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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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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006.  Please
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A Story From My Wife
by RickInMD (rickslawmd@verizon.net)

***

This story was written by my wife for me. She is a very 
creative and kinky woman. (MF, wife, voy, bi, bd, orgy, 
swing)
 
***

This is Part One from of a story my wife is writing to 
me. I think it is one of the most amazing and erotic 
stories I have ever read. Send your feedback and I'll 
share it with her. Thanks... 


She was hoping he would notice, was afraid he would. 
She looked down at the tips of her nipples clearly 
protruding through her tight silk shirt, noting the 
round circles pushing out of the fabric that fairly 
shouted "PIERCING". 

"Good girls don’t get their nipples pierced," she said 
out loud. To herself she thought, "Since when have I 
been a good girl?" she mused, when she was thirteen and 
slipped her tongue into her best friend’s mouth when 
made to kiss her during a sleepover truth-or-dare. 

Nor was she an angelic seventeen year old when she was 
found her history teacher stroking himself in his car 
as she cut school; he was shocked to see her but more 
shocked to see her slip off her lace panties and slip 
into his car. And that night when, as a freshman in 
college, she had been ushered from dorm room to dorm 
room at the frat party; the boys so excited to find a 
girl so willing to accommodate their plan when drunk 
and never realizing she was not nearly as drunk as she 
seemed. No, she couldn’t fool herself as she had him 
for so long. She was definitely NOT a good girl.

She had had about enough of the "goodie two-shoes" 
routine and, if he couldn’t keep up, he could get out. 
Playing the virtuous twenty-one year old had been 
amusing for the first couple of weeks, but you just 
can’t change your true nature. She tossed her hair in 
frustration and stared down again at her shirt. 

The sight reminded her again of the lingering pain. No 
longer forgotten, with the pain came a wave of fresh 
pleasure flowing through her. It renewed the dampness 
between her legs, a dampness that had been there since 
the day before when she had gotten the piercing done. 
Her breasts felt like they were being continually 
pinched by tiny, tight nipple clamps and the arousal 
this caused in her was only heightened by the silky 
slide of her legs over her closely shaved pussy as she 
walked. 

She was roused from her reverie as the front door 
banged shut. She started as she realized she had been 
stroking the inside of her thigh, hastily shut her 
legs, pulled down her miniskirt and glanced in the 
mirror. 

"I hope this works," she thought hastily at her 
reflection before hurrying in to greet him. He never 
let her forget it the few times she missed his "I’m 
home" greeting kiss.

As she came into view, she saw him pause in the foyer 
and put down a large paper bag he had carried inside. 
"I’m home," he said softly, never once taking his eyes 
off of her breasts. Her mind raced as she tried to 
analyze whether to read amazement, disgust, or interest 
in his face. She gave up; it was unreadable and he was 
still simply staring at her breasts, awaiting her next 
move.

With resolution, she pulled back her shoulders, which 
perceptibly tightened the silk blouse more closely 
around her nipples, and slowly walked toward him to 
receive his kiss. At the last moment, she thought 
wildly, "What if he doesn’t kiss me?" She needn’t have 
worried.

She received more than the ritual kiss. As he leaned 
into her lips, he pushed her roughly back up against 
the banister, which dug into her back as he leaned her 
over in a devouring, deep kiss. It caught her 
unprepared, shocked her, hurt her. She felt a moist 
drip slowly roll down her leg. It had been too long.

This was not the gentle, considerate, conservative man 
she knew. 

***

He sat at his work desk and considered getting back 
onto the Internet. He was restless, not interested in 
what he was supposed to do any more than who he was 
supposed to be. He had tried the straight and narrow 
road and had found it (or maybe, him) unsuitable. He 
only knew himself truly in his imagination, when he 
took himself to the places he should not be, doing the 
things he should not do but that made him feel right, 
somehow.

He no longer tried to analyze his feelings, his psyche, 
his lusts. From the time spent surfing the web and 
cruising the red lit streets at night, he knew there 
was a part of him that would only be content when going 
beyond the bounds of what was socially acceptable. It 
was time to find a new society.

