Grace sat on the living room sofa reading the current issue of Cosmopolitan. Dressed in a comfortable blouse and shorts, her long legs rested on the coffee table in front of her. I stood in the doorway that leads to the kitchen, naked except for a collar and ball harness, with a leash that connected the two which was just short enough to keep my head bowed at all times. My eyes fixed on her bare feet, and I knew what I had to do. But in that brief moment before I continued my duties, my mind once again raced through the events that had brought me to this condition. After all, it had not been that long ago when Grace and I were a "normal" married couple.
Grace travels frequently for work. A vice president with a multi-national corporation, she is required to meet with branch executives and review their division's performance. It was during one of these trips that I made the mistake of my life.
Linda and Scott are our next door neighbors. An attractive couple in their early thirties, they had moved in about two years earlier. Though Grace and I are about ten years their senior, we became fast friends and socialized regularly. During the course of the year, however, we noticed that they increasingly argued with each other, to the point where it became less pleasant to be with them because there was so much hostility in the air.
One night around 11:15, our doorbell rang. Grace was away, and I was in bed watching the news. Wearing only a pair of boxers, I slipped on a robe and went to answer the door. It was Linda. She and Scott had just had their biggest blowup yet. Scott had walked out, and Linda, upset and angry and needing to talk to someone, apologized for disturbing us so late, but asked if it would be ok if she talked to Grace?
I offered to stand in for Grace, and told her to come in, relax, and I'd make us some coffee. As I walked in from the kitchen, and saw Linda sitting on the sofa, I suddenly focused on the fact that she, too, was dressed in a bathrobe, and with her crossed legs forcing her robe to drape apart at her thighs, I couldn't help but notice how magnificent her legs were, and how breathtakingly sexy she looked. At that moment, I felt my cock begin to rise, and knowing that my boxers and robe would not do much of a job to conceal it, I quickly brought the tray I was carrying to the coffee table, sat down next to her, and crossed my legs to hide my erection.
My mind tried to get control of the situation, but my eyes refused to stop returning every few moments to her exposed legs, and my rigid cock would not stop throbbing. While Linda told me of her troubles with Scott, I kept trying to refocus my attention, but I couldn't convince myself to give up the cheap thrill this view was giving me.
Suddenly, her hand reached over and gripped my leg, the one that was crossed over the other. She grasped it tightly and slowly pulled it towards her so that my legs would uncross. My mind began to race… What was she doing? What am I doing? I felt paralyzed as she pulled my legs apart. My brain was telling me, I've got to stop this right now. I've got to get up and walk away. But I didn't. With my legs parted, my erect cock pushed upwards, creating a tent under my boxers and robe. Her hand slid up my leg and grasped my cock through my robe. I was frozen. Helpless. My mind was still screaming at myself to do something, but the feeling in my cock wouldn't let me. All I could think about was the pleasure, the arousal, the turn-on, the heat. Linda undid the belt of my robe, and peeled away one of the layers between her hand and my cock. Then she guided it through the opening of my boxers, and grasped it with her bare hand. With her flesh against my flesh, my cock was so engorged, it was almost painful. Still, my mind tried to take control.
"Linda," I began slowly, almost zombie-like. "We can't do this." Ignoring my weak plea, she bent over and began to lick and then suck on my cock. Any chance of my intellect overruling my libido melted away, and I succumbed fully to the pleasure she was "forcing" on me.
After an hour of hot, steamy sex, and with our lust having been satisfied, an awkwardness began to settle in at what we had done, and Linda left to go back home, with a wry "Thanks for consoling me," as her parting words. We never spoke about that night, nor did either of us make any attempt to repeat our encounter. For my part, I felt terribly guilty at having cheated on my wife, and dismayed that I could have let my lust get the better of my judgment. I vowed it would never happen again, and it didn't.
That probably would have been the end of the story, except for a major falling out that later occurred between Grace and Linda. After a series of particularly nasty fights between Linda and Scott, Grace felt compelled to give Linda some tough advice about Scott's behavior, using our marriage as a counterpoint example. The discussion became increasingly confrontational, until finally, Linda, in the ultimate defense, let rail about our night of illicit sex. Naturally, Grace refused to believe her, but Linda told her about a beauty mark located on a normally concealed part of my body, which forced Grace to accept that the encounter had taken place.
The punishment for my behavior, and the only way Grace would not insist that I move out, is that we no longer live as husband and wife. We live as Mistress and slave. Whenever we are at home, I must remain naked to show my subservience, and am bound in one way or another. I must do her bidding at all times, regardless of how humiliating her demands are. I must serve her, and attend to her sexual needs, but she will attend to none of mine. Not only will she no longer touch me, I am not permitted to pleasure myself. Part of her revenge is to intentionally keep me in a state of heightened arousal while denying me the pleasure of release.
"Well?" It was Grace looking over from her magazine, and I was suddenly brought back to the present. I dropped to my knees, crawled over to where she sat, and began to kiss her feet. This was our ritual each time I entered a room that she occupied. She continued to read her Cosmo as I lavished kisses on her feet. "Suck the toes," she said matter-of-factly, and I immediately began to do so. I moved from toe to toe, licking in between as I did, back and forth from one foot to the other until she spoke again.
"You finished the dishes?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"And cleaned the kitchen floor?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Let's have a look, shall we?"
She put down her magazine and stood up, grabbing the leash that stretched between my neck and balls, and pulled me along behind her as she headed for the kitchen. When we arrived, she yanked downward on the leash, the signal for me to return to my knees, and I crawled beside her as she walked around the kitchen.
"Not bad, slave. You've done a decent job with your hands, but I haven't given you anything to clean with your tongue tonight, have I?"
"No, Mistress."
"And you'd like to clean something with your tongue, wouldn't you slave?"
This was one of her ways of taunting me, increasing my humiliation by making me tell her that I liked doing whatever degrading task she had in store for me.
"Yes, Mistress."
Grace walked to the sink, pulled down her shorts and panties, and bent over, leaning her elbows on the counter and taking a few steps back, completely exposing her asshole.
"What do you have to say, slave?"
I knew what she wanted to hear.
"May I clean your ass, Mistress?"
