Do you sometimes think there should be more to life? Do you sometimes think you’d like less routine and more excitement? I did, and got more than I bargained for. Here’s my story.
I should introduce myself. My name is Emma, I’m 34, happily married with two lovely children. I trained as an accountant and now work from home part-time doing the books of a number of small businesses. This fits in nicely around my family commitments. Both children are now at school and my husband Peter is a high flying corporate tax specialist in a multinational company based in London and who frequently spends a day or two in various other European cities. He’s driven to become his company’s next Finance Director and works long hours. I love him and the children dearly, more than I can express in a few words, but his hard work and long hours have had consequences. And those consequences have most certainly affected me.
So much of Peter’s time and energy goes into his work and a big chunk of what’s left goes on the children. Despite my best efforts I was finding there wasn’t enough of Peter’s energy left for me. We settled into an existence that was more functional than emotional. Passion was still there sometimes but nowhere near as often as I would have liked. Beautiful children and an affluent lifestyle are some compensation. I’d done very well at university and had been doing well at work before the children came along. Now I love looking after the children and the home, but after a few years I couldn’t help feeling there was something missing. Domestic bliss might give a nice warm feeling but it doesn’t excite. Then I met Joe, the father of a friend of one of my children. He was gorgeous and I didn’t need all my IQ to work out that he was interested in more than my accountancy skills.
At first I distanced myself from the liaison I could sense he wanted, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen if I lowered my resistance. A little excitement was exactly what I needed. We started seeing each other when Peter was away. It started with lunches but quickly became more. More intimate, let’s stay. And that’s when David entered the story.
David was another father I’d see sometimes at the school gate and was also a tennis partner of my husband. He saw Joe leaving my house one day when Peter was away. Next morning at the school gate he acted completely normally and I assumed we’d got away with it. But the next week, as rotten luck would have it, he saw me and Joe exchanging kisses in the car park of a restaurant a few towns away. I saw that he’d seen us but he quickly turned and walked away. He was gone before I could get to him and plead for his discretion.
That evening was just awful. All I could think about was what would happen if he told Peter. How would Peter react? Would the family break up? Who would get custody of the children if I was the guilty party in the break up? My mind went round and round and I became almost physically sick with worry. How could I have been so reckless? I phoned Joe and told him it was all off.
After a restless night I knew I needed to speak to David and hoped he would be dropping off his son at the school. He was there and I made a beeline for him when the kids went into school and said we needed to talk. “I’m all ears,” he said.
“If you tell Peter it could ruin my marriage and split up the family. It will devastate my kids. You can’t tell Peter, I love him so much. Please. You just can’t. You’d be ruining our lives.”
“You make it sound like it will all be my fault. You need to look at yourself, Emma.”
This wasn’t going well. I was struggling not to break down and cry. “I beg you. I beg you, don’t tell Peter. I’ve ended it with Joe. I’m pleading. I’m begging, don’t tell Peter. I don’t know what else to say.”
It was then that I noticed the expression on David’s face. His expression barely changed but he looked into my eyes as if he was trying to see inside me and read my thoughts. There was the tiniest hint of mischief in his look. He looked into my eyes for ages and I could see just a hint of a smile around his eyes. Then he looked down at my body.
“Oh my God no. You want to fuck me.” I spun around so he couldn’t keep looking at me. I needed a moment to think. My head was spinning. “How do I know that will be the end of it? Promise me you’ll never tell Peter if I... if we ...”
“Emma, stop panicking, I don’t want to ruin your marriage. I haven’t asked you for anything. If I did, I’d be asking for more, but I didn’t. What appears to be happening here is you’re offering me bribes for my silence. Let’s talk again when we pick up the kids this afternoon.” Then he changed his tone and said firmly, as if he was issuing an order, “get here 15 minutes early so we can talk before the other parents get here.”
So all day I stewed. What was he going to do? He said he didn’t want to ruin my marriage, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t. He said he’d ask me for more. More than a fuck? What more did he want? Money? We were both reasonably affluent. Peter earned very good money but David had his own I.T. business and was rolling in it. It was unlikely to be money, but what more did he want? More fucks? How many? And so these thoughts, or variations on them, swirled around my head all day. And of course the image of having sex with David entered my mind, and once there it was hard to shift. He was ok looking and clearly worked out as well as playing tennis. It could be worse.
