I clenched my sphincter and tried to get involved in reading my own book, but I couldn’t possibly concentrate and the same sentence tried unsuccessfully to hammer its way into my brain over and over again.
I was no closer to processing the words when I heard the key in the lock.
My heart began to thunder and my ears to roar. I put the book down then picked it back up again, trying to look natural.
Be relaxed, I told myself. Be casual. He won’t expect it.
He came into the room, looking slightly crumpled after a long shift on a hot day, with rolled-up shirtsleeves and a pinkish tinge to his skin.
‘Hi,’ I said. I tried to sound nonchalant, not sure it came off.
‘Well, good evening,’ he said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. ‘Could we have the book down, please?’
‘Since you’re asking nicely,’ I said pertly, placing it on the bedside table.
His eyebrows crept higher.
‘And if I didn’t?’ he asked with deceptive politeness.
I felt the delicious danger prickle at my skin.
I shrugged, sniggering self-consciously, like a kid caught passing notes in class.
‘Lie down on your stomach,’ he said.
I had been expecting more banter before business so I didn’t react straightaway, until he took a step closer to me and then I threw myself face down on the duvet, hiding in its clean, comfortable folds.
‘So,’ he said, and the mattress groaned under his weight. He straddled me, his knees either side of my thighs, my legs pressed down. ‘I’m your bitch, am I?’
‘No,’ I giggled.
‘But that’s what your friends think I am. Your friends think that I crawl around this flat on my hands and knees in tight leather shorts, until you decide to take them down and thrash my arse. Don’t they?’
‘Maybe something like that,’ I mumbled.
‘Yeah, maybe something like that. Do you know what I think you should do? I think you should call them up on the phone later on and describe some of the things that I’ve done to you. Do you think that’s fair?’
‘Depends what you do,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I haven’t made my final decision yet,’ he said. ‘But you can be fairly sure that these aren’t going to be necessary.’
He yanked down the pyjama shorts, raising himself up for a moment so that they could rest around my knees.
I yelped and tried to wriggle out from under him, but he clamped his legs tight around me and smacked his hand down on my bare bum.
‘You’re going to keep still, Pip,’ he said. ‘And behave yourself. Aren’t you?’
‘I’ll try.’
Another smack.
‘I need a bit more commitment than that,’ he warned.
‘I’ll be good,’ I promised. ‘But what are you going to do?’
‘Something I’ve been thinking of doing for years. But somehow never had the confidence to suggest. Until now.’
‘Why now?’
‘I’m not worried you’ll think I’m a disgusting pervert any more. You know I am.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘Good. So you won’t be too shocked by what I’m about to do to you.’
He got off me and began rummaging in his work bag, which he’d dropped by the side of the bed. I twisted my neck to watch him. His face was redder. He was still a little bit nervous, for all his bravado. I wanted to hold his hand and tell him it would be OK. How absurd – what would be OK? I didn’t even know.
His hand emerged from the bag wrapped around a small squeezy bottle full of colourless gel. He put it down and I read the label. ‘Slide-a-ride’. It was a lubricant. We’d never used lube before because, well, I usually didn’t need any assistance in that department. Dan only had to look at me a certain way for my knickers to flood.
So …
He reached into the bag again and pulled out a rectangular cardboard and cellophane presentation package, of the kind you might get a set of bath products wrapped in at Christmas. Except there were no body lotions or bath salts in this box.
No, there were three pink, strange-shaped objects. They reminded me a bit of the ornate handles at the bottom of my grandmother’s bathroom light pull switches – flared for a more comfortable grip. But I knew that the flaring was nothing to do with ease of wrapping fingers around. And I knew what these babies were. I’d seen them in The Book. They were butt plugs.
‘Oh, my God,’ I exclaimed, unable to stop myself. ‘Are you serious?’
He sat on the side of the bed and held my face, looking at me in a manner that made it perfectly clear that he was.
