by Al Daltrey
“Take me, Benito…fuck me…fuck my ass. Take me.”
He slid into me easily and started to thrust in and out. Not long afterward, he was dumping a load of cum deep into my bowels. I pretended to be aroused the whole time, but it was all an act.
As we lay on the bed to catch our breath, I checked the clock. Less than a half hour since I arrived. I decided to slow it down a little, or he might catch on that I wanted out of there as fast as possible. This was a balancing act. I wanted to get out of there quickly, but not so quickly that he felt offended. We lay on the bed and talked for while. I hugged a pillow to feel some comfort while I asked him all about his real estate empire. He liked sounding like a big shot. Then I excused myself and tip toed to the restroom to clean up. Intentionally, I stayed in there for almost fifteen more minutes. When I emerged he was still laying in bed, probably wondering if there was a round two coming his way.
I walked gingerly toward my clothes, “I can’t believe how sore I am,” I lied. “You are big, and boy, you sure now how to fuck a girl.”
“Oh, you’re leaving?”
I didn’t answer, as if I didn’t hear. I told him again, as I was getting dressed, that I was sore, and in fact, hadn’t been feeling a hundred percent all day. Benito lay on the bed and watched my every move, his eyes moving up and down my body. It was like he was scanning me to memory. I had fulfilled my assignment; that’s all I cared about. And the Oscar goes to…
I was confident that Benito wouldn’t complain to Jack about my overall willingness, or it would make Benito himself look feeble. I grabbed my purse, and Benito held my hand as I slipped on my shoes. He actually was a polite guy. Leading me out of the bedroom toward the front door, he gave me a goodbye hug, then he let something slip, “That’s the best wager I ever played in a card game.”
I paused for a minute, perplexed, and then asked for clarification, “What card game?”
Benito must have realized he spoke out of turn and tried to brush off his comment. I was thinking: wait a minute, wait a minute. The weirdness started the night of the poker game. The night Jack couldn’t sleep. He’s been odd ever since. Fuck. FUCK!! Jack lost me on a bet that night. Is that possible? Is that WHY he sent me here? My mind was racing, but I somehow managed to remain composed. I had to verify. I had to make sure. Worthy of another Oscar nod, I pretended I knew all along.
“Oh the bet? Yeah, Jack told me that he lost me in a card game that night.” I rolled my eyes for extra drama.
“So, he did tell you, oh good.”
Benito’s words rang in my ears over and over. My hunch was right: Jack, my adorable loving husband and dominant, had sent me here after losing a bet. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. But I held it together long enough to say goodbye and walk out of there.
Benito watched as I walked down the hallway toward the elevator. I got on it, still numb, and pressed the button for a random floor. I got off, and walked down to the very end of the hallway where I opened the fire-hazard door to the emergency stairwell. I sat on the cold hard cement floor of the stairs. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I cried. I cried and cried. For the first and only time in my entire life, I felt like a true whore.
I looked down at my rings while I sat there. On my left hand, I wore my wedding band, and my engagement ring. On my right hand I wore a ring that was equally important. It was an eternity band that was my symbolic collar. I remembered the night Jack had given it to me, well before our wedding. It was the night that I officially became his submissive. We talked for hours about what it meant. We talked about the trust we had, and how the kinky bdsm games we were planning on playing could never happen without that kind of trust. We talked about safewords, and limits, and release. We agreed that, if the D/s caused issues, we’d end it, but still remain husband and wife.
When I was able to compose myself, I walked the remaining flights to our floor and entered our condo.
Jack was waiting and looked at me. I walked immediately past him toward our bedroom. I needed a shower, and I could not wait to get out of the dress that reminded me of the night that went horribly wrong. A night that should NEVER have taken place.
“You fucking ASSHOLE. A poker bet? Really Jack?? You piece of shit, fucking PRICK!”
