My Wife, My Slave

Chapter One

 

IT WAS MORE luck than anything else that brought me together with my wife. We met through friends, hit it off, started dating, and eventually got married. That makes it sound overly simple, but life is as simple or complex as you want it to be.

The sex was always great. At first it was just the experience of being with someone new, and then with someone you loved, and then it was great because we knew each other’s bodies, passions, and preferences. We slowly started to realize two strange, but not mutually exclusive, parts of our sexuality. First, her sex drive was much higher than mine. I was good at three or four times a week. She usually wanted it every day, or more. But that was fine, we worked it out. Second, we meshed together well because I tended to be dominant in bed while she was much more submissive.

Strange, I know. I’m dominant and wanted sex less than her and she was submissive and needed it practically all the time. Still, it worked for us. Let me explain.

 

“Look, I’ve been doing a lot of reading on this and I know that I’m submissive, sexually at least,” Sheila said to me. “I need you to take control of everything we do in bed.”

“That’s awfully demanding of someone who says they’re submissive,” I pointed out.

“I know what I want and you need to do this to keep me happy.”

With a shrug I said, “Okay. What do you want exactly?”

Taking a deep breath Sheila said, “I’m going to show you something and you can’t laugh and you can’t make fun of me. Promise?”

“I promise,” I said and resisted the urge to hold my hand up like a good Boy Scout. It was obvious that she had given this more than a little thought and it was scary to her to actually go through this little conversation.

She nodded, got up from the couch, and went to the kitchen. A minute later she returned with a cardboard shipping box. Something had arrived in the mail and it wasn’t from Amazon. “I want to wear these for you. I want you to put them on me. You need to be in control of me when I’m at home.” She opened up the box and slid out the contents. They were still in plastic bags but it was immediately apparent what they were. There were four thick strips of red leather with buckles and a steel ring attached to each. Added to this were two half-circles of shiny steel that were connected by a hinge and could be closed and fastened with a thick pin. Inside the half-circles was some padding to make wearing it easier. They were a set of manacles and collar for wearing during sex play. Without any physical stimulation my cock started getting hard and I had to shift position in order to grow comfortably.

“You want me to put these on you,” I clarified.

Sheila nodded emphatically. “Yes.” She started removing the plastic from the leather cuffs. “Is this upsetting you? Your face is almost frozen.”

That was probably because all the blood in my body was rushing to my cock. “No. I just thought that, you know, in the whole master and slave dynamic it was the master who was in charge of getting the chains and telling the slave exactly how and when she was going to wear them. She didn’t have a choice.” I grinned at her. I always overthought and analyzed everything when I was uncertain what was expected of me.

Now Sheila shook her head. “Nope. I might be the submissive, and I’m playing the role of a slave, but it’s my choice. Being submissive doesn’t mean you’re in charge and get to control my life. It means I choose to let you dominant me and make me sexually satisfied with this game.”

“Game?”

“Isn’t that what this is?” she asked. The cuffs were unwrapped now and she laid one strap across her knees and rested her wrist on top of it. I wasn’t surprised she had chosen red, it was her favorite color. “I’m not really your slave, but it’s fun to pretend, right?”

“I suppose. But why don’t I get any say in how this is done?”

She grinned at me and ran her fingers over the leather. It looked smooth and soft. She obviously wanted me to put in on her, but I wanted to draw out the moment. Isn’t that how it worked for slaves? They needed to be denied what they wanted the most? “Because I’m the submissive. I’m the one who is going to be subjected to all sorts of pain and control, so I get to decided how it’s done.”

“What’s in it for me then?”

Her smile didn’t change. “You get to go along for the ride. I promise you it’ll be an exciting ride.”

“So I’ll enjoy myself, you’re committed to that?” I asked as I picked up the strip of leather from across her knees where she had been fingering it. Though it was thick it was also surprisingly supple. The closure was much like a traditional belt buckle, only with an additional hole for a lock to be slipped through. Also attached to the leather, actually two strips of leather carefully sewn together was a thick D-ring. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what that was for.

“It’s a true marriage promise,” she swore.

“And you’ll let me know if things go wrong?”

“Yes.”

“And I can use you how I want?” I asked seeing how far I could push the issue and how submissive she wanted to be.

“Yes. I’ll let you know when it’s too much.”

“How will you do that?”

“I’ll use a safe word to let you know when to stop.”

“Which is?”

“Red. It’s the universal safe word.”

I shook my head. “No. No good. These are red.” I gestured with the restraint. “Your hair is red. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine then. Lemon sherbet. Does that work for you?”

I laughed at her. “Okay, Minerva. That’s fine.” I had been fiddling with the wrist cuff and had worked out how to buckle and unbuckle it. “Ready to put these on?”

