by Sylvia Ryan
My cock stirs at the mental picture traipsing through my mind as I walk my purchase up to the register.
“Looks like you’ve found yourself a doozy,” the old man says as I hand him the flogger and a hundred dollar bill. Those are the first words he’s said to me since I started coming in. I nod and can’t help the slight smile turning up the corners of my lips.
When I get back into my car, I thrill at the thought of using the flogger on Mia. I’m only planning a spanking for her today, but who knows? After last week I may feel the need to use the flogger.
The cultivation of Mia’s sexual repertoire has been wildly successful. The deeper we proceed into this restoration of what used to be, the more I love my wife, and I absolutely adored her before all of this started.
Our lives have changed in so many ways and, even though we’re older and there’s been a lot of water under our bridge, the Mia I fell in love with is still there. The sweet, needy girl has blossomed into a confident and strong wife and mother. But in the bedroom, where I need her to be yielding and pliable, she still defers to me like she always has, and her desire to please me hasn’t waned.
The anticipation begins to build inside my gut, and a small amount of apprehension builds with it. I could be happy for the rest of my life with Mia without engaging in some of my more extreme desires. I spanked her and she didn’t revolt. Next is the flogger, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed. If she doesn’t have the proclivity toward the pleasure and pain aspects of sex, I won’t complain. I already have more than most men. But now, after this year, I also won’t give up. At the pace we’re going, her exposure to the subtleties of pain combined with pleasure is inevitable, even if it is only once in a while. A special treat to sate my hunger.
I want to take her to paradise. I want her to love it so much she begs for more.
Still, a slight feeling of apprehension lingers. It still feels like I’m taking a risk. I’m opening myself up, showing her the murky sludge that constitutes some of my sexual cravings.
I shake it off and think about my Mia. Hope blooms within me. She is sex, love and devotion personified. She’s never judged me or criticized me for who I am, and I can’t see her doing it now.
* * * *
Mia
Levi whips up a chicken and mushroom sauté and serves it to me over noodles. A glass of red wine is waiting. He looks at me as if I’m the meal. I feel the thrum of energy coming off him in waves. My stomach flips. What does he have in store for me this week? I feel the changes in my body already. My breathing comes fast and shallow. I’m suddenly not hungry.
“You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Enjoy it because when you’re done, you’re mine.” His voice is throaty, like he needs a drink of water. He raises his glass. “To new experiences.” It takes me a second to clamp my mouth shut. It has unwittingly dropped open at hearing Levi’s toast. We clink our glasses together and I glance at him. His smoldering eyes are waiting for me to make contact. He’s enjoying the anxiety the toast stirs up within me.
“I’m wondering, Levi, have you noticed anything different about how the opposite sex treats you lately?”
He looks at me, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. It seems like since we’ve started…” –she waves a hand in the air– “…all of this, I’ve been getting weird vibes from guys at work I’ve known for years.”
Levi sets his fork down, giving me his complete attention. “Weird how?”
“It’s like they sense I’m sexed up, that I do kinky things, that I’m wearing slut underwear. At first I thought it was me noticing things I hadn’t noticed in my interactions with them before.”
“Like?”
“Nothing sexual, at least not overtly sexual. Mostly it’s small things like winking at me and paying more attention to me when I happen to walk into the break room, opening doors for me. Innocent stuff like that. I have caught one or two looking at my ass when I walk by and I’ve gotten a few catcalls and whistles from the guys in the shipping department. It’s never happened before. It seems like they can sense the change in me.”
Levi smiles at me. “Probably because they can.”
“Somehow I have a hard time believing I’ve become sexier just because I’m having sex more often.”
He chuckles. “Being sexy is a state of mind and matters as much as the way you look. You probably walk differently with your fuck-me underwear on, coming across more sure of yourself, confident. That’s sexy. And I have a feeling they were looking at you before. You just didn’t notice because sex was not on your mind back then, before we started our Fridays.” He picks up his fork and nods his head toward my plate. “Eat.”
After lunch, we walk to our bedroom. It’s dark, with the shade pulled down when I enter. The room has been set up. The restraints installed to the bed frame sit neatly, one at each corner.
“Take your clothes off, Mia.” He looks at me with ownership in his gaze. I don’t react to his words immediately, because I’m looking at the shadowy room. Shit, our toy drawer is out of the dresser and sitting on the trunk at the foot of the bed. I swallow through my suddenly dry throat. “Now!” He pounds the three pillows stacked in front of him. “Face down, hips on the pillows.” He pulls his t-shirt over his head and crosses his arms. He stands there, in jeans and nothing else, waiting for me to comply.
I slowly unbutton each button on my blouse and slide the material down my arms. Underneath, my white lace demicup bra draws his attention. I see the muscles in his face work as he clenches his jaw, and I give him a defiant smile.
“You’re playing with me?” he rumbles.
