Under the Control of Mr. Evans

Thanks to my new friend J for some naughty inspiration.

***

I drew a pair of silk panties out of the inner pocket of my overnight bag and stepped into them, drawing them up to sit low on my hips and then bent back towards the case to pull out a matching bra when I felt a stinging blow on the side of my ass cheek—the crack of flesh meeting flesh was rather shockingly loud in our quiet hotel room.

"Ow!" I said, whirling around to face my husband Bryan. "What was that for?" A bit of spanking was not new for us, but it had always been part of foreplay before.

He stepped close and grabbed my chin, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. "Are you backing out of this? Is the deal off?"

I yanked my chin from his grasp and eased away, turning my back on him. My ass was smarting and my mind racing. Could I do this? Could I turn myself over to my husband for a day, letting him dictate every aspect of my dress and demeanor? Could I let him control my body and bend me to his will? Two words echoed in my mind -- let him -- and in that moment I remembered once again that ceding my power to Bryan did not mean I was weak and lacking in confidence, quite the opposite, it meant I was strong and confident enough to let someone else take the reins knowing that ultimately I was in control. I was choosing to give my husband this gift of turning myself over to be used for his pleasure. I knew he wouldn't abuse my trust.

Turning back around, I met his eyes for a moment and then slid the panties down my legs, stepped out, and tossed them on the open lid of my bag. "May I wear a bra?" I asked blandly.

Bryan's eyes narrowed slightly and held mine for a moment before drifting down to take in the creamy white flesh of my bare tits. I felt my nipples tighten in response to his scrutiny. "Wear the black push up and the skirt and top we discussed. None of the shoes you own are quite right, so the first thing we'll do is go buy you some sexy shoes."

I went about getting dressed, but I was a little confused. Bryan hated shopping. Unless it was lingerie shopping, he seemed to like that well enough. The bra I was slipping on was something he had purchased for me. I didn't think my D cup breasts needed any pushing up, but it definitely displayed them attractively and created a lot of cleavage. I unfolded the skirt and stepped into it sideways so I could do it up in the front and then tug the zipper to where it belonged on the side. I often wore a thong with this skirt to avoid a panty line, so it did not feel all that strange to have the silky lining caressing my bare ass cheeks as it shifted into place. I had always liked this skirt, especially how it flared out drawing attention to my subtle curves. As much as I liked how the skirt looked, I tended not to wear it because it was hell on a windy day keeping that thing from flying up and showing off my ass. Bryan knew that, and I suspected that was exactly why he had demanded I wear it.

I took a few steps and drew the delicate knit top that I was to wear from a coat hanger by the door. It was charcoal grey with silver threads shot through it and had a plunging neckline. Not cheap or trashy, but daring and sexy. I had to admit, paired with black push up, it made my rack look pretty damned good.

Although we were out of town so as to lessen the chance of being seen by anyone we knew, I was still anxious to protect my anonymity, so I had persuaded Bryan to help me pick out a wig. I wrapped my shoulder length, curly brown hair up and then tugged a net turban over my head to give me something to clip the wig to. I pulled the wig we had chosen in place and secured it with bobby pins. When I was done, I shook my head, enjoying the way the straight hair swooshed around my face. Curly hair is nice, but it just doesn't swoosh. The dark, fringed bob that extended an inch or so below my chin actually looked really good on me—different, for sure, but it accentuated my face.

I turned around to seek out Bryan and found him at the window. He was holding the curtain back a little and peering down at the street.

"How do I look?" I asked, aware of the huskiness of my own voice.

Bryan stayed where he was for a moment, continuing to look pensively down at the street before letting the curtain fall back into place and turning his head to look at me. My pulse skittered and I felt something that must have been adrenaline coursing through my system as his eyes went from the hair to my cleavage, down my front to the skirt and then slowly down my legs to my bare feet and back up again. I'm pretty sure my husband had never looked me over quite like that before. I felt objectified, I felt aroused. Judging by the bulge that appeared in Bryan's trousers, he too was turned on. I wondered if he was imagining what he was going to have me do as the day went on.

I watched as he walked over to me and ran his fingers through the tips of the hair to cup my cheek. He leaned in and I thought he was going to give me a kiss, but instead his lips came near to my ear.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock."

My stomach dropped and my pussy clenched. My husband had never before ordered me to suck his cock. He had hinted, he had outright asked, but he had never before simply told me to do it. And normally we had a teasing game where we continually reminded each other that it was "our" cock. Today it wasn't ours—the cock was completely his and so was I. Today, we were playing by very different rules. Today, I was giving my husband permission to control me. I sank to my knees.

