A Story From My Wife

She was hoping he would notice, was afraid he would. She looked down at the tips of her nipples clearly protruding through her tight silk shirt, noting the round circles pushing out of the fabric that fairly shouted “PIERCING”.

“Good girls don’t get their nipples pierced,” she said out loud. To herself she thought, “Since when have I been a good girl?” she mused, when she was thirteen and slipped her tongue into her best friend’s mouth when made to kiss her during a sleepover truth-or-dare.

Nor was she an angelic seventeen year old when she was found her history teacher stroking himself in his car as she cut school; he was shocked to see her but more shocked to see her slip off her lace panties and slip into his car. And that night when, as a freshman in college, she had been ushered from dorm room to dorm room at the frat party; the boys so excited to find a girl so willing to accommodate their plan when drunk and never realizing she was not nearly as drunk as she seemed. No, she couldn’t fool herself as she had him for so long. She was definitely NOT a good girl.

She had had about enough of the “goodie two-shoes” routine and, if he couldn’t keep up, he could get out. Playing the virtuous twenty-one year old had been amusing for the first couple of weeks, but you just can’t change your true nature. She tossed her hair in frustration and stared down again at her shirt.

The sight reminded her again of the lingering pain. No longer forgotten, with the pain came a wave of fresh pleasure flowing through her. It renewed the dampness between her legs, a dampness that had been there since the day before when she had gotten the piercing done. Her breasts felt like they were being continually pinched by tiny, tight nipple clamps and the arousal this caused in her was only heightened by the silky slide of her legs over her closely shaved pussy as she walked.

She was roused from her reverie as the front door banged shut. She started as she realized she had been stroking the inside of her thigh, hastily shut her legs, pulled down her miniskirt and glanced in the mirror.

“I hope this works,” she thought hastily at her reflection before hurrying in to greet him. He never let her forget it the few times she missed his “I’m home” greeting kiss.

As she came into view, she saw him pause in the foyer and put down a large paper bag he had carried inside. “I’m home,” he said softly, never once taking his eyes off of her breasts. Her mind raced as she tried to analyze whether to read amazement, disgust, or interest in his face. She gave up; it was unreadable and he was still simply staring at her breasts, awaiting her next move.

With resolution, she pulled back her shoulders, which perceptibly tightened the silk blouse more closely around her nipples, and slowly walked toward him to receive his kiss. At the last moment, she thought wildly, “What if he doesn’t kiss me?” She needn’t have worried.

She received more than the ritual kiss. As he leaned into her lips, he pushed her roughly back up against the banister, which dug into her back as he leaned her over in a devouring, deep kiss. It caught her unprepared, shocked her, hurt her. She felt a moist drip slowly roll down her leg. It had been too long.

This was not the gentle, considerate, conservative man she knew.

***

He sat at his work desk and considered getting back onto the Internet. He was restless, not interested in what he was supposed to do any more than who he was supposed to be. He had tried the straight and narrow road and had found it (or maybe, him) unsuitable. He only knew himself truly in his imagination, when he took himself to the places he should not be, doing the things he should not do but that made him feel right, somehow.

He no longer tried to analyze his feelings, his psyche, his lusts. From the time spent surfing the web and cruising the red lit streets at night, he knew there was a part of him that would only be content when going beyond the bounds of what was socially acceptable. It was time to find a new society.

His online searches had shown him things even his teenage locker room talk hadn’t hint of existing. His hand strayed to his crotch, despite his office surroundings, as he thought of the pictures he had seen and of the websites he had visited. Somewhere out there were people who enjoyed the things he wanted, needed, to do.

It wasn’t so much that he needed to pin a lusty sixteen year old girl’s hands over her head while driving forcefully into her, or wish he was tied down as he wondered at the surrender and horniness that had allowed him to surrender his ass to a hard, thick cock for fucking. No, it was more the need to abandon the pretense of conventional sex and allow him to feel true pleasure and ecstasy. He had no particular obsession, but convention held him to a girlfriend who fit the bill for social acceptability. The trouble was, he could no longer tolerate simply being and having the “acceptable”.

“I would rather,” he shied away from the thought. But he could not stop the visions he had seen. Women propped up on bars like dolls, only moaning and writhing in excitement as one, then another, women forced their tongues inside of her.