I got to the school a good 20 minutes early and was exhausted. I’d never felt so tired. I was mentally exhausted. I just wanted this to end. I needed to come out the other side. I needed to do whatever it takes to come out the other side and to save my marriage. David arrived a couple of minutes later.
“David, I’m sick with worry. What do you want? I’ll do anything for this to be over.”
“Wow, I thought we’d have to talk for much longer before you said those words, but you’ve just blurted them straight out. You’ll do anything, eh. Look Emma, don’t fret. I really don’t want to ruin Peter’s marriage or your kids’ happy home life. I won’t tell him. There, I’ve said it. You’re secret’s safe with me.”
I burst into tears with relief and started to say ‘thank you’ but he cut me off.
“I can see how much this means to you and I’ve noted what you offered me. I haven’t asked for anything, have I Emma?”
“No, but…” He cut me off again. He was talking calmly, almost quietly, but with a sureness that was the polar opposite of my uncomposed desperation.
“Let’s recap, Emma. You’ve had an affair and by so doing risked your marriage and family life. I’ve found out and have the power to potentially destroy your relationship with the people that are most precious to you. But I’ve said I won’t do that, because I see that that would make a bad situation even worse. You have no right to expect me to spare you, but I am. I’m sure you’re extremely relieved and very, very grateful. Now I reckon natural justice says that you are in my debt. I expect you’re trying to think how you can thank me for my generosity and compassion. Generosity and compassion that you have not earned, just the opposite. Is that what you’re thinking Emma, how can I possibly repay him for his amazing generosity? Is it, Emma?”
“David, please stop playing games. What is it you want from me? I sense you know exactly, just tell me.”
“I’m not going to require anything, Emma. That would be blackmail? At the moment I’m on the moral high ground and you are right at the bottom. Now if you offer me something, I might be happy to accept. You’ve already offered me a fuck and ‘anything’ so I know you have no qualms about offering me sexual services. So if I said that one of my fantasies is to dominate a submissive woman for an hour or two it might help you decide what you could offer me, if you felt you wanted to thank me.”
“I’m not even sure I know what that really means. And if I don’t do it?”
“If you don’t want to thank me, then that’s that. I’m not requiring anything, I’m just helping you decide how to thank me, if you want to. If you don’t, just think how you’ll feel when you walk away and start enjoying your happy home life. Will you feel it’s all over? Or will there be nagging doubts that it’s not all over, that there hasn’t been full closure?”
“Tell me more about what you want, this domination/submissive thing. Are we talking whips and handcuffs? Are you after your own little Fifty Shades of Grey?”
“I’ve never seen or read it, but I suspect it’d be nothing like that. No whips, no handcuffs, no bondage, no pain, no marks. Just me telling you to do things and you willingly doing them. It would be sexual and taking off your clothes would certainly be part of it. Look, you’re in no state to make decisions now. Think about it. Think about closure. Let’s bump into each other at Café Nero tomorrow at 10 a.m. and you can tell me whether you’d like to offer me a thank you present.”
The conversation went around and around my head all evening. Part of my brain was thinking I must make a decision before 10 a.m. tomorrow, another part of my brain knew the decision all along. One word kept echoing around inside my head. Closure. Would I ever feel it was over, would I ever feel truly safe if I didn’t do what he wanted. He had all the power. Sure, he’d said clearly he wouldn’t tell Peter, but could I be confident that would always be the case. I had to admire the way he played his hand. He’d been almost gentlemanly. He’d shown kindness and understanding. He’d let me off. He’d even put the ball in my court and said it was my decision if I wanted this domination/submissive thing. And using that word ‘closure’, that was masterful. He didn’t say it, but the implication was that if I didn’t offer my services there wouldn’t be closure. And what does that mean? I don’t know and he knows I don’t know. He’d made no threats, just the opposite, but gave me enough information that I’d be bound to conclude there would be ongoing uncertainty without closure. Clever. I made my decision and decided to sleep on it. I felt better as I lay in bed that night than I’d felt for the last couple of days. An end was in sight and my marriage was safe.
