We didn't hear too much after that. Mark was ripping my clothes off, and his fingers were already pumping away happily inside me. Ever since I'd mentioned the idea that I'd like to get pregnant, Mark had taken his role in the matter very seriously. We were having sex approximately ten times a day, and if he didn't stop I might murder him - let alone my mother.
"After I fall pregnant, will I get a break from all this exertion?" I asked, giggling away in a tangled heap of black satin sheets.
"No way. After you fall pregnant I will find you even more sexy than I do now and you will have to beat me off with a stick."
"Oh, Good Lord," I wailed.
"And he's not going to be able to save you either," said Mark, ruining the third pair of my panties that day, as he ripped them from my body and flung them across the room, which earned a cross glare from me in the meantime.
"I only have three pairs left now. What is wrong with you? You're a barbarian."
Mark shrugged his shoulders. "Panties are highly overrated. When I bust them all you won't be able to wear any."
Ah, so that was his plan. It was all making sense now. My husband the master schemer. It was about time I wiped that smug smile off his face.
"Don't forget that it's your turn to be dominated tomorrow, darling. I have booked my slot, and you will be present and correct, or there'll be trouble. Maybe I can trash your pants for a change," I grumbled.
"By all means," he said grinning, "and feel free to do your worst. I think I'm actually looking forward to this."
Picking up the hardback book I was reading from the bedside table, I lumped him over the head with it. While it was unlikely to knock any sense into him, it made me feel a little better.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Jennifer
The following day nearly every one of my muscles groaned in torment as I struggled out of bed. I didn't care because nothing was going to wipe the smile off my face. I'd had a fantastic evening, about eleven orgasms and a decent spanking. If that wasn't enough, tonight was going to be the night that I got to dominate my husband, and the excitement rippling through my body was almost too much to contain. I had planned it all out in my head for weeks. All I needed was to put my thoughts into action.
Mark had been relatively good-humoured yesterday. He'd given in to my demands with good grace, and that in itself was a little strange because I'd thought I stood no chance, but something had certainly happened. Maybe it was our near-death experience, perhaps it was something else, but he didn't seem too concerned with the baptism of fire I was going to put him through this evening.
When he came down for breakfast I beamed at him and laid out my famous microwave omelette, which I had now perfected. I'd even made him a breakfast smoothie, having grasped the basics of the blender. Blenders are great. You chuck all kinds of fruit and veg in them and voila. You just have to remember to make sure the lid is locked down. My first attempt had sadly failed to ascertain this and resulted in the redecoration of the kitchen. Blackberry stains are almost impossible to remove from magnolia walls, take my word for it.
"Are you nervous?" Yes, I was teasing him, but it was nice to get my own back once in a while.
"Not particularly," he said calmly, as soon as he'd finished a mouthful of non-crunchy omelette. "Should I be?" His eyes caught mine over the table, and they were twinkling. He wasn't going to let me ruffle his feathers just yet. I'd get there, though. The day was young.
"Yes, you absolutely should be," I said, trying for my sternest, disciplinarian look. Mark could always do dark withering looks so well, but I have to confess I struggled with them. Tonight was going to be a challenge, but one that I wholly intended to embrace.
"You realise that if it's really bad, I'll just get my own back the next day?" There was the merest glimmer of a smile around his lips, but other than that - nothing. Trying to ruffle the feathers of my husband was nearly impossible - well unless you were Kyle, that was, but thankfully we'd seen the end of him. My mother and father had promised to keep Mark in the loop about that, but I'd told him I didn't want to know, and I'd meant it. It was bound to be something truly awful, and sometimes you're better off not knowing. I had better things to think about.
"I don't care. I'll just find another opportunity to get my own back at a later date."
"Good luck with that. I might just keep you chained and locked up in my naughty room after this. Spread-eagled on my wall, flogged hourly, and ready for sex at any and every opportunity." He drank a sip of his very green smoothie and winced. "What the hell is in this?"
