The Surrogate Master

by Ben Boswell

  “You can go change now,” he said dismissively.

  She nodded submissively.

  “And no underwear,” he added.

  She walked quickly out of the room, not making eye contact with me. I heard her going up the stairs and walking into the bedroom.

  “I said... are you okay?”

  I turned toward Tommy giving me a concerned look.

  I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “I warned you, right?”

  I nodded. “I just don’t see how this is going to help.”

  Before he could answer, we heard Rachel coming back down the stairs. She’d quickly changed into a sheer, black and white gingham pattern, Skater skirt, and a black silk blouse. The skirt ended an inch above her knee, flashing a hint of thigh as she walked. It was, it occurred to me, the skirt she’s been wearing when Jack had first insisted on seeing her panties. Her blouse was thin enough that her nipples jutted out prominently. Her face was still flushed and she kept her eyes averted from me.

  “Is this better?” she asked Tommy.

  He approached her and slid the back of his hand across her chest, trailing his fingertips over her nipples.

  “Much better,” he replied.

  He ran his hand up her neck and cupped her cheek. His thumb traced her lips. They locked eyes.

  “Here, put your hands on that table,” he said after a moment.

  She seemed puzzled for a moment, but he pushed her toward the kitchen table. She placed her palms on the surface. He pressed down on her lower back, making her slide her hands forward and bending her at the waist. She looked away from him, now staring straight ahead. She flinched slightly as he lifted up her skirt, exposing her bare bottom.

  “Mmmm, now this is a gorgeous ass,” he said admiringly as he cupped first one cheek than the other.

  He looked over at me and beckoned me over with a tilt of his head. I approached and stood beside him, watching him knead my wife’s butt.

  “Check the oil,” he said.

  I looked over at him. He gave me a quick encouraging nod. It felt weird approaching my wife, bent over a table, another man holding up her skirt to expose her naked ass. But everything had been weird since Rachel had first admitted her indiscretion.

  I reached out and ran my hand up her inner thigh. She shivered slightly at my touch, but didn’t object otherwise. Higher and higher I went, my fingertips trailing across her soft, warm skin. I could feel the heat, and then a surprising dampness on her thigh. When I reached her pussy I groaned in surprise. She was as wet as I’d ever felt her. My fingers slid easily between her slippery, puffy lips. She let out a soft sigh. Encouraged, I pressed my middle finger into her. She and I both gasped.

  I lifted my eyes from her bottom and saw that she was looking at me, over her shoulder. She was even more flush, her eyes glassy. I easily pressed a second finger into her. Her eyelids fluttered before again locking her gaze on mine. I slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her drenched snatch, relishing the feel of her, lost in the enjoyment of her obvious excitement.

  Tommy cleared his throat. I startled. I had almost forgotten about him being there. I looked over and he gave me a grin.

  “Told you she’d like it,” he said confidently.

  I withdrew my hand, and absentmindedly rubbed my fingers together.

  He released her skirt. She stood up and turned to face us, obviously a little shaky. She looked from Tommy to me and back again. She was obviously completely at our, well his, disposal. There was something unexplainably exciting about it. He’d primed her well, and then upon arrival immediately asserted his control. And now she was a different woman, not my usual sarcastic, skeptical, independent wife, but rather a submissive little slut, ready and willing to please at his command.

  The transformation was weird, disconcerting. It was like he’d hypnotized her somehow. And maybe he had, though I’d never heard of anyone doing such a thing via email. I still didn’t have a clue how this would help me, however. But there was no denying that Rachel was enjoying, at some deep and primal level, surrendering to him. Was this how she’d been with Jack? With those other “inappropriate” men?

  For a few moments, though it seemed longer, she just stared at him and I just stared at her. Then he laughed.

  “God, you two are so serious.”

  She took a moment to process his statement, then broke into a smile of her own. I followed suit. The tension drained from the room. Not all of it. But enough to allow us to breath and speak. I smelled the chicken roasting in the oven.

  “Would you like a drink before dinner?” I asked.

  Tommy nodded, but answered at Rachel. “A beer?”

  She nodded. “Um, sure.”

  He shot me a quick look. I got the message.

  “Me too honey. And use the frosty mugs.”

  In normal circumstances she might have said, “get it yourself,” but this time she merely spun on her heels and poured us each a beer, getting a glass of chardonnay for herself.

  We moved into the living room. Tommy positioned himself on the sofa, leaving me the recliner. So when Rachel followed us in, she had no choice but to sit beside him. She was a little stiff, feeling awkward I guess. We both were. Only Tommy seemed comfortable, sitting back, with a big grin. Of course, he’d just gotten his dick sucked, which tends to put guys in a good mood.

  “Smells great,” Tommy said. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Chicken,” Rachel replied simply.

  “Do you do all the cooking?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. When we were both working…”

  She trailed off as he put his hand on her knee. She took a breath and continued.

  “...when we were both working, Max used to cook sometimes. You still like to cook, right honey?”

  “I’m more into grilling,” I replied.

  Tommy was slowly caressing her knee, moving his hand under her skirt, his fingers trailing up her inner thigh.

