I Need a Husband

Chapter 1

Where to start really? Perhaps I can give you all a clue by telling you that after graduation I joined a bank. That's true. I did. Me. i actually joined a Bank. And now I am happily married.

What's new there, you are thinking? Girl leaves uni, gets job, gets married. Boring!! Possibly so to you, but what a married life.

As I speak Perry is lying on the bed spreadeagled, well tied actually, recovering from an hour of sex. He has had his cock rubbed, tickled, iced, licked, bitten and sucked until it was sore and then I rode him for another fifteen minutes before he came. Of course I love him. It wasn't punishment. That's entirely separate and maybe tomorrow.

I have had my work cut out training him over the three years that we have been married.

If I explain that his full name is Peregrine Farquhar and that he still is a computer nerd you might understand a little more. All I have done is add a little spice to his life. Well, quite a lot actually.

I will go back and explain the full story how I, Frankie Foxall, party girl extraordinaire, came to be married and settled so quickly.

I got a 2.1 in English from a good red-brick Uni and, after a farewell term of screwing everything that moved, had to pack my bags and return to my Home Counties family. My younger sister, Emma, was in her last year of school before going off to Uni and I was told, in no uncertain terms, to behave myself and not be a bad example to my already fairly wild sister.

I renewed my love affair with my horse and settled in to life at home.

I really did behave. I had to. You never want to shit on your door-step anyway but in this particular backward area of rural England there was no-one around that I knew to get excited about.

All the boys I knew when I was at school were either tiresome or somewhere else in the country and I could hardly go out with my sister's friends, could I? Could I? Probably not without getting a bad reputation, and that was something I really didn't want. I had only been a wild girl away from home.

My parents of course put pressure on me to get a job rather than ride Snaffles all day. He seemed quite happy about the idea particularly as Emma was beginning to desert him for studies and boys. Not necessarily in that order.

Anyway, get a job I did. My father had contacts in the City and before I even knew it I was the Personal Assistant to a minor bank director. A minor bank, and a minor director. He thought he was really important so it was never going to last long. I could not be respectful enough. He just made me laugh. But I tried to get along with him and keep a low profile. I did not date anyone from the office and really only had a couple of flings outside it. There was one guy I had high hopes for, but a two-week holiday together put closure on any possible romance. I guess it could have been my fault. Maybe the place where we went offered too much in the way of competition to me. He did prove to me that he would never have remained faithful. Does that make me a hypocrite? I guess it does.

Anyway, back to the bank. After I had been there almost a year

I did keep bumping into one of the other directors, in the lift, in the canteen and even in the pub in the evening. I began to wonder whether he was stalking me. He was pretty smooth, for someone called Arthur, but come on, he must have been nearly fifty. Forty-eight I found out actually.

He subtly chatted me up I guess and, as he was reasonably good-looking, at least for a father-figure, I guess I responded.

I suddenly realised that we were almost dating. I mean, there we were in a nice restaurant having dinner.

What's this? He is now talking about his son now fifteen, and a wife!

He explained to me that he was very happily married but, 'Here we go', I thought, 'his wife doesn't understand him'.

I was brutally shocked to hear that all he wanted was a new PA.

Had I lost my charms. I didn't think so. He had however made me more determined to flirt with him and get a reaction.

I was of course delighted to accept the job anyway and get away from my self-important twerp.

Arthur quickly arranged the transfer to our three-way delight and I settled in as his new PA.

Life didn't change that much. Arthur headed up the Private Equity Group of which I knew absolutely nothing.

I did however understand men and I knew that he hadn't picked me for my brains. He didn't even know I had any.

He did like my tits though and even more so my legs and ass.

As my skirts got shorter the compliments got more effusive.

He did draw the line at skimpy tops however, as I got to find out. I came in on a Friday with a strappy little top, scoop fronted and fairly flimsy. Oh and no bra. Well, it was a Friday. Dress-down day. Admittedly my aureoles and nipples were a little obvious.

'Frankie,' he called me in to his office. 'Close the door behind you. Take a seat.'

I sat in front of him, crossed my legs, squirmed a little and re-crossed them. I knew he liked that.

'I may have to give you a written warning about your conduct,' he started.