His online searches had shown him things even his 
teenage locker room talk hadn’t hint of existing. His 
hand strayed to his crotch, despite his office 
surroundings, as he thought of the pictures he had seen 
and of the websites he had visited. Somewhere out there 
were people who enjoyed the things he wanted, needed, 
to do. 

It wasn’t so much that he needed to pin a lusty sixteen 
year old girl’s hands over her head while driving 
forcefully into her, or wish he was tied down as he 
wondered at the surrender and horniness that had 
allowed him to surrender his ass to a hard, thick cock 
for fucking. No, it was more the need to abandon the 
pretense of conventional sex and allow him to feel true 
pleasure and ecstasy. He had no particular obsession, 
but convention held him to a girlfriend who fit the 
bill for social acceptability. The trouble was, he 
could no longer tolerate simply being and having the 
"acceptable".

"I would rather," he shied away from the thought. But 
he could not stop the visions he had seen. Women 
propped up on bars like dolls, only moaning and 
writhing in excitement as one, then another, women 
forced their tongues inside of her. 

A man, more like a boy, dressed as a slut at a freak’s 
club, only he looked GOOD in what he wore and promised 
the interested more experience than his sixteen years 
belied. A huge-chested petite girl, maybe 20, who ran a 
webcam out of her bedroom and did not shy from taking 
the large end of a baseball bat. A conservatively 
dressed redhead who took a shot of tequila and quickly 
acquiesced to be stripped, strapped down over a bench, 
and mounted by a large mastiff. Were those screams of 
pleasure or pain? Would his be?


***

On his way home, he stopped off at the local adult 
bookstore, after carefully observing that no one he 
knew was in the vicinity. He laughed at himself for the 
need to maintain his "respectability", and proceeded to 
buy each item in the shop that caught his fancy: nylon 
rope, several vibrators (he shuddered – excitement or 
fear? – at the one nearly as large as that big breasted 
chick’s bat), a blindfold and matching ball gag, a 
strap on of only slightly excessive size, a lubricator, 
a riding crop, and nipple clamps. He grabbed a choking 
collar and leash at the last minute. 

"Why not?" If the club he found online didn’t work out, 
he knew of some areas he could go and, with the hefty 
wad in his pocket, make his evening nearly as 
adventurous as he wanted. All safely stowed in a brown 
paper bag, he hoped in his car and headed home, hoping 
his straight-laced girlfriend would accept his escape 
lie.

***

The round, tight breasts he remembered had been 
decorated by jewels that both surprised him and made 
his cock stir between his legs. She held herself 
proudly, almost defiantly. The tips of her well-formed 
bosom swelled from a shirt obviously chosen for the 
purpose. The look she gave him challenged and enticed. 
He did not think, merely reacted to the notion the 
piercings had set in motion. As he kissed her roughly, 
he wondered if she knew just what she had gotten 
herself in for. And if he would really take things as 
far as he intended to.

The indecision did not last long, however. Her 
passionate response to his almost brutal caresses 
further revised his previous opinion of her. This was 
definitely not the sweet girl he thought he knew; if 
she kept this much of herself hidden from him, who 
would say what else what other deceptions she had 
practiced during their months together? 

In this way, he began to justify what he was about to 
do to her. The various plans for his own pleasure that 
had been running through his head over the course of 
the day were further clarified into a plan of action. 
What he had really wanted, needed, had been someone 
with whom (on whom?) to experiment some of the lustful 
desires he had long felt. 

"I now have both willing accomplice and victim," he 
mused as her hand went not to his hardening cock, but 
up her own short skirt where, obviously, no lingerie 
inhibited further progress of her fingers. She began to 
moan softly as he allowed her to finger herself while 
continuing to press her whole body against the wooden 
banister in a fierce kiss. 

He spared an additional moment to wonder where she 
expected this newfound lovemaking to go, but quickly 
dismissed the thought at inconsequential. Any 
resistance she might have had would bend before his 
will to see his fantasies made real.