Café Nero was mercifully quiet and it was easy to find a table in the back corner not too close to other customers. I got a skinny latte and waited. I was nervous and disappointed that I’d got myself into this position. Despite David saying it was my decision I was disappointed that I’d lost control. It didn’t feel as if it was my decision.
When he arrived he made out it was a coincidence bumping into me. “Hi Emma, are you on your own, may I join you?” He sat down and at first there was a stand-off, both waiting for the other to speak first. Eventually he smiled warmly at me and simply said “Well?”
“I want to know more about what you want, David.”
“I will only clarify what I’ve said before. If you want to thank me, you could invite me to your place and volunteer to do whatever I say, including being naked. Let’s say about a couple of hours or so. We’d do it when Peter is out of the country and the children are at school. There'd be no bondage or whips or pain, with the exception of a little light spanking maybe. I realise we mustn’t leave marks for Peter to see. But the important thing is you do whatever I say, without question, negotiation and definitely not hesitation. You might even like it, I have no idea how submissive you are.”
“So I’d be your sex slave. I suppose this includes fucking?”
“Slave is a bit dramatic, Emma, especially as it’s voluntary, but I guess it covers it. And yes I imagine there would be fucking. I need an answer, or rather an invitation. But it’s essential that you’re willing to submit. If I forced you to do things that would be abusive. That wouldn’t be nice. If we do this, you will be willingly submitting to me. You have the option of walking away. Remember, it’s your decision.”
“We both know it’s not really my decision, so ok.” David just looked at me with an expression that said that wasn’t what he needed to hear. “Ok, ok, please can I be your sex slave. I will willingly submit to you for a couple of hours.” We both took sips of our drinks while we worked out what to say next.
“We need to discuss when we do this and I’m thinking the sooner the better” I said. I wanted to get it over with. “Peter’s away Monday and Tuesday next week.”
“Thank you Emma, I’m thrilled. You’re an attractive woman and I feel very privileged. I’ll see you at 10 on Monday morning. If anyone sees me arriving or leaving we can say I’m exploring using your accountancy skills to set up accounts for a new branch of my business I’m planning.” David smiled as he got up from his chair and said in a genuinely friendly tone “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, I’ll help you through this.”
He may have manipulated me to agree to some kinky sex but at least he’d behaved in a civilised way. Sure he’d played me very successfully but it could have been a lot worse. He could have spilled the beans to Peter or he could have been seedy, even downright nasty in his attitude towards me and demanded who knows what. Somehow, this didn’t feel as bad even though I would clearly be having sex with him. I had very mixed feelings but the main emotion was relief. An end was in sight. There would be closure.
My sex life with Peter was pretty vanilla so I wasn’t sure what to expect on Monday morning with David. I looked up domination and submission on the internet but most links led to BDSM sites that seemed to major on bondage, whips and the like which David had specifically said would not be involved. I’d just have to wait and see and hope for the best. I was pissed at having to do this, pissed with myself for getting into this position and pissed with David for taking advantage of the situation. I was also apprehensive, very apprehensive, but couldn’t help wondering whether I’d get any enjoyment from the session. Some women did this for pleasure so it couldn’t be that bad. No way was I going to become enthusiastic, but perhaps I could role play. I had no idea whether I’d be turned on or off by what was to come.
David left for the airport at 6 a.m. on Monday morning, and though I knew what was coming later I blanked it out as I got the children ready for school. After I dropped them off, I returned home and started to get anxious. What should I wear? Choosing what to wear wasn’t as straightforward as a normal Monday morning. I wasn’t going to dress up for him, so jeans and a plain top were easy choices, but my underwear gave me more pause for thought. Putting on my sexy lingerie might send the wrong message but equally I didn’t want to look dowdy. I chose a pretty black lacy bra with very little plunge that revealed little of my breasts and matching black lacy hipster briefs that covered most of my butt cheeks. I almost hated myself for doing it, but at the last minute I rushed upstairs and trimmed and tidied up my Brazilian.