"Will you take it out, or do you want me to do it?"

"Take it out."

I started to undo the fastening on his slacks, but Bryan pushed my fingers away from the button. "Just unzip me and pull it out."

I drew the zipper down and reached my hand in expecting to have to navigate the front of his boxer briefs, but instead I encountered hot, hard flesh. Clearly, I wasn't the only one going commando. That made my stomach flutter. I wondered what he had in mind that would be aided by us not having to bother with underwear. There were so many dirty possibilities that the mind boggled. In my head I heard a cartoonish big bad wolf voice say, "The better to fuck you with my dear," and struggled not to snicker at my own idiocy.

No teasing, I reminded myself and simply lifted the semi-erect cock out of his pants and held it up towards his abdomen so I could apply my tongue all the way up the underside of his shaft. It pulsed and got fully erect very quickly. Bryan's breath hitched when I reached the crown and slowly circled my tongue around the glans several times. With it still raised up, I could easily access the highly sensitive area at the base of the corona, which I used my tongue to probe and stroke. A muffled moan told me I was giving him pleasure. This day was a no strings attached gift of pleasure.

"Enough," he said, his voice gravelly, "suck it."

I tilted the shaft back down towards my lips, opened up and took the glans into my mouth and began to gently surround it with my lips and tongue in rapid little sucks. Obviously not satisfied with this, Bryan's hand stole behind my head and he simultaneously thrust his hips forward and pulled my head towards him, succeeding in ramming his cock all the way back to my throat. I gagged a little and felt extra saliva pooling around the head. His hands settled on my ears and I had a second to grasp on to his legs for balance before he took control of my head to move it up and down on his cock in time with his subtle thrusts. I applied suction and gripped his legs tighter as he fucked my mouth hard and fast. He was muttering and moaning, clearly very turned on by this, so I tried to relax my neck, keep my teeth the hell out of the way, and do whatever I could to further his pleasure.

"Take it," gruffly told me, repeating that several times as he continued to use my mouth to pleasure himself. He came quickly with a roar and then sank back onto the bed. I used the back of my hand to gather up a trail of cum and saliva from around my mouth and on my chin.

Well, I thought, that definitely put the wig to the test. I rose and went to the sink to take a drink of water and apply a fresh coat of lipstick. I double checked the pins on the wig and was pleased to see that it was still firmly in place. Bryan had fallen back on the bed, his now flaccid cock hanging out of his pants, little drops of his cum and my saliva visible against the dark material of his slacks. Grabbing a wash cloth from beside the sink I wiped his cock and tucked it back in his pants and zipped him back up and then dabbed the front of his trousers a little with the other end of the cloth.

When I came back from returning the cloth, Bryan was back at the window a rather brooding look on his face.

"I have a request to make," I said quietly.

His stormy gaze met mine. "That was a little out of control, we should call this off."

"Hell, no," I told him with a bit of a Mona Lisa smile. "I actually kind of got off on that. I want to give you pleasure and so I genuinely enjoyed that you enjoyed it. You were rough, but you didn't hurt me. I'm not made of glass, I'm not going to shatter because my husband face fucks me," I paused and fanned my myself a little.

"That sounds so hot to say," I admitted, then I leveled a look at him and said it again, carefully enunciating each word. "You faced fucked me."

For a long moment we let that hang in the air and gazed at one another, then Bryan pushed himself away from the window and came to stand a few feet in front of me.

"So what's your request?"

I sighed and gestured in a way that suggested I was grappling with something. "I need separation. I need a way of keeping this...game if you will, in perspective. I think I need to call you something else. Today you can't be Bryan and I can't be Desire"

He made a hmm sound and looked thoughtful.

"And don't suggest 'master' or 'sir,'" I hastened to add, "I'm not your sub or your slave, I'm a woman giving my partner my permission to do with me as he would like for a day."

"Call me Mr. Evans," he said decisively.

I gave him a considering look. As simple as that? Our surname? "Alright, Mr. Evans."

"Now go put your shoes on Ms. Williams, we're going out."

My maiden name. We shared a look and a half smile. "As you wish, Mr. Evans," I said, bowing my head ever so slightly.

(Author's note: I'll write more of this when I can, but with a flashy/flirty skirt, no panties, and the promise of shoe shopping...tell me you don't know where this is going next!)