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Playing Chauffer 6: Meeting The Barbarian

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2018 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; M/mf; cuckold; key; chast; date; hotel; room; strip; force; bond; belt; breast; sex; climax; cons; X

(story continues from )

Part 6: Meeting The Barbarian

"No, not at all" I answered, the irony of having both my self enslaved husband's manhood and a key that unlocked it forever sealed in a transparent glass like material not lost on me in the slightest.

...I was now convinced that there was most certainly a second key hidden about someplace anyway, my husband Jack failing his own trust test miserably because of it's hidden existence, and THAT I had decided would be his last mistake with me. One way or the other that key would be found, I told myself while suppressing my rage at the depth of his deception, and then this faux play chastity game of his would become something very real, and then the clock on his enforced servitude would start for real from that date of discovery...

"What kind of lockets can I choose from?" I asked reasonably, my seething mind already going in a certain direction though as I tried to hide my emotions.

"Hearts with a tiny date inscription are the most popular, but we can literally make anything you choose" the woman informed me. "Our jewelers ARE master craftsmen, and if you and I together can sketch it in my notebook, they can create it" she further boasted.

I'm no artist, but my rough sketch was clear enough to make my intentions known, I breaking through the woman's reserved persona enough for her to confide in me that my wishes for my locket were a first for her, but her woman to woman smile told me she liked it...

With my bare anklet back on my ankle announcing to the world that I was both married, and available, (although exclusively to the man holding my hand) we left the jewelers with them in possession of the key they were to encase in lead crystal and went about a grand tour of the city. We walked block after block and I cooled my temper and did my best to forgot about everything except the man I was in the company of, my worries and conscience left behind at the jewelers where they belonged. Jim was leading, and I was most certainly following, it felt the most natural thing in the world and I just enjoyed the day with him.

Jim was all smiles, this outing being very good for him as well. At the same time our chemistry just about perfect, and there was no hiding the fact that he liked being seen with me on his arm, like I were a trophy he had just competed for and won, although to be sure it had been a one sided competition from my point of view. Our walk uptown brought us further and further from our hotel though, a museum, then a gallery, then a late lunch at a very nice restaurant. We were seated at Jim's insistence in back quite privately, and both the mood and lighting were intimate.

"My feet are killing me in these heels" I confessed, I feeling guilty though because I knew Jim liked the way my legs looked in them, and such might seem a complaint about our romantic city walking date which I loved. It felt like I could tell him anything though, although I didn't know what I expected him to do about it.

I passed my leg to him under the table when he asked me to, although I didn't know what he had in mind, grateful for the long tablecloth and scant lighting so as not to flash any extra flesh to those who might notice my short skirt and extended leg. Jim then slipped my heel off and started to massage my foot, he hitting all the spots as I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head and I suppressed a moan of satisfaction.

"Sit on your hands and don't move them he commanded" his tone one of playful authority.

I did as he ordered, curious to see where this was going, but also because he had stopped massaging my sore foot until I did in a clearly implied quid pro quo.

The move forced my chest out lewdly and strained the delicate buttons of my expensive blouse, but nobody was about to notice, and his strong hands had felt just wonderful...

Jim then continued and I found myself tingling, if not an orgasm building in my body it was something strikingly close, I making no effort to hide what he was skillfully doing for me. This man was the obvious physical master of something even as simple as a human female foot, and I found myself wondering if there were a thing he could do that I wouldn't just love.

"Do you know what a safe word is?" Jim asked conversationally, he could have just as easily asked about the weather in the same tone, and if someone were eavesdropping it would have sounded the same.

"No." I answered, that truthful revelation slipping from my lips before my mind even thought about it, any conversation, any action at all with this man as natural as breathing to me.

"If I were ever to ask you to do something you really didn't want to, like allowing me to massage your pretty little foot in a restaurant for instance, you would use this special word between us to tell me to stop."

"I love what your doing though, why would I want you to stop, and for that matter what's wrong with 'stop'?" I asked with a smile in that same neutral tone he had adapted for this unusually intimate conversation, our mutual tones and the randy subject of our discussion obviously not in sync with each other. 

I did notice that Jim's hands had stopped rubbing the moment I had said the word "stop", and as if proving his point I didn't really want him to stop what he was doing.

"I'm the barbarian, remember, sometimes 'stop' gets lost when the passion is extreme, or certain limits are approached, you'll just have to trust me on this one."