Bang on 10 a.m. the doorbell rang and I quickly let David in to minimise the chances of him being spotted by a neighbour. He was also in jeans with a white shirt and black jacket. He smiled warmly at me and asked if I was still happy to do this.
“David, you know I must. I’m very apprehensive and focussing on just getting through it, whatever ‘it’ is.”
“OK. There’s just one rule. You do whatever I say.”
“And do I have to call you Master or Sir?”
“Ah, I sense someone’s been researching domination and submission. Excellent. Yes, that would work for me, you can call me Master. Now, I assume we’ll be in the back room. I’ll go and make myself comfortable and you can make me a cup of coffee and bring it to me.” I’d assumed we’d be in the bedroom. Perhaps later.
I fetched the coffees and noticed David had shed his jacket and was sitting on the sofa. “Oh, I see you’ve brought two coffees. Well, that’s fine, but you’ll be standing. Put yours on the mantelpiece for now and fetch me that small table for my coffee, then stand in the middle of the room facing me. I see you’ve got a very robust larger coffee table too. That could come in useful later.”
He sat back, with his arms outstretched along the back of the sofa as if he owned the place. I took up my position in the middle of the room, and felt his eyes surfing my body. He was smiling contentedly and I was feeling self-conscious, even before he asked me to strip, which I guessed was coming soon. Because I felt so self-conscious I started to say something but David cut me off .
“I’ll do the talking, Emma. You only talk when I ask you questions or invite you to. What we’re going to do is explore your body. You’re going to tell me about it and gradually reveal it. I’ll lead you through the process. Firstly, you can lose the top, but only that.”
The top came over my head and I threw it onto a chair. I was pleased I wore a full bra, even though I imagined it would only be seconds before it was gone too.
“Now, tell me about your breasts. Their size, their shape, describe them. Would you improve them if you could and if so how. I want you to keep talking about them until I tell you to stop.”
I just stood there and started to feel my face flushing. “You need to start talking, Emma. Remember you must do whatever I say.”
“Well,... Well, they’re 34D. They’re natural and they droop more now than they did 15 years ago, but I wouldn’t want surgery on them. I like them and ...” I was going to say Peter liked them but didn’t want even his name in the room.
“Would they pass the pencil test and tell me about the nipples and areola?”
“David, this is embarrassing, can’t I just strip for you?”
“Now Emma, you spoke, that’s disappointing. You know you have to do whatever I say and that you should be calling me Master, not David. You have to be submissive, that’s what you said you’d be. It’s not difficult, you just do whatever I say. Now, after you’ve apologised, tell me about the pencil test, nipples and areola.”
I guess I must start role playing. “Yes Master, sorry Master. I haven’t done the pencil test but I’m sure I’d fail. The nipples are... well... normal, I don’t know what else to say. They can be sensitive and the areola are perhaps darker and larger than average.”
“What marks out of 10 would you give them, if five is average? And justify your rating.”
By now I was bright red. Standing in front of him with only a bra on my top half and talking about my breasts was making me feel awkward and self-conscious. Embarrassing me is obviously part of his plan. And I’m embarrassed about getting embarrassed and flushing like a meek teenage school girl. I gathered myself. “Maybe six out of ten. They’re a good size but not too big. I’ve always thought they were my best asset, a big part of my attractiveness.”
“Well, let’s see them and I’ll be the judge. Take off the bra.”
It was almost a relief to not have to think what to say. But as I threw the bra onto the chair with my top, I suddenly felt awkward. It wasn’t just the semi-nakedness, it was that I didn’t know what to do with my arms. Part of me instinctively wanted to cover my breasts with my arms and part of me knew David wouldn’t want that. Instinct took over, I put my right arm across my naked breasts.
“Oh how cute. You’re shy. Fold your arms behind your back and stand up straight, shoulders back, that’ll show them off nicely.” I did as I was told. He smiled, took a sip of coffee without taking his eyes off my breasts and sat back.
