Chapter 4
Mistress Lynn's been bad, very bad and needs to be punished.
He threw back a double downstairs and poured myself another double shot of bourbon to take upstairs with him to help him deal with Mistress Linda. He'll need the alcohol to tie her to the bedpost, if that's what she wanted him to do. He needed the extra shot of alcohol, if she wanted him to call over Phil to see her stretched out on the bed naked. Suddenly, calling his bluff by pressuring him to perform, he was afraid, so very afraid. A meat and potatoes, missionary, sexual kind of guy, she was already way ahead of him with bondage, discipline, toys, and costumes.
When he returned from downstairs and entered the bedroom, just as he had suspected and just as he had feared, there it was flat out on the bed, leather pants, leather vest, and a leather helmet with a zipper and slits for the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Even though the suit was empty, looking too much like living and breathing skin, somehow, it looked alive. Suddenly, he felt that he was dressing to go to a gay bar. Bright lights with disco music from Saturday Night Live filled his brain along with the vision of the band members of the Village People asking him to dance. Suddenly, their song pounded its beat through his head.
"Body...wanna feel my body? Body...such a thrill my body. Body...wanna touch my body? Body...it's too much my body. Check it out my body, body. Don't you doubt my body, body. Talkin' 'bout my body, body. Check it out my body.
Every man wants to be a macho, macho man, to have the kind of body, always in demand. Jogging in the mornings, go man go, works out in the health spa, muscles glow. You can best believe that, he's a macho man, ready to get down with, anyone he can.
Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Macho, macho man (macho man), I've got to be, a macho man. Macho, macho man, I've got to be a macho! Ow... Macho, macho man, I've got to be, a macho man. Macho, macho man (yeah, yeah). I've got to be a macho!"
He downed his bourbon and slammed the empty glass down on the bureau. He looked from her to the black leather suit and back to her. Tied to the Lally column in the basement, he imagined being found wearing that outfit, when the fire and police departments came to his house for a false alarm emergency.
"Linda, are you crazy? I'm not wearing that. Look at it. It's frightening."
"Please," she said walking over to him again, reaching down, and slowly rubbing the full length of his cock with her manicured fingers. "It would make me so horny, happy, and appreciative, if you wore this outfit for me," she said in a sexy voice that made him think of season one on Baywatch with Pamela Anderson wearing her tight, red bathing suit, before breast implants.
"Linda, unless I was going deep sea diving, this is what all those gay guys wear, when they're trying to hookup with someone of their own sex."
"I have this sexy feeling that if you tied me up, blindfolded me," she said while unzipping him and reaching her hand inside his pants, "slapped my ass, pulled my hair, disciplined me because I was naughty, and forced me to suck your cock, while wearing that getup, that I just might give you the best damn blowjob you ever had."
"Wait, the best damn blowjob that I ever had? Do you mean that I can cum in your mouth, instead of on your tits?"
"Yes," she said leaning into him and sticking her tongue in his ear, again. Geez, that drives him wild with passion. "And I'll swallow you, too," she said giving him a sexy look.
"Are you serious?" He looked at her, while wondering if he could believe her and trust her to have him cum in her mouth. "Don't tease me." It had been years since she allowed him to cum in her mouth, New Year's Eve, more than seven years ago, and even then, she spit. She didn't swallow. The thoughts of filling her mouth with a warm load of his cum and watching her swallow made him wild with desire for her. "Just to make sure. Let me get this straight. If I wear this outfit, you'll not only blow me but also I can cum in your mouth and you'll swallow?"
"Oh, yeah," she said pulling out his cock and stroking him to a solid erection. "I'll suck you off better than my Dyson Animal vacuum sucks up the cat hairs from the carpet."
Oh, my God, he could only imagine the blowjob, she'd give me. There's not a cat hair in the house after the purple Dyson Animal vacuum has made a pass over the carpets and the hardwood floors. He was so freaking hot and so freaking horny. Now that he was motivated, he quickly removed his clothes to try on the black leather outfit. At this point, he would have put on a pink Tutu if that would get me my special blow job.