I was shocked. I really hadn't done anything wrong. My mouth must have dropped open in shock.

'Now unless you admit you are a bad girl and apologise, I am going to have to write that letter.'

There was something about the 'bad girl' words that made me stop and think.

I squirmed again and re-crossed my legs. It was not wasted on him. I noticed his eyes drop to my hemline.

'You cannot come into the Bank, not even on dress-down Fridays without underwear. That top is far too skimpy, I can see your nipples through it. What would customers think. They would think I had a tart for a P A. And no panties either I suspect.'

I was eager to please.

'I have got panties on today. I mean I always wear them, well almost always.'

'Don't lie to me Miss Foxall,' he said sternly. That skirt is so short I can see practically up to your navel. Which by the way is not a problem on Fridays or any other day. I know fashion for you young things is important and I understand the current fashion is for short skirts.'

Yeah right, I thought, he doesn't give a fig for fashion just short skirts.

'But Mr. Knowles, I really have got panties on, I will show you.' I said getting to my feet. 'But actually, maybe I had better not because they are a little flimsy sir.'

'I think I had better see them. Just to make sure they are suitable.'

He sat slowly drumming his fingers on the desk.

'Come on. We haven't got all day on this little disciplinary action.'

As it happened I think we had got all day. All afternoon anyway. It was Friday afternoon about three o'clock, so he was probably the only director in the Bank at that time.

I slowly raised my skirt up my thighs. The skirt was so short I had worn tights not stockings and I could see disappointment registering on his face as the slightly thicker bands at the top hove into view. I stopped for effect.

'I hate tights. And, as I thought,' he said. 'No knickers.'

I was quick to pull them up another six inches to show the thin white strip of my g-string under the offending tights.

He waved me to turn around.

I knew that my bum looked pretty good even in tights. The thin string down the cleft merely exaggerating the pert cheeks.

'Right, he said. 'You appear to be telling me the truth. Do you agree that you have been a bad girl though for not wearing a bra?'

'Yes, Mr. Knowles. I am sorry I will always wear one in future. Do you want to check each morning when I come in?' I continued coquettishly.

'Maybe so,' he mused. 'But first, as a bad girl do you think you should be punished?'

Now I saw where this was going. I started to salivate. Between the legs, that is. I felt my pussy turn to liquid.

Let's make this easy for him, I thought.

'Yes Mr. Knowles, my father said girls should always get six slaps on the bottom when they have been bad.'

'Would that have been on a bare botttom, Miss Foxall?'

'Well it is so long since I have been a bad girl at home that I do not remember Mr. Knowles. It would probably be better, and that way you are not likely to damage my panties or tights with your wedding ring.'

He wasn't going to get it all his own way.

'Yes quite, Miss Foxall.' He harrumphed gently. 'I think that, if you accept this punishment, we shall be able to forget about the whole thing. There will be no need for me to write the warning letter and we will never need to mention it again. To anyone.'

'Yes Mr Knowles.' I bowed my head so that he wouldn't see the little grin on my face. We were going to have fun discussing my Christmas Bonus next month, even though I had only been in his department for two months so far.

I flipped my skirt up my back and leant flat over his desk top.

He took the hint and stood up to walk around the desk, behind me. I saw him adjusting the front of his trousers.

He pulled down my tights and panties in one smooth motion. He had done this before.

'I see you are a little wet, Miss Foxall. Do you need to go to the toilet? I will wait here for you if so.'

My face went very red. He knew how much I was enjoying this.

'No thank you Mr Knowles. It was just a little warm in the canteen earlier. I must have perspired a lot.'

He wiped his fingers through the slowly forming trickle, his finger-tips just grazing my outer lips and the rapidly firming clit which I am sure would be now visible. 'Mmm.'

I jumped as the first slap stung my right buttock. Three more rapidly followed, left, right, left.

The last two were more central, the last one low enough to slap my pussy lips rather than cheeks. I maintained a dignified silence.

'Well done Miss Foxall. Glad to hear that you did not cry out this time.'

This time?

'Get dressed now and leave me to finish these reports.'

Finish a hand-job more like. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer to help, but I thought it would be more fun to wait.

