She didn't plan to bring it up that night.
They were curled up in bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm light across his face. Her head rested on his chest, the quiet rhythm of his breathing grounding her. They'd been together twenty-six years. They'd weathered storms, raised kids, made a life out of ordinary days--and yet something had shifted between them recently.
Ever since she'd taken control.
The night she'd bound him. Gagged him. Flogged him. Fucked him with power and purpose until he was wrung out and quiet beneath her. That night had awakened something inside her. Not just confidence, not just dominance--something deeper. Desire. Ownership. Hunger.
And more than anything, clarity.
She had fulfilled his needs for years--willingly. But now, after all they had explored, all they had built, she realized it was time for something that was hers.
Truly hers.
"I've been thinking," she said softly.
He hummed, not looking away from the ceiling. "Yeah?"
She shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher. "I have a fantasy."
He turned his head then. His full attention.
"I want to be with someone else," she said. "With you there. Watching."
His brows lifted slightly. No shock. Just careful listening.
"I want someone younger. Maybe an escort. Not someone I have to talk to or connect with emotionally. Just physical. Someone I can use. Someone who'll fuck me hard and well and leave. But you're there. Bound. Gagged. Helpless. And watching every second."
His breath hitched, but he said nothing.
She continued, "This isn't about punishment. Or jealousy. It's not because of the ED--or the times the pills don't work. It's not because you've failed me. You haven't. You've given me more love, more loyalty, more attention than I ever imagined I'd deserve. But..."
She paused.
"...you've had your space. Your submission. Your deepest needs fulfilled. And now I want mine."
She sat up straighter, heart steady now.
"I want to be taken. Roughly. Completely. With no hesitation. And I want to see you see it. Not from a place of humiliation. But from connection. Knowing you gave this to me. That you're still part of it. Even if you don't touch me."
He swallowed hard. "You wouldn't look away?"
She smiled. "Never. My eyes would be on you the whole time."
He nodded slowly. "Okay. I want that. With you."
βΈ»
The Night
Everything was arranged.
They'd spent weeks planning it--together. No surprises. No missed signals. They found a young escort who understood the limits, the rules. No talking. No intimacy. Just respect, control, and presence.
She wore a black silk robe, loosely tied. Underneath--nothing.
He sat bound to a chair across the room. Naked. His wrists secured behind him. Ankles tied down. A firm red ball gag strapped between his lips. The familiar plastic cage locked around his cock. The collar snug on his neck.
She looked at him first.
Her gaze was calm. Warm.
"I love you," she whispered.
His head dipped. He nodded.
Then she dropped the robe.
Her body was strong, soft, glowing with confidence and years of experience. She stepped forward as the escort entered. Young. Fit. Silent.
He stood behind her, naked but still waiting.
She didn't hesitate.
She guided his hands up to her breasts. He cupped them gently at first--then with firmer intention. She arched slightly. Her breath caught in her throat as his thumbs found her nipples, teased them until they hardened. Then pinched. Rolled. Pulled.
Her moan was quiet, but it was real.
And she looked straight into her husband's eyes.
He was already breathing heavier. Already squirming in the chair. She could see the way his chest rose. How tightly he clenched the arms behind the backrest.
But it wasn't jealousy in his eyes.
It was awe.
Pride.
She parted her legs slightly. The escort's hand slid down her stomach. Then between her thighs. His fingers found her clit, stroked softly, then more deliberately. She gasped--her knees wobbling.
And she never looked away.