  “Man, I love to grill. Got myself a Traeger Smoker. You ever had a whole Tri-Tip, slow cooked?”

  I wanted to reply. But it was incredibly hard to focus on the conversation. His fingers sliding higher up her thigh, taking her skirt up as well. Watching another man fondle my wife, knowing how excited she was already.

  “I think he’s having trouble concentrating,” Rachel said with a grin. “I know I am.”

  “You guys never heard of multitasking?”

  He pressed her skirt up even further and gently pulled her knee toward him, spreading her legs, exposing her. I could see her excitement, see her swollen, glistening pussy. His fingertips circling the perimeter of her labia.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she said through deep breaths.

  What do you want us to do to you? I thought.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” was his, better, response. It wasn’t up to her. Not in this scenario.

  “But I have some ideas,” he continued, stroking her thigh.

  There was a beeping from the kitchen. Rachel was too distracted to react, which seemed to amuse Tommy.

  “Should you be doing something about that?”

  “Huh? What? Oh, yeah…”

  She got up a little shakily and hurried into the kitchen.

  I didn’t quite know what to say. Tommy started sharing some more grilling tips. I couldn’t tell if he was really that casual or just a master at feigning it. Either way, it was definitely disconcerting how easily this man had ingratiated himself into our lives, and even more so into our home.

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He put his hand up. “No. Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t fucking apologize to me. This is your fucking house. She’s your fucking wife. Never forget it. I’m your guest.”

  I laughed. “Most of my guests don’t blow a load in my wife’s mouth… at least not within ten minutes of walking in.”

  He chuckled, and then got serious again. “I’m not here to
Dom you, Max. Keep that in mind. You’re the boss. You brought me here.”

  “I know,” I replied, trying to project confidence.

  “You’ll get it,” he replied reassuringly.

  But I didn’t feel like the boss, like the master of my house. I had the safe word, but how did I know he’d obey it? Rachel and I had already shown that the rules were easily violated. And what if I used the safe word and he didn’t leave? Would Rachel side with me, or with him? I didn’t want to pursue that thought. I already knew. The girl who’d swallowing his load, changed for him, and meekly proffered him drinks would not turn on him just because I’d named some absurd, what, desert animal?

  Rachel summoned us to the table. She’s not a great cook, but she plays to her strengths. Roasted chicken, garlic-fried potatoes, and mixed greens with a balsamic vinaigrette, a meal anyone can make, but that never fails to please. She’d picked out a bottle of Pinot Noir that went perfectly. Was it weird that I imagined her at the wine store asking the clerk to recommend a good bottle to entertain her husband and her new lover?

  Tommy controlled the conversation, threading an impressive balance between banal, get-to-know-you topics, and periodic hints at the sexual nature of our weird relationship. Actually, his conversational skills were not that accomplished, but what was impressive was his casual confidence. I really still knew nothing about him, but I wished I did. Where did he come from? Who was he?

  We finished dinner and Rachel served dessert, a cherry pie and port. As I finished my glass, Tommy looked over at me, eyebrows raised. Still in? I nodded before I even consciously processed his question. He didn’t hesitate.

  “That was a lovely meal, Rachel. You’re almost as good a cook as you are a cocksucker.”

  She seemed a bit shocked, but only managed a quiet “thank you” in response.

  He chuckled. “You haven’t forgotten why we’re here, have you?”

  A flash of anger at his patronizing tone crossed her face. He regarded her placidly, and she backed down.

  “No.”

  “No, what, Rachel, use your words.”

  Oh Jeez, he’s pushing too hard. But he wasn’t.

  “You’re here to make love to me.”

  He laughed. “I’m here to fuck.”

  She blushed and looked away.

  “But first,” he continued, “your husband has been amazingly patient. Why don’t you go ahead and suck his cock.”

  She seemed rooted to the spot. I looked at Rachel, my face twisting into an apologetic and awkward grin.

  He slapped his hand on the table, not violently, but enough to make a point. “That’s twice, Rachel, you’ve disobeyed me.”

  She startled. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” he snapped. And then after another moment, “Don’t make me tell you again.”

  She nodded and scuttled under the table. I fought the instinct to push her away, to hold her close, to tell her it was okay, that she didn’t need to obey this foul invader into our home. But then she was on her knees, her hands fumbling with my zipper, and all I could think was getting my cock into her mouth.

  I was rock hard, and it occurred to me that I’d been sporting at least a partial woody since Tommy rang the doorbell. My balls ached. What the fuck was wrong with me? She unzipped me, and I lifted myself off my seat to allow her to yank down my pants. She didn’t hesitate. She swallowed me deep into her mouth.

  “Oh God,” I sighed.

  Rachel sucked me hard. There was no teasing, no subtlety. She was like a junkie looking for her fix, eager to milk me as quickly as possible. I was already primed. Her deep, sloppy sucking feeding my excitement. I gasped, torn between the desire to slow her and made it last and my need to finish. My hunger won out. I thrust my hips, once, twice, and then came so hard that it almost hurt. She slurped on me wetly, swallowing my come, sucking out every drop of my jism. It wasn’t until I was completely drained that it occurred to me that her eagerness was less about pleasing me as it was about clearing the way for her next encounter with Tommy.