“Wow, you’re too modest. Look at those little beauties. Not so little, as you rightly say. They’re gorgeous. At least an eight, maybe nine out of ten. They’re certainly a great asset, but your best? We’ll have to wait and see what the rest looks like.”
He got up, walked over and stood in front of me looking from my breasts to my face, over and over. He gently tucked my shoulder length hair behind my ears. This act seemed symbolic. With my arms folded unnaturally behind my back I felt powerless. Then he brushed the back of his right index finger ever so lightly down the side of my right breast, then underneath and up the inside. Then he did the same around my areola, not touching the nipple, which was getting harder by the second.
“Wonderful, truly wonderful. All breasts are sexy, no matter what size or shape, but these are truly special.” His touch was so light it almost made me swoon. Here I was with a man, no more than an acquaintance, standing right in front of me admiring my naked breasts, making me feel as if they were really special. Normally in this situation I would reach out to the man so the touching was mutual. Normally sex was a shared experience. But here I felt like his plaything. He was enjoying my body, I was simply on display, the object of his pleasure. I felt totally at his mercy. He repeated the finger brushing on my left breast and areola, looked me in the eye, smiled warmly and returned to the sofa. I was disappointed he went back to the sofa. I realised I wanted him to hold my breasts with his hand, not just brush them lightly with a finger. The finger brushing was good, but as a prelude. My mind was all over the place. I was embarrassed but I was also feeling increasingly sexy. I’d wondered if I might get aroused but hadn’t expected it so soon.
He sat down again and looked at me, still standing topless with my arms folded behind my back.
Eventually he spoke, “Now it’s time to lose the jeans. And whatever’s on your feet.”
I removed my footwear and undid the button and zip of my jeans. I started to slide them down my thighs, becoming self-conscious as my breasts hung down and jiggled as I bent forward. I threw the jeans on the chair and stood up, taking the opportunity to adjust my briefs, knowing that his interest was about to focus there. As I straightened up I didn’t know whether I was supposed to fold my arms behind my back. I left them at my side.
David sensed my hesitation. “The trouble with your arms at your side is they hide the curves of your hips. Put them behind you, but you needn’t fold them if that’s uncomfortable.”
I stood as instructed, now wearing only my briefs, while David studied my legs and hips and then his gaze rested on my crotch. He stared there completely unabashed. I should feel violated and I suppose I did a bit, but the stronger emotion was arousal. Can you hate something and like it as well? My head was unhappy but my body seemed up for a bit of fun.
“Turn around.” I did so. I could feel his gaze on my bottom and was very conscious that it wasn’t as pert and small as it used to be. I could feel my face was still flushed. “Lovely, turn back and come closer. Stand right in front of me, close enough to touch.”
I stopped about two feet from him but he opened his knees and said simply “closer.” I shuffled forward and stopped. He reached up and gently squeezed my breasts, rubbing his thumbs across my ever hardening nipples. Then he stared at my still covered pussy and down my thighs. He put his hands on the outside of my thighs and rubbed them very gently, rubbing from a few inches above my knees to a few inches short of my briefs. Then he slowly - he was doing everything slowly – slid his hands around my hips towards my bottom and slipped his fingers under the bottom of my briefs. He spread his hands over my buttocks and moved his hands up to cup each buttock. Then he slid his hands down so only his fingers, but not his palms, were on my butt cheeks. He had about one knuckle under my briefs. He then slid his fingers around my hips, keeping his fingers under the bottom edge of my briefs. He reached the front of my thighs and stopped. He was about three inches from the outer edge of my pussy, on each side. He then edged another inch closer and stopped. Then another inch. This was driving me crazy. I was so aroused. I just wanted him to pull my briefs down and start touching my pussy.
David withdrew his fingers and told me to turn around. I did so and he hooked his fingers in the tops of my briefs on either side and started pulling them down, slowly of course, over my buttocks. He stopped with them half way down my thighs, sat back and just stared at my naked bottom. “You’ve got some lovely curves Emma.” Then he lent forward and continued pulling down my briefs, down my thighs, over my knees, down my shins and cooperatively I stepped out of them.