"Wait," she said putting her hand against my chest. "Go shower, first, Freddie."
He ran off to the bathroom naked and returned within five minutes.
"That was a fast shower. I didn't hear the water running."
"I sponged."
"You sponged?"
"Yeah, like you do when you're running late for work in the morning. I washed the important parts with a face cloth, while paying special attention to those areas that needed extra washing, if you know what I mean," he said grabbing his crotch in the way that Michael Jackson used to do.
He walked by her, picked up the leather pants, and wiggled into them.
"Wow, you look so hot," she said feeling his leather covered ass. "This feels so erotic."
"Geez, Linda, these are so tight, too tight, and so hot. I feel as if I'm am wearing extra skin," he said struggling to pull the pants up all the way. "A scuba diving outfit isn't as tight," he said sucking in his beer belly to zip himself. "I feel like a giant sausage in these leather pants."
"Now, the vest," she said handing him the vest.
"Well, what do you think," he said flexing, while posing.
"Ooh, I like how that looks on you. It shows all your muscles. Very hot. You look like my sexy superhero."
Suddenly, he imagined himself wearing a cape and having a big CD on his chest for Captain Discipline or for Captain Dickhead for agreeing to wear this costume.
"Never would I want anyone to see me wearing these, I feel a little foolish, Linda."
"Shh, you'll ruin the mood. Here, try on the hood."
Again, he heard the dueling banjo music from the movie Deliverance, while envisioning a scene from Pulp Fiction.
"Can't I just wear the pants and vest?"
"C'mon, Freddie, the hood will get me in the mood. It will make me feel like I'm being ravished by a masked intruder." She looked at him with wanton abandoned. "I like the idea of pretending that you broke in the house to steal and didn't know that I was in the house. Then, when you saw me, you took the opportunity to strip me naked, tie me to the bed, and fuck me."
"Geez, Linda, I never knew you had such an active, sexual imagination. I thought only guys fantasized like that kind of stuff."
"Are you serious, Freddie? Women hold the rights to fantasies. Why do you think they sell so many romance novels? You guys are so dumb." She smiled, "If you read some of the books we women read, you'd know how to get us in the mood to have much better luck in bed."
Yeah, he'll make a note to read some of her bullshit books during half-time of the football game, he thought to himself, but didn't dare voice that out loud.
"So, is that want you want?" He asked changing the subject. "You want to feel forced?" Suddenly, still hung up on the idea, he thought of the pizza delivery man having his wicked way with his wife and forcing her to suck his cock, while he hid in the closet, watched, and masturbated.
"I don't know what I really want," said Linda, "until we try some stuff."
Try some stuff? What did she mean by that? Suddenly, he imagined them being in the swinging lifestyle and in an orgy surrounded with arms, legs, tits, ass, and pussy. He imagined her going down on a woman and a woman going down on her. He imagined her having sex with two guys, while he watched or him having sex with two women, while she watched. Oh, baby. What's next?
"Here," she handed him the pink feathered ties. "Tie me up, but not too tight. I'm claustrophobic."
Well, this is fun, he thought to himself. For the first time, he was feeling sexually aroused having total control over his wife. It was erotically hot spreading her legs before tying her ankles and wrists to the bedposts. If only he could put a gag in her mouth to stop her from talking, this bondage and discipline stuff would be perfect. Finally, he'd have peace and quiet without having to hear her incessant chatter.
What's that, Honey? I can't understand you with the gag in your mouth, he imagined saying to her. Oh, you want me to go downstairs, drink beer, and watch football, while you rest up here with your wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts? Okay.
Yet, if I gagged her, she couldn't blow him. If he gagged her, he wouldn't be able to cum in her mouth. It was a difficult decision, gag her or blowjob, gag her or blowjob. He kept considering the two in his mind, but the blowjob won the decision by a small margin. He was about to slip the blindfold over her eyes when he imagined him taking—