"I trust you completely."

"I know you do, its what makes this possible. I am obligated to make sure all three of us get what we desire from this little adventure, that's my responsibility in all this."

"All three of us?" I asked, I feeling annoyed that my husband had been reintroduced vicariously into this intimate conversation between Jim and I. I wished to put my husband's deception out of my mind so that the rest of the time we had together was just as wonderful as it could be, thoughts of my husband's extra key and all it represented threatening to ruin my mood all together.  

"Yes. When you submit to another you forfeit a certain amount of control to that person, within certain defined parameters, but along with that you also forfeit your accountability for any actions during that time. It can be very liberating to give away those responsibilities to another for those with a submissive mindset. From a certain point of view, our chauffeur is self enslaved so that he can be free, although I know that sounds counter intuitive."  

"...Does our chauffeur have a safe word of his own then?" I quipped, thinking I were making a joke.

"...Yes, but I can't tell you what it is, that's between he and I." 

I just stared at Jim dumbfounded by this revelation. I assumed the understanding both men had was one of intimidation, or coercion, or shared kink, or even some better man guy code thing. Instead, my self enslaved husband apparently had an out should he wish to use it if Jim were telling the truth. I trusted Jim, but this changed everything, or did it in the big scheme of things?

...One could logically conclude we had apparently both individually submitted to Jim, one could say unconditionally, but even that wasn't strictly true. There was but a single condition, a word, or phrase, that would stop everything, every other complaint, or even outright physical resistance was to be ignored as just part of the game. My husband's apparent hiding of the extra key was therefore also part of that game then, as would be my efforts to recover that key less he loose his kink one too many times and wish to use his special word with Jim to end it. I had already decided that I didn't want this game to ever end, and I was willing to use just about any means within my grasp to ensure it never did. It was Machiavellian, but also just from my point of view.

Did that make me an aggressive submissive, or just self placed one rung higher than my fully submissive husband on the very bottom of the proverbial ladder? My husband would do what I told him because of our contract, and the kink he was getting from the situation that was a mystery to me if one thought about it rationally for a moment or two. That kink at some point would likely end with or without the second key, but to balance this Jim apparently, (by some means) OWNED my husband, and if I were to believe what I had witnessed with my own eyes, he liked being owned. It was more that that though, he got off on serving us, on being owned, if he wasn't allowed to physically to get off... and they say women are complicated. 

I had a contract of servitude with my husband for an entire year, (with a possible extension), but he and Jim had a simple word, or words between them to unbind him from this kinky game of ours if he were being truthful, as would I with Jim once I gave into his request, which I knew I must, I left to wonder which were the more powerful of the two commitments...

"Please keep doing what you were doing... everything your doing, your point was well taken."

Jim continued and once again it felt wonderful, I soon to be released from the daily solo duty of providing for my enslaved husband's control if I were reading things correctly. Such servitude to myself would seem like the ultimate gift for those who haven't tried it themselves, but keeping a chaste servant busy with chores and sexual innuendo is really a chore all on it's own, most especially for one like myself to whom command doesn't come naturally.

"What kind of word?" I asked after several minutes with both of my sore feet now getting Jim's much needed attention.

"It can be anything" Jim advised, "but I'll choose something that won't likely come up in the heat of the moment, nor in casual conversation."

"What vegetable do you truly despise?" Jim asked after a seconds thought.

"Zucchini, I can't stand the smell, the texture, nor the taste" I replied in obedient fashion.

"Three syllables, tough to enunciate with a... well we'll get to that later, lets go with that one for now."

"What now?" I asked, my smile I think communicating rather clearly what I had in mind, last night just too wonderful to not want to try again. In all fairness it felt as if the first time in my life that I had been properly made love to, and I was unashamedly hungry for more of the same.

Jim smiled in return, my lust for this man causing me to fall in love with him despite the peril involved.


What was a long walk up town ended up being a very short and surreal cab ride to our hotel, we making out in the back of the cab like oversexed teenagers with absent chaperones on prom night. We kept our cool in the hotel lobby, but the second the elevator door had closed Jim had my arms pinned behind my back in one of his large hands as his large body pinned me to the wall of the moving car as we kissed passionately. My heels left the floor his move was so rough, I feeling like little more than a toy to be used as Jim willed. I at the same time wanted him so badly that he could have taken me right there in the moving elevator, but he apparently had other plans, my bodies needs and desires apparently secondary to his own this time.