“Why not?” I shrug. “Looks like you’re getting ready to play with me.” I unzip my black pencil skirt and it falls to the floor. The thong matching my bra appears to have attracted his interest. His eyes blaze as his gaze lands between my legs. He reaches out a hand to me, helping me to step out of my skirt. Then he pulls me into him hard and fast. Our chests press up against each other’s. He dips his head and bites my shoulder. A slight whimper squeaks out of my mouth. I don’t know what awaits me, but I’m feeling the thrill of knowing he’ll take whatever he wants and I’ll give all of myself to him.
I crawl onto the bed and position myself as I was told. He places a sleep mask over my eyes. His weight leaves the bed and I hear him circling me. “I could sit and look at you like this all day.” He sighs. “My beautiful, obedient–”
I snort at the word and the behavior is swiftly addressed. Levi spanks me with his bare hand. The first meeting of his palm to my ass elicits another snort quickly followed by a giggle.
“What’s funny, Mia?” The words are a menacing warning in my ear.
“I don’t know.” I giggle again. “I’m feeling a little defiant today.” I’m smirking until he cracks my ass. “Ow, stop!” I wave an arm behind me.
Another clap lands on my other cheek and I start lifting myself. Now I’m most definitely feeling defiant, and I wonder whether he’d be able to tie me down without my cooperation.
“Down.” He presses a firm hand to my back and spanks again. I try in earnest to get up but his body covers mine before I get far. He concentrates his attention on my right arm as he puts his full weight on top of me and attempts to secure the Velcro restraints around my right wrist. I yank my arm away as hard as I can. My initial jerk almost frees my wrist from his hand, but his grip holds and the Velcro closes around my limb a second later. I am fighting in earnest now. He tries gaining control of my left arm as I buck and squirm underneath him. I’m just a second too slow, and my attempt to pull the Velcro on my right wrist open fails with a hard grab and jerk of my forearm. I realize that during the split second I thought I was going to do it, he was actually situating himself so he had complete physical control over me. He now straddles my ass and has tucked his feet to the inside of my thighs, essentially holding them down.
With my right arm already secured and the rest of my bo
dy pinned, he has both hands to secure my left wrist, which he does, easily. After, he swats me several times and I try unsuccessfully to twist away from him, but he systematically wrestles my legs into submission.
He gives me a spanking, and I’m not giggling anymore. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I wail but the spanking continues. To my complete and utter astonishment, I giggle again. I try to slap my hand over my mouth, forgetting I’m restrained. My brain is slow on the uptake right now.
He stops and kneels on the bed next to me. “The more you fight it, the worse it’s going to be for you, babe. But go on…I can do this all day.” His voice is calm. He’s not even out of breath. I yank my arms again, attempting one last time to get free.
I groan as another swat hits my flesh. My rear end is hot. I take a deep breath and try to go limp. I fight the flinch response to his supe rslow spankings and begin taking them without protest. When I do, the spanking stops. He leans into me and presses his hard-on to my hip. My inner muscles quiver, and I groan.
“Levi,” I whisper. He steps away and returns only seconds later. Something other than his hand lands on the back of my legs, near my rear end. It stings in a different way. I like it better so I don’t say anything, afraid he might switch back to his hand. My body is warm, my ass is on fire and I am so relaxed.
“Hmm.” The noise floats out of me, and I feel like he knows all the words behind that sound of contentment. It is simply a sigh of bliss and a needy “I love you” rolled up into one sound.
He is off the bed, dropping his jeans to the floor, and I wait patiently, his willing partner in this pursuit. There’s no reason to stop the adventure and get off now, it’s been so, so good thus far. I hear him as he rummages around in the toy drawer and then the bed dips behind me, between my legs.
“How pretty.” I jump when I feel his lips meet my bare pussy lips in a gentle, chaste kiss. “Darling, you need to relax. Do I need to spank you more?”
“No,” I huff out on a breath.
“Good.”
His fingers fondle my wide-open cunt, brush through the lips, over my desperately waiting opening and then down to my clit.
Levi slides a vibrator under me, arranging pillows so it rests against my clit. Without another word, he slips his cock in me.
He pounds me hard and fast and with such force that my body moves toward the head of the bed with each pump. Then he shifts his weight forward and pushes me down into the soft mattress. His large hands hold me down in front of him, one on my back and one on the side of my head. He pushes me into the bed and uses me. The vibrator is on high speed and I come almost immediately. I scream my orgasm, but not with words. It’s more like a sound that hints of pleading and complete submission.
“Fuck yes. Yes!” His hands curl over my shoulders and he jerks me backward into his thrusting cock until he explodes in a roar, slamming four, five, six more hard and deep thrusts before he collapses over me.
His full weight squeezes the air out of me as soon as I draw it in. “Get off,” I huff.
He rolls off and lies on his side looking at me. “Fuck yeah. That was fucking incredible.”
I feel dazed and don’t answer him. Right now, I’m taking in air and trying to calm my seizing heart. When the Velcro cuff on my right hand, and then my right ankle are unfastened, I roll, groaning, into the fetal position.
He applies something to the skin on my wrists with gentle glides of his hands, then to my back and rear, soothing the skin there.
“Mmm, feels good.”
When he’s done, he follows where his hands have been, placing gentle kisses, brushing them everywhere.
