Saturday, April 30, 2011

the note ... waiting

The following is a story from her view, taken from a framework sent to me by the wizard...


On the park bench, nervous and trembling, she wondered at what she had created for herself. Sitting, waiting as she was told, she tried desperately to concentrate on the book she had brought with her. It was after 1 pm.  Her mind raced as she caught site of her hard nipples through her filmy blouse, from the cold or the excitement of the moment she couldn't tell, maybe both.

Her mind went through the events of the previous night. She had been fucked in the most delicious way by the stranger, right there in the men's room of the romantic restaurant to which her husband had taken her.  She drank more wine than she ought have and hoped her husband had explained away the flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes from the orgasm that had waved through her minutes before, to the wine.

She kicked off her shoes as she walked into the bedroom. Her husband took hold of her wrist firmly and almost growled in her ear, 'You have been a very bad girl. Come here...lay over my lap.'

She was stunned at his assertion but she dare not ask what he meant. Did he know about her transgression? He was usually not so commanding, though sometimes she noticed something different about him, something he seemed to be holding in abeyance. She smelled the spirit on her husbands hot breath as it curled around her ear and travelled across her cheek.

She lay across him, feeling his growing hardness under her as the sting on her bottom became almost unbearable. His fingers slipped inside her, she tried not to think of the strangers cum oozing from her. Cum has a different feel between the fingers than her own juices and she hoped her husbands coarse fingers were not attuned to the difference in the sensation.

Her head slid further into that warm place where she loved to swim. The sting on her bottom seemed to lift and she didn't think anymore if the tiny red blisters that would mark her tomorrow. Her orgasm was building to an almighty roar as he thrust his thumb into her tight arsehole while his first and second digits fucked her and his little finger played roughly with her clit.

He threw her on her back and pulling her to the edge of the bed, scooped her to him as he pushed his hardness into her slick heat. Both the stranger and her husband had used her and the potent mix issued from her with each thrust from her hushand. He had made her cum more times than she can remember when he lowered his mouth to her dripping cunt. She came to his soft warm tongue treating her engorged clit to the excitement it craved.

She lay exhausted, elated, grateful and in love.

As she sat in the park, the afternoon wearing on, she thought back to when her husband had fallen asleep. She had waited. She waited to read the note that she hastily hid in her bag. The note the stranger left of the floor of the restaurant by her chair.

As she pulled the note from her bag she froze at the sound of her husband's voice behind her.

'What's is that, my pet?' he said leaning over her shoulder.

Any protestation or denial seemed futile and she handed the note to him, her eyes down cast. The realisation of her demise flowing through her. He read it aloud to her.

'Be at Viceroy Park at 1:00 pm tomorrow...Wear a see-through white top.. no bra...a skirt...no panties.  Wait for me...benches....keep waiting.  Do not look around.  Bring a book...reading.'

Her mind was swimming. Panic shot through her. She couldn't hear all the words though she tried. She searched her husbands face for his anger, his admonishment. She couldn't see straight. What had she done? She been playing with fire all these months. It started innocently enough, online, a bit of chat, a bit of flirting. The heat had grown in her now though to an unbearable pitch. She would have exploded if not to have met him, had she not done as he said, bent to his will.

'Hmmm, well well,'  the pause was excruciating,  'Do you mind if I join you?' She couldn't read his face at all, making her more anxious than she had ever been in her life.

Now on the park bench she waited. Her husband had walked her there after he supervised her readying herself. She felt the flush of embarrassment when he pulled her blouse from the hanger, the filmiest one she owned. He layed her skirt on her bed, the shortest one in her wardrobe, the one she only wore in private.  He delivered her to the bench. He pushed her to sit by her shoulders, opened her book and placed it in her hands.

"Read... and wait."

He strolled away. She dared not follow him with her gaze and when she did look up a minute later he was nowhere to be seen. She was painfully aware of her bareness under her flimsy clothes. She knew everyone wandering the park saw her, dressed as a slut, with no bra or panties. They knew she was there at the summoning of a stranger and delivered to him by her husband. She wanted to run, to hide. She did not. She could not. She waited, as she was told, her nipples hard and on display and her pussy glistening with expectation.


Thursday, April 28, 2011

sticks and stones.....

But whips and chains excite me....!
via helloquizzy.com

I'm just sayin'!








I don't know who sings this song but when it come on the radio my imagination flys, my breath quickens and I can be caught smiling ear to ear!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

be careful what you wish for...