  Rachel crawled up from under the table, a sheepish look on her face. Tommy smiled at her.

  “Quite impressive, Rachel. I’d compliment you on your first experience with two cocks in one night, but I know it’s not your first.”

  I saw her eyes widen and she shook her head slightly.

  “Do you have something to say?”

  She was pleading with him silently. But he just smiled.

  “No,” she replied.

  “No, you have nothing to say? Or no, you’ve never had two cocks in one night.”

  “You know the answer,” she snapped.

  I gasped at the challenge. He seemed to brush it off, but somehow I knew she wasn’t going to get away with not answering him directly.

  He smiled sweetly. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot, what with the lovely dinner, and your impressive demonstration just now, but we need to deal with your violation of the rules.”

  She looked at his quizzically.

  “There have to be consequences.” He said simply. Then, “Put your hands on the table.”

  She hesitated.

  “You’re too smart to not understand the rules,” he said.

  She nodded and placed her palms on the table, as she had before, when he’d encouraged me to molest her. Again he pressed down on her lower back, flattening her across the surface. He again lifted her skirt, exposing her hard, little ass.

  “It would be a shame to bruise this,” he said, trailing her fingertips across her bottom.

  She shuddered at both his touch and the implicit threat.

  “But we don’t have to,” he said.

  She seemed to relax as he stepped away from her. He walked to the counter, opened some drawers. I could see her tempted to look back, resisting the urge. As he approached the stove, he grinned. He reached out and grabbed a long handled, well-worn wooden spoon. He held it low, down against his leg. He approached Rachel again. She seemed to shiver in anticipation of his touch.

  “Tell Max about Cancun,” he said simply.

  She looked back over her shoulder, first at him, then at me, but she didn’t speak.

  WHACK!

  He brought the spoon down on her right butt cheek.

  “Ow!” she hissed.

  WHACK!

  Again, on precisely the same spot.

  She gasped and reached back to protect herself, but he pressed down hard on her lower back forcing her hands back onto the table.

  “Rachel, sweetie, you’re a delightful little cocksucker, but there is more in life than swallowing come.”

  She glared back over her shoulder.

  WHACK!

  “Fuck!” she cried out, but turned away, seeming to realize that scowling at him would only bring more punishment.

  He reached down and rubbed the spot he’d struck. She flinched and then relaxed as she realized he wasn’t going to strike her again, at least not right away. It was mesmerizing to see him, this virtual stranger, massaging my wife’s ass.

  “If you do it right,” he began, leaving no doubt he was doing it right, “it won’t leave a bruise. But, every whack stimulates the nerve endings and makes every succeeding blow more painful. You may have noticed that already?”

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he struck her again.

  WHACK!

  “Yes, fuck, yes,” she hissed.

  “And yet, you continue to want to earn more?”

  She looked back, confused.

  “I told you to tell Max about Cancun.”

  She nodded. “Okay, okay, but no more.”

  WHACK!

  “I’m not negotiating. Anyway, you’ve already failed to obey me three times. Five spanks each, and I’ve only given you six.”

  “Five,” I corrected.

  She glared back at me. He laughed.

  WHACK!

  “The other beauty of the spoon,” he said, “is that it doesn’t hurt me at all. I can go all night.”
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  WHACK!

  “Count them out,” he ordered.

  “Seven,” she groaned.

  “Very good, now, about Cancun.”

  She hesitated half a second too long.

  WHACK!

  “Eight! Okay, okay. I went on spring break.”

  WHACK!

  “Nine! What?”

  He laughed. “Don’t skimp on the details. You know what I want.”

  She groaned

  “Oh, God, it was junior year. I was seeing this guy, Danny, Danny Green.”

  “Danny Danny Green is a funny name,” Tommy said.

  “What? No, he was just Danny Green.”

  WHACK!

  “I know. I was making a joke,” he replied. Then after a moment. “And that one doesn’t count since you didn’t count it out.”

  WHACK!

  “Nine,” she groaned. “No, Ten,” she quickly corrected herself.

  “Yes, ten, now please continue telling us your tale about Danny Danny Green.”

  “We were dating. I’d met his folks over Christmas. He got upset when I told him I was going to Spring Break with my girlfriends.”

  “Sounds like a smart young man not to trust you given what happened,” Tommy teased.

  She didn’t answer right away.

  “WHACK!”

  “Eleven. No, yes, I don’t know. It annoyed me.”

  “But you changed your plans anyway?”

  She nodded. I awaited the blow, but apparently he accepted that as a response.

  She continued, “He didn’t want to have any fun. He was a redhead, worried about being in the sun.”

  “There was your first mistake,” I said interjected.

  “He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t like it when guys looked at me. It was like being on vacation with my mom.”

  She paused.

  WHACK!

  “Twelve,” she groaned.

  Tommy caught me staring at her ass. He ran his fingertips over the spot he’d been targeting. It was a little red around the edges, but the skin in the middle was actually whiter than usual, and maybe slightly raised. He pressed down on it, like a button, and she winced. It was a neat little trick.