"Wheatgrass, spirulina, celery, broccoli, spinach, and kale."
He pulled a face at me. "Forget domination. If you ever want to really torture me, just make me drink this revolting crap on a regular basis." He held the glass at arm's length as if it were a grenade about to explode.
I beamed. "It's good for you. Drink it up. If you're going to be a dad you need to stay healthy for at least the next twenty years or so." I gave him the you'd-better-do-as-you're-told look that I'd been perfecting over the last few days and waited to see if it would work. After a long deliberation and several scowls at me, he drank the thing down in one and pulled another face.
"God, that is awful. You can't do that to me every morning."
"Watch me."
"I am. You look gorgeous. That frowny face you just loosed on me is adorable, by the way." He waved his knife at me and grinned.
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I should have known that was coming.
"That's another fifty spanks." He shook his head and gave me a mocking glance.
I had a reply ready and waiting for him. "You've just gained yourself a hundred by being cheeky, and I'm going to use the rubber flogger."
"Lucky me. Are you going to dress up for me?" His eyes lit up at the thought.
I was, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"You'll just have to wait and see." I winked at him.
He smirked at me. "It's going to be fun to watch you wear the trousers for a change." He then got up, placed his plate and utensils in the dishwasher, and came back to the dining table to lay a kiss upon my head. "I'll be in the office as I'm working from home today, and I'm going to work straight through lunch, so you can have me for an early start at six p.m. Does that fit in with your plans?" I felt him bury his face in my hair, breathing in my scent. Mark had always been touchy-feely, but after the event with Kyle he couldn't seem to keep his hands off me. Whether that was because he was glad I was alive, or because he kept thinking about getting me pregnant was anybody's guess, but if he kept up with this attentive behaviour there was a distinct chance I might have ten kids after all.
"Perfectly. Thank you for being so thoughtful," I purred. Oh God, I couldn't wait until six. This was going to be the longest day ever.
"You need to make yourself available for a lunchtime quickie at twelve, though. His hands dipped from my face to my breasts, and he caressed them gently. My nipples immediately peaked, and the rest of my body pleaded for some of the good stuff. No Jennifer. Control.
"No can do, darling. You aren't getting a thing from me until this evening." There. I'd said it. It hurt, but I'd said it.
"What? How am I supposed to go all day without sex? You can't do that to me," he moaned pitifully. Slipping his hand between my legs, as if to emphasise his point, he rested his chin on the top of my head and growled.
"You've just managed to go two weeks without sex. The next nine hours or so should be a cinch." Standing up, I blew him a kiss and then disappeared from view.
"Tomorrow your ass is mine, young lady," he yelled after me.
"That's another one hundred spanks, darling," I said breezily, almost skipping from the room.
Six o'clock could not come fast enough. Although I was helping Mark work from home by typing up his correspondence and dealing with a few calls, my mind couldn't focus on anything worth a damn. Thankfully all the tasks I'd been set I could almost do with my eyes closed, so that was something.<
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When I'd finished the allotted assignments, which was a couple of hours after lunch, I went to work on preparing myself for the evening ahead.
We would start in the bedroom. I'd need a rubber flogger, a paddle, a crop, and a blindfold. Now, how was I going to restrain my husband? Rope seemed like a good idea, but did I want rough hessian rope that would leave marks, or smooth, soft bondage rope? We had lots of either variety and more in between.
Deliberating over this, I laid my outfit for the evening out on our bed. It was designed in black leather and had an adorable headband to match. Mark was going to love it. It also came with a little bullwhip for decoration, although I didn't intend to use it. My problem would be stamina. Having been working my arms in the gym all week, it didn't take an idiot to realise that I wasn't going to be able to wield any kind of whip for long. But with frequent breaks I reckoned I could do some pretty impressive damage. My husband was going to remember our night together for at least a couple of days to come; I would make sure of it.
