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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: husband2.txt (Mdom/FM, swingers)
Authors name: Alcibade (Address Defunct)
Story title : Husband - Part 2
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-= This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1995. =-
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HUSBAND (Part 2)
By Alcibade
**
I'm not sure what I expected from Peter during the
week leading up to our "vacation," and to Charles'
arrival. He didn't exactly mope, but he was strangely
withdrawn and reticent. He seemed to want to avoid
discussing what had happened and what was about to
happen, so I didn't push the issue. On Sunday night,
and then again on Monday, he had attempted to initiate
a lovemaking session. I couldn't decide if he had
simply forgotten about the prohibition, or if it was a
test of some kind, but I gently and firmly put a stop
to it. After a deep sigh, he rolled over and fell
asleep. I had decided that, if we were going to do
this, we were going to do it right. Peter lacks a
certain amount of self-discipline; I've been told that
I have too much.
I got home from work on Wednesday evening to find
the promised letter, addressed to me, in the mail. As
expected, there was no return address. The only
enclosure was a list of serial #'s and the name and
address of a store located in the seedier part of town.
I'd never heard of it, but I put the list and address
in my purse and called work to tell them I would be in
late on Thursday. I told Peter about the letter at
dinner and that I would be stopping there Thursday
morning. He only nodded and continued to pick at his
food.
Thursday morning I stopped at the store. It would be
an understatement to say that I was extremely
uncomfortable and nervous. I wondered how often a
single young woman, dressed in a conservative business
suit, shopped here. There were a lot of pornographic
videos, adult toys, etc. The few customers in the store
were men who seemed to be a touch resentful that I was
hovering about (actually, I wasn't "hovering," I was
trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. It
didn't work. I felt conspicuous as HELL). I handed the
clerk, a balding, fat slob of a man, the list. He
seemed to be expecting me and, after practically
licking my body with his eyes, returned with a large
bag. I paid what he asked without checking the contents
and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.
Thursday night I put the bag, unopened, in the back of
our bedroom closet and forgot about it.
On Friday night, Peter and I went out to dinner and
did some dancing to celebrate the beginning of our
vacation. I was starting to get a bit horny over the
past few days, and the dancing didn't exactly quench
any fires. Peter had a hard-on the whole night, but
bravely "kept it to himself" on the dance-floor. My
panties were soaked by the time we got home. I hadn't
had sex in nearly a week (okay, it may not be that
long for SOME people...), and had avoided masturbating.
As I lay in bed Friday night, listening to Peter's
rhythmic breathing, I suddenly realized that the
weekend was here. I was beginning to get a little
scared about what the next week would bring. The
excitement, though, was almost palpable. So much so,
in fact, that I didn't drift off to sleep until the
wee hours of the morning.
**
On Saturday, Peter and I moved his things out of the
closet and dresser and into the guest room just down
the hall from our master bedroom. We stayed up and
watched a movie, then slept in separate beds in our own
home for the first time in our marriage. It was a
strange, strange feeling. I kept telling myself that
this was what he wanted...
**
DAY ONE: Sunday
We spent the day doing some laundry and housecleaning,
then tinkered in the yard with a new patio that Peter
had been "installing" for what was now going on 3
months. Covered with dirt and sweat, we worked until
about 3:00.
"I guess we better get cleaned up. We've got company
coming in a couple hours," Peter said, tossing the
various rakes and shovels in the wheelbarrow.
I wiped my hands on my dirty sweatpants and stood up.
"Peter?"
He stopped and turned to look at me.
"Yeah?"
"Still sure you want to do this? It's not too late
to change your mind. I'll understand."
He put the wheelbarrow down and crossed his arms.
"I'm sure. How about you?"
"I'm sure, too. I'm just worried that things might
not work out like you expect. And I'm worried that it
might somehow affect us. Our marriage, I mean..." I
said. I'd made my decision to give my heart and soul
(and body) up to Peter and his fantasy. Had he? This
had the potential to be terribly exciting and fun, but
it also had the potential to be a great disaster.
He came over and kissed me, sweetly, in the middle
of my forehead.
"Everything will be just fine, darling."
**
After showering, I put on a bright and colorful
sundress over a skimpy pair of hip-cut cotton panties.
Peter wore a pair of brown slacks and a white dress-
shirt open at the collar. We settled in the living room
with some books, sipping a soft Bordeaux and listening
to Mozart's Die Zauberflute, and waited.
At precisely 5:00 p.m., the doorbell rang.
I hesitated for a moment and, when Peter didn't get
up, assumed that I was to answer it. I moved quickly to
the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.
The man standing before me, between two expensive
suitcases, was, if you'll forgive the trite and
hackneyed expression, tall dark and handsome. Black
hair, graying at the temples (45, maybe 50 years old?)
with wide shoulders and slim hips. Handsome, but
austere face, with piercing, steel-gray eyes; the kind
of face women fall in love with even knowing full-well
the potential for heart-ache and pain (even violence?)
that such a face and eyes portend. While his bearing
screamed refinement and elegance, he was dressed in
jeans and a t-shirt. The muscles on his arms were well
defined and sculptured, but not massive like a weight
lifter's. More like the graceful sinews of a swimmer.
Peeking out just below the left sleeve of his shirt was
the bottom part of a tattoo. I couldn't make out its
details.
