Fresh off that mind-blowing orgasm, his face buried deep between my thighs, I slump at the desk. Head fuzzy, pussy still throbbing. Vacation afternoons hit different—energy high, lust built slow from breakfast, my ass flashing under the nightie. I surf the site, foggy-brained, zero reaction time. Boom—his new text. Posted six days ago. No heads-up. I read, amused at first. Then pissed. He’s using my pseudo again. Me as some whip-cracking slut in his tales. Enough. Fury boils that night. Snooping his stories while he snores. Marre. Time to hit back hard.
Heart pounds. Pussy clenches at the thought. I’ll dominate. Make him beg. No more my name in his filth. Dialogue first—yell at him. ‘Stop using my alias, Gérard!’ He whines, ‘You’re my muse, pupuce.’ Bullshit. I dodge his tongue offer, cheeks burning. Plan brews. Kids to mom’s. Him at meeting. I prep tools: martinet, ball gag, leather body. Clean ’em sharp. He walks in, sniffs dinner. Endives, ham, spuds. My black dress slits to hips. His hands graze my ass. Lips on bare skin. Shiver rips me. But focus. Wine flows. Bordeaux heavy. He suspects. ‘Kids away? What’s up?’ I play cool. Dinner drags. Kiss turns hot. I lead to bed. ‘Sit.’ He obeys, eyes glazed. I return: body hugging tits bare, martinet swinging, gag ready. Jaw drops. ‘Lie down.’ Pants off. Cock hard already. Suck him deep, balls cupped. He groans. Tie wrists tight with belt. Whip tits, belly, ass red-striped. He twists, loves it. ‘Promise to stop?’ No. Heel on chest. ‘Lick my shoe?’ He yields. First lash stings nipples. Harder on fesses. Turn him. Cock like steel. Lube vibe, slide in ass slow. He bucks fake protest. Push pussy to mouth. Tongue devours. I grind, vibe hums. Cum screaming. Jerk him off, eat his load. He pants, ‘God…’
The Awakening
But he dodges promise. Rage simmers days. Then twist: his text mirrors our fuck. Intimate, raw. Our meet-cute warped sexy. I laugh, wet again. Game on. Pick him from station. Blindfold, cuff. Friend drives. ‘Divine Omphale’ club—fake, ours. Down stairs, music thumps. Door. ‘Change: vinyl suit, hood, gag.’ He strips, obeys. I unveil: him posed statue-like, cock out. Friends ogle. Woman sucks balls, deepthroats. He throbs, holds—no cum. Obeys. Party rages. Fucks everywhere. I watch, power surging. Pussy drips. Two AM, alone. Ungag. ‘I love you.’ Table fuck. Rips tights, slams in. I scream orgasm. He explodes. Sweat-slick, hearts hammer.
Days later, routine snaps back. But thrill lingers. His new post: our love, twisted true. No alias. I kiss him. Secret bliss. This forbidden rush—tying him, sharing him—ignites me. No one knows. Society’s eyes blind. Here, I confess. My core: transgression’s fire. Hubby’s mine. Slave forever.