***

Having made up his mind on his course of action, he 
pulled her roughly into the bedroom and began to strip 
her clothes off without ceremony. He paused a moment 
when, on pulling off her blouse, he met the newly-
pierced nipples, bright pink, slightly swollen, and 
enticing on what had been familiar breasts. He could 
not stop himself from running his tongue around the 
swollen areola. A slight gasp from her resulted in a 
light tug from him on the ring adorning her other 
breast. She moaned deeply in reaction; he tugged off 
her skirt to reveal a hairless crotch – cunt, he 
amended – and slightly open legs inviting his ever-
stiffening cock. 

He did not take the bait but, instead, without speaking 
yanked her onto and across the bed. Stooping to the 
nearly-forgotten brown bag at his feet, he fished out a 
length of rope, whipped out his leatherman to slash it 
at intervals, and proceeded to bind her tightly to the 
posts of their bed. During the whole ordeal, she did 
not struggle, only moaned and tried to reach for her 
cunt whenever her hands were free. Looking down at the 
pink lips of her cunt, at the moisture already visible, 
he did not hesitate to pull out his cell phone.

***

He leafed through various co-workers and friends’ names 
to get to the contact for his first call. Ralph had 
been very open, and perhaps very rude (a blessing, 
now), about his admiration for his co-worker’s 
girlfriend. Ralph’s openness about what he would do 
with such a ripe, potentially vulnerable type of girl 
might have been passed off as mere water-cooler talk if 
he did not have the established history to back it up. 

Ralph did not just talk the talk, he walked the walk. 
And the line he walked would make him a prime addition 
to tonight’s plan. There was no doubt that he knew an 
opportunity when he saw one and, well, if he couldn’t 
keep his mouth shut at work on Monday, there was no one 
who would agonize over it at this point.

"So what you are telling me is that your church-girl 
girlfriend is naked and ready to go for anything, and I 
am that anything?" Ralph questioned with some 
skepticism (but without trying to conceal his lust – 
this girl had been prime jack off bait for months). His 
co-worker’s affirmations were so strong that Ralph 
began throwing a couple of his own "props" in a bag 
before heading out. Not an opportunity to be passed up 
and, hell, he didn’t exactly have any dignity to 
maintain. 

Once Ralph’s presence was assured, her boyfriend dug in 
his hind pocket for a folded printout from work. The 
number heralded it as a local dominatrix, "Villia," 
whose professional attributes her website called, 
"unusual, arousing and brutal". 

Among the things he had learned from the online 
grapevine about her were a generous flexibility in 
suiting her clients’ tastes coupled with a commanding, 
dramatic enjoyment in taking total control of each 
event. He reached a throaty female voice on the end of 
the line, presented his plan, and was rewarded with a 
quick and enthusiastic approval. He made plans to meet 
her at a motel a short distance from his apartment.

Ralph arrived at the door to the apartment out of 
breath, either from his rush to arrive or his lust to 
get the girl in his clutches. Firmly gripping a bulging 
bag, he demanded, "Is this for real? You really want me 
just to strut in here and fuck your sweet-assed 
girlfriend?"

"And more than that," her boyfriend replied. "Keep her 
busy, from what I have heard, you know how. I’ll be 
back in a couple of hours."

"But what can I..." Ralph began, talking to his 
coworkers back as he strode to the door.

"Use your imagination," he replied. "But leave plenty 
for me. I have plans for her tonight."

Ralph wanted to confirm that she was on board with the 
plan, would not press charges like she had… His 
thoughts and indecision trailed off as he heard a low, 
guttural moan from the nearby bedroom. She did not 
sound like someone in need of convincing. Who would 
have thought she had it in her, Ralph wondered and then 
chuckled. Well, she doesn’t have anything in her yet, 
but that will change. His thoughts took an even more 
wicked turn.

***

He was surprised at what he saw when he slipped into 
the bedroom. Sprawled on the massive, four-postered bed 
was the "sweet" girl whose guttural moans had been 
getting him harder by the minute. She was spread eagle, 
strapped to the bed by ropes strapped around three of 
the four posters. He had seen the scene a thousand 
times – well, a few, he admitted – but this was 
different. 

