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It's Lena's turn to wear the bracelet.

She has finished taking a leisurely bath and dressing for an evening out: a pucker knit mini dress scooped low in back and stretched to show off every voluptuous curve, black suspender stockings and heels. She has finished applying her makeup and brushing her hair, and she looks ravishing.

Fox calls her into the bathroom.

"Shave me," he tells her. She wordlessly kneels, soaps her husband's penis and balls and begins scraping gently with the razor. She works until the skin is smooth, the way she likes it to be when she takes him into her mouth. Looking down at her kneeling before him, intent on her task, excites Fox, and he begins to swell. She notices, and looks up into his eyes, a slight smile playing around her lips.

"Not yet," he says, and sends her out to wait while he finishes in the bathroom.

Later, dressed in coat and tie, Fox helps Lena into her mink. Time to go. He holds the car door for her, tells her as she is getting in "You're not to speak a word tonight unless I give you permission to," and they drive out into a cold German night.

They drive to an exclusive club on the outskirts of a nearby city. They hold a reciprocating membership, and it is an excellent place for dinner. Additionally, it boasts a casino, a disco, and, upstairs near the main formal dining room, a popular ballroom for those romantics who enjoy the intimacy of such dance. The place is crowded, as it almost always is on a weekend. Fox has reserved a table and they eat a light seafood dinner with a crisp white wine followed by a wickedly rich pastry and strong local coffee. He has ordered for them both, but has decided to treat her to one of her favorite meals as a reward for voluntarily giving herself over to him tonight. He spends the dinner gazing into her eyes, drinking in the sight of her face, smiling, and embarrassing her slightly with his attention.

After dinner, they move into the ballroom. A German string quartet is playing a waltz, and the dance floor is crowded with spinning couples. Fox and Lena take a table near the main entrance, and join the dancers after taking some time to settle in. Fox notices the balcony completely encircling the ballroom one floor above, but there is no one using it; it hasn't been set up for tonight's event.

A few dances later, they move downstairs to the casino and lounge, an hour or so spent alternating between placing a few bets and dancing under the requisite spinning mirrored ball. Lena keeps glancing at one of the bartenders, a handsome young stud.

"You like his looks, don't you?" Fox asks.

She nods, and smiles at being caught looking.

"You'd fuck him, wouldn't you?" Again she nods. "Go ask him then," Fox says.

Her eyes widen; and a look of surprise and horror combined crosses her face. This isn't something she'd mentally prepared for tonight. She declines the offer by shaking her head.

"All right," Fox tells her, "but it's going to cost you for refusing. You realize that, don't you?"

Again she nods, looking hard at his face. She wears an expression of total surrender on her beautifully made-up features.

"Come with me," Fox said, and leads her back to the massive curving staircase leading up to the ballroom.

When she dresses to kill Lena's a head-turner, even in her forties, and despite her submissive demeanor tonight, Fox can tell she is enjoying the appreciative glances she is collecting. Her walk has that little something extra in it that makes her ass move just perfectly beneath the tight dress. He loves following his wife up the stairs, just for the view, and Fox moves to fall in step behind her now for just that reason.

The ballroom is still crowded; it's a large one, and hundreds of people circle the floor in their partners' arms, caught up by the music. Two bars are in full operation at opposite ends of the dance floor, tired dancers standing three and four deep waiting to get their drinks from the harried bartenders.

Beside the bar nearest the main entrance to the ballroom is yet another stairway, leading up to the balcony. Fox takes Lena's hand and leads her up the stairs. No one seems to notice, and no one follows or tries to stop them. The balcony is darkened, with a few tables and chairs scattered about haphazardly. They go over to the railing and lean on it, experiencing an omniscience at being able to look down upon the crowded dance floor, at the kaleidoscope of bright colors whirling below them in time to the music, without being seen themselves. Fox entwines his fingers in Lena's hair and roughly pulls her head back, tilting her face so that she is looking up into his. He licks her lips, then opens his mouth to kiss her deeply. As they kiss he slides his hands over her body, roaming, softly, insistently, completely, thankful all the while to be married to this phenomenal woman.

When they break the kiss both are breathing hard. Fox holds her face in both hands and looks into her eyes.

"Suck me," he tells her.

She smiles slightly, and sinks to her knees before him, opening his trousers and releasing his penis. As Fox leans on the balcony railing, surveying the dancers below him, Lena applies her talented lips and tongue to milking her man of the first orgasm of the night. After he finishes spasming, and concentrates on getting his breathing under control, Fox pulls her to her feet and kisses her, tasting himself on her lips.