Hmm. Hessian rope, I decided. The more reminders he had of me, the better. I'd need cuffs, too. Next question: should I gag him? Yes, absolutely. He was sure to get cheeky at some point and hearing him moan for a change would turn me on something fierce. A ball gag would do nicely - a big fat one. What else? Damn, there were so many things to think about.
Rooting through the bottom drawer of my lingerie I found the last couple of things I was looking for. They'd been delivered by mail order a couple of days ago, in anticipation for tonight, and I was very excited by them. One was a strap on dildo, and the other was a stainless steel chastity device. He didn't know what was going to hit him, but whatever it was, it was going to hit him hard.
"Hello, darling. How's work going?" I peered around the door to my husband's office, hoping he'd be sweating buckets, but no, still cool as a cucumber, finalising a couple of accounts on Excel, by the looks of things. Lucky him. I was as jumpy as a March Hare. It was now ten to six and the minutes had ticked down ridiculously slowly.
"Nearly finished, sweetheart." He looked at his watch and whistled. "Am I up for the chop yet? Where and how do you want me?" I wanted him kicking and screaming, but we'd get to that later.
"We're going to start in the bedroom, and I want you at the door, naked and on your knees at six p.m. sharp. Failure to do so will, of course, result in punishment. Am I clear?" He raised his eyebrows at me, tried his best not to laugh, and then nodded. The man was in serious trouble. I gave him my most disdainful look and sauntered from the room without waiting for a reply. The dance had begun. Would he obey me? The jury was out on that, but we'd soon find out.
Surprisingly I heard him outside the door, bang on time, just as I'd begun doing my make-up. He'd have to wait a few minutes, but as I'd been told before, anticipation is the mother of desire.
"Are you naked, slave?" My voice carried through the closed door, and it was masterful and terse. There was a lot more to this being dominant than I'd previously thought, and holding it together for a whole evening was going to be a challenge for me. You can do this.
"I am."
"Get on your knees and place your forehead on the floor. I'll come and get you when I'm ready." There was no sound from outside the door, so I'd find out later whether my instructions had been followed. When I finally opened the door, twenty minutes later, it was to find Mark in the position I'd said, waiting patiently for my arrival. He didn't look up at me as I stood there in my robe, and this was when I realised that my husband was probably a better trained submissive than I would ever be. Sophia must have been one very skilled mistress. One day I'd try and get him to talk about it, but not now. We needed some time without drama for the next couple of months - anything but sexual drama, that was.
Raising the thick leather collar I held in my hands, I brought it out in front of me. Tapping the top of his head, I spoke to him sharply. "Sit upright on your knees, eyes on the floor." He obeyed instantly, his body straight and stiff, although some parts were stiffer than others. If I had worried that he wouldn't be turned on by tonight's proceedings, my fears were put to rest.
Fastening the collar around his neck, I buckled it firmly behind him. "There are cuffs on the bed. Fasten your ankles together, and then do your wrists in front of you. When you're finished, lie on your back on the bed. I'll be back shortly." My black silk robe fluttered behind me as I marched from the room.
When I was satisfied with the results of my make-up in the bathroom mirror, I removed my robe and picked up the headband I'd left in there earlier. Placing it gently upon my head, I arranged my hair carefully around it. That was it. I was ready and feeling quite confident. Fairly sure I'd soon get in the swing of things, I decided all we needed now was a little background ambience.
As one of Mark's favourite pastimes was to dominate me to the accompaniment of classical music, I thought I'd return the favour to make him feel right at home. Cranking up the stereo as loud as it would go, the delicate strain of something melodious and endearingly beautiful wafted through the room. It was a famous piece, and I was positive he'd recognise it; I just wondered how long it would take him to get the joke. The answer was not long.
"You can turn that off right now, young lady, or you're not going to be able to sit down for a week when tomorrow morning dawns." My man was not amused.
