All characters who appear in this story are fictional and of legal age. If you're not comfortable with the depiction of rough and non-consensual sex, there might be more suitable reads than this one for you on this website. This is the second part of a threepart story. I'd like to recommend reading part one first.
Feedback is welcome. English isn't my mother tongue. If you spot any mistakes that escaped the spell check, please let me know. I promise to check every suggestion and upload a corrected version. This is fiction! Some of the events depicted are hazardous and may cause permanent harm or death. Behave responsibly and with respect in real life!
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Viv
The basics had been insightful but now they wanted me to take part in a practical exercise. My husband had persuaded me to attend a bondage course. He wanted to spice up our sex life after eight years of marital routine.
I hadn't known much about the subject but was skeptical. To put it bluntly, Al wanted to tie me up. Why would an educated, self-assured, modern woman submit to her husband's will when women were just about to burst their bonds of centuries of male oppression?
Al didn't give up. He got back to the issue again and again and, well, I loved him dearly. There was no commitment on my part and there was no hassle either because the course would take place at our home. And Al was right, our sex life had become nothing less than dissatisfying over time. It wasn't wrong to try something new.
I stood in the middle of our living room when the two of them, Al and the bondage instructor, started to tie me up. They talked about knots and ropes as if I were a parcel to be mailed. The teacher poked me in the ribs just below my bra to indicate where to go on. They even discussed how to shape my boobs with the aid of their binds.
They passed a rope between the legs of my jeans and jiggled it to tighten the knot. I was wet in my panties and couldn't have felt more naked in front of them though I was fully dressed. To be honest, it was humiliating and abusive.
However, we'd paid the instructor for teaching us the meat and potatoes of that thing and I'd promised to make a serious attempt. I didn't want to give up early. What's more, I didn't want to disappoint Al who was so excited with the matter. Plus I'd got turned on, partly by the rope in my crotch, partly because of the two of them touching and guiding me.
When the master had gone with all his ropes and pearls of wisdom I didn't know what to say. Al took me in his arms and kissed me. Without further ado he undressed me and had sex with me, at first on the floor and later in our bed. He was attentive and skillful, passionate and imaginative, and a better lover than he'd been in years.
I decided to go on with our bondage experiment. I pocketed my pride and learnt to submit to his will. My sense of shame diminished when it was just him who knew every weak spot of my body anyway and never tired of telling me how beautiful I was. Quickly our sex life became better than it had ever been.
Around that time the stress in the job increased. The Miller case began to go off course. I worked long hours in the office and on the weekends. I was glad that I'd regained a fulfilling sex life by then and that I was also able to retreat to a more passive role in our loveplay. I abandoned myself to his fantasies.
One night I found myself on my back in the middle of our bed, stripped down to nothing, with my hands tied together under me and my legs spread and bent over me towards the corners of the headboard. The position seemed to make up sufficiently for my recently neglected yoga exercises. Sad to say, I couldn't get the job out of my head. The Miller case had turned out to be challenging.
Al went around the bed and checked the ropes. He seemed to be contented. Half-heartedly I tried to twist myself free but was widely unable to move.
Unhastily he left the room and got himself some iced tea from the fridge. I stretched my knees and checked the nail polish of my toes and the shaving of my legs and pussy. I heard him pour the beverage into a glass and return to the bedroom.
He sipped at his tea and put it on the bedstand. It was just inches away from me but impossible to reach. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tickled the skin of my calf and the hollow of my knee.
Out of the blue he said: 'Tell me a secret, Viv!'
I was puzzled. Such kind of talk had never been part of our love play.
'You know that I don't have any secrets from you,' I said matter-of-factly.
'What would you allow me to do if I discovered a secret of yours?'