When the elevator door opened we somehow got into the room, Jim's hand still trapping my tiny wrists behind my back though in a clear message of total control and dominance. It never occurred to me to use my special word with Jim though to tell him to stop because I didn't want him to. He then snapped his belt from his trousers one handed and efficiently bound my wrists behind my back in a move so skillful it must have been well practiced, but to be fair I fully cooperated with the move. Still my special word stayed where it belonged, my lust for this man and his expert control of me deliciously overwhelming. 

I was nothing more than an oversexed toy for his pleasure at that moment, a helpless but willing toy in one of the oddest dichotomies I have ever experienced. Still it appeared that my barbaric lover had miscalculated by binding my wrists together though, my expensive clothing obviously in the way of our mutual desires, but perhaps he was as overcome with lust as I (I had only thought later on). It was a magnificent feeling for myself to be able to drive such a man as this to the edge of passionate insanity, the "in control" and cool persona of our first lovemaking lost someplace on our city walking date. 

I struggled with my improvised bindings to test their resolve as I fought for balance as he held me like a captured prisoner, my helplessness exponentially multiplying my excitement and already something I knew I must experience again. He kicked his pants off and seated himself in an ordinary desk chair before hoisting me aloft effortlessly, he then placing my bound and helpless body down on his thighs while facing him, splaying my legs wide under my skirt. With one hand wrapped in my long hair from behind he held me on his lap firmly like a belligerent dog on a leash, I forced to look over his head by the move. 

Still my special word stayed where it belonged as my lust boiled.

He then grabbed the front of my blouse and tore the garment from my boiling body unapologetically as I heard the fragile buttons scatter about the room, the rush of cool air not doing a thing to cool me off though, quite the opposite in fact. My delicate camisole and bra were in his way and therefore next, the latter a front hook design and the clasp failing rather than the more sturdy straps, likely saving my boiling body some collateral damage from their destruction. Jim was then barbarically rough with my exposed breasts and erect buds, an unholy growl escaping my lips with his torments, but only a fool would have misunderstood those noises I were forced to make as anything but further encouragement. He then pulled me closer to him and his mouth continued where his rough hand had left off, his love bites right at the edge of the pain/pleasure threshold as my body spasmed with my fruitless struggles for a freedom I didn't need, nor want.

His free hand then reached into the waist band of my skirt, it fairing no better with his powerful onslaught than my blouse did, it's tattered expensive remains thrown across the room along with my scant panties also snagged in the move and torn from my helpless body. Jim then released my hair and used both of his hands on my waist to effortlessly hoist me from his lap, only to place his enormous manhood at the entrance to my gushing self, he then pulling me down onto him and thusly impaling me. The position wasn't perfect for either of us, but I orgasmed non the less before he had even completed the move.

Without even waiting for me to come down from my first big O of the afternoon Jim repositioned and scooped up my ankles in his right arm and pinned my feet to my butt while his left held my belly, I trapped between both as my heels dug into my tender flesh and he bounced me on his manhood like a toy more for his benefit than mine. All manner of unintelligible noises escaped my lips as I was literally taken on the ride of my life while mounted upon my handsome barbaric steed, but conspicuously absent was the name of my least favorite vegetable that would have ended what surely would have appeared to anybody watching as a brutal assault.

 Jim picked me almost all the way off of him time and again, only to slam me down on his muscular thighs repeatedly with a slap as I felt him take up every inch of me in girth as my body struggled with the intrusion, my womanhood clutching his invading organ naturally without any conscience control from me. I thought for a second or two that he might actually break me in half before he finished the deed, but then I felt him tense up and hold me deep as he unloaded inside of me for what felt like forever. The repeated throbs of his own orgasm and the resulting flood of seed caused a powerful second one of my own, my struggles against the belt binding my wrists behind my back reminding me of my helplessness and multiplying the experience for me.

...When my breathing eventually started to return to normal I became aware of the sweat I had worked up the passion was so intense, and then of Jim's stare as he wound down himself, his look of "what have I just done?" clear in his eyes.

A single word then escaped my lips between gasps as my body struggled for oxygen, but not the one I think my handsome barbarian had anticipated.


story continued in part seven

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