Fox lifts her dress so that it bunches around her waist, exposing her creamy thighs and her pubic triangle, framed by the black nylon and nothing more. He rubs her pussy, soaked with the excitement of the moment and by what they're doing. Fox grazes the sparse tendrils with the back of his hand, lightly, briefly, brushes his fingers across her clit, lingering just long enough to hear her quick intake of breath, then plunges two fingers into the wet warmth of her. He twists them, saws them in and out, first slowly, then faster, until her breath is coming in gasps and he knows she's at the edge. He stops abruptly, withdraws his hand, and pulls her dress back down to cover her.

"That's enough," Fox says. He inhales the scent of her on his fingers, savors the taste of her juices on them.

They return to the lounge and have another coffee, then depart, back out into the night, back into their adventure. They drive into the centuries-old downtown area of the city, park in a municipal parking lot across the street from the pedestrian-only zone, close by a warm dark

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It's hot and crowded inside when they enter. They stand for a while, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom, watching for a table, and find one at last in a dark corner, through a passageway leading into another crowded room upstairs. The waiter takes their order and Fox helps Lena off with her jacket. The couple settles in, watching the watchers. Two German businessmen take an immediate interest in Lena when she crosses her legs, exposing a flash of thigh above the nylon. Fox rubs her thigh and in doing so slides her skirt higher, exposing more.

"Does what we're doing tonight excite you?" he asks her. "You may answer."

"Yes." Lena's voice takes on a low, throaty whisper when she gets excited. In turn, hearing it excites Fox even more; it always does.

"Are you wet?"

"Yes." Again the whisper.

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes."

"Do it now. Make yourself come."

She looks at Fox for a few long moments, undecided, then shifts in her seat slightly, moving her legs further under the table. She uncrosses, and then re-crosses, her legs, and when she finishes the graceful maneuver, her hand is imprisoned between her thighs. Fox moves his chair, positioning his body to block the Germans' view, and leans forward, watching his wife's face intently as she strokes herself, his gaze constantly being pulled downward, towards her lap and the subtle activity there.

Lena keeps her eyes locked with her husband's while she works herself, searching his face, seeing pleasure and excitement there.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asks.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. That's going to cost you, as well."

She continues staring into his eyes, and her breathing becomes shallower, rapid, labored.

"You're close, aren't you?" Fox asks. She nods. Then she stiffens in her seat, freezes momentarily, and then sighs softly, the sigh ending in a whimper.

"Was it good?" Fox asks her. She nods. "Did it excite you to get yourself off with so many people around not knowing what was going on?" She nods again, and gives him a big smile.

"Let's get out of here," he tells her.

Outside, as Fox holds the car door open for her, he tells her, "By the time I get around to the other side and get in, I want you on your knees on the seat, with that beautiful ass up in the air, and uncovered, facing me."

The car has the older, standard bench seat rather than individual buckets, convenient for what Fox has in mind. When he gets in and starts the engine, flips on the heater, she is waiting for him just as he'd instructed her. Her head is down, cradled on her arms. In the dark, with the reflection of sparse halogen street lamps illuminating it, her beautiful ass shines, waiting for him.

Fox lets her wait there for a few minutes, unmoving, while the car warms up. He gazes longingly at her ass, wanting it, reminding himself consciously to wait, to prolong the moment. He wants, above all else, to intensify her suspense, her torment, and her enjoyment. He wants her excitement to consume her, to reduce her to quivering.

He reaches to stroke the globes of her ass, his hand encased in the fur-lined leather glove. She flinches at the first touch, and then settles again. He continues stroking her skin, prolonging the sensation of smooth leather against smooth skin. He grazes his finger downwards, into her cleft, down, along the lips of her cunt, until he touches her clit, eliciting a sigh from her. Fox looks at his finger in the lamplight. Her juices glisten on the leather of his glove.

He places the leather-sheathed finger against her opening, pushes, and fills her sex with it. She moans, and forces herself back slightly against his hand. Fox pumps her for a while, letting her ride the leather towards her climax, then withdraws his hand.

He removes the glove, then slaps the cheek of her ass, hard, with his bare hand. She jerks. He slaps the other one. She whimpers, and then moans as Fox begins administering a barehanded spanking to her upturned bottom in earnest. Her cheeks quiver under the stinging blows, and she sways her bottom from side to side. Fox strokes her sex with his bare hand, finds it dripping, her juices flowing. He inserts a finger, then two, into her, then quickly removes them, slick with her juices, and as quickly impales her ass on one of them.

He holds her there, wrapped around his finger. "Don't move," he says. He begins to fuck her with the finger, she all the while struggling to hold perfectly still. Fox moves his finger in and out rapidly, and as her excitement mounts, her ass begins to buck backwards against his hand, grinding into his knuckles, with her impending orgasm. Fox slaps her another stinging blow across her shining globes, and reminds her "Don't move!"

A young German couple walks by arm in arm, their steps crunching in the snow and ice, laughing and talking. Lena cries out with the force of her climax, and Fox watches the couple turn their heads, searching for the sound. Fox keeps his finger buried while he watches them look over at the car, and occasionally flexes it inside her, drawing another soft moan from her lips. The couple stare in their direction for another few moments, then continue on, crunching through the cold towards their own private destination.