It wasn’t just my heart fluttering. Everything was in turmoil and I could scarcely identify my responses. Sometimes they seemed broadly positive, and then the lurch in my stomach begged to disagree and I thought I was dead against the whole idea.
‘I want to do this,’ he said softly. ‘Not to terrorise or punish you at all, but to see if you like it. I’ve always secretly wanted to, well, I won’t pussyfoot around, take you up the arse. But I don’t want the first time to be painful or shocking for you. So I thought this …’
I exhaled. ‘Right. Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say. It seemed beyond the pale to admit that I found the idea quite exciting. Surely I should resist the idea with every fibre of my being? But then, I was happy for him to give me a sore bottom in the other way. So this seemed a natural step to take.
‘And perhaps we could make it part of the routine, you know, instead of spanking, or in addition. I think –’ his voice became almost a whisper ‘– I’d like that.’
He looked as if he might salivate. My bared pussy began to flood at the thought of what he’d been planning and fantasising. He wanted to do unspeakable things to me. I wanted to let him.
But I didn’t want him to know I wanted it.
My head might have exploded, if only my lower parts weren’t so insistent in their needs.
What should I do? If I said, ‘Yeah, OK, go for it,’ I’d lose the best part of the excitement. Pretend to protest and hope he’d do it anyway? Be so over the top that he’d realise I was play-acting? I couldn’t expect him to read my mind, but I didn’t want my mind read. I wanted to be told what to do and made to accept it.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other and a chasm of real fear seemed to separate us.
Then I said, ‘You’re the boss.’
He smiled and took several deep breaths. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he wiped it away.
‘OK then,’ he said, picking up the box.
‘In here,’ I whispered swiftly, to clarify. ‘In this room, you’re the boss.’
‘Except when you misbehave, my dear,’ he reminded me, wincing as he tried to rip off the sellotape using only his finger.
‘You need scissors.’
‘I don’t need scissors. Don’t tell me what to do. I’m the boss, remember. Shit. I need scissors.’
I laughed as he loped off to the kitchen to find some, then took up the package in my hands to investigate further.
The three plugs were of different sizes. I presumed I was only in for the most miniature of them today. All the same, it looked … alien. Yes, like an alien, a tiny pink fleshy thing. I supposed it was made of latex and would feel rubbery and cold. A little rubbery cold thing intended to prepare me for … a big, fleshy, hot thing. It hardly seemed appropriate.
The thought crashed over me again. Dan wanted to bugger me. He was going to do it. I was going to feel what it was like to have his hard, thick cock right inside my tight back passage. Maybe not today, but sometime soon.
Gulp.
He came back with the scissors and cut the tape off the box flap.
‘Ready?’ he asked softly, removing the plastic tray with its three inhabitants. Big, medium-sized and small. I couldn’t help thinking of the three bears. Goldilocks was really going to have her work cut out tonight.
‘As I’ll ev
er be,’ I said. I’d buried my face in the duvet again. I wasn’t going to be able to face him until his … dabblings … were over. At least he couldn’t really ask me to – my neck wouldn’t allow it. Thank goodness for rears being at the rear.
‘OK then. Relax and hold still.’
He straddled me again and spent a little time kneading between my shoulder blades, loosening my knots, until I was sighing and floating.
‘Keep everything nice and relaxed,’ he murmured, shifting down a little for readier access to my bottom.
I heard him shake the bottle then a tiny glug as he poured a little lubricant out.
I waited. I couldn’t help but tense a little.
I flinched when his cold, lubed finger prodded its way between my cheeks. He held them open with his other hand, stroking the skin with his thumb until I’d stopped wriggling.
‘The more relaxed you are, the better this will be,’ he assured me. ‘Sink into the mattress, love. Let your bones rest.’
Somehow his voice combined with the gentle stroking of his thumb began to exert a hypnotic effect and I stopped bucking when his lubricated finger delved deeper, burrowing down towards that tiny aperture.