Ah, finally. I had my husband back. I'd wondered when he was going to pipe up and say something. The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky was a very apt piece, I thought. Too bad he didn't appreciate my sense of humour.
"Slaves should be seen and not heard, darling," I purred, entering the room in a leather catsuit, complete with side cut-out panels that revealed almost as much of my figure as they hid. Black opera gloves snaked up each arm, and on my head I wore a leather headband complete with kitten ears. In my right hand I carried a bullwhip. Five-inch spike heels and a push-up bra completed the look. I was popping out all over the place. Meow. Call me vain, but I looked awesome. Now it was time to wreak havoc upon my poor husband's body.
"Holy fuck, you look incredible," Mark stuttered, before remembering where he was and what was about to happen. Doing his best to look stern he added, "Just you wait until tomorrow. A bullwhip will be the least of your worries, darling."
"I don't think so," I drawled. "Both Mummy and Daddy have promised to get rid of you if you prove problematic." I fluttered my eyelashes at him and waggled my whip in the air.
"They did not!" he said, clearly horrified.
"They absolutely did," I said, lying through my teeth. "If I want to dominate you every day for the next twenty years, there's not a thing you can do about it."
"And do you?" Mark's voice was soft and dangerous. If I wanted to push my husband like this he would become a lethal weapon, and I did not want to be his target; we'd been there before.
"No. I like the status quo exactly like it is. The odd night of domination is nice, though, so let me have my fun."
"Duly noted, Mistress Matthews." Mark lifted his cuffed hands in front of his face and raised an eyebrow. "So what do you want this evening? Do you want an obedient slave, one that obeys your every order immediately, or do you want something else?" The emphasis on something else went on forever. I frowned.
"I don't want a doormat if that's what you're asking. I want my husband. Feel free to be as sarcastic as you like, just be aware that I'm going to have some fun at your expense for a change." Tapping the whip in my gloved hand I gave him a long, searing look that spoke volumes.
"Then let the fun begin," he said.
Straddling my husband's face and ordering him to make me come three times in a row was a gratifying experience - for me at least. It also relaxed me. When I got off the bed my eyes lingered on his cock, which was straining for attention, and I fluttered a gloved fingertip up and down its length. He didn't make a sound. Mark was going to play tough guy for the evening, that much was obvious.
Leaning towards his face, I whispered, "How much do you want to com
e right now, darling?"
He blinked once, twice, and then his cuffed hands grabbed my arms and swung me down on the bed, and all of a sudden he was lying on top of me.
"Just a thought," he bit, "but when you're trying to dominate someone who's bigger, faster, and stronger than you are, make sure they're restrained properly before you tease them." He took my bottom lip in his mouth, bit it gently, and heard me moan.
"So you don't want to come then?" I batted my eyelashes at him seductively, and my fingers found his cock nestling between my legs. I gripped it tightly and pumped it very gently.
"If you think I'm begging you for an orgasm, Jennifer, you have a very long evening ahead of you." My husband was getting a little irked. This was perfect.
"We'll see," I whispered seductively. "Now get off me and let me finish, else I'll call mum." I bit his ear and heard him let out a hiss. He deserved it.
"You can't do that from here. I could just lie on you all evening and fuck you senseless, and there isn't a thing you could do about it." Mark's eyes were glowing brightly and damned if I didn't nearly melt into a puddle on the spot.
"Think again, tough guy. I enabled voice recognition on my phone. Dial mum," I called out, and sure enough my phone heard and in a female voice said, "Calling mum. Yes or no?" Looking expectantly at my husband, I waited for his response.
"You wouldn't," he said tightly.
"Want to test that theory?" I teased, wriggling beneath him.
Rolling off me, his lips flattened in evident frustration.
"You agreed to this. Be a good boy now," I said sweetly. "Right. I think it's time we put this on you." Pulling a black rubber cockring out of my pocket, I slid it down the length of his erect cock. "That should keep you nice and hard for what I'm about to do next."
"And what's that?" he growled.
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