The longer I lie there, the more alert I become.
He gives me water, cares for me as if I were his prize possession. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
I’m his right, his domain, and I give myself to him freely.
Mia
I had been surprised by Levi’s choice of “winnings” for our bet. The whole collared, fuck slave for a weekend thing has me intrigued, and after a week of my mind returning to that sentence over and over again, I’m hooked by the unknown. The kink factor in our Friday afternoon trysts has been escalating into foreign territory for me. So far it’s been good. I like the tie-me-up sex he’s been into lately. It has been unbelievably amazing. But my curiosity eats at me and I can’t hold it back any longer. I want to figure out what’s going on inside his brain.
I type “sex” and “collared” into a Google search, hit Enter, and, uh, the results are porn. But after a couple minutes and a couple more searches I get past the porn and get to the fundamentals of BDSM. I read several articles and I see why Levi’s attracted to this dynamic. It fits his personality. He’s uber-dominant. It’s one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place. I don’t like wishy-washy indecision in men. The strong confidence consistent with these Doms correlates with Levi’s personality.
I read for several hours about the power exchange of dominance and submission, about restraint, and the use of pain to find pleasure. Sometime amid this gigantic upload of information, I realize we already consistently practice several aspects of “the lifestyle” and what we don’t regularly practice, he’s currently “training” me on. After another two hours on the Internet reading, watching videos and looking at pictures, I’ve learned three things. First, in the bedroom, our relationship can definitely be categorized as Dominant-submissive. Second, the only aspect of BDSM I know turns me off is humiliation. And third, I have exhibitionist tendencies lurking inside me because the thought of Levi dominating me in front of an audience makes me wet.
When I’m done with my research, one immediate thought comes to my mind and sticks there.
He’s been leading me to this but never told me.
He’s training me, molding me to be what he needs, but he’s never come right out and said, “This is what BDSM is, and it turns me on.” Then another bombshell hits. He was training me before the twins were born, too. But after their birth, nothing. No orders, no sexual demands, no expected submission in the bedroom and then, eventually not much of anything in the bedroom.
He’d given up his needs for his family? I’d have had no problem submitting, serving him, if it would have made him happy. I want to fulfill his every desire if I can. I always have. Plus, sharing this with him fills a need within me, too.
Since the spark between us has been reignited, his inner Dom is resurfacing. I’m disappointed he hasn’t come right out and talked with me about this. Almost fifteen years and not one word. He made the decision for me–for both of us.
Why?
I sit back in my chair and my brain works hard to get past what I view as an insult. After all this time, he doesn’t feel comfortable enough with me to tell me? He doesn’t know by now I’ll love him no matter what? Jeez that stings.
I pause and shake my head. We’re both changing, developing new parameters for our love. I can’t expect more from him than I expect from myself, and it has been only recently I’ve realized I’m most happy when I relinquish my will and follow my husband’s. And it seems like the more power I relinquish, the more he steps up to the plate to be everything we both need. He’s grown as a man and now, to me, he’s larger than life. Our newfound sexual relationship is a beautiful symbiosis that fits us perfectly, like a second skin, connecting us, making us one.
And I know, in part, these changes within me are not so much about a couple gaining back their passion, as they are about a woman, me, who has finally hit her stride and come into her own, accepting herself for what she truly is inside.
I no longer believe if I give up authority to my husband, I am less of a woman. It has been difficult to do for me, a woman whose mother came of age during the bra-burning era of the sixties. Growing up, I was given straightforward mandates by my mom. Never put myself in a position where I have to depend on a man. I can do anything a man can do. I am just as smart, probably more so, than any man. Independence, the fr
eedom to be who I am, is essential in a relationship…this mandate I agree with. However, I want to feel the freedom to be who I am, and I am a woman who functions better and moves through life happier when I don’t have the weight and responsibilities of the world weighing me down.
At some point during this year, I’ve realized it isn’t a crime to want to be cared for and protected by a man. I no longer have compunctions about being subservient to my husband, not only in the bedroom, but for the most part in real life, too. The woman’s libbers of my mom’s generation forgot somewhere down the line that it feels good to have the love, support and protection of a good man. My mom would die of disappointment if she knew this, but I don’t need to be in control of everything all the time. Levi provides for the girls and me, respects us, loves us, and I trust him to not only take into consideration my opinions, but to make the best decisions for our family. He hasn’t failed me yet.
I am happier. I walk a little taller with the spark of my secret love affair with my husband heating my body. It’s common for me to be at work when a moment from the time we’ve shared together flashes through my mind. At that moment, I’m flooded with the warm comfort of knowing true and undying love. The knowledge…no, the surety, of what we share has made me secure, confident, stronger. I’m happy giving up control. How can that be bad?
I need to let him know the happier he is, the happier I am. I want our lives together to be everything he’s ever dreamed of. I don’t want to settle, and I don’t want him to either. That’s the reason we started our Friday afternoon meetings in the first place.
I think about the last decade and the sacrifices he’s made. The frustration he’s probably suffered through in silence. And all the while I would have given him what he wanted, what he needed.
God.
I need to fix this.