'You can go home early if you have finished. Oh, and by the way. That sounded like a very good idea of yours. I think we will implement it from Monday.'

I looked puzzled.

'The underwear check,' he said. 'Can't have you improperly dressed all over the office. And think about those tights as well. Good night.'

Chapter 2

'Coming Darling.'

Perry was calling from the bed where he was still tied up. When we first married he was quite meek and even a little downtrodden. I blamed his mother. With her and I it was loathe at first sight.

'Untie me and take my place. Wait, get me hard first.'

I licked my lips and got down to one of my favourite occupations. I may not be good at housework or even cookery, but boy can I get him hard.

He had managed to get a couple of hours sleep after our earlier session so it was no problem arousing him. By the time I had licked his crack, from his arse to his balls and back, a couple of times he had regained the start of his tumescence. It rapidly firmed in my mouth as I licked and sucked. As it gradually got harder I was forced to try to swallow more and more down my throat until I was gagging.

'Enough. Untie me. Take that robe off and lie face down on the bed.'

He issued his instructions. I love being dominated like this. What was he going to do to me?

He slipped my hands into the chamois leather cuffs that we use. They are tight enough to hold you in but just stretchable enough to remove your own hands in an emergency.

He pushed a large thick pillow under my hips before tying my feet with the same silk scarves that I had used to tie him.

He slipped a blindfold over my eyes. He knows I like this.

Lying on my front I couldn't see much anyway but this enabled my imagination to wander.

Was Brad Pitt a surprise guest, or maybe the Wasps first fifteen?

I felt a nose and tongue nuzzle between my parted legs. The nose homed in on my ass-hole, the tongue my clit and sticky lips.

It seemed like forever that my lover, and I suspected that it was still Perry, licked, probed and nibbled.

I know that I dribbled juice over his tongue. I felt him using it to lubricate my ass.

Now I knew what was to happen to me.

I felt him reaching for the bedside table.

Good, he was going to lube me properly. Usually it would be unnecessary but on this occasion I felt his urgency to thrust inside me.

Wham bam thank you mam was the style of the day.

His finger was cold with jelly. Two fingers ensured I was well lubricated but did nothing to stretch me for the coming ordeal.

'Ohhh,' I groaned. As much as anything in anticipation.

He slammed into me.

'Take that Sheila.' He was still reading that book about the Australian outback where men are men. I also suspect he remembered our holiday there.

I had no complaints. That's how I like them. Men as men.

Neither of us lasted more than a few moments. The short strokes quickly followed the long thrusts that started my engine.

We came together, a fairly regular but by no means important event. He knew enough to finish me off properly if I asked. Unless he really wanted to punish me that is, when he would tease me for another hour, knowing when to stop just before I got to orgasm.

He untied me and we cuddled to fall asleep.

After all it was four in the afternoon, we had enjoyed a couple of long sessions.

But enough of my current life. I have not yet described how this hunk of mine came into my world.

The Monday after my spanking I dressed to kill. Little black suit, short but respectable, white blouse, bra, panties and suspenders to match. Black sheer stockings completed the outfit.

I was seated demurely at my desk emailing Lucy, an old Uni friend, when he arrived. I was tempted to entertain her with the goings-on of Friday afternoon. I may have no secrets from her, but I sure as hell was not confident about how secure the system was from prying eyes in the IT Department.

I took in his usual first cup of coffee, on this occasion closing the door behind me.

He looked surprised and expectant. My smile showed him that he had nothing to fear that I was mad about Friday. I wondered whether he had been on tenterhooks all weekend. Was he worried that I would report him? Should I have played him a little more?

I stood in front of his desk and slowly unbuttoned my jacket, which I draped over the chair.

I paused to see whether he would speak.

He didn't. This was a test of nerves. I decided against asking if I should continue. He caught my eyes and pointedly looked at my chest.

I love that masterful attitude.

I dropped my eyes and slowly unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it from my skirt to open it wide.

His eyes showed me that I should drop it over the chair.

His eyes caught me again. I was to get to know those blue eyes well I thought.

They looked straight at my skirt.

Up or down I thought?

He knew what I was thinking. He looked at the chair,

Oh shit. Down and off.