Not only did he have to get over the shock of seeing 
such a nice girl so obviously enjoying such a torment, 
but his eyes were immediately drawn to the tantalizing 
nipples, erect and recently tortured with silvery 
rings. Her rounded breasts protruded out from her slim, 
tight body as she arched up – arched up in an erotic, 
desperate effort to touch herself with the slender 
fingers on a hand tightly bound high on a poster near 
her feet. 

She was writhing, straining against the ropes that 
bound her hand just a bit too high. When she arched her 
back, straining upwards, she could get the lightest of 
touches on her cunt. She seemed almost mad with 
frustration, yet wild with desire to be stroked. Ralph 
could see the moisture glistening between her legs and 
rolling down to the tips of her tight, upraised 
buttocks. He smiled a slow, nasty smile in response.

***

Once Ralph was in place, her boyfriend maneuvered his 
car purposely through the dark streets to a nearby 
hotel. He felt excitement, tinged with a little fear, 
at the thought of how he would surrender himself 
tonight. He pushed back thoughts of the girlfriend he 
had left hastily-bound at home and prepared himself for 
the coming encounter by familiarizing himself with 
using the phrase, "Yes, Mistress."

Pulling up at the motel, he parked near the door she 
had indicated and noted that lights were already ablaze 
from within. He pulled a flask from under his seat, 
took two swigs of whiskey, and braced himself to meet 
Mistress Villia. He willed himself into complete 
submission and surrender, such as he had never done 
before. The tightening of his loins at the prospect 
made it easier to give up his need for control. He 
wanted this, even the accompanying pain, humiliation, 
and debasement. Complete submission had been a buried 
need for so long but, once he faced it, it no longer 
shamed but excited him. He quickened his steps to the 
door.

The door opened before he had the chance to knock. He 
was silently greeted by a woman, swathed in a dark 
cloak, standing imperiously at the door and bending her 
gaze condescendingly down on him. Surprised at the 
reception, and in finding her taller than his height, 
he quickly stepped over the threshold, withdrew the 
agreed upon sum from his coat, and handed the cash, 
equally quietly, over to her. Mistress Villia smiled 
broadly, her wide, red lips reflecting the lamplight. 
Closing the door and drawing off her cloak in efficient 
motions, she established herself as the one in charge. 

Not that he one moment forgot that fact. From the 
moment he caught a glimpse of what was beneath her dark 
drape, he knew that he had met his match, and more so. 
She was dressed in flawless, shining patent leather, 
but only over her waist and torso. Mistress Villia 
reveled in the lust she produced by leaving her ample 
breasts and shaven pussy bare. 

She was corseted in the shiny leather, her breasts 
lifted majestically by the erotic ensemble. She 
completed the outfit by a pair of tall, high spiked 
boots, gartered black stockings, and an accumulation of 
"tools-of-her-trade" on a low-riding, wide, spiked 
belt. She knew that men were impressed by her height, 
athletic build, and overly-large breasts, but their 
sight of the toys she kept around her belt was what put 
the initial alarm in them. He was no exception.

***

The whispering rub of cheap polyester pierced through 
her torment, causing her to glance at the illuminated 
doorway. She saw a blackened silhouette, shorter, 
thicker and somehow more menacing than that which would 
have heralded the return of her boyfriend. Her thighs 
tightened in response, as she unwilling gave in to her 
lust to be touched, stroked, thrust into. She 
recognized him as he came nearer and, rather than the 
disgust that had shadowed their few previous 
introductions, the repulsiveness that charged through 
her only heightened her desire and her willingness to 
submit. 

As Ralph turned halfway into the light, he quirked a 
lewd half-grin and reached into his bag to pull out 
several nondescript items. Placing them on the bedside 
table, he leaned against the side of the bed and draped 
his rough hand on her thigh. A spasm of fear and lust 
coursed up her body; she arched her back a fraction 
higher in response. 