“Turn around, I want to see you full frontal.” As I turned around to face him, he was looking at my face. I was standing right in front of him, totally naked with my pussy no more than two or three feet from his face, but he held his gaze on my face for about 10 long seconds as if he was savouring my embarrassment. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks while he stared at my face. Then he looked down and stared at my pussy. Still staring there, he sat forward so his face was no more than six inches away from my pussy. I could feel his warm breath on my skin.
“Gorgeous” was all he said as he sat back on the sofa. “Now, turn around and spread your feet apart a couple of feet” and as I did that he added “and bend over with your hands on your shins just above your ankles.” I was already naked but he was finding ways of making me feel even more naked. Even more exposed. As my hands slipped down my shins I could feel my butt cheeks tightening and spreading slightly. I could only imagine the view he was getting.
“Well, that’s nice,” he said, still sitting back on the sofa. “Not just the view, which is spectacular, but the moisture glistening. I’m so glad you’re not finding this too awful.” I’m glad he couldn’t see my face which felt redder than it had ever been. I felt hot in both senses of the word.
He placed his hands on the cheeks of my bottom and said “Now I could just grip gently and pull these lovely cheeks apart to improve the view, but I’ve got a better idea.” He let that thought hang in the air for a moment. “Why don’t you do that for me. Staying bent over, with your 34D breasts dangling, reach behind and spread your arse cheeks.”
I was about to protest but I barely got the first two words out before David cut me off and said “I think what you want to say is ‘Yes Master, I’d be pleased to do that because I agreed to be submissive and do whatever you said and because if I get through this I’d feel content that I had closure on the whole affair.’ Besides, I can see you’re at least partly enjoying this experience so why don’t you just relax, let me do all the thinking and you just follow orders and find out what it feels like to be totally submissive.” His tone wasn’t angry, it was gentle, as if he was trying to help me. My mind was spinning and I decided to just do as I was told. I needed the easiest path to the end.
I reached behind and spread my arse cheeks, as he called them. “Wider” he said, as if testing me. I complied. He said nothing for a while, presumably just admiring the view. “This is so damn sexy, Emma. To have a woman strip naked, bend over and spread herself, all for my pleasure.” He started tracing his finger along the gap between my pussy lips, which was revealingly moist and then slowly inserted one, then two fingers deep inside. He wiggled them around as if exploring, touching all the sides. He then withdrew them and started applying the moisture from his extricated fingers to my arsehole.
“Oh God no, must we David? I mean Master.”
“We both know that I can do whatever I like, but I don’t want you fretting Emma, I shan’t fuck you in the arse. Well, not unless you really want me too but I’m genuinely not expecting that. I will be inserting my finger though.” As he was talking he slipped his fingers back inside my pussy and then spread more moisture around my arsehole. “Doing that will emphasise my domination over you. I imagine you will feel I’m invading your most private part. It will emphasise your submission. Now in a few seconds I’ll be going in. You concentrate on how submissive it makes you feel.” Then he applied a little pressure to my asshole and slipped his finger in, slowly getting deeper until it must have passed the second knuckle.
“Tell me how that feels, Emma. To stand in front of me, naked, bent over with your butt in my face, willingly pulling aside your arse cheeks so I can see your most private parts and penetrate them with my fingers. How does that feel, Emma?”
“It feels strange, Master.”
“Not good enough Emma. Tell me about your emotions. What does it feel like to be so very, very, submissive? To give up all control over your body. To parade yourself naked for me. To expose your pussy and arse for me. We’re going to stay in this position, with my finger in your arse, until I get a full and respectful answer. You’re an intelligent woman, let’s hear some of that intelligence describe how you feel.”
I paused to gather my thoughts but David interrupted them “Think aloud Emma, spill out your thoughts, I don’t want a prepared speech.”
“I feel violated, Master. I feel vulnerable and humiliated. But I can understand why some women like to be submissive. It’s strangely liberating to have no decisions to make and be told what to do. The focus on the sexual parts of my body is humiliating but also arousing. You’re forcing me to think about sex and that’s arousing, especially as I’m naked in front of a man I barely know.”
