Author's Note: This is Part 7 of a story I attempted to write from the point of view of the three main characters, all speaking in the first person. I'm grateful to my editors, Angry Barcode and slutkimmi for their assistance. I believe the story should be read in sequence as it was written.
This is a work of fiction, the events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. All characters are over the age of eighteen, at every point depicted in the narrative.
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I'll be the first to admit that after being married for 10 years, our sex was, well, maybe getting a little stale. Over the past couple of years or so, my husband has been throwing some suggestions out there, nothing totally weird or anything. I mean, nothing I can't totally handle, and so for the most part I've been willing to go with his perverted desires.
When Hubby indicated he liked me to wear sexy outfits, I was more than willing. Some women don't like dressing up in sexy lingerie for their husbands, they feel it's demeaning or something, but I never saw it that way. I mean, what's the big deal with doing it with thigh-high stockings and heels on, or a fishnet bodystocking for that matter? If that's what trips his trigger, I'm game.
Hubby likes me to dress up sexy, no problem. Hubby likes me to talk dirty when we do it, so I got into the game with him. It excites him when I say things like, "Oooh yeah, honey, lick my clit!" when he's going down on me, or when we're just getting warmed up to lovingly whisper in his ear, "Oh, honey, I want to suck your cock!"
Saying things like this seems to help encourage him, urge him on when he's working toward his orgasm and quite frankly I find it helps me to come, too. When he's grunting and groaning on top of me and I moan, "Oh baby, I want you to cum, I want to feel your cum," it has the effect of speeding up the tempo if you know what I mean.
If I've already cum and I'm getting tired of waiting for Mister Manly to shoot his wad into me, all I've got to do is breathlessly whisper, "Oh honey, I want you to cum in my mouth, I want you to cum all over my tits!" He'll have it out and is squirting white stuff all over me in seconds flat if I say that for him.
For the record, I don't actually like the taste of cum, but I've learned a thing or two from watching pornos with him; all you have to do is take a squirt or two over the tongue and then let it slobber out. The rest of it splatters all over the lips and chin, and doing this for him makes Hubby feel like Long Don Juan the Porno Stud or something.
So I cater to his most perverted desires; I love him and I found it works for us. Everybody's got something and this is what we've got. But of course a man is never satisfied; if you give him an inch he wants a mile.
Part of our game was for me to dress for him like I'm a total slutty wife. I cheerfully agreed to wear any and all clothing he chooses for me. His general rules are: panties are always optional and need not be worn, the only stockings allowed are thigh-highs and garters -- NO pantyhose. If I am wearing thigh-highs & garters, then no panties, and the hems of all my skirts are to be NO lower than six inches above the knee.
I thought I had it all under control, though. I thought I could handle acting all slutty for him, and frankly I found the whole slut-wife thing quite empowering; you know, the whole open-minded modern woman bit, confident in her own sexuality. But we saw how going to the office with no panties worked out, and so on top of being a slut-wife now I'm the boss man's official office slut, as well.
After the episode that happened at the office over the holidays, my boss called me into his office and told me there were going to be some changes around here for the New Year.
He basically read me the Riot Act. He told me that since I work for him and he pays me AND we're fucking, that basically makes me nothing more than a whore. From now on, he told me, I am "to do what you are told, when you are told, exactly how you are told," or he would let everybody at the office know exactly what kind of a worthless gutter slut I am.
There was a silver lining to this cloud, however. He said because he's willing to pay for what he gets in this world, I'm getting a HEALTHY pay raise, BUT this comes with a price: during office hours I am his and as such I must agree at all times to make my body readily available to him for use.
I am expected to be subservient, submissive and totally obedient. And of course I am expected to cheerfully and willingly perform any and all sexual acts, including anal, when told to. (The anal thing doesn't phase me; I've let Hubby sling it to me 'back there' a couple of times, but quite frankly it doesn't do much for either of us.)
Furthermore, he said, I am never to argue about anything with him ever again. He doesn't want to hear me complain about anything; cry, sob, whine or pout, sigh, moan, sulk, or otherwise show displeasure or unhappiness.