She nodded and lifted up her hand for me to put it on. As I was about to do so I noticed her hand was shaking. “Nervous?” I asked, pausing with the cuff in midair. When I stopped to consider what we were doing, it seemed like this was going incredibly fast for us, even for a couple that had been together for over ten years and were sexually open-minded. Hell, on our fifth date I had tied her up—at her suggestion now that I thought about it—to the bed and fucked her until she was screaming with delight.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Why? You wanted this.” I was tormenting her more and I was enjoying it.

“I know I wanted it. I’m just nervous because I am.”

“The last time I saw your hand shaking this much I was about to put a ring on your finger.”

“I know.”

“We can stop anytime,” I suggested.

“Just like we can stop being married anytime,” she countered, suddenly finding her courage. “Just put on the fucking cuff.”

“Yup,” I said as I wrapped it around her wrist. The leather was a bit stiff but it was actually a good fit. I wondered when my wife had had time to measure for and order these little toys. “I bet stopping a submissive-dominant relationship is easier than stopping being married.”

“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. I had finished putting it on her and she held up her wrist, admiring how it looked on her skin. Being a redhead she usually avoided wearing most shades of red, what with her coloring and freckles and all, but the cuff was a perfect shade of scarlet that somehow seemed natural on her. “I think ending either would be emotionally devastating to me.”

“We’ve barely started this one,” I pointed out while I picked up cuff number two and gestured to her other wrist. She extended it to me, this time without shaking.

“And I don’t want to end it yet,” she informed me. “Want proof?”

“Sure.”

“My panties are so wet right now I think I peed my pants.”

That made me laugh so hard I got a stitch in my side. Sheila made a sour face at me. “You think that’s funny?”

“Kind of,” I sniggered trying to stop myself.

“Why don’t you check for yourself,” she said spreading open her legs a bit. It might have been a sexy gesture if she hadn’t been wearing jeans.

“Take those off first.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” she teased me.

I nodded. “Yeah, but it’ll also make putting the cuffs around your ankles a lot easier,” I pointed out.

“What, you don’t want your slave girl parading around her in bra and panties?”

“Naked would be better.”

“Well then, I’ll have to take them off.” She stood up from the couch and opened up her jeans, pushing them down, slowly, tantalizing me with every inch of skin that came into view. It was a nice show, but I frankly found it annoying because it took so long. I wanted to get right to the main show.

After a long minute she was out of her jeans showing off her red—maroon really—panties with a very distinctive wet spot on the crotch. The moment she kicked away her jeans I reached between her legs. I could feel her heat coming through the thin material and the moisture was readily apparent. There was just the slightest bulge under her panties from her pubic hair. I pressed against this and ran my fingers along her lips. In response Sheila shivered and pulled away. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? Aren’t you my slave?”

Her eyes had gone slightly glassy, staring far away, but she managed to reply. “I don’t want to cum. Not yet. I want you to put on my ankle cuffs.”

And I did so. She had kicked off her shoes hours ago and had stripped off her socks with her jeans. Once I had figured out how to put the cuffs on her wrists, it was easy enough to put on her ankles. I did this by kneeling in front of her while she waited patiently on the couch.

When I was done she stood up and pulled off her blouse to show off a bra that matched her underwear and an eager look on her face now. “Put the collar on me too.”

For just half a moment I thought she looked a little ridiculous in her bra and panties while wearing red leather cuffs around her extremities. Then I saw the enthusiastic look on her face and changed my mind. She was happy. Standing up I grabbed the metal collar from off the coffee table and manipulated the hinge. It swung easily and the metal was cool under my fingers. It was surprisingly heavy which showed whoever was wearing it was serious about their status. It wasn’t a showpiece for an actor or a model in pictures. It was a fully functional slave collar.

Without being asked, Sheila lifted up her shoulder length hair and lifted up her chin allowing me easy access to her neck. The collar simply closed around her neck and I slid the retaining pin through the hole to close it. I was impressed with the manufacture of the collar. The outside was completely smooth, almost slick under my fingers. There were no edges; everything had been machined down to smooth curves so it wouldn’t cut harshly into her skin. On the collar’s inside soft foam rubber padding had been bonded to the metal. It was obvious the collar was created for play. It was an effective way to hold someone, but this wasn’t a device that would be found in a prison or jail. It probably would have been illegal to use on a prisoner in the United States, but if you bought it to play games with your partner, that was perfectly acceptable. How fucked up is our world?

“It probably a little silly to buy the metal collar,” she said as I worked, “but it looked so beautiful on the website that I didn’t want to just go with the matching red leather collar. Do you think I’m being stupid?”

I gave her a little kiss on the lips when the pin was in place and let her lower her chin. “No. I think you’re doing exactly what you want to be doing and it probably took a lot of courage to admit all of this to me.”

She nodded eagerly. “Thank you,” she said and embraced me.

