She kept her secret life just that. A secret.
Her husband did his thing at night, she did hers. They were professional people, and cared for each other, but after 10 years, there was…. a lack of the spontaneity and the sexual explorations of their younger days.
She’d discovered the D/s world, the deep richness of it, quite by accident.
In the search engine, distracted and rushed, she’d typed in “boobs” not books. She was taken aback by the huge variety of boobs. There were hot young boobs, Asian boobs, obviously immensely fake boobs, professional boobs, and amateur boobs.
Well. And here she was, happy owner of a nice pair herself, looking at other women. How…titalating, she thought with some amusement.
There was a link on one of the pages. It was …naughty. She got up and drew the curtains shut. Clicked.
From there she was hooked. She explored through the thin outer veneer of bondage, of girls put in obscenely difficult positions and fucked. Oh how they cried out to their masters. In pain, yes but on some faces, a radiance. Then came the blogs.
Real people. Men who were Doms, men who were subs. Women who were subs. Women who were the Boss. Some lived with their Doms, some were long distance. So many faces, so many differences…sbut all so achingly real.
She began to see herself in these places. Tied to a bed, a chair, the newell post. Whipped, or spanked, fucked in the ass, the mouth, her cunt. Because she couldn’t say no, not as an owned slave. She fantasized, she followed, she lusted.
Her articulate profile on the D/s site led to many invitations. Some were obviously dogs. Guys and gals out for a quick fuck, thank you very much. She wanted more. Ideally she wanted to be kept, owned, subject to the orders of an owner. It was getting to that place that was proving difficult.
She still loved her husband. Bob was a good man. She sighed just thinking that. A good man. She lusted for more. A fierce man, a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. Bob did that with his career, but not with her. They were equals. She loved him, but hated that she could not seem to talk to him about this. She was afraid of showing him the dark fantasies that lived inside of her.
****** *********** ********
He found her on the list. Of all the ‘hits’ to her profile, his was the one that resonated. He posted that he lived in the metro area not too far from where she lived in the ‘burbs. It took time to get to know each other, from texts and emails. Phoning was problematical for them both, but she felt he was beginning to learn her, and her, him. He set her tasks to perform, pictures to take, and she complied. As she fell deeper into her submission, she began also, to fall in love.
Always he challenged her to talk to her husband about this, not making it an order, although he was always hinting that he would, someday force this issue with her.
“no, no…” she would protest through rapid-fire texts…”You don’t understand my husband. This would hurt him. I …i still love him…and don’t want to hurt him this way…”
and another week would roll by.
They’d been a couple for 7 months when he set her the hard task at last. He asked her one last time.
“Have you tried talking to your husband about this? Your submissiveness?”
“no,” she replied, “i told you, Master. He just wouldn’t get it.”
“We have talked of this before, but let me ask you…have you really ever thought about trying? As a submissive woman, i wonder that you haven’t sent him some kind of signal over these many months we’ve been talking, slut.”
“well, i wore a very sexy nightie….” she began texting, when his incoming sent her text to draft.
“and sub… sexy lingerie does not a submissive make. This you should know already. . .it is not how you clothe your body, slut. It is how you open your mind.”
It amazed her how often he read her so well!
He paused in his texting, and she wondered just what was coming next. He was insightful, but devious as well.
“I tell you what, slut. I will be sending you a package. A gift. When it arrives, I want you to text me. I’ll tell you what to do then.”
“Yes, Master,” she responded. She was intensely curious, but knew better than to ask.
The next day there was a package wrapped in brown paper on her front porch. She took it inside, hands shaking. He’d never sent her anything before. She unwrapped the box, and coiled inside, was a whip. She took it out, held it in her hands. She smelled the pungent scent of leather, held the braided end in her hand. It wasn’t terribly long, but oh my! The thought of what this might mean was sending shivers up her spine, and down to flood her pussy. He was coming here. He had to be.
She grabbed her phone and sent the text. “It’s here, Master. It’s…beautiful and frightening.”
His text zipped back. “Good, slut. Before your husband comes home for the night, I want you to prepare your body as you would for Me. Shave and clean yourself, then..”
His second text took a bit longer to arrive, and she was aware of every cell of her body coming vibrantly to life as she waited, expectant and nearly breathless.
“When he comes home tonight, I want you to be sitting on your knees in your bedroom, with the whip around your throat, and the handle held gently in your teeth. Your hands, palms up on your thighs, and your body waiting for him.”
She gulped, then texted back with shaking hands.. “He might throw me out..”
“Doubt that…he is a man, is he not?”
“yes, but Master…”
“DO. IT. THE. WAY. I. FUCKING. TOLD. YOU. SLUT.”
“Oh shit!!!”, she thought, she’d pissed him off.
“Sorry, Master, of course, Master…forgive me? Please Master?”
There was no reply. She went to prepare herself as he asked, her heart heavy. If there was one thing she had come to loathe, it was these times when he held himself apart, kept Himself away from her. It was an extremely effective punishment.
He would be here soon. She sat, the end of the whip around her neck as her Master had requested. How she wished that it was Him that she was waiting here for. She had to admit though, her pussy was getting quite wet, anticipating and dreading what would happen when her husband walked into their bedroom.
His the sound of the screen door slamming shut came to her through the open window of the bedroom. The sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs came soon after. Her heart was beating hard, her pussy was pulsing.
She watched as the knob turned slowly. Watched as her husbands’ shoes came into the room and walked to where she was sitting as her Master had requested of her.
“Hello slut,” he said, as he closed the door behind him.