My husband surprised me the other night (again! LOL)

He asked me if I wanted to hear his fantasy.

We were at a restaurant, nice food, great wine, NO family.

I looked at him but didn't answer and I just knew there was a glint in my eye.

He relayed his 'fantasy'. A pub, another man, a hotel room, me and him watching...orchestrating. His fantasy involved my mouth and the cock of another man.

When I recovered from my OMG moment, I remained speechless! All these years he has been almost insecure about sharing me with a man. He has always been quite excited about the thought of another woman and me (I understand this is quite a common fantasy for a lot of men) but to share me with another man..well he has always been quite opposed.

To top it all off and to illustrate the 'be careful what you wish for' moment, it began to dawn on me that this was no idle fantasy. It was not a scene that would remain in his imagination. It began to dawn on me that he wanted this to actually happen.

Now it remains with me to recover from the shock of his revelation. All these months of  the drip drip drip approach to my journey with him. Now it seems, confronted with the reality of his permission, something I have always thought I wanted, the OMG in me is bringing with it a not insignificant amount of anxiety, albeit with a little excitement at the possibility. Still, a voice inside me is also calling, 'whoa Nellie!'.

Oh yes! Be careful what you wish for thinks the delicious little whore as she  smacks her lips and bites her bottom lip.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

the note

It lay on the floor by her chair. She saw it, her husband had not. Had he dropped it there as he left the restaurant? He had left her in a frenzy. An encounter that she had not ever foreseen. She was safe she thought. Her play could never become real, he was in a far away place, with another life, in another world.


She had built her little flirtation carefully to avoid the messiness of an encounter. She was happy, for the most part with her husband. Loving him and he her. The stranger offered her a heat that she had not previously experienced. He was self assured, he demanded from her things that made her blood quicken. He made her breathless with an anticipation that encouraged physical responses in her over which she had no control. One word on the computer screen could make her wet for the entire day.

She had received a message that led her here tonight and led her to the feverish encounter in the men's bathroom. He had travelled to where she lived, business she supposed, but she never thought further than the possibility that he might summon her. That he might expect from her the things from which she thought she was immune. She knew she was powerless to refuse him and she hoped he did not know it too.

She scooped up the note and buried it in her purse. She mumble something in answer to her husbands query, "Just a receipt that must have fallen from my purse."

She looked into her husband's eyes wondering if he would question this further, after all any woman would realise that it was unlikely that she would have a shopping receipt in her evening bag. She was grateful for the low soft lighting of the restaurant. She hoped it would hide the flush in her cheeks. The tell that her husband knew well. The tell of an orgasm. The tell in her poker face.

She had been on tenterhooks. He had come to the restaurant and sat at the table in front of her. He sat facing her. She flushed and almost immediately she felt the heat build between her thighs. She wore no panties and a dress as he had asked. She felt her nipples harden as she caught the
strangers eyes falling to her legs. Could he see? Surely it was too dark. She had a compulsion to open her knees to make sure he could see. She secretly longed for him to see. She was glistening she supposed, she could feel the tingle.

He sat never taking his eyes off her. She felt the burn of his stare so keenly she could barely hear what her husband was saying to her.  Her stranger had gone to the back of the restaurant, his glance beckoned to her to follow. She rose from the table.

He propelled her forward into the men's bathroom, pushing her against the wall of an empty cubicle. He towered over her with not a word passing from his lips. She longed to hear his voice. His hand searched between her thighs. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. She felt the immediate shame that he had found how completely ready for him she was. He had found her secret.

His mouth took hers, his fingers probed her fleshy wetness, his other hand moved to her throat. She forgot her fear of being discovered. The possibility her husband might take her absence as an opportunity to visit the men's room became a distant and hazy thought. She felt the build of her orgasm and wanted so much to cum for the stranger. She wanted to be his, to be fucked in this place. She heard herself beg him to fuck her. At almost the same moment his cock forced its way into her depths. He fucked her hard as she came for him. Her cunt clenching around him as though she would never let him go. His body stiffened against her as he marked her, owning her completely.

She collapsed into him momentarily before he left her. Standing alone, dizzy, dripping with his cum in the men's room. A sudden realisation that she would be seen as she came out made her hastily clean herself, but not so much as to wipe him away entirely. She saw the flush in her face reflected in the mirror and tried to steady her breath. She passed through the door and caught the surprised look of another stranger entering, almost bumping into him as she hurried to get out of the bathroom. He knew too..she knew he knew...it was written all over her face, she smelled of the strangers sex. She blushed with embarrassment.