“There’s only one small problem,” I pointed out.

“What?”

“No locks to keep your cuffs and collar on.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I took care of that a few days ago at the store.” She bolted out of the living room and headed back to the bedroom once more. I watched her retreating ass. No woman is perfect and I didn’t mind at all the little jiggle in my wife’s slightly too-round ass, half hidden by her panties, as she left. She was back a minute later with a package of a half dozen tiny padlocks, all controlled by the same key.

“You want me to lock these on you and keep the key?” I asked her.

Her head went up and down. Her eyes shone with excitement. Her hair bounced around her face. She was the picture of beauty.

One by one I put the locks on her wrists and ankles and finally the collar. There were two keys to the locks and I put both on my key ring, and then safely pocketed it. Sheila didn’t complain through the entire process. I was starting to enjoy our game.

“One more thing,” I mentioned to her.

“What?”

I stuck my finger through one of the D-rings on her wrist. “Chains? How am I supposed to tie you up? Do you want me to use rope?”

“Shit! Mother fucker! I knew I forgot something!”

Her reaction made me want to laugh. “You’ve got the cuffs, but what am I supposed to do with them?” I asked her.

She frowned, disappointed. “You’re supposed to chain me to the bed and use me anyway you want. That’s not going to happen tonight, is it?”

“I can see what I have out in the garage,” I offered. “I might have some bits of rope or a chain.”

My suggestion didn’t improve Sheila’s mood. “I don’t want any of your dirty old leftovers from home repairs.”

“Wait. I know. I’ll be right back.” I stood up and headed to the garage.

“I’m warning you, Bradley!” I ignored her shout, that’s the prerogative of any husband. Plus, she was supposed to be my slave. Slaves aren’t supposed to give orders, are they?

In the garage I pulled open a storage tote and found what I needed. My method of storage mirrored Amazon’s: jumbled disorganization. But I knew where everything was.

Back in the house I told Sheila to take off her bra. “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” she asked me.

“Yes, I would. Do I need to get rough with you?”

“Isn’t that what these are for?” she asked, holding up her hands and displaying the leather cuffs around her wrists. “So you can keep me under control?”

I showed off my acquisition to her. “I’m going to use this and then we’re going to have sex. You can take off your bra now or I can cut it off of you once you’re restrained.

For a moment Sheila was torn between obeying my order and her need to preserve her lingerie. In the end she gave in and took of the bra, letting me get a good view of her tits. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

This was my wife’s personality. She loved being submissive, but at the same time she was her own person and didn’t easily obey orders from anyone—even if she secretly wanted to follow those orders.

I tilted my head to the side. “Then I suppose I’ll have to make you.”

She folded her arms under her tits and thrust her chest out, defiant. I was momentarily distracted by the puckering of her dusky nipples in the cool air. “And how will you do that?”

I shrugged. “Use of force.”

“You wouldn’t hit a woman,” she challenged me.

“No,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t.” Without further discussion I took the two steps separating the two of us and grabbed her. For just a second she resisted and tried to push me away, but she wasn’t expecting me to give way to her. While she pushed I stepped back and spun her around causing her to stumble over her own feet. A second later her knees were on the floor and her upper body was on the couch cushions. Since I was a good deal stronger than her I bent her arms behind her back, crossed her wrists, and hooked the open padlock in my hand through both of the cuffs’ D-rings. “There,” I announced with satisfaction. “Perfect.”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she complained. Her voice was muffled by the couch.

“We don’t always get what we want,” I told her, picking her up and setting her on her feet. “Come to the bedroom,” I said. “That’s not a request.” She resisted a bit, but I just grabbed he elbow and guided her down the hallway.

“This isn’t what I want!” Sheila insisted as we walked. Her voice was emphatic enough that I almost paused, but then I remembered that she could say anything she wanted, but if she really wanted me to stop she’d use the safe word. I continued on down the hallway and pushed her face down on the bed.

I loved our bed. It was a huge four-poster that was actually a set that I inherited from my grandfather. It was old and heavy and huge and no one else in the family wanted it. The matching dressers were beautiful and they filled up almost all the available space in our bedroom. The nice thing about the weight of the bed was that it was more than sufficient to tie a willing victim to. Years ago Sheila and I had played around with some of my neckties and I held her down on the bed while I fucked her. I was planning a variation of that now.

With her arms behind her, it was hard for Sheila to struggle off her face. I held her down so she couldn’t. “What are you doing?” she complained.

“Just having some fun,” I told her as I pulled her panties down over her hips and left them down around her knees. She was in an uncomfortable position with her arms behind her back and I pulled her up a bit so her face was on a pillow while her ass was in the air with her knees under her body. It would be a good way to fuck her doggy style, but I wasn’t going to do that yet.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, wiggling her ass a bit. I ran my fingers over her labia. Both her lips were soaking wet and her juices were starting to dribble down her thighs.

