough to soak my thin thong underwear, and deemed myself ready for whatever it was my husband had planned for the night ahead.
I opened the bedroom door quietly, suddenly feeling shy. Although he was willing to play out this fantasy for my benefit, what if the way I looked didn't turn him on? Could I handle the rejection?
"Come in." I heard my husband say, although I didn't immediately see him in the candle lit room. "Sit down on the chair." For the first time, I noticed a singular chair sitting in the middle of the room, situated so I would sit facing the bed. I squinted, trying to make out the outline of my husband, who was reclining at the top of the bed, legs crossed at the ankle.
"Sit." He said, his voice abrupt and commanding.
Oh, yeah!
I hurriedly complied, sitting daintily on the edge of the chair. What can I say, old habits die hard.
"Scoot back, hook your arms behind the chair, and spread your legs."
I could only obey, feeling strange in the position. I heard the bed creek, and suddenly, he was there, in front of me.
"Nick, I-"
"From this moment on, I will be referred to as Master. If you are remiss in this, you will be punished as I see fit. Is that understood?"
I swallowed my sarcastic remark, which comes naturally to me.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?" He said, his voice hard.
"Yes, Master." The word felt foreign on my tongue, but damned if it didn't turn me on.
"That's better."
He moved, circling around me, so that he was behind the chair. Instinctively, I turned my head to watch.
"Eyes forward, slut." He said the last word so disgusted that I started to wonder if this whole scenario was a trick. But, I obeyed, staring straight ahead, at nothing.
"You are a slut, aren't you?" I could only nod, still unsure. "Slut's will do anything. Will you do anything?"
Suddenly, he grabbed my hair and pulled, tilting my neck back painfully. Still holding his grip with one hand, he reached over my shoulder with the other. He flicked then pinched my nipple, pulling at it sharply. At my indrawn breath, he let go.
"It wouldn't do to let you get all the pleasure, now would it?"
I shook my head.
"What was that?"
"No. Master."
"Very good."
Then he was in front of me, kneeling between my legs. I unconsciously spread my thighs wider, my pussy weeping for touch. He growled at my movement, and lowered his head until it was right on my lap.
He breathed deeply, and said, "You really are a slut, aren't you? Already wet and waiting...but what are you waiting for?"
I opened my mouth to answer.
"Am I going to have to gag you, bitch? Don't make me. You know very well it was a rhetorical question. Besides, it would be such a waste to cover up those fuckable lips..."
He stood so suddenly, I flinched in response. He moseyed back to the bed, this time sitting at the edge, so that if my legs weren't spread, our knees would be in contact.
"Touch your pussy." He demanded.
The words, if not the voice surprised me, and I looked at him, slack-jawed. He knew my shyness when it came to masturbation, and it surprised me that he would request it.
"Ah, ah, ah! Wanting punishment already? I told you to touch your pussy...are you going to make me repeat myself?"
I started to shake my head, but then remembered to say, "No, Master" before I brought one hand around, resting my fingers on my inner knee. Slowly, I let my fingers run up my thigh until I hit the lace on my thing. Unconsciously, I spread my legs even wider, and the miniscule leather skirt hitched up until it was clear of my thighs. Trepidation was trying to creep in, and I closed my eyes.
"Keep your eyes open, or you will be punished." His voice brooked no argument, so I opened my eyes. I searched my husbands face for an indication of what he was feeling, where this was going. His face was held immobile, yet his eyes flashed with something...excitement, arousal, power?
Needing no further prodding, my first finger slipped beneath the lace, circling my clit, then easing out. At his indrawn breath, two fingers slipped beneath my panties. This time I let my fingers glide down my neither lips, then slide inside my hot, wet pussy. I groaned, then caught myself, and let my fingers find my clit again.
I watched him as he watched me masturbate, his arms crossed, his posture the picture of relaxation. What saved me from melting through the floor in mortification was the hard on that was clearly visible beneath his tan slacks.
I brought my other arm around, to pull the lace aside, giving him full view of what I was doing. I plucked at my hood, then sunk my fingers into my opening. Circling, plucking and plunging. I did that until I was panting, on the verge.
"Enough." He said. I almost protested, feeling daring in my arousal.
But I stopped, covering my wet cunt with the lace, and resumed my position of my arms hooked behind the chair. I was almost quivering with the need to reach orgasm.
His eyes met mine, and we stared at each other for a moment, panting. He moved suddenly, pulling me up from my sitting position. Roughly, he moved me behind the chair, placed my hands on the back, and pushed a knee between my legs.
"Spread your legs like the slut you are. You may only close them when I tell you to."
I spread my legs.