I knew the door wasn't locked, but surely no-one would just come in if his PA was not there to announce them. Only another director maybe.

I blanched, undid the zip and stepped out of it, hanging it with my other clothes on the chair.

'Perfect, Miss Foxall. Now just let me say that I may have been a bit hasty the other day when I said you should always wear a bra and panties. You must get to know me well enough to know which days are suitable for, shall we say a more unstructured approach. Perhaps today would be one of those days. Your shirt is a little see-through so maybe you will need to keep your jacket on. And as for the panties, well, your skirt is amply long enough to cover a multitude of sins, shall we say.'

Pompous bugger. I guessed that he wanted me to strip off in front of him.

I hesitated.

He very obviously looked at his watch.

'I have a meeting at 9.30 I hope no-one is early.'

That encouraged me to slip down my panties and shed my bra. I quickly reached for the skirt and blouse, and he made no move to stop me. Just as I placed my arms into the jacket to finish dressing there was a half knock at the door and it was slowly opened by, of all people, the Chairman.

'Arthur, Good morning. I hope I am not interrupting anything?'

'Not at all Leonard. We had just finished Miss Foxall? Hadn't we?'

'Indeed Mr Knowles. I should be able to keep myself busy all day now.'

Great, but can you bring us four coffees in first please? Ah good here are Graham and Charles.'

I was looking surreptitiously around to see where my underwear had gone. I am sure it had been on the desk. There was no sign of it. Arthur must have put it in his drawer as the door opened. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. This was a new job and I really was not going to become the office bike. That was not going to get me a salary raise.

I returned a few moments later with a tray of coffees and biscuits. Arthur was at his desk looking at some papers, the others sat on three sides of the coffee table away from him.

I bent straight legged from the waist to lower the tray to the table. I could feel Arthur's eyes on my legs. I guessed that the skirt was short enough to show the tops of my stockings, but not my bottom. Enough is enough, I thought. He knew what secrets were close to being unveiled.

I wondered whether he would have to adjust his clothing again to walk around the desk.

I returned demurely to my desk outside his office and kept myself busy until the meeting finished, moments before they all went to lunch together.

It was obviously going to be quiet morning for me.

A three-hour lunch was quite common but I guessed he would come back reeking of alcohol, with only one thought on his mind. Me.

By now I was bored anyway and more than ready to indulge in a little sex-play.

I was not wrong. As he walked through the door he asked me to join him in his room and close the door. He rarely closed the door unless he had a private meeting so I was able to guess that I was going to be the focus of his attentions.

'Mr Knowles, do you still have my underwear? Might I have it back please?' I said coyly.

He lifted the pieces from his top drawer, raising my panties to his nose to sniff the gusset.

'Perfumed,' he said. 'Delightful, but maybe I should have let you wear them longer? Perhaps you could jog to work?'

I assumed that was a joke but heard myself saying that 'Some lunchtimes I play squash and so maybe those days...' I let the words tail off to see his reaction.

He grinned like the cat that got the cream, or maybe the man that would lap the cream.

'Come closer Miss Foxall, here beside my chair.'

I could see the bulge in his trousers. It was either padded or he had quite a cock on him.

I opened the buttons on my jacket so that he could see the shapes of my nipples sticking through the blouse.

I was really quite aroused myself. I love not knowing what will happen next.

He reached up and tweaked them both, one after the other. Firm enough to make me bite my lip to stop myself from squealing. Firm enough to make them rock hard like a finger joint.

'Turn around please.'

I couldn't believe it, a please. It almost hit the wrong note with me. He was not quite as dominant as I thought.

'Yes Master.' I thought this might get it back on the right note.

It did.

'Touch your toes my girl, feet apart.'

He flipped my skirt over my back and fondled my cheeks. He smoothed, them, pinched them, smelt them and even kissed them, until eventually he put his hands firmly onto my snatch.

I wriggled my feet further apart, and felt him feel around for my clitoris with his middle finger. His thumb gradually stroked my arsehole.

Two fingers disappeared deep within me.

'You are very wet my dear. Have you been thinking about sex all afternoon?'

'All day,' I retorted. 'You can't take away a girl's knickers without her being aware of it all day. And my nipples have practically worn a hole in the shirt.'