A man, more like a boy, dressed as a slut at a freak’s club, only he looked GOOD in what he wore and promised the interested more experience than his sixteen years belied. A huge-chested petite girl, maybe 20, who ran a webcam out of her bedroom and did not shy from taking the large end of a baseball bat. A conservatively dressed redhead who took a shot of tequila and quickly acquiesced to be stripped, strapped down over a bench, and mounted by a large mastiff. Were those screams of pleasure or pain? Would his be?

***

On his way home, he stopped off at the local adult bookstore, after carefully observing that no one he knew was in the vicinity. He laughed at himself for the need to maintain his “respectability”, and proceeded to buy each item in the shop that caught his fancy: nylon rope, several vibrators (he shuddered – excitement or fear? – at the one nearly as large as that big breasted chick’s bat), a blindfold and matching ball gag, a strap on of only slightly excessive size, a lubricator, a riding crop, and nipple clamps. He grabbed a choking collar and leash at the last minute.

“Why not?” If the club he found online didn’t work out, he knew of some areas he could go and, with the hefty wad in his pocket, make his evening nearly as adventurous as he wanted. All safely stowed in a brown paper bag, he hoped in his car and headed home, hoping his straight-laced girlfriend would accept his escape lie.

***

The round, tight breasts he remembered had been decorated by jewels that both surprised him and made his cock stir between his legs. She held herself proudly, almost defiantly. The tips of her well-formed bosom swelled from a shirt obviously chosen for the purpose. The look she gave him challenged and enticed. He did not think, merely reacted to the notion the piercings had set in motion. As he kissed her roughly, he wondered if she knew just what she had gotten herself in for. And if he would really take things as far as he intended to.

The indecision did not last long, however. Her passionate response to his almost brutal caresses further revised his previous opinion of her. This was definitely not the sweet girl he thought he knew; if she kept this much of herself hidden from him, who would say what else what other deceptions she had practiced during their months together?

In this way, he began to justify what he was about to do to her. The various plans for his own pleasure that had been running through his head over the course of the day were further clarified into a plan of action. What he had really wanted, needed, had been someone with whom (on whom?) to experiment some of the lustful desires he had long felt.

“I now have both willing accomplice and victim,” he mused as her hand went not to his hardening cock, but up her own short skirt where, obviously, no lingerie inhibited further progress of her fingers. She began to moan softly as he allowed her to finger herself while continuing to press her whole body against the wooden banister in a fierce kiss.

He spared an additional moment to wonder where she expected this newfound lovemaking to go, but quickly dismissed the thought at inconsequential. Any resistance she might have had would bend before his will to see his fantasies made real.

***

Having made up his mind on his course of action, he pulled her roughly into the bedroom and began to strip her clothes off without ceremony. He paused a moment when, on pulling off her blouse, he met the newly- pierced nipples, bright pink, slightly swollen, and enticing on what had been familiar breasts. He could not stop himself from running his tongue around the swollen areola. A slight gasp from her resulted in a light tug from him on the ring adorning her other breast. She moaned deeply in reaction; he tugged off her skirt to reveal a hairless crotch – cunt, he amended – and slightly open legs inviting his ever- stiffening cock.

He did not take the bait but, instead, without speaking yanked her onto and across the bed. Stooping to the nearly-forgotten brown bag at his feet, he fished out a length of rope, whipped out his leatherman to slash it at intervals, and proceeded to bind her tightly to the posts of their bed. During the whole ordeal, she did not struggle, only moaned and tried to reach for her cunt whenever her hands were free. Looking down at the pink lips of her cunt, at the moisture already visible, he did not hesitate to pull out his cell phone.

***

He leafed through various co-workers and friends’ names to get to the contact for his first call. Ralph had been very open, and perhaps very rude (a blessing, now), about his admiration for his co-worker’s girlfriend. Ralph’s openness about what he would do with such a ripe, potentially vulnerable type of girl might have been passed off as mere water-cooler talk if he did not have the established history to back it up.

Ralph did not just talk the talk, he walked the walk. And the line he walked would make him a prime addition to tonight’s plan. There was no doubt that he knew an opportunity when he saw one and, well, if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut at work on Monday, there was no one who would agonize over it at this point.

“So what you are telling me is that your church-girl girlfriend is naked and ready to go for anything, and I am that anything?” Ralph questioned with some skepticism (but without trying to conceal his lust – this girl had been prime jack off bait for months). His co-worker’s affirmations were so strong that Ralph began throwing a couple of his own “props” in a bag before heading out. Not an opportunity to be passed up and, hell, he didn’t exactly have any dignity to maintain.

