Thanks to all you pervy folks out there who have been reading my fantasies…I am really enjoying this! Feel free to leave a wee note if you see something you really like (or conversely, doesn’t “work” in the context I have used it in.)…I don’t know if all writers like feedback, but I sure do!
She turned on the computer in her home office after waving off her husb…er, Master on his way to work. Damn, she really needed to remember to call him Master or Sir. She didn’t come to this domination thing naturally, but having him take control in the bedroom was certainly leading to some interesting things, and truthfully, having him master her in life was…comforting. Gloria Steinham would pitch a fit, not to mention her own mother but…it was working for them, even as it was a work in progress for her.
She turned as her ‘puter signalled the new message alert. She really wanted another cup of coffee, but she really needed to get caught up on emails. As she reluctantly sat down, she noted a post in all caps “IVEBEEN WATCHING YOU,CUNT”.
“Well, doesn’t that just give me the creeps, you perv,” she mused. She meant to hit the delete button but hit “Open” instead and there it was. A photo of her, bent over, her rounded ass cheeks split by her bright red lace panties, hands grasping the edges of her hips and just visable at the edges of the grainy shot. This was not a night shot,but full day as the room was brightly illuminated by sunshine.
“OH.MY.GOD.! ” she gasped in shock. She remembered doing this just last week. Practicing posing for Sir, yes, it was the morning *after* their big conversation about role playing versus real life M/s. She was thinking about being his slave, wondering how it would feel to bend and present to him as he wanted her to. She’d tried on several panties and these were the best of the bunch, and the inspirational view had her heading out that afternoon to purchase more sexy bottoms.
She continued to stare at the photo, then searched the rest of the email for text…but there was nothing. Shaking, she hit the delete button and wished it well away. Should she tell Mike?
That night, after a heavy bout of spanking and bondage, she was going to tell him about her strange and scary email, but, as he forced orgasm after orgasm from her body, as she quaked and shook and exploded for him again and again and again, she fell asleep. Nestled deep in her Master’s arms, she felt safe, cocooned from the external forces of the world, where nothing could ever harm her.
Morning came, and routines being what they are, she was waving to him, topless, from the front step as he grinned his way down the driveway before she ever remembered the email.
Feeling dreadful about the omission, and not terribly brave, she slowly walked to the spare bedroom that served as her office. She turned on the computer, and crossed the room to open the window wider. It was stuffy and warm in the little room, but that was forgotten, quickly. At her feet lay a manila envelope with one word written in large, dark letters:
C U N T
With a dreadful fear, and a shaking hand she opened the envelope. Inside was a picture. This was from a few days ago, puttering in the garden, naked. She would do this for Sir, send him vibrant word images to describe the feel of the wind across her nipples, a tall finger of grass itching across her labia, the warmth of the sun caressing her ass. In the picture, she stood in the center of the yard, head thrown back in a pose of ecstacy, arms open wide, her pert and perky breasts thrust up and out, her rosy nipples tight and hard. Her shaved mons gleamed in the bright light, her legs looked long and elegant…it was a beautiful picture, but who had it been taken by? There were no close neighbors, part of what drew them to purchase this house in the first place. Looking down again at the photo in her hands, she turned it over, and saw a note scrawled on a post-y stuck there.
“CUNT: 2nite/shed/8:30/come alone or hubbie gets it”
Gasping, heart racing, tears began streaming down her face as she staggered away from the window.
“Bastard! sonofabitch” she cried, shaking. Oh god how could she ever tell Mike about this? He’d never let her go out there alone to meet this madman, but this madman might, might…god she couldn’t even think it. She had to protect her Master, of this one thing she was sure.
He came home from work in a great mood. Work was good, life was better! His wife was happily on the path to becoming his slave, his fucktoy, his dreamwoman. He loved seeing her in the kitchen, her breasts jiggling freely beneath a sexy crop top. He remembered that this was his first order to her, to never wear a bra for him again, and to seek his permission when she thought she needed to wear one at all.
“They are pert and perky and I love them au naturale,” he had informed her. “Keep them unfettered, and available to me for whenever I want to fondle and play with them.” Thus saying, he had pulled and tweaked her nipples until they hardened, pinkened and beckoned them down into bed together. That had been a hellava night, they had fucked and sucked each other for hours. “Like newlyweds,” he had chuckled to himself later.
He could tell she was preoccupied, and although he tried to tease it out of her, she just smiled, and said that nothing was really wrong, just an issue with her work, and she’d work it out. They had a lovely dinner, and after she cleared the table, he went in to watch the game on tv.
“I think I’ll go take a short walk, ” she told him. “Football is just not my thing,” she stated firmly, but with a smile.
“Just another thing we’ll have to work on,” he replied, in his pretend ” Master Voice.” She winged a look at him with brow arched, and he smiled at her, “what, did you think it was all just kinky stuff?”. She laughed, hung up her apron, and went out the kitchen door, blowing him a kiss.
Oh god her knees were almost knocking together. At least this jerko had the sense to time it for when her hub…Master…would be watching the game and unlikely to notice her absence for awhile, just in case…oh no, she was not going to think further down that road. While she might fantasize about having forced sex with a stranger, while her Master watched, she had never shared this thought with him, nor anyone else. Wasn’t what good girls ever did, and she had tried so hard to be one. How Mike had ever seen past that facade was a wonder to her. She took a circutous path around to the shed, heading down the driveway to the road, in case Sir looked out the window to see her heading by, then down the road for 1/4 mile, turning right onto a thin path that led down to the far reaches of their backyard.
The garden shed was dark, quiet except for the buzz of insects in the flowers surrounding it. Wan light trickled in through the one small window, not enough to illuminate the place, even with the door open.
“Shut the fuckin door and come over here, slut, ” commanded a stern, hard voice.
“Who are y-you…wha…” abruptly her voice was cut off as his hand cuffed her mouth. His other arm, like an iron bar, wrapped around her upper body.
“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, cunt,” he snarled into her ear. Reaching up, he grasped the front of her thin shirt and pulled downward sharply. She grunted with the force of him pulling so, felt the shirt rip at the shoulders, tear at the neckline, and knew her breasts had pulled free. His hand grabbed her tit firmly, engulfing her sweet orb completely in his grasp. Slowly he tightened his hand into a fist, as she began to sob and moan and writhe against him. There was no getting away from this.
Her heart beat so hard she felt it would bounce out of her chest. Suddenly she was whirled around, and a light snapped on….
“Guess your hubbie is gonna get it.. … after all…” said Mike .