“Excellent Emma,” he said as he withdrew his finger and asked me to stand up and turn around. “It’s so nice to know that you’re getting into being submissive, understanding it, appreciating it. Excellent. Now while I go and wash my hands you can lose this little coffee table and slide the much bigger more robust coffee table over to the settee, placing it at right angles to the settee and about 18 inches away. Then stand alongside it with your hands behind your head and wait for my return.”
When he returned he came up to me, smiled, fondled my breasts, walked behind me and fondled my buttocks. “This is the best Monday morning I’ve ever had. Now Emma, get onto the coffee table on all fours with your knees slightly apart and your head facing the sofa.” I did so and he walked all around studying me from different angles.
“Arch your back more, Emma. That’s better. More curves to enjoy but best of all it sets off your hips and bottom to best effect. It makes you look even sexier. He cupped my hanging breasts and fondled them. He stroked my buttocks and gave them a few playful slaps. He sat down on the sofa right in front of me with his face on a level with mine. There was a prominent bulge in his trousers.
He stared at my face and again tidied my hair behind my ears. “There’s nothing sexier than a naked woman’s face.” He gently stroked my cheek. “Keep looking at me, Emma, at my face. Somehow, when I look into your eyes, as I am now, they seem even more attractive when I know your naked breasts are hanging down and your naked pussy and arse are on display.” He stroked my bottom lip and then asked me to open my mouth. He asked me to stick my tongue out and just sat back and looked at me. He slipped two fingers into my mouth and asked me to suck them and lick them.
“I know what you’re thinking, Emma. I am too. I don’t know whether to or not. I’d really like to but I know some women don’t like giving blow jobs and if that’s the case with you, I don’t like to.” I couldn’t tell him my views on this as I was busy sucking and licking his two fingers that he was slowly moving in and out of my mouth. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll resist for now and maybe I’ll give you a choice. You won’t be surprised to hear that I’m feeling as horny as hell, so I will want to cum. So when we’re nearing the end I’ll give you a choice. You can blow me or let me fuck you.”
“Well,” I thought, “isn’t he all heart? Am I supposed to be impressed with his kindness? But I must be ready to make the decision. I could get through this without being unfaithful a second time, or at least without fucking a second man outside my marriage. But I really didn’t fancy finishing him off in my mouth.” His fingers pushed even deeper in my mouth and concentrating on avoiding gagging put an end to my deliberations.
He sat back and looked at my face and then down to my hanging breasts, which he cupped and fondled. “Now, there’s still a part of your body I would like a closer look at. Come and sit on the end of the table right in front of me.” I was glad to get the weight off my knees. I took up my new position, sitting down prudishly, if you can be prudish while naked, with my legs closed.
“Now lie back, with your knees in the air.” I did so, having an awful feeling I knew where this was going.
“Now, with your knees bent, put your feet up in the air and with your arms inside your legs reach up and use each hand to grasp the bottom of your feet.” This had the effect of pushing my knees wide apart and down. My thighs were close to horizontal and forced wide apart by my arms. My pussy and arsehole were back on show. David got up and placed a cushion under my head to lift it up, so I was looking along my body and straight at him on the sofa. “I want to be able to see that lovely face. In fact I can now see your face, breasts, pussy, buttocks and arsehole. What more could a man want.” I thought the last position, bending over with my buttocks spread was bad enough, but he’s still found a way to make me feel even more naked and exposed.
David sat forward and put his hands on each of my buttocks and slowly and lightly slid them up and along my thighs. He continued gently rubbing, edging to the inside of my thighs as he added “And not forgetting your thighs. The inside of a woman’s thighs are much underrated. They’re so beautifully soft and smooth and, I’m led to believe, sensitive.” His hands stopped near my knees so his face was directly above my exposed pussy. “And this is my favourite bit,” he said as he started to slide his hands back down my thighs, “they get warmer as we get nearer the prize. He stopped a fraction of an inch from my outer pussy lips and then stared at my face, looking me straight in the eye. He smiled, not a smirk but a warm, contented smile. The cat that had the cream.