Once Ralph’s presence was assured, her boyfriend dug in his hind pocket for a folded printout from work. The number heralded it as a local dominatrix, “Villia,” whose professional attributes her website called, “unusual, arousing and brutal”.

Among the things he had learned from the online grapevine about her were a generous flexibility in suiting her clients’ tastes coupled with a commanding, dramatic enjoyment in taking total control of each event. He reached a throaty female voice on the end of the line, presented his plan, and was rewarded with a quick and enthusiastic approval. He made plans to meet her at a motel a short distance from his apartment.

Ralph arrived at the door to the apartment out of breath, either from his rush to arrive or his lust to get the girl in his clutches. Firmly gripping a bulging bag, he demanded, “Is this for real? You really want me just to strut in here and fuck your sweet-assed girlfriend?”

“And more than that,” her boyfriend replied. “Keep her busy, from what I have heard, you know how. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“But what can I…” Ralph began, talking to his coworkers back as he strode to the door.

“Use your imagination,” he replied. “But leave plenty for me. I have plans for her tonight.”

Ralph wanted to confirm that she was on board with the plan, would not press charges like she had… His thoughts and indecision trailed off as he heard a low, guttural moan from the nearby bedroom. She did not sound like someone in need of convincing. Who would have thought she had it in her, Ralph wondered and then chuckled. Well, she doesn’t have anything in her yet, but that will change. His thoughts took an even more wicked turn.

***

He was surprised at what he saw when he slipped into the bedroom. Sprawled on the massive, four-postered bed was the “sweet” girl whose guttural moans had been getting him harder by the minute. She was spread eagle, strapped to the bed by ropes strapped around three of the four posters. He had seen the scene a thousand times – well, a few, he admitted – but this was different.

Not only did he have to get over the shock of seeing such a nice girl so obviously enjoying such a torment, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the tantalizing nipples, erect and recently tortured with silvery rings. Her rounded breasts protruded out from her slim, tight body as she arched up – arched up in an erotic, desperate effort to touch herself with the slender fingers on a hand tightly bound high on a poster near her feet.

She was writhing, straining against the ropes that bound her hand just a bit too high. When she arched her back, straining upwards, she could get the lightest of touches on her cunt. She seemed almost mad with frustration, yet wild with desire to be stroked. Ralph could see the moisture glistening between her legs and rolling down to the tips of her tight, upraised buttocks. He smiled a slow, nasty smile in response.

***

Once Ralph was in place, her boyfriend maneuvered his car purposely through the dark streets to a nearby hotel. He felt excitement, tinged with a little fear, at the thought of how he would surrender himself tonight. He pushed back thoughts of the girlfriend he had left hastily-bound at home and prepared himself for the coming encounter by familiarizing himself with using the phrase, “Yes, Mistress.”

Pulling up at the motel, he parked near the door she had indicated and noted that lights were already ablaze from within. He pulled a flask from under his seat, took two swigs of whiskey, and braced himself to meet Mistress Villia. He willed himself into complete submission and surrender, such as he had never done before. The tightening of his loins at the prospect made it easier to give up his need for control. He wanted this, even the accompanying pain, humiliation, and debasement. Complete submission had been a buried need for so long but, once he faced it, it no longer shamed but excited him. He quickened his steps to the door.

The door opened before he had the chance to knock. He was silently greeted by a woman, swathed in a dark cloak, standing imperiously at the door and bending her gaze condescendingly down on him. Surprised at the reception, and in finding her taller than his height, he quickly stepped over the threshold, withdrew the agreed upon sum from his coat, and handed the cash, equally quietly, over to her. Mistress Villia smiled broadly, her wide, red lips reflecting the lamplight. Closing the door and drawing off her cloak in efficient motions, she established herself as the one in charge.

Not that he one moment forgot that fact. From the moment he caught a glimpse of what was beneath her dark drape, he knew that he had met his match, and more so. She was dressed in flawless, shining patent leather, but only over her waist and torso. Mistress Villia reveled in the lust she produced by leaving her ample breasts and shaven pussy bare.

She was corseted in the shiny leather, her breasts lifted majestically by the erotic ensemble. She completed the outfit by a pair of tall, high spiked boots, gartered black stockings, and an accumulation of “tools-of-her-trade” on a low-riding, wide, spiked belt. She knew that men were impressed by her height, athletic build, and overly-large breasts, but their sight of the toys she kept around her belt was what put the initial alarm in them. He was no exception.