Our eyes locked momentarily. Quickly, I had to break
the gaze and look down at the steps between us. There
was something there I wanted very much to explore, but
just as strongly needed to avoid.
"Hello, Linda. My name is Charles. I believe you and
Peter are expecting me." I recognized the voice
immediately from our previous telephone conversation.
A very masculine, professionally trained voice. Smooth
and undulating (a "melt in your panties" kind of
voice). There was that edge, though, that edge of
danger and power that remained unmasked in its timbre.
I suddenly realized that he had been standing there
for an uncomfortably long time. I opened the door and
motioned for him to enter.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm in another world," I said,
laughing nervously. " Please come in, Charles."
He entered and set his suitcases near the stairway.
"Thank-you, Linda."
"Peter's in the living room. Would you like
something to drink? We're having a nice dry red
wine..."
"I don't drink. Thanks anyway. Let's move into the
living room."
As we entered, Peter rose from the couch, smiled and
shook his hand.
"It's nice to see you again, Peter," he said. Then,
to me, "Peter and I met once before."
There was a nervous silence.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" I asked.
"No, I'm just fine."
I smiled and nodded. As I moved to the couch to have
a seat, he spoke again.
"I see no point in wasting a lot of time with
pleasantries. We'll have plenty of time to get to know
each other as the week progresses. I prefer that we
begin talking about some necessary things. Go ahead,
Linda, have a seat on the sofa. Peter, you may sit in
the center of the floor, please."
As we settled, Charles leaned back against the
mantle of our fireplace and folded his arms. He glanced
around briefly at the room, then looked intently at
Peter and I in turn.
"Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home
and into your life," he began. "The relationship we are
about to form is purely consensual on your part and on
mine. The primary ingredient of this relationship is
the fact that I now have total control over your lives,
a control that you have voluntarily relinquished. If
that control is ever questioned or tested in any way, I
will walk out the door and the 'game' is over. That's
not going to happen, though. I rarely need extraneous
methods to 'control' people." As he talked, he smiled
sweetly like a little child who doesn't know what the
words mean, telling you to fuck-off.
He looked at me with unblinking eyes and continued.
"Linda, your husband may own your soul and heart,
but I own your body for the next week. When I tell you
to do something, do it immediately. Never question me,
never hesitate, never fail to do everything within your
power to comply and to please me. Are we of a like
mind?"
I looked into Peter's eyes as I answered.
"Yes, Charles. We're of a like mind."
His gaze fell on Peter.
"Peter, you just heard your wife pledge her body to
me. It no longer belongs to you, or her, in any way. Do
you understand the implications?"
"Yes, I believe I do."
"No, I don't think you do. I think she has a better
grasp of what this is going to mean, as well as the
full potential inherent in this situation. True
submission is only understood through experience. But
no matter. As your wife learns to prostitute herself to
me, so will you, to both her and me, in many ways. Do
you realize that, just as your wife would comply
immediately if I told her to turn around and bend over
so that I could fuck her in the ass, so that same power
and its ramifications now looms over your head, Peter?
Submissive fantasies are one thing, but the reality of
submission is so much different, so much purer and
clearer. It goes to the bone like a spinal tap. Have
you ever sucked another man's cock, Peter?"
Peter's face was turning very red. He didn't look up
when he answered.
"No."
"No, I didn't think so. I haven't either, but then
I've never been in the position you've put yourself and
your very cute wife in. Your wife knows the joys of
cocksucking, though. She has learned, I'm sure, the
little secret that there is a tremendous amount of
power in submission. A little bit of advice that will
help you through the coming days and nights: don't
submit a little bit. Submit totally. Put everything
you've got into it, Peter, or you'll have a very hard
time of it." He shrugged. "I couldn't really care
less, but it is your fantasy, after all. Accept the
many humiliations that I give out to your wife, and
that your wife and I give out to you, and the time will
be so much more pleasant for you, so much more erotic.
In other words, learn to submit like a girl, Peter.
Learn the pleasures of giving up the pink."
Charles was pacing now, his hands in his front
pockets, thumbs out. Dear god, I was starting to get so
turned on....
He suddenly leaned down, cupped Peter's chin with
his hand, and looked into his eyes.
"Make no mistake about it, Peter. Your wife is going
to be debased, humiliated and used. We're going to act
out games that would bring a blush to the cheeks of a
jaded whore. Her mouth, cunt and ass are going to be
reamed out like they never have been. Her and I, and
maybe even others of my choosing, are going to do
things you never dreamed of. Some of them I may even
let you watch. Nope. There will be no "loving" around
here for a while, Peter. Just a whole lot of fucking
going on. And when I'm tired of fucking her, her and I
are going to fuck YOU!"
He let go of Peter's chin with a curt shove and
looked up at me.
"Linda, your little husband has an erection. Come
here, kneel down, and take it out. You and I want to
see his cock, don't we?"
I moved to Peter, knelt down, and unzipped his
pants. I removed his hard cock, already wet at the tip,
and began to stroke it. He leaned back on his hands and
closed his eyes.
"Look at me, Linda," Charles said. His long legs
rose behind Peter's head.
I looked up into the pools of steel at the center of
his eyes.
"Tell your loving husband how pretty he will look
sitting on the tip of my hard prick. Tell him how
excited you will be, how proud you will be, how you can
hardly wait, to see his lips around my cock. Tell him
the truth."
My cunt throbbing and wet, I told him.
Continued in Part 3...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 13