He circled it, lower and slower, moving in towards his target in infinitesimal degrees. He took so long in this considerate priming that I began to move from anxious to turned on. There was definitely a pleasurable sensation building, rather to my surprise. And I felt so small and helpless, like a patient on a table with a doctor who knew what was best for me and would brook no argument. I was seeing it all now. I was meant to be submissive.
A rebel voice inside me still insisted, This is outrageous, he can’t do this to you, but guilt was going to have be deferred. Guilt and shame and all those things … How topsy-turvy it all was. You were supposed to be punished because you were guilty of wrong-doing. You were supposed to feel shame for what you had done. And here I was, feeling guilty and ashamed because I wanted the punishment.
What had gone wrong inside me, that I felt this way?
Was it wrong at all?
What was right?
I no longer knew, but I did care. Just not right now. Not while Dan was pushing the tip of a finger into the tiny forbidden ring, making me gasp and flinch.
‘How’s that?’ he whispered.
‘Just so strange,’ I replied.
I wasn’t able to explain it. It didn’t hurt as such and it wasn’t a blissfully pre-orgasmic feeling either. It was just … different. Physically, it wasn’t that amazing, but mentally it took me in its tight embrace and whisked me away into a place where I was absolutely dominated. I could think of nothing else but what was being done to me.
He didn’t rush. The finger made a very slow, very exploratory foray inside. From the initial breach to knuckle-deep seating probably took a good five minutes. I felt that I was being tested and I made sure he knew if he hurt me or gave me pleasure. I owed him this honesty.
‘OK,’ he said, twisting his finger this way and that, making my stomach flutter in a kind of panic. ‘I think you can take it.’
If the entry of his finger had felt strange, it was nothing compared to its exit. I felt as if he was pulling part of me out with it and my muscles weren’t happy. They tensed around him, as if they wanted him for a prisoner.
‘Keep relaxed,’ he admonished, leaving me empty.
But not for long.
‘This won’t feel the same,’ he told me, unnecessarily.
‘I think I knew that,’ I said.
‘Do you think you’re in a good position to get sarcastic with me, Pip?’
He jiggled the end of the plug between my cheeks. My muscles contracted and I sucked in air at its coldness.
‘Uh, no.’
‘Right. Now, hold on. I’m going in.’
Oh, this was a different proposition to his finger entirely! The blunt tip opened me up but, instead of maintaining that comfortable level of accessibility, the plug made me stretch and stretch some more, until my eyes were watering.
‘Oh, ow, this stings!’ I complained, twisting my hips this way and that.
He put a hand on the small of my back, keeping me still.
‘It’ll pass,’ he soothed. ‘The widest part is in now. All you have to do is accept the rest.’
He was right; the rest of it slid in with comparative ease. In fact, it felt as if I was pulling it in of my own accord, even though I wasn’t. A pat on my bottom to make sure the flat end was properly wedged between my cheeks made it clear that I was now fully and completely plugged.
Now it was all the way in, it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. But it was hard to ignore the feeling of it, a hard and remorseless presence inside my most private space. I could see why it was recommended as a punishment. And this was the smallest one!
‘Tell me how you feel,’ said Dan, massaging my bum cheeks. Every time he drew them apart with his big hands, my muscles clenched around the plug, as if worried it would sink deeper inside me. It made me squirm. The squirming made me aware of how wet my pussy was. What I wanted now, right now, was for Dan to fuck me. The feeling of fullness was all-absorbing and addictive – I wanted to be fuller. I wanted more.
But Dan didn’t rip off his trousers and oblige.
Instead he climbed off me and went to sit on the pillows, his back to the wall.
He slapped his thigh.
‘Come on, missy, over my knee,’ he said.
‘Ohhh … really?’ I wheedled.
‘Yes, really. You need to know what it feels like to be spanked with one of those inside you. More to the point, I need to know. I’m finessing my techniques. I haven’t decided whether I should do plugs before or after spankings. You’re helping me with my research. Come on.’