He spent a few moments gently rubbing the inside of my thighs, always rubbing from my knees towards my pussy, stopping just an inch from my outer lips. Eventually he traced his index fingers down the sides of my outer lips a few times and then a few times up and down the lips themselves, moving infuriatingly slowly inwards. Then he gently forced his fingers between the lips and as he rubbed up and down he eased them apart. Embarrassingly, there was moisture to lubricate his gentle rubbing. This should be humiliating but I was getting used to being naked in front of David and my thoughts were more and more about how aroused I was. How sexy I felt, watching him staring at my exposed pussy. He might be giving all the orders, but it was my body that was the star of the show. I felt so sexy.
“That must be getting uncomfortable, you can let go with your hands but keep your knees back and wide apart. That’s good. Now, hold yourself open, I want to see your clitoris.” And still he finds ways to make me feel even more naked and exposed. I did as he said and he leaned in, had a good long look, leaned in further and kissed my clit. The first time was just a soft touch with his lips. The second time his mouth was open wider and a little licking was involved. The third time there was lots of licking and gentle friction with his lips.
Then he reverted to finger fun. He rubbed his finger up and down my clitoral shaft and then ran his finger all over my exposed red flesh, soaking it in my wetness which he then transferred to my arsehole. “Now I want you to masturbate and I want you to keep me informed about your level of arousal, where level 1 is not aroused at all, level 9 is extremely aroused, on the verge of coming but still stoppable and level 10 is past the point of no return. You will announce it like this and also ask for permission to continue: ‘Master, I’m at level 6, please may I continue.’ Clear?”
“What level of arousal?”
“Sorry Master, I’m already about a four or five. Please may I continue?”
Then he inserted a finger into my bottom and worked it slowly in and out and around in circles as if to widen my hole. It felt strange but having something inside me seemed to enhance my arousal.
“I’m at level 6 Master, please may I continue?”
“You may. Play with your breasts too.”
He watched in detail what I was doing with my fingers and how I was playing with my breasts. “I wonder how it feels to know I could tell you to stop at any moment. That I control your ability to orgasm. Is that a turn on or a turn off?”
“I’m at level 7 Master, fast approaching 8 or maybe 9. Please don’t make me stop. Please may I continue?”
“No, it’s time to make your choice. Fuck or blow job?”
The bastard. He’s got me worked up almost to the point of no return and then asks. I said “Fuck.”
“I assume you mean ‘I’d like you to fuck me please, Master.’ Right, transfer to the carpet, on your knees, spread apart, with your head down on the carpet and your bottom as high as it will go. Your hands will be free so you can continue to masturbate, but don’t cum. I took up the position and started playing with myself again and David stood to my side taking off everything below the waist and putting on a condom. He was fully erect.
Then he went behind me, knelt down and entered me. He pushed in slowly savouring the act of penetration, pushing as deep as he possibly could, so deep his balls were touching my fingers rubbing around my clit. Then he started pumping rhythmically in and out, slowly at first but gradually increasing the tempo.
“Level 9 Master, please may I continue?”
“If you like Emma, you can choose, but you’ll need to be quick.” He was pumping hard now, pushing into me hard on the inward stroke causing me to brace to avoid being pushed forward.”
And then... well… I guess you can imagine the climax to the story. Let’s just say it was intense and I was so aroused I didn’t realise my face was pressed so hard into the carpet that my cheek was dimpled and imprinted with the pattern of the carpet pile.
“You were a good sub” said David as we sipped coffee at the kitchen table afterwards. After both collapsing onto the floor I’d asked David if I could fetch tissues and he’d told me the session was over and I could do as I please.
“You have to tell me it’s all over, David. That I have full closure, as you so cleverly put it.”
“Only you can say whether you feel you’ve thanked me enough, but yes, Emma, I think you have. I said one session and that was it. You did all I asked. You were a great sub. I give you my word that your secret is safe with me.”
Crucially, I believed him.
As he put his jacket on and was stepping towards the front door, he turned and said with a mischievous smile “Of course, if you wanted another session ...”