Fox withdraws his hand and leans over to plant a soft, lingering kiss on Lena's buttocks. He is filled with a total adoration beyond even love for this beautiful woman who could so willingly, unquestioningly, and totally give herself to him, simply for the exhilaration of the experience, and for pure love of him. Her submission to him only makes him more certainly, absolutely, her servant. Fox shifts his lips to her puckered opening, touches gently with his tongue, kisses it softly with his lips, attempting to convey to her these feelings swelling inside him solely through the unconditional intimacy of this kiss.

He sits back up, reaches to stroke the fullness of her smooth bottom one last time, then says, "You may sit up now."

Lena shifts on the seat, sits facing forward, staring out through the lightly fogged windshield.

"Pull your skirt up higher," he tells her. "Into your lap so I can see you." She lifts her hips slightly and pulls her skirt higher, shivers when her skin makes contact with the still-cold seat.

I want you to ride home like that," Fox says, "and I want you to stroke yourself. But I want you to control yourself, too. You can't climax until I give you permission."

He drives carefully along frozen streets, conscious all the while of his wife sitting so near, her pussy exposed to him, fingering herself gently as he maneuvers the car through the maze of narrow streets. As they leave the city and drive out into the countryside, towards their village, her breathing quickens.

"Control yourself," he tells her. "You already have another spanking coming for breaking your silence earlier in the

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; you don't want to add a third one, or something worse."

Lena slows her movements, buries her fingers in her pussy, her palm cupping her mound, pressing tightly against her clit. From time to time she moves her fingers, intensifying the sensation, feeling her juices flood over them, but able to hold off her orgasm.

Before reaching home he pulls off of the narrow country road, onto a pulloff, backs the car a few yards down a dirt road. He turns off the headlights, but leaves the engine running. He gets out, walks around the car and opens her door.

"Get out," he tells her. She obeys.

When she stands before him he grips her waist, turns her around and bends her forward so that she is leaning on the car seat. He lifts her skirt, exposing her ass to the cold night air, opens his trousers and takes out his penis, stiff and sticky with his own fluids. Then, shielded from the road only by the open car door, he enters her, thrusting wildly, plunging into her again and again, venting the excitement that's been building in him since their time in the heat of the wine bar. The coldness he feels along the wet length of his penis each time he withdraws from her only emphasizes the wet warmth of his wife as she thrusts back rhythmically to capture him inside her. She grunts aloud as she feels his head swell, feels him pulsing inside her, tightly sheathed and unmoving, as he comes. Her own orgasm follows his, and he holds her there, tightly, arms around her waist, bent over with his cheek resting on her back, until the cold forces them back into the car.

On the ride back home Lena feels his juices seeping out of her, soaking into her dress, running down into her crack. Upstairs back at home later, Fox notices it, too. He feels an increased excitement as he removes her dress and has her kneel on the bed, feels the wetness on the fabric, knows she has been wearing it like a badge, a souvenir of their adventure. In the flickering candlelight, he can see his juices still seeping from her, glistening on her sparse pubic hair.

He moves behind her, lowers himself to taste them, then enters her again. This time he lasts, giving her several orgasms, forcing groans from between her lips. As he nears his own climax, he withdraws from her. Lena begins making several vague motions to him, silent gestures conveying urgency, but not much more information.

"What?" he asks. "You may speak."

"I have to pee."

"Not yet. You'll have to wait a bit until you're finished with me."

He pushes down on her shoulders, watches her sink to her knees and take his cock into her mouth. He revels in the sensations of her tongue flat and rubbing with wet friction along the underside of his head, the strong suction, unrelenting, as she moves her head faster in an attempt to hurry his orgasm. She cups his balls in her hands, squeezes gently, and he feels himself beginning to erupt. She holds her head still, his penis still entrapped in her mouth, until she feels him stop spurting. Then she releases him.

"Stay right where you are," he tells her as she looks up at him from her kneeling position. "I'll be right back."

Fox leaves the room, and returns with a chamber pot, which he places on the floor in front of her.

"You can't leave this room tonight," he says. "You'll have to use this."

He watches as she squats over the pot and relieves herself. When she is finished he reaches out a finger to touch her, then touches the tip to his tongue, tasting the tanginess of her. He takes her by the shoulders, and raises her up, to stand in front of him, then bends to kiss her.

As their mouths open and join together, he tastes himself as she releases the contents of her mouth, the semen she has been saving to give back to him. He starts to jerk away in surprise, but she is ready, catches his hair in both of her hands, holds his mouth glued tightly to hers as she feeds it to him, her tongue dancing.

When she releases him, she looks up into his face and announces, "This scene is over." She smiles.

"It's my turn now. Get on the bed."

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