I was genuinely curious, too, to know what dimension the plug would add, so I crawled over his thighs. Every move kept me conscious of the invader at my rear, but no position made it more conspicuous than being over Dan’s lap with my bottom raised and my legs apart, as ordered.
I couldn’t face him. I was far too embarrassed. He knew what was in me – he had put it there. And he knew I was getting a form of pleasure from it, or I would be putting up a fight. He knew, in short, exactly what kind of sick pervert I was.
At least the spanking distracted me from my mortification. In a way, the pain – crisp and sharp and clean – made me feel better. But it wasn’t long before I began to understand how the plug altered the sensation. As the smacks became harder, they sent a quake down inside me, resulting in a series of pangs that spread outwards around the plug and through my bottom. I was being punished inside and out. The plug jiggled constantly and I knew it was getting me wetter than ever.
Dan knew it too. He must have known from the way I bucked and moaned, and if that hadn’t given the game away, it was clear when he put the knuckles of his free hand up against my clit. He continued to spank with one hand and rub up and down between my pussy lips with the other at the same time. It meant he had to use his unaccustomed arm for the spanking and the strokes were a little lighter and clumsier than I was used to. But the stroking made up for it, oh, yes, how it made up for it.
Any self-control I had was slipping away, rising up from the crown of my head like steam. I clung to the duvet, then clawed at Dan’s leg, bumping and grinding into his knuckles.
‘You’re going to come, aren’t you?’ he said, as if it were inevitable.
It was.
I came with my bum hot and spanked, my back passage plugged up, my husband’s fist pressing into my soaked pussy lips and swollen clit. I was so blown apart by the intensity of it that I started to cry.
‘No, no, no, no,’ whispered Dan, rearranging me into a tight embrace and kissing the tears. ‘Don’t cry, please, I didn’t mean to …’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, getting a wisp of sense back into my head. ‘It’s good. Just a bit too good … you know?’
He sighed with relief.
‘Right. You’re sure? Y
ou’re OK?’
‘Much more than OK.’
‘Good. Because I really, really want to fuck you now.’
‘You mean …?’
Was he going to do IT?
He shook his head.
‘I’m building up to it. But I’m going to leave the plug in. I want you to feel what it’s like to be double-stuffed.’
Hmm, well, in the interests of science, I supposed I could go along with that.
‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ he fussed, kissing me again.
I nodded.
‘Take me, officer.’
His wicked smile chased away the anxiety lines around his eyes.
‘You asked for it.’
I found myself forthwith upon all fours, thighs wide, plug still making its presence known at my rear.
Dan made short work of his clothes, then his hands were on my shoulders, his thighs flush against mine, his cock warm and hard between my pussy lips, bathing in their juices.
‘Mm, lovely red bum,’ he said appreciatively, stroking the heated skin with one hand. ‘I hate not being able to fuck you after I’ve punished you. I always want a piece of that red arse. Oh, God.’
He pushed me down between my shoulder blades so that my face was low and my bottom as high as could be, then he was inside me, so quickly and effortlessly that I yelped.
He kept one hand firmly on my hip, the other on my shoulder, so all I could do was take the thrusts and try not to crumple in a heap on the bed. Such thrusts, powerful and strong, each one a jolt.
‘I’m … going … deep,’ he panted. ‘You’re … getting … it … hard.’
Didn’t I know it?
I moaned and whimpered into the duvet, feeling the extra sensation every time his cock tip glanced against the tip of the butt plug. I had never realised how close the two passages were, but it seemed that only a very thin barrier separated them.
The double penetration was exquisite and, even though I had come so recently and so hard, the friction struck sparks of new arousal very quickly.
‘I can see your plug,’ he muttered, still fucking me as if his life depended on it. ‘I can see it inside your arse. I can feel it against my cock. You need it. You love it, don’t you?’
Confessions of a Kinky Wife Page 9