Author's Note: This is a new series of stories, all of them holding at least a kernel of truth, if not more. Not all will have full-on sexual contact and/or encounters, at least as I have it planned, but I hope the reader will enjoy the feelings, and emotions, that went through my mind. That being said, there is going to be a lot of interracial sexual relations, sex with strangers, and even some violence.
Call it adultery, call it slavery, or call it submission, whatever label you choose, but unless you have a CONSTRUCTIVE comment, I'm not interested in hearing your blithering, whiney fingers scream about how I should be divorced, shot, made homeless, or abandoned. We all have enough troubles in our days without listening to your opinions on how someone should live their lives.
With that said, if you are still here, please enjoy this third installment:
*****
As usual, when I exited the bath room the next morning, I found my clothes laid out. As my Master, Ben liked to choose what I would wear, and because I liked to provide him some variety, I tended to pack heavy. My husband would ask me why I would take a dozen outfits for a five-day trip, and I would just explain to him that some of the trip involved client dinners and so on, which required me to change into something nicer. What I said was true, I would wear dressier outfits at night, and yes, even a few times per trip, I might have a client dinner. I just never told him the whole story.
I gave a small snort, one of remorse, I suppose. It was about my feelings. I was conflicted sometimes, and this was one of those moments. I absently fingered my necklace, my collar, and the charm written on it, the words 'Fuck Me' dangling from the thin chain. My husband was, and is, a good man. He has given me a safe relationship, he is kind, and he is protective. He works hard, and he is enjoyable to be around. I just wish I could get him to be more adventurous. Even the idea of having sex on the floor in front of the fireplace was not something he would do easily, and often the nagging needed to get him to explore such a simple thing would spoil the mood. In a word, he was plain, and even boring. I could get all the clever conversation and humorous times I wanted with him, and plenty of loving and warm sexual intimacy.
But sometimes, well, more than sometimes, I wanted, or even needed, something wilder. More adventurous. I needed times when I could just let my hair down and just let... things... go. Drop to the ground and have sex in a corner of the park? Sure! Give him a BJ in the middle of a camping trail? Have me grab my ankles and let him lift my skirt and have at me? I was all for it. Wear costumes and role-play? Certainly. I would enjoy all of that, and often wanted to. I just couldn't get my husband to crack open that shell of vanilla around him. I felt guilty, at times, of my submitting to Ben, and letting Ben do those things I wanted my husband to do. I really wanted to get my husband to come out of his shell, and enjoy sex with me more. I would end my relationship with Ben in a heartbeat if he would. But until he did, I needed a release, a time when I could let go and have someone else be in control and know what to do with it. If I didn't, I am afraid of what the long-term effect on our marriage would be.
Ben actually had a rather surprising sense of style, and I rarely disagreed on what he would select. Once or twice, he had picked something a little too risqué for me to wear in a professional setting, but most of the time he was on the mark. Today was no different, and he had selected my special purple satin pants, and a crème silk blouse. On the floor lay a pair of strappy heels. No bra, no panties, nothing else. The blouse was somewhat sheer, but the multiple layers of fabric that made for breast pockets on the top gave me the coverage necessary to keep me from being arrested, and only pushed the edge of business propriety. In fact, I had even worn the same top to the office, and while I had turned heads, I hadn't been chastised, or even called to HR about it.
The pants, though, were indeed a special case. I had bought them from an adult catalogue, and what made them special was that they were essentially crotch-less. Wide-legged, like bell-bottoms of the sixties that had a wider taper in them, with a built-in belt, and pocket-less, the seam that joined the two halves together was split, reinforced, and the edges finished, so that if I was to spread my legs, the seam would open and expose my labia. In fact, if I pulled them up tightly, I could even manage to get my fleshy-folds to protrude from the seam. The material was very soft, and supple, and shiny. Between the blouse and the pants, I would likely catch the eye of just about everyone at some point or another. Usually guys who wanted to flirt or even more, and women who mostly hated me.
I finished dressing just as Ben came back, and he had brought breakfast with him. In my case, it was just some fruit and a croissant, while he had something a little heartier, and we chatted for a while, and he set his expectations with me for the day. I learned that he might have me help him entertain someone, but things were up in the air. I also reminded him of a small problem at work, a corporate employee of a rival company was also visiting my client at the same time, and while I could usually deal with that, this particular guy was a creep. He was heavy-set, to be polite, his hygiene was leaving something to be desired, and he was arrogant. He was constantly butting-in or trying to demean my own presence with the client, and just generally being a pain in the rear. I didn't relish having to spend the day dealing with my own business and trying to keep that guy at bay, also.
Ben nodded, and he reminded me of my necklace, and the words, and what it meant. In this case, it meant that if I was called out on it, I was to do as I was bid, and not to embarrass him, even if it meant having sex with a complete stranger. Ben knew exactly what to say, and it actually relieved me. Ben was in charge, and I didn't have to be. So I kissed him goodbye, a long, lingering, lashing of tongues at the doorway, and made my way to work, the placement of my hotel making a short commute. The one thing I did do before going in was to cheat a little by swinging my necklace about, hiding the charm under my hair, and at the base of my neck. The chain was still under my blouse, and the loop curved into my bared cleavage, as my blouse was unbuttoned one more than needed, just because I wanted to hold onto my client's attention, not to mention please Ben.
The day was pretty much routine, and I was able to mostly evade my rival, whom I'll call Juan, for the sake of argument. I was not able to avoid lunch, however, and the client invited us both to go. This seemed to delight Juan to no end, and as I had to share the back seat of the car with him, he found it irresistible to keep his hands off of me, my pants in particular. The loose-fitting legs made for a certain style, flash, and indeed, comfort, but the soft material also was enticing to feel. I had my own enjoyment of satin, and loved to gently feel it on me. Juan seemed to love it on me, too. His hand started on my knee, which I took the time to move his fingers from me as he set them upon me a few times, giving him a sharp glare. All he did was smirk, and then try again. It was almost like we were children, except it was getting harder and harder to keep him from touching me. Fortunately, the client was in a chatty mood, so as he and his partner drove, they were oblivious to the combat in the back seat. I was getting ready to slap Juan when we got to the restaurant. Unfortunately, Juan made it a point to sit next to me.
Seated in a booth, the place was very nice, the service was terrific, and the meal was delightful. Juan, however, was making it impossible for me to enjoy it. With the longer tablecloth, and his sitting next to me, I was trapped between him on the end, and my client's business partner. I had to eat with my utensils, and so that left my pants, and my lower body, unprotected from Juan's malignant caress. He started at the knee, and was content just caressing me there, but as I didn't make him stop, he got bolder.
His hand would slide up further and further, in ever longer strokes of my leg, until he was up to my waist. I shot him a hard glare a few times, when I could sneak one, but I was helpless, in a business sense, anyways, to stop him. My mind was thinking of ways to have him vivisected, emasculated, and other sorts of joyful punishments for his audacity, and my reverie was interrupted as I felt his hand slide up my inner thigh. My head snapped towards him, and he just smiled at me, and he wouldn't budge. My eyes were like daggers now, and I was actually plotting on ways to have him killed. Ben having me do things was part of my life was expected. Juan, however, was taking liberties that weren't.