***

The whispering rub of cheap polyester pierced through her torment, causing her to glance at the illuminated doorway. She saw a blackened silhouette, shorter, thicker and somehow more menacing than that which would have heralded the return of her boyfriend. Her thighs tightened in response, as she unwilling gave in to her lust to be touched, stroked, thrust into. She recognized him as he came nearer and, rather than the disgust that had shadowed their few previous introductions, the repulsiveness that charged through her only heightened her desire and her willingness to submit.

As Ralph turned halfway into the light, he quirked a lewd half-grin and reached into his bag to pull out several nondescript items. Placing them on the bedside table, he leaned against the side of the bed and draped his rough hand on her thigh. A spasm of fear and lust coursed up her body; she arched her back a fraction higher in response.

His smiled widened as he swiftly drew a riding crop from the side table and harshly slashed her inner thigh in an unanticipated strike. She shrieked; he had drawn blood. He hastily grabbed a balled up sock from the laundry-strewn floor and stuffed it into her still gasping mouth. He could have no more of that, and he was only getting started.

***

In a quiet, deep tone of command, Mistress Villia commanded him to strip off his clothing and step into the dirty motel shower. Her quiet words were partially obscured by the roar of a motorcycle revving up in the nearby parking lot, and he began, “Mistress, did you ask me to…”

She lashed out with an astonishingly strong backhand across his face, her gothic, metal rings cutting a gash from cheekbone to the corner of his lip. Surprised and stung, and not wishing further displeasure, he striped down and stepped into the small bathroom, glancing at her to confirm he had correctly guessed her imperfectly heard wishes.

With her small nod, he moved into the mildewed shower, already feeling aroused by her demands and the uncleanliness that surrounded the encounter. Although he and his girlfriend kept their apartment a mess, it did not have the same feel of filth and misuse that rendered the motel room a perfect place for a sordid rendezvous.

Mistress Villia stepped her spiked boot up on the closed toilet lid and regarded him scornfully. His arousal quickly changed to embarrassment as he considered what a foolish sight he likely made, standing naked in the shower stall of an unkempt Brown’s Motel bathroom. He did not permit himself a mocking smile, however, as the Mistress unfastened a leather cord from her belt with one hand while bending to fondle his balls with another.

He stiffed suddenly, embarrassment bled away, and he once again pledged to give himself over to the moment and to her. Her one-handed caresses produced a massive erection, as did the sight of her cleanly shaven pussy nearly touching the heel of her black leather boot as she leaned towards him. He noticed the darkness of her nipples and yearned to take one in his mouth, unsure of what her reaction would be.

He remained motionless and lustful as she began to wind the leather thong around the base of his hard penis. A bit too tight, it bit into his flesh and nearly diminished his erection. He had not expected pain there, but pushed thoughts of the torment aside as she stepped into the stall.

He was surprised to hear her voice husky with lust as she crisply ordered, “Kneel before me, with your chest to your knees, and look up into my eyes.” He did as she commanded without hesitation but with some wonder as to what would come next. When he looked up, her slit eyes were condescending and scornful.

“This will teach you that you are mine to use. And you are useless. Worthless. Only here for my pleasure, and whatever pleasure you take is because I allow it to be so. The only response you may now utter is, ‘Yes, Mistress.’ Is that clear?”

Though he had rehearsed it a dozen times, his “Yes, Mistress” sounded awkward to his ears. The pain between his thighs continued. He was amazed that he remained to hardly erect, and disturbed by his eager anticipation for what would come next. She step forward, put he still-booted leg up on an unseen soap rack. He fastened his eyes on her cunt, surprised to see, professional though she was, she was as excited by the encounter as he was.

He caught her glare and quickly looked down, and not a moment to soon as her golden shower adorned his head. She pissed on him slowly at first, giving him the opportunity to examine his reaction to the humiliating situation in which he had placed himself. As she free her piss harder on his head and it streamed down the sides of his face, he stopped trying to think and surrendered himself to her right to do this to him. After all, he was only worth what he could do for his Mistress/

***

She gazed at Ralph with hatred and, to his surprise, nonetheless tried to hoist her straining hips to rub her clit on the riding crops he now carelessly dangled between her legs. She surprised him and pleased him more and more. His pants bulged with his response to her shamelessness and desire.

This is only part One. Let me know what you think. I think my wife is really a good writer… I can’t wait for the rest…