Now all she could think about was the small piece of paper in her evening bag. Her husbands words were distant.

Did he know too?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

thoughts of collarDOM

I have been thinking about a collar. I have been reading a little bit about this issue over the last few months and formed opinions of the life of a collar, of the meaning of a collar and always thought it wasn't for me.

I'm not huge on humiliation I think, but one girl's humiliation is another girl's everydayness. That is to say, an act that makes one woman feel humiliated, might not be so for another.

I find the thought of a collar so humiliating I haven't been able think of the possibility of ever 'being collared'. (I hear your gasps and exclamations from here and I think I have said before I don't see myself as a very good submissive woman, just a novice one really. So hold those horses at bay people). I haven't ever though that my husband would be in a place where he would think that this is an option either.

Thoughts of collarDOM have been floating through the delicious little whore's head lately, and she has noticed that the thought of a collar has not been so abhorrent to her...hmmm, interesting.

I have thought about what a collar might mean. The symbolic nature of a piece of leather, a chain or such, that is placed almost ceremoniously around the neck of a willing submissive. To me, at its core, it means commitment and ownership.

Then I think further..hmmm commitment...does that mean the delicious little whore will never be able to flirt again? Raise her head? Wiggle her delightful arse? Tragedy! Finally embracing her sexuality and the power that sexuality has brought her..to only have it stifled by a piece of leather. Then...ownership...yes she quite likes that idea, but he is not at that place yet, though he is beginning to embrace more of this need in her.

So I opened the subject last night. Planted the seed. "What are your thoughts about a collar?"

He concluded that he had never really thought about the idea, but that he quite liked it now that he thought about it. (well that's a positive thing...thought the delicious little whore :) ).

So the seed is planted, naughty little bottom doing the top thing...*twinkle in the eye*, but still not really knowing if collarDOM is for her. She supposes though, if it comes down to it, she will melt deeper into her submission if he ever decides to collar her.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

I don't have a collar

I don't have a collar.

Helmut Newton
Last night my husband strapped on my leather wrist restraints and joined them with bright shiny cold metal fasteners.

He brought me to one of my more powerful orgasms. The sort with tears streaming down my face. The sort where my thighs tremble and I become so overwhelmed with love I don't want to ever leave the safety of his embrace.

While I was still in this space he pinned me down, he entered my dripping slickness and came hot and hard inside me. I was in complete and utter slut heaven. My little girl was gone, my slut was wallowing in his attention. Happy as a pig in...

The more extraordinary followed. He usually likes to remove any restraints from my wrists or ankles. He likes the power of release as much, perhaps more, as the power of restraint. Last night he removed the metal fasteners and said, "I think you can leave these on tonight. I think you can sleep in them."

and i did...

Waking this morning, I asked him, "Daddy, can I take these off now, I need to get up. "

"Yes baby girl, you did well."

He reached over and unstrapped them and buckles jangling, he handed them to me to put them in their place.

I don't have a collar...

Last night I had a symbol of such.

Sometimes, just when I think all is lost, he surprises me with what I need.

Monday, April 4, 2011

ranDOMness

Who knows what to write, I have been missing a little while.
I have missed the posts I usually follow.
I have missed my Daddy.
Still needy, still trembling with expectation.
Unexpected delight today..He instructed me from his distance.
I have complied, with delight and reported today's events.
I am exhausted.
I am content.
I am composed.
My delicious little whore has wiggled her arse.

So I have been reading blogs. I love to read blogs. Personal accounts of this shiny world. Some sexy, some down right scary, but always awe inspiring. 

I crave more, my husband and I only play at the edges. I wait for more from him and if it never comes then so be it. I will deal with it somehow. 

I think of an affair to sate my affliction, but I never have. I am not sure why, many reasons I expect.
I am no good at a lie, I have an open and honest face.  Possibly though, and probably more importantly I don't ever want to hurt him and the guilt I feel in deceiving him is acute. 

I still don't understand my loyalty to him when he has cut me so deeply. Some would say I am a fool, as would I have said only a couple of years ago. Its more complicated than that though isn't it? 

Some counselled me, "It's what you can tolerate". I discovered I can tolerate a lot more than I thought I ever would. I don't think I would ever be capable of it..an affair..but boy oh boy, would I love to try! lol! 

in the mean time...

the delicious little whore has wiggled her arse.