“Very nice,” I complimented her and ran my fingers up from her pussy to trail over her tightly puckered anus. She shied away when I touched her there, but I kept her in place with my hand on top of her cuffed hands.

“Don’t,” she half begged. Early in our relationship I had asked for anal sex from her. She had declined and I hadn’t pushed the issue. This time I said nothing and just rested one finger on her small hole.

“You’ve been very obnoxious and rude tonight,” I told her. “A very bad slave. You deserve a punishment.”

I could hear her swallow. She was as turned on from this as I was. I had to shift my position kneeling on the bed next to her to give my cock some room to grow. “I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“That’s not good enough. Wait here.” I didn’t give her time to reply. Leaving her on the bed I quickly went down the hallway to the spare bedroom we used as an office, grabbed an old, sturdy wooden ruler from the desk, and returned to the master bedroom.

Sheila hadn’t moved. Her ass was still in the air, her head was on the pillow, and her arms were crossed behind her back.

“It won’t be much of a punishment, but you have to be punished,” I told her.

“No,” she all but whined as I knelt next to her on the bed. Since I had held the ruler up against my forearm, concealing it, and approached her from the side she was facing away from, she had no idea what I was going to do.

Or perhaps she did. I liked spanking Sheila; usually we did it in the middle of sex when she and I were both worked up. I’ve given her occasional birthday spankings that heated up her skin, but we had never gone very far with it before and I had never used any implement on her.

“Just a little punishment. I’m sure you can endure it.” I slipped the ruler up my sleeve and ran my hand down her back and rested it on her upturned buttocks, drumming my fingers lightly on the soft skin. “Ready?”

“Okay,” she agreed and pulled in a long ragged breath, bracing herself. I lifted my hand and slapped her lightly on her right cheek. It barely made a sound. “That’s it?” she asked, disappointed.

“I can go harder.” I slipped the ruler out of my sleeve and into my hand. Bringing it down sharply on her ass, I didn’t pull back at all.

Sheila yelped in surprise. The smack of wood on flesh filled the room. A bright pink rectangle was left behind on her buttock. It was rather pretty. “What the fuck was that!”

I displayed the wooden ruler to her. “Just a little discipline device.”

“It hurt!”

“It was supposed to,” I told her and smacked her other cheek with it just as hard leaving a matching pink mark.

“Fuck! Stop it!”

“Why?” I asked as I traced the ruler over her damaged skin.

“Because it fucking hurts!”

I paused and considered my next words carefully. “Do you actually want me to stop or are you just protesting because of a little pain? You know what to do if you really want me to stop.”

I didn’t say anything else and she was silent but breathing heavily. After I had given her enough time to consider her situation, I raised up the ruler again and started a steady rhythm of spanks to her ass.

She cried out and gasped with every slap of the ruler, but she didn’t say the safe word or make any other protest. I didn’t give her that many spanks, maybe fifteen at the most on each cheek. Just enough to give her bottom a beautiful pink color.

“Much better,” I declared when I was done. Just giving her a minor beating had made my cock hard and it was pressing hard to get out of my pants. I decided that was a good idea. Not only was I dominant in bed, I was also a bit of a sadist.

“It fucking hurts,” Sheila sobbed. Glancing at her face while I pulled off my clothes, I saw that she was crying. For some reason that made me more excited.

“I’ll make you feel better in a minute,” I told her as I knelt down behind her and took my cock in hand.

“You’re not supposed to make it hurt,” she complained as I ran my cock along her slit, getting the head wet and ready to enter her. She was leaking like a faucet and when I shoved it in her pussy she gasped in delight. “Oh, that’s better.”

I pressed my body up tight to hers and I could feel the heat of her ass against my belly. Taking her cuffed wrists in one hand, I balanced myself and smacked her ass after every few strokes of my cock.

“Is this what you like?” I asked her.

“Yes! Fuck me harder!”

I did. We were both worked up at this point and it was too easy to make her cum. She moaned and gasped, crying out as her body trembled. I let her cum and then filled her pussy with my spunk.

“Okay,” she said, her voice half-muffled by the pillow, “you can unlock my cuffs now.”

“Uh-oh…I’m not sure I know the combination to his lock,” I said taking a close look at the padlock I had put on her cuffs. “Oh shit.”

“What?! You motherfucker!”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but laugh. It would have been better to draw out her torment, but I wasn’t sophisticated enough for that. “Okay, okay,” I said behind her back while I tried not to laugh. “It’s one of two or three or five possibilities.”

“Unlock me now, asshole,” she demanded.

I opened the lock on the first try.

“Not funny,” she informed me as she rolled her shoulders to get the kinks out of her muscles. “That’s not an easy position to hold, especially while getting fucked.”

“You wanted it,” I told her.