His smiled widened as he swiftly drew a riding crop 
from the side table and harshly slashed her inner thigh 
in an unanticipated strike. She shrieked; he had drawn 
blood. He hastily grabbed a balled up sock from the 
laundry-strewn floor and stuffed it into her still 
gasping mouth. He could have no more of that, and he 
was only getting started.

***

In a quiet, deep tone of command, Mistress Villia 
commanded him to strip off his clothing and step into 
the dirty motel shower. Her quiet words were partially 
obscured by the roar of a motorcycle revving up in the 
nearby parking lot, and he began, "Mistress, did you 
ask me to..." 

She lashed out with an astonishingly strong backhand 
across his face, her gothic, metal rings cutting a gash 
from cheekbone to the corner of his lip. Surprised and 
stung, and not wishing further displeasure, he striped 
down and stepped into the small bathroom, glancing at 
her to confirm he had correctly guessed her imperfectly 
heard wishes. 

With her small nod, he moved into the mildewed shower, 
already feeling aroused by her demands and the 
uncleanliness that surrounded the encounter. Although 
he and his girlfriend kept their apartment a mess, it 
did not have the same feel of filth and misuse that 
rendered the motel room a perfect place for a sordid 
rendezvous. 

Mistress Villia stepped her spiked boot up on the 
closed toilet lid and regarded him scornfully. His 
arousal quickly changed to embarrassment as he 
considered what a foolish sight he likely made, 
standing naked in the shower stall of an unkempt 
Brown’s Motel bathroom. He did not permit himself a 
mocking smile, however, as the Mistress unfastened a 
leather cord from her belt with one hand while bending 
to fondle his balls with another. 

He stiffed suddenly, embarrassment bled away, and he 
once again pledged to give himself over to the moment 
and to her. Her one-handed caresses produced a massive 
erection, as did the sight of her cleanly shaven pussy 
nearly touching the heel of her black leather boot as 
she leaned towards him. He noticed the darkness of her 
nipples and yearned to take one in his mouth, unsure of 
what her reaction would be. 

He remained motionless and lustful as she began to wind 
the leather thong around the base of his hard penis. A 
bit too tight, it bit into his flesh and nearly 
diminished his erection. He had not expected pain 
there, but pushed thoughts of the torment aside as she 
stepped into the stall. 

He was surprised to hear her voice husky with lust as 
she crisply ordered, "Kneel before me, with your chest 
to your knees, and look up into my eyes." He did as she 
commanded without hesitation but with some wonder as to 
what would come next. When he looked up, her slit eyes 
were condescending and scornful. 

"This will teach you that you are mine to use. And you 
are useless. Worthless. Only here for my pleasure, and 
whatever pleasure you take is because I allow it to be 
so. The only response you may now utter is, ‘Yes, 
Mistress.’ Is that clear?"

Though he had rehearsed it a dozen times, his "Yes, 
Mistress" sounded awkward to his ears. The pain between 
his thighs continued. He was amazed that he remained to 
hardly erect, and disturbed by his eager anticipation 
for what would come next. She step forward, put he 
still-booted leg up on an unseen soap rack. He fastened 
his eyes on her cunt, surprised to see, professional 
though she was, she was as excited by the encounter as 
he was. 

He caught her glare and quickly looked down, and not a 
moment to soon as her golden shower adorned his head. 
She pissed on him slowly at first, giving him the 
opportunity to examine his reaction to the humiliating 
situation in which he had placed himself. As she free 
her piss harder on his head and it streamed down the 
sides of his face, he stopped trying to think and 
surrendered himself to her right to do this to him. 
After all, he was only worth what he could do for his 
Mistress/

***

She gazed at Ralph with hatred and, to his surprise, 
nonetheless tried to hoist her straining hips to rub 
her clit on the riding crops he now carelessly dangled 
between her legs. She surprised him and pleased him 
more and more. His pants bulged with his response to 
her shamelessness and desire. 


This is only part One. Let me know what you think. I 
think my wife is really a good writer... I can't wait 
for the rest... 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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 41