The words were sinking in. He said nothing in return, still in shock. I had never spoken to him like that before. He just stood there staring at me. I walked into our closet and grabbed my bathrobe. I turned around, and he was right behind me. Finally, he spoke:
“I’m sorry Chloe,” he said, trying to approach me to give me a hug.
“Fuck off Jack. Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I am so sorry Chloe,” he said one more time.
Then I slipped the eternity ring off my finger. I threw it at him, and just to make it clear, I told him what it meant: “Here’s your bullshit collar back. Consider this my release as your submissive. You don’t own me anymore!”
Then I walked into our bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind me. Through the door I spoke loudly:
“I am taking a shower to wash the two pricks off of my skin. If you think you have any chance of sharing our matrimonial bed tonight, think again.”
I turned on the shower. Removing my robe, I let the water wash away my tears and the remnants of a man I will never let touch me again. I scrubbed every inch of my skin. Washing my hair too, I stood with my face to the steady stream of water. I could not believe Jack would bet me in a card game. The more I thought of it, the more I felt sick inside. What else did Jack forget to tell me? Omissions are lies in disguise.
I wasn’t sure how long I was in the shower. Could it have been a whole hour? I found my favorite night gown and got into bed with wet hair. Hugging multiple pillows, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The asshole slept on the couch.
Chapter 15. Never Easy
Jack’s View:
The next day we barely spoke.
The day after that we returned to work and were civil toward each other. I did as much housework as I could. Every time I used a glass, I placed it right in the dishwasher. The day after that I wrote her a letter of apology.
I debated what was more stupid: using Chloe as a wager in cards, or not telling her the truth afterward. Both were stupid, but I would debate in my mind which was more stupid.
Sex was out of the question for the first week. Then it trickled back in. I was very glad to sleep in our bed again, after spending the first few nights on the couch.
I also reflected back on the years where I learned about the lifestyle. While I had started having sex in high school, it was not until I moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA that I dabbled in bdsm. A few of the girls I was seeing had kinky tastes, and I happily experimented with spankings, light bondage, and control. I would take the girls shopping, and we’d try out all sorts of new toys. My interest in the lifestyle was growing, and I was lucky enough to meet a few older couples who lived it. That opened up new experiences, as I got to attend private parties where everything from whippings to public humiliation occurred. After graduation, I stayed in L.A. for the first three years of my career. I joined a bdsm club called ‘Club Insomnia,’ and my exposure to all things bdsm really blossomed. I was single during much of that time, which gave me unprecedented access to willing submissives, some my age, some older. As well, two of the older male Doms became mentors of sorts, and helped explain a lot.
During that period, I also fell in love, at least twice. At the start of those relationships, there were high expectations on both parts, but neither worked out. Cheryl was lovely, and somewhat kinky, but over time I found myself less and less energized. We were comfortable, but she didn’t inspire and challenge me the way that Chloe does. Fiona was a total pain slut, and her willingness to do almost anything in the bedroom was initially appealing, but we didn’t see the world the same way. I didn’t love her companionship when it came to spending time together, say during a long car trip. So, while we got off to a promising s
tart, the connection fizzed out.
When I moved back to San Francisco, Chloe came into my life serendipitously. I met her at a Halloween party. She wore a French Maid’s outfit, which I interpreted as a cry for attention from her secret submissive side. I wasn’t wrong. I still remember our very first conversation that night. We talked about the latest Dave Matthews CD and argued about whether it was as good as his early stuff. At the end of the night, we exchanged email addresses, and within a week I had the biggest crush of my life. I couldn’t get enough of Chloe. We fell madly in love, all the while pushing the boundaries of Chloe’s sexuality. When a couple have undying trust, anything is possible.
That is, until I screwed it up. Well, although I may have lost her as my submissive, I did not lose her as my wife. For that, I was eternally grateful.
Chloe’s View:
I hated him a little less each day.
I never stopped loving him. Our marriage was never in question. We were stronger than that. But the bdsm thing left a very sour taste in my mouth. He wrote me a letter of apology, which was really very sweet, but I didn’t want to give in and let him off the hook too easily. I was truly hurt. The letter also included two tickets to Puerto Vallarta, which Jack had booked just before my session with Benito. We had already scheduled the vacation time at our respective jobs. I confirmed that, yes; a vacation away would probably be a good thing.
One week later, we made love for the first time since the fight. The tension in the air was lessening. The second week was better, and the third week even better.
That said, I was not sure that I could ever forgive him. He had hurt me deeply. I needed him to truly understand my pain and not only apologize in writing, but feel it emotionally. I am not an object to be lost or won in a stupid card game. If Jack couldn’t fully grasp the errors of his ways then I would grow to resent him and his actions. It scared me. I know that if I didn’t heal, it would destroy our marriage, not just our power exchange.
It is a dominant’s job to take care of his submissive’s needs. My Dom failed me.
Jack made me feel cheap, and when I thought about what was going through his head while playing poker with Benito, I felt sick to my stomach. The adorable Jack I met at that Halloween party two years earlier wouldn’t have put me in that position. I had just broken up with my fourth boyfriend in as many years. I was starting to think maybe there was something wrong with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to settle. It’s not about being in love, it’s about being madly, crazily, wildly obsessively in love. That didn’t happen until Jack. Not even close.
He also broadened my horizons sexually, in ways I did not even know existed. None of the other men or women I had ever shared a bed with, did that. With Jack, it wasn’t orgasms; it was thunderous orgasms that took my breath away. I’d been shared once by an ex-boyfriend, but the first time Jack shared me was with a couple on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. The second time was on a weekend trip to Vegas where he paid an escort girl to give me a spanking in our hotel room. We loved it! That Christmas, we went to L.A. to see some of his friends, and he took me to a party with the Club Insomnia crowd. There was no actual sex, but I was put on display for a portion of the party as a Christmas tree with two dozen or so clamps affixed to my body as decorations. It wasn’t lost on Jack or me that being exhibited in that fashion turned my pussy into a lake.
But that was then. I couldn’t imagine that we’d ever return to a life of Master and submissive ever again.
He broke my trust and regaining it was no easy task.
Chapter 16. Puerto Vallarta
Jack’s View:
The trip to Puerto Vallarta came at the right time. It had been a month since our big fight, and a vacation would be a nice way to infuse some additional healing.
Both Chloe and I always enjoyed salt water swimming. We swam, snorkeled and did a responsible amount of sunning. It was nice to see her perfect skin get slightly darker with a tan. It was the last day of our holiday, and we were going to take a cab into the little town of Puerto Vallarta to go to an Italian restaurant named La Dolce Vita. Chloe came out of the shower and was drying herself off with a towel. She didn’t notice that I was watching her. The tan lines were there to see. Her breasts were a creamy white, along with the outline of a bikini bottom, while the rest of her was darker. There were times during the week when I kissed that body and tasted salt from the ocean, but now she was freshly showered.
I wanted to use my Dom voice to command her to come crawling to me, but I couldn’t. I was her husband, but no longer her Master. Sure I could wander up behind her and begin to nibble on her neck, and I’m sure she’d let me make love to her, but my days of taking total sexual control of her were history.
Later in the restaurant, one bottle of wine turned into two. The food was okay, about what you’d expect in a resort town in Mexico. We both agreed the trip was a much-needed break. We were flying back early the next afternoon and stepped outside for a cab around midnight. It was a warm evening with various tourists and locals milling about. We saw a taxi drive past and waved it down.
The driver was a middle-aged Mexican with broad shoulders and long sloppy hair. His English wasn’t very good, but when we told him the name of our resort, he nodded and we sped off. Chloe and I started kissing in the back seat, not unusual for us.
“I liked seeing your tan lines today,” I whispered in her ear.
“Wanna see them now?” she teased me.
Again, I found myself wishing I was her Master, so I could control the situation. Chloe pulled her own breasts out of the top of her dress, and I noticed that our driver was looking in his rear view mirror to see them. She then spread her legs, and taking my hand, she guided it right to her pussy. I pulled her undies aside and started to run my fingers along her slit. The driver now was spending as much time looking in his rear view as he was looking forward to the road ahead. Chloe took a hold of my wrist and pulled my hand away, lifting it upward toward her face.
She made sure that the driver was looking at her through the mirror when she sucked my visibly wet fingers into her mouth, slurping on my digits, making noises, tasting herself. Then I kissed my wife, a nice long slow kiss, mouth to mouth. She fed both of us her fingers while we kissed.
The driver meanwhile was starting to shimmy up and down, very rapidly, which initially we didn’t quite comprehend. Then I chuckled, and Chloe giggled. He was jerking off. He was steering with his left hand while he tugged on his meat with his right hand.
Chloe asked me a brazen question, “I know you no longer dominate me, but as my husband, do you have any objection to letting me play a little?”
“Not at all. After my fuck-up, I’d say, for the rest of this year, you can do as you please.”
I was quite surprised when Chloe suddenly started motioning for the driver to pull over onto a darkened quiet street. He did so just as she glanced over at me.
“Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “I won’t let him touch me you-know-where.”
Then my crazy wild unpredictable wife opened up the back door, and in a flash, had jumped up into the front passenger seat, her tits still popped out of her dress, bouncing in the open air. She reached across, and with her free hand, started to jerk the driver’s cock. I was laughing and shaking my head all at the same time. She looked back at me with the silliest expression on her face.
“Oh my god, this guy is hung like a freakin’ horse,” she said.
With her right hand, Chloe was stroking the Mexican who was now leaning back and enjoying what I am sure he thought was a completely bizarre American couple. He probably thought we were much drunker than in fact we were. Little did he know we weren’t drunk; we were just kinky.
Chloe kept pulling and stroking on the man’s big, thick, fat meat. Then with her free hand, she guided his hand to her breasts. She wasn’t going to let him touch her pussy, but she was going allow him to feel-up her tits. He pulled on her nipples, feeling them harden in his fingertips. His f
ingers were also thick and calloused. This was a hardworking man who must’ve felt like he’d just won the lottery.
You are completely crazy my adorable wife. Sometimes I think you’re crazier and kinkier than me. Which is probably another reason why I fucking love you so much.
Chloe’s View:
It was the last night of our vacation, and I was in a frisky mood. I think subconsciously I was intentionally pushing my luck to see if Jack would take control of me again. I don’t know. Maybe I was starting to forgive him after all.
We were taking a late night taxi from the town back to the resort. The driver looked like a Mexican drug cartel member from central casting. Jack whispered something in my ear about seeing my tan lines earlier. He never thinks I don’t notice him, but I always know when he’s watching me covertly from another room. On a total whim, I reached into my dress, with its low V-neck line, and pulled out my tits. The old Jack would have told me exactly what to do next. With the new Jack, I needed to take matters into my own hands.
I spread my legs and guided his hand to my pussy. With my free hand, I pulled aside my panties allowing his fingers access to my wanton hole. I peered up at our driver’s eyes in the rear view looking back at us. With Jack’s fingertips slick with my sluttiness, I took hold of my husband’s wrist, and guided his hand up to my mouth. I sucked his fingers into my mouth, ensuring our driver was getting a show. If he didn’t see it, which he did of course, he sure as heck heard me. I was slurping on those wet fingers like a kid eating ice cream, and moaning all the way through it.
Jack and I almost burst out laughing when we noticed the guy jerking his chicken, as they say. But then I thought, why not? Go for it dude, we’re getting crazy, why not really enjoy the moment. Next, I asked Jack’s permission to push this little scene even further. He acquiesced, still treating me with kid gloves. I motioned for the driver to pull over. There’s no way I’d ever let a random taxi driver, in a foreign country of all places, touch me, but a handjob would be harmless enough. Mostly I wanted to see if Jack would interfere, or if he truly respected my new found sexual freedom.