Chapter 3
The morning after Mr. Marks first visit to our home, where he gave me my first true spanking in front of my husband, I brought my boundary list into his office.
"Sir, as instructed." I set it on the desk in front of him.
"Thank you, my pet." He opened the envelope and read quietly.
It lifted my heart to hear his term of endearment. It was overwhelming to be in his presence. His serenity, his good looks. I remembered cuddling with him last night with my tears soaking his dress shirt, running my fingers through his neatly trimmed beard flecked with white. I understood now the urge to call Allen, 'Daddy,' although that wasn't my thing. I'm trying to become the woman I need to be. (I liked to call him Sir because I could use it anytime and I would just seem polite, and also because he was like nobility to me.)
My attraction was more than the age difference. It had simmered a long time as simply a younger girl's fantasy before it exploded in these few days since he joined the company. And the time between those days when he was living in my dad's house as a guest and now as the new CTO at my dad's company had only seasoned him, not unlike the salt and pepper of his beard and hair. I'm sure other girls would accuse me of doing that schoolgirl thing where you backdate your attraction to justify just how deeply in love you were, but this began long ago and while he wasn't in my life in those years, I etched him in my heart and he played a lead role in my fantasies.
Last night, Allen had given me the assignment of making a list of red and yellow boundaries and compiling it was instructive, to say the least. Allen was right about needing to set boundaries while sex sober. And while I was still performing the hourly edgings (as I now knew they were called officially) I could find a space between where my husband, Tim, and I could do our research. And Allen was also right that Tim would know how to access the broad list of fetishes.
While porn sites gave us a good baseline, it was when I discovered the adult erotic stories that I saw the breadth of kinks available. Some were so dark, I realized they were unfilmable even as porn. With narrative, I could see myself in the stories. Plus, what copywriter doesn't love a good index? It was a challenge not to get lost in the variations. I would read some aloud and see if Tim would respond.
I learned what a cuckold was. I learned what a hot wife was. And it was reassuring to see the broad spectrum even there. I didn't feel comfortable calling myself hot, and the term cuck was a little too much for me. It seemed too posh. But Tim seemed to get off on it. Maybe it was the hard consonants and the short vowel. Like, 'fuck,' it just felt satisfying to say. I looked forward to trying it out.
Talking through the fetish scenarios with Tim helped me to feel not only less ashamed of my kinks but also more in possession of them. We could explore and shape our own experience of these things. And we had a guide and mentor to this scene in Allen.
When Tim and I signed that agreement to commit our marriage and our bodies to Sir, just two days ago, I don't think we understood then that it would be more than just sex. I was seeing how it was opening me up not just physically, but mentally. Being around him quieted my chattering mind while also stirring my emotions. Being spanked last night was like being in a trance -- a flow state. I saw that the more I was around him, the less anxiety I felt. (I felt other things!) I didn't need to control everything. I could just be his. (No wonder cults fuck their gurus.)
The list I handed Allen was a couple of handwritten pages. I noted them in red for no and yellow for maybe. I had many red and twice that number of maybes. Yellows made me a little nervous. But Sir was right. While in the heat of passion, I said I would do anything. But I saw now there were kinks I had never considered. I hoped I would be adventurous enough to make Sir happy. I so badly wanted him to continue. My feelings were deepening.
My phone alarm buzzed, and I slipped my hand into my skirt to edge myself again. Sir didn't even look up as I now expertly brought myself right to the cusp of climax. I believed now that a person could walk by the open office door and see me from behind and have no idea I was doing anything more than holding a folder or clipboard while I waited patiently for the CTO to review my work.
At one point, he reached up and grabbed a pen and made a little note next to one yellow. Then I saw him correct a typo. That was devastating. I had rewritten the list several times because I wanted it both handwritten and letter perfect.
Finally, he set it down. I tried to see his notes but he folded the letter back up. He really knew just how to torture me.
"Thank you, Becky, for taking the time. I could tell you took the assignment seriously."
I felt pride well up in me as I slowly licked my fingers clean again for him.
"And congratulations on finishing your 24 hours. That will be your last one... for now."
My face fell, and Allen smiled at me.
"Disappointed you don't get to play with yourself all day?"
"I... Sir..." I tried to defend myself, but the truth was the truth. "Yes."
"I'm not stopping you, Becky. Do it all you like, but don't come." He leaned back in his chair. I glanced down at his crotch and could tell there was a growing erection. "Still," he said, "I need you focused on this project and I can't have you diddling around all day." He winked and I blushed.
"And I can't have sloppy mistakes like these." He pointed at the letter. "In any of your work for me. I expect perfection, Rebecca. I will tally all your typos, grammar mistakes, and other failures. These will have consequences."
I felt a flush of fear and heat. To be perfect was my only goal. I wanted to show him how good I was as a writer. Yet, I ached to be punished. He was literally pitting my ego against my eros. I could be good or I could be bad.
He said, "Can you handle that? Or will you be too distracted?"
I looked up from his crotch where my thoughts had wandered.
"Sir, I will not disappoint you."
"Good. Now, every moment with you is precious to me. But I don't have the freedom to spend my whole day with you. So, we should set aside an hour at the end of each day where we can go over your work... carefully." His insinuation was not lost on me. "We'll need to focus, so I'll make sure my staff knows we're not to be interrupted."
"Yes, Sir. I look forward to working closely with you."
"Excellent. As will I. Now, I think we should have lunch together. I need to ask you about some photographs I've recently come across that might apply to our work."
Immediately, I thought back to the photo I took last night where Tim was in the background, his crotch dripping in his cum. (And after our research, I now know it as a 'ruined orgasm.') And there was a second, similar picture, where the orgasm wasn't ruined but deliberately brought about because I needed an excuse to punish my husband. My heart sank because I knew somehow I'd disappointed Allen.
We ate lunch at the club where Allen was a regular. Toni was there again -- the young blond who I knew Sir had fucked. It was lunch, so there were no drinks but we had a nice meal.
"So, my pet, about those cum shots in your photos."
I loved when he called me his pet. It quickened my pulse. Funny, I didn't even flinch when he said 'cum shots' here in public. I noted how quickly I adjusted to casual use of sexual terminology. He seemed comfortable in this restaurant. And it was true; I recognized no one here, even though it was close to work. Then again, it was fairly hard to see anyone. The banquettes had high walls and the dining area was broken up into smaller rooms. It seemed designed for quiet confidences. I half expected to see cigar smoke wafting up from all the backroom dealing.
But there was the question of Tim and his orgasms. He ejaculated in his pants while watching Sir spank me last night, and Sir charged me with Tim's punishment. That went very well until it didn't.
"Sir," I said, "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I was angry because I learned what Tim got to do."
"Oh?"
"He... confessed that he had taken your cock in his mouth." I couldn't help myself. I still whispered the word "cock" in public.
Allen laughed. "Oh, that." He reached over and swept a strand of hair from the corner of my mouth. "You were jealous."
"Why did he get to do it